Stirring the Plot

by Daryl Wood Gerber

  The man who left her at the altar and died less than a year later.

  I said, “Hey, did you know she’s dating Greg Giuliani?”

  My father’s eyes widened. “Dating? Don’t be silly.”

  “I saw them together. She was all dolled up. Isn’t he the one you were referring to the other day? I think—” I bit my tongue. I did not need to tell my father about Aunt Vera staying the night at Greg’s. It was not my business; it was certainly not my father’s.

  “Greg isn’t for her,” my father said.

  “You tell her,” I joked.

  “Not in her condition. She’s mad enough that she crashed her car.”

  “Wait until she sees her face in the mirror.”

  “I made Marlon swear she can’t go near one.”

  “But you know Aunt Vera.”

  In unison we said, “Stubborn,” then laughed.

  My father brushed my shoulders, as if sweeping away specks of dust; it was his way of balancing me. “All this talk about faith and your aunt’s dating life aren’t why you showed up here. You came to ask me about my trek to the cemetery. Why?”

  “I wanted to corroborate Bingo’s alibi.”

  “Aha,” my father said again. “I won’t even ask why you are investigating. It seems I have no say in keeping you within twenty yards of the law.”

  “I told you. I feel like my presence has drawn this bad karma to Crystal Cove. I’ve got to fix it. In addition, Cinnamon Pritchett has her eye on Aunt Vera as her main suspect.”

  My father said, “Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with her.”

  I huffed. Did everyone in town think they could change Cinnamon’s mind? I sure couldn’t.

  “In the meantime,” my father went on, “tell me why Bingo Bedelia is a suspect in Dr. Thornton’s death.”

  I explained.

  “All solid reasoning. Protecting a secret from one’s past is definitely a good motive for murder, but I’m afraid Bingo should be eliminated from your list. She was indeed in the cemetery from approximately ten until well after midnight.”

  “How do you know she was there that long?”

  My father smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Sometimes I read to your mother. She loved poetry by Dickinson. What a lonely soul the poetess must have been, living almost entirely in seclusion as an adult. Your mother’s favorite was one of Dickinson’s poems about lovers being kept apart, with only the door ajar.”

  I kid you not, nothing my father ever did in his life again would shock me as much as right now. He knew about Dickinson’s life? He could paraphrase her poetry?

  “But back to Bingo,” my father continued. “She was doing what looked like calisthenics. Arms raised. Arms lowered. Up, down.” He demonstrated. “Quite comical.”

  “She was practicing incantations.”

  “As in witch chants?”

  I gave Bingo’s reasoning.

  “You don’t believe Bingo could have had anything to do with harming your aunt, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Someone did.”

  “Your aunt—” He mimed steering a car.

  “Is a bad driver, I know. But this was different. Maya said she couldn’t get Aunt Vera to pull over. She was honking and everything. I think Aunt Vera was drugged. Right before, she was drinking tea at Aunt Teek’s with Maya, Bingo, and Emma.” I halted.

  “What?”

  “Maya said she went to the restroom. What if Emma slipped something into Aunt Vera’s tea? She has access to drugs, both at the veterinarian’s office and possibly”—I paused for effect—“from her husband, the dentist.”

  The cuckoo burst from its hiding hole in the clock and sang out, “Cuckoo.”

  But I didn’t think my theory was so crazy. How could I prove it?

  Chapter 22

  BEFORE RETURNING TO The Cookbook Nook, since I was on a mission to find out the truth about everything—including my own secret admirer mystery—I swung by the Play Room Toy Store. Where else would my secret admirer have purchased a Slinky? Online at eBay, possibly, but the owner of the toy store sold retro toys. He often put them in his window displays. He wasn’t at the store. The ancient clerk couldn’t remember anyone in the past few months having purchased a Slinky, other than the new jumbo rainbow version.

  Frustrated but not beaten, I proceeded to The Enchanted Garden. The salesperson, a thick woman nearly twice Maya’s size in height and stature, reweaved her waist-length braid as I explained my dilemma. My secret admirer must have purchased the green-glazed pot filled with herbs here. No other shop in town sold such beautiful garden items.

  “No, ma’am,” the clerk said. “I don’t remember anyone purchasing a gift like that.”

  “Is Maya here?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but she doesn’t want to be disturbed when she’s”—she waved the tip of her braid like a wand—“doing her magic.”

  “Her what?”

  The clerk beamed; her smile was infectious. “You know, doing that voodoo that she do so well.” She wiggled a finger. “She’s out in the hothouse working on the potions demonstration that she’s giving at your store on Wednesday.”

  I thought of the prized mushrooms Maya grew in the hothouse and hoped she didn’t plan to use any of those in her presentation.

  “Say,” the clerk went on. “I just remembered, we used to sell those glazed pots you were asking about. They were sort of passé. We haven’t carried them in years.” She leaned forward in confidence. “You know, maybe Lover Boy bought the pot way back when and planted it with herbs from his own secret garden.”

  Swell. I had established that the admirer was a hoarder. He had a Slinky and an out-of-date glazed pot to give out as love tokens. What else did he have? Trolls and pet rocks? Who was this guy? He certainly wasn’t going to win my heart with his loony advances.

  Putting the affair from my mind, I returned to the shop. The rest of the afternoon sped by. Because it was already Monday again, we had to do cash tallies and book orders, and restock the shelves, and then, of course, there was taste testing for the café. I loved taste testing. Katie had made an assortment of candies from the Handcrafted Candy Bars cookbook Bailey had raved about. Man, was she ever right. The dark chocolate–dipped almond-coconut bar was downright sinful.

  A half hour after closing, Bailey, Katie, and I, with Tigger tucked into my big tote, headed to Azure Park. The park was the largest in town, about two square city blocks of grass, oak trees, and boxwoods, and it was within walking distance of Fisherman’s Village. Monthly, the park featured live music. Nearly the whole town showed up. People camped out on blankets or brought picnic sets. Because the nights grew cooler in October, people also came loaded with coats, scarves, and gloves.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I said as we arrived. The sun had set; the moon hadn’t yet risen. Stars were beginning to sparkle in the twilight. Event planners had strung lights around the park and had set up a bandstand-style stage at the north end. I shrugged into my denim jacket and buttoned the buttons.

  “Who do you think will win?” Bailey said. At tonight’s event, the mayor would hand out the awards for the best window displays as well as decorated pumpkins.

  “The owner of Play Room Toy Store,” I said. “He always wins.”

  “Look,” Katie pointed. “There’s your aunt.”

  Aunt Vera was sitting at a portable picnic table with none other than Deputy Appleby. So much for my aunt staying home and resting. Where was Nature Guy Greg? Was I wrong about him and Vee? Aunt Vera and the deputy seemed to be playing mahjong, a game I would never learn in even one of its varieties: Chinese, American, and more. A college friend had tried to teach me. I could distinguish between bams, craks, and dragons, but I couldn’t get the hang of passing around tiles to get a complete hand. Nor did I have the patience. I wouldn’t learn to play bri
dge, either. To relax, I preferred a good book or a walk on the beach and, now, cooking.

  Beyond my aunt and her escort, I saw Cinnamon walking beside Bucky. No public display of affection, I noted. They weren’t even holding hands. I also caught sight of Bingo and the Reverend. They seemed almost entwined and looked completely in love. With my father’s testimony, I truly believed Bingo was innocent; she had no reason to kill Pearl and I doubted she had drugged my aunt. She had come clean to me about her past. Had she told her fiancé the story? Had he helped her contact the former fiancé? I hoped she would be able to keep the guy from posting the nude photos on the Internet. She didn’t deserve to be punished for silly choices she had made as a teen.

  Bailey and I laid out our blanket. I set Tigger on a corner and warned him to stay. He wasn’t a roamer. He turned in three circles, clawed, stretched, then plopped down and went to sleep. Katie unpacked the picnic basket she had brought. Included in the feast were wine, cheese, salami, freshly baked sourdough bread, and an assortment of vegetables paired with her delectable dill sour cream dip.

  “Simple fare,” she said humbly. “For dessert . . .” She set out an assortment of bonbons. “The pumpkin pecan chocolates are mouthwatering.”

  I went for a backward dinner—dessert first. I downed a bonbon, agreed with her assessment, and said, “What’s on tonight’s musical slate?”

  “The stylings of The Quartet.” Katie was wearing a shiny orange tee and matching jacket over black trousers. She had even donned makeup and added a sparkly bow to her hair. “Boy, I can’t wait.”

  “Who, pray tell, make up The Quartet?” I asked, as if I didn’t know. Rumors abounded that Katie’s boyfriend had started a band.

  “Keller and five of his pals.”

  “That makes six.” I held up fingers, showing I could do the math.

  Katie grinned. “They didn’t think The Sextet had the same ring.”

  “What do they sing?”

  “Old standards. Four-part harmony. The extra two guys offer vocal percussion. No instruments. Prepare to be blown away.”

  Bailey rolled her eyes and mouthed: Geek. I slugged her.

  “Whoa,” Bailey said, slugging me back. “Get a load of those.”

  Four people dressed up in colorful goblin costumes traipsed alongside the crowd toward the bandstand.

  Katie said, “I think the one leading the pack, the really short one with the purple cowl and big green ears, is the mayor.”

  I grinned. “The creature does have a familiar jaunty gait.”

  The mayor took the stage and tapped a live microphone. “Testing, one, two, three.”

  Out of nowhere, a spotted owl swooped low across the stage. The mayor, clumsy in her garish costume, spun around so hard she stumbled off the stage.

  The audience let out a collective gasp.

  Bailey shuddered and moaned.

  I gripped her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “If you see an owl during the day, there will be a death close to you,” she intoned as if under a spell.

  “Stop that,” I ordered. “It’s nighttime. Shake it off. Where do you get all these silly superstitions?”

  “My mother. My friends.”

  “Not me.”

  “I’m fine,” the mayor announced, scrambling to her feet. “Please welcome The Quartet!”

  Bailey poured each of us a glass of wine as The Quartet took the stage, all six of them. The audience hushed. We never knew what to expect at these musical outings. One time a talented maestro led a high school band, and they sounded as glorious as the Boston Pops. Another time, we had three legendary rock stars who could barely hold a tune.

  Keller picked up the microphone and, solo, cackled like a ghoul. When the crowd hushed, he sang the opening words to “The Monster Mash.”

  People roared their approval.

  During the chorus, the entire sixsome sang. Then Keller pointed the microphone at the audience, which responded in kind. It was a rousing success.

  The set consisted of more Halloween favorites, including “Superstition” and “Ghostbusters.” The group finished with a speedy version of “Thriller.” People who knew the “Thriller” dance leaped to their feet and strutted along, Bailey, Katie, and I among them.

  When the music ended, the mayor hurried to the stage. “Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” She waggled a gold statuette. “The winner of the Crystal Cove Halloween pumpkin-carving contest is . . .” Someone offstage beat a tabletop like a drum. “It’s a tie between Play Room Toy Store and Home Sweet Home, and the winner of the best window display is . . . ”

  I knew the pumpkin I had carved wasn’t the best. Bushy eyebrows and a spastic grin. Big deal. I would take more time next year when I got into the groove of being a shop owner. But our window display was top-notch. I crossed my fingers.

  “Aunt Teek’s,” the mayor announced.

  Cheers from the crowd. It was the first year Play Room Toy Store didn’t make a clean sweep.

  As the winners approached the stage, Bailey leaned in to me. “Speaking of Aunt Teek’s, if Bingo Bedelia didn’t kill Dr. Thornton, who did?”

  I told Bailey and Katie about my aunt’s foray into Bingo’s store and how Maya, Emma, and Bingo walked in on her.

  “It couldn’t have been Emma who drugged the tea,” Bailey said. “I mean, I know she had a deep, dark secret, but it’s out, so what reason would she have to harm your aunt? And I’ve seen her with animals. She’s so loving.”

  “It doesn’t look like Emma’s husband would agree with you.” Katie hitched her head.

  Edward was sitting by himself on a blanket, one bottle of water, one sandwich, obviously alone.

  “That doesn’t prove anything. Emma could be working,” I said, although I had to admit, Edward looked pretty forlorn. A memory flashed in my mind. I had seen the initials EW in Pearl’s datebook. Emma mentioned that Pearl had warned her about doctor-patient transference, which indicated she had been a patient, but did that rule out Edward? Had he seen Pearl professionally, as well? If he had, that might explain why the doctor would have allowed him into her home the night she was killed. He could have found out earlier from Emma about her love for Pearl and, incensed, gone to Pearl’s house to eliminate her from the equation.

  Bailey flicked my arm with a fingernail. “Where did you go? What are you thinking?”

  I told them.

  Katie said, “No, it can’t be true. I go to Dr. Wright. He’s a good dentist.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t a killer,” Bailey said.

  “Ew. Ick.” Katie waved a hand. “Jenna, what about Maya? Maybe she has a secret she’s hiding. Are you sure she didn’t put the poison in your aunt’s tea to keep her from finding out?”

  “Maya didn’t have opportunity. She went to the restroom. She was also the one who followed my aunt and honked, trying to get her to pay attention to the road.”

  “I still think Trisha is the best bet to have hurt your aunt,” Bailey said. “I know she wasn’t at Aunt Teek’s, so she couldn’t have drugged Vera, but you intimated that it’s possible Vera wasn’t drugged. Did they do a tox screen on her? Do they know for sure?”

  I wasn’t certain.

  “Look, your aunt is nervous. She’s lost her powers. She has every right to feel anxious, maybe even woozy.” Bailey stabbed the blanket to make her point. “Trisha Thornton has need of cash. She has loans to pay. Maybe she killed her mother because she believed her mother’s estate would be settled quickly. Don’t forget, she and her boyfriend were upset that your aunt was snooping around UC Santa Cruz. What about the rock that’s missing?” Bailey sipped her wine. “What if Trisha stole it and pawned it so she could have enough money to bribe someone at college to clean up her record and readmit her?”

  Katie didn’t agree. “Why not steal the entire set then?”


  “Because Trisha banked on the housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, not noticing one portion missing.”

  “Oho!” Bailey laughed. “What about Mrs. Davies? You know, the butler did it, except in this case the housekeeper did it.”

  I glowered at her.

  “Okay, just making light.” Bailey grinned. “Back to Trisha. Call your buddy at UCSC again and see if she’ll give you at least a financial update.”

  Knowing Bailey wouldn’t let up until I obeyed, I fetched my cell phone and dialed my friend.

  She surprised me by picking up after one ring. We chitchatted for a second, about her husband, her dog, and The Cookbook Nook. She promised to stop into the store soon.

  Then I said, “You must have gotten my messages. Can you answer any of my questions?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Does Trisha owe money to the school?” I begged.

  Finally she said, “Jenna, look, I’ve talked to the police. If it helps, I was able to convince them that they should chat again with the girl. You were right to ask about the security camera.” She hung up.

  I looked at my pals and grinned. A security camera meant either someone did see or didn’t see Trisha on campus. Either way, her alibi was in question.

  Chapter 23

  SLEEP DIDN’T COME easily for me. When I drifted off, I dreamed a nightmare that shook me to the core. I often experienced vivid dreams. Over the years, I’d learned that creative people remembered their dreams better than most. But this one was ridiculous. It could have been written by Shakespeare or, better yet, Stephen King. On an autumn night, people in ghoulish costumes chased each other through a pumpkin patch. I ran after Trisha Thornton demanding the truth and nothing but the truth. Someone—a masked man, my secret admirer—hounded me. As he sprinted after me, he flung herbs. I knew, deep in my soul, that if any hit me, I would be drugged by a love potion and swept under his spell.