Bake Until Golden: A Novel (The Potluck Catering Club)

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  “Oh, come on, David. You know all my friends, but I’ve never met a single one of your friends. So, let me in on this little visit.”

  “Well, I guess there are some things I should explain—”

  My phone rang again, and I checked the caller ID.

  “Wade?” David asked.

  I nodded. “I’ll get rid of him.”

  “Don’t pick up.”

  I shook my head. “What if—”

  David laughed. “What if . . . something’s wrong. I know, it’s the cop in you. Tell your boyfriend good night, okay?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I mouthed as I clicked into the call. “Hello, Wade? Long time no hear.”

  A terrible wail came from the phone. I pulled it back and stared at it for a second before replacing it to my ear, in time to hear Wade say, “Donna, you and David—you gotta—come—now. Now!”

  “Wade? Is everything all right?”

  The shrieking grew louder. “No. It’s Velvet. She just came over here, pounding on my door, screaming something about her mother.”

  “Is Mom okay?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure.”

  I began to make out Velvet’s voice as she continued to scream, “I tried to tell Donna. I tried to tell her. That Evie woman is a witch.”

  I ran my hand through my hair and looked at David. “What’s this about? Did Evie have another fight with my mother?”

  “Well, yeah, I think so, but I’ll tell you about that later. I think Velvet needs help, maybe a sedative or something, and you . . . you need to check on your mother.”

  I hung up a bit rattled and told David what I’d heard. We decided to drive our emergency vehicles over without our sirens blaring in case this was some sort of family theatrics authored by Velvet. Or even my mother. As I pulled into the trailer park, I could see Velvet in a halo of light standing on Wade’s porch. She was wrapped in a blanket, shivering in Wade’s arms. But what disturbed me was the way she was sobbing, in deep gulps, barely able to breathe.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I hopped out of the cab of my truck and ran toward them.

  Wade shook his head, meaning he didn’t have a clue. I turned back to see David’s white and red ambulance as it crunched the gravel before it pulled to a stop in front of Mom’s trailer. I turned back and approached Velvet. “What is it? Velvet, what’s happened?”

  “I told you,” Velvet practically growled. “I warned you.”

  I stood in front of her, nose to nose, my hands on my hips. “You warned me of what?”

  “That woman, that stepmother of yours. You wouldn’t listen, and now she’s dead!”

  I froze, my hand instinctively resting on the handle of my gun. “What did you say?”

  Velvet dropped her blanket. Her pale, bare arms flailed around her, almost knocking Wade in the chin as he dodged the blow. She said, “It’s that Evie woman. She, she . . .”

  “Is Evie in there? Did someone hurt Evie?”

  Velvet offered a high-pitched laugh, and I visually checked her to see if she showed evidence of an injury or a struggle. I mean, I barely knew my sister or what she was capable of. Had she lured Evie over to the trailer in the middle of the night and attacked her?

  “Is Evie hurt?” I demanded.

  Velvet shook her head no, unable to express herself through her hysterics. I took a step back and pointed at her dark trailer illuminated by a nearby streetlight. Even in the dim light, it looked unkempt, even forlorn. “Where? Where is she then? Can you show me?”

  Velvet was crying so hard she could only shake her head.

  I kept my voice steady. “Is she in the trailer?”

  Velvet nodded, her face now pressed into Wade’s chest.

  My heart pounded. I pulled my gun from my holster. I held it in one hand, with the barrel pointing skyward. I held my flashlight in the other hand as I turned and stared at Mom’s trailer.

  David, who was now standing a few paces away, took a step toward me. “You might need backup. You’re going to call this in before you go in there, right?”

  “Yeah. Though I’m not sure what’s happened.”

  “All the more reason to call,” David coaxed. I holstered my gun and pulled my radio off my shoulder strap. “Officer needs backup at the Higher Grounds Trailer Park. Possible injury or . . .” I swallowed hard. “Homicide.”

  Thelma, who had been my dispatch friend this evening, responded, “Ten-four. Will dispatch backup to the trailer park.”

  I turned back to Velvet. “What exactly did you see?”

  Velvet was shivering harder now, perhaps from the cold or even from shock. Wade redraped the blanket around her bare shoulders, and she held the wrap together with a hand at the nape of her neck. From the look of things, Velvet was just coming in from a night of partying as she was wearing her fitted black jeans and, beneath the blanket, a shimmering halter top. I could smell alcohol on her breath. Was that what this was all about—Velvet’s drunken rage?

  “Mom” was all she would say before her sobbing began again.

  “Mom?” I asked. “Is anyone in there with her?”

  Velvet shook her head no but said, “Evie.”

  “Evie’s in there, at this hour? Are you sure?”

  Wade interrupted. “I saw her, for what that’s worth.”

  I turned and looked at the cowboy. He had on his camel-colored fringe jacket and cowboy hat, his company-best clothes. Why was he dressed like that at this hour? Feeling more confused by the moment, I said, “Let me get this straight, Wade. You saw Evie at the trailer?”

  “Yeah, earlier this afternoon. She and, ah, Dee Dee, were exchanging words.”

  It was then my backup, Jerry, arrived. With his sheriff’s Bronco in full emergency mode with lights twirling and siren blasting, I could see through the windshield that he’d been pulled out of bed by the call. As he pulled beside the trailer, his siren blipped into silence while his rotating lights caused the trailer park to explode into alternating bursts of red and blue.

  I rushed to greet him as he climbed out of his truck. He was a heavyset man who wore his once-blond hair shaved to hide a receding hairline. “What’s the trouble here?” he asked as he studied Velvet and Wade.

  “Something is wrong inside,” I said, pointing to Mom’s trailer. “I’m thinking there was some sort of struggle. Since this is my mom’s house, I didn’t think I should go in there, alone, in case . . . well. Glad you’re here.”

  “Do you suspect foul play?”

  I nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

  Jerry took charge. He whipped out his gun and held it with the barrel up. “Follow me,” he demanded.

  I drew my gun too as I followed Jerry up the front steps. I braced myself flat against the wall beside the door while Jerry leaned over from the other side to knock. “Sheriff’s department,” he barked. “Open up.”

  No answer.

  Velvet called from Wade’s front porch only a few feet away. “She won’t answer, I told you that. I told you.”

  I ignored her babble and tentatively cracked the door open. “Mom?” I called into the darkness. “Evie?” I pulled out my flashlight and shone it inside.

  The place was a wreck—with chairs toppled and . . . wait, what was that?

  The beam of my flashlight illuminated a shoe on the floor.

  Jerry pushed past me, and his voice remained calm. “Donna, step back.”

  “Why?” I demanded, looking at his softly illuminated face. Even in this dim light I could see beads of sweat pop across his face and down his neck.

  He hesitated before he answered. “It’s a body.”

  “What?” I steadied the beam of my light on the tennis shoe before realizing it was attached to an ankle.

  I stepped through the threshold and allowed my beam to travel up jeaned legs, a T-shirted torso, then a gray, horrified face with unblinking, cloudy blue eyes.

  “Mom?”

  Jerry pulled me back. “I don’t think she can hear you.�
��

  I sucked in my breath. “Maybe she’s just fainted.”

  “Get David,” Jerry said.

  I stumbled back to the door and signaled. “You’re needed,” was all I could say.

  David rushed in, illuminating his footsteps with his flashlight. He didn’t hit the lights because Jerry and I hadn’t. We couldn’t, that is, until we determined if this was a crime scene.

  As David checked on my mother, I flicked the beam of my flashlight around the scene. Yes, there had been some sort of struggle here from the looks of this room. Not only were chairs on their sides, but the coffee table next to Mom was covered in a puddle of beer. At least that’s what I made from the fact that there was an empty beer bottle on the floor.

  I watched the back of David as he leaned over my mom, taking her pulse. He looked up and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Donna—but Dee Dee is gone.”

  I stepped backward, reeling. I turned and looked out the front door, noticing a crowd of neighbors was gathering in front of the trailer as Velvet continued to scream on Wade’s front porch, “It was that Evie woman. She’s gone and killed my mother! I tried to warn you! You wouldn’t listen! Why wouldn’t you listen?”

  Lizzie

  14

  Bite to Eat

  I had called Evangeline Monday afternoon after work to ask if she’d like to go by Goldie’s with me on Tuesday. “I thought I’d take her a breakfast casserole,” I said. “I’m sure she has plenty of casseroles, meats, and desserts to last her a lifetime, and I don’t want her to stop eating breakfast.”

  “That would be the first thing I’d do,” Evie said from the other end of the line. “If anything happened to Vernon, I’d just quit eating and I’d begin with breakfast.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I told her.

  “I went by to see her, but she wasn’t home.”

  “I wonder where she was.” I walked from the kitchen, where I’d retrieved the cordless phone from its perch, to the family room to sit in my favorite corner of the sofa. “I do hope she wasn’t home and just not answering the door.”

  “No. I saw her car at Chris’s office. Lisa Leann said she was there to take care of some, you know . . . business.”

  I heard clanging and clattering from the other end. “What in the world are you doing?” I asked.

  Evie sighed. “Well, if you must know, I’m working like a maniac now to get supper ready.”

  I shook my head. I knew that Evie stayed busy with her home-based business, but I never understood how a woman who worked from home would have to rush to get supper ready. With that thought, I looked at my watch. It was 4:30 and Samuel would be home within the hour. I, too, had best get dinner prepared, I thought, though I’d surely had less time than Evangeline. “Why do you wait so late to start?” I asked. “If I were at home all day—even if I were working—I’d start dinner before noon.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cold by the time Samuel got home?” she came back. “Besides, I’ve had a very hectic day.”

  I stood to walk to the kitchen. “Oh? What have you been up to?”

  “I had to go talk to Doreen.”

  “Doreen?”

  “Long story. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. What time do you want to go to Goldie’s?”

  “I’m off tomorrow, actually. I have some things I need to do concerning my mother. So, how about I meet you there at 9:00?”

  “I’ll be there at 9:00, then,” she said. “Vernon should be out of the door by that time.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you want me to call Goldie to let her know we’ll be stopping by?”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure.”

  ———

  The next morning I pulled into Goldie’s driveway immediately behind Evie. I slipped the egg casserole off the passenger’s seat before exiting the car and meeting Evie at hers.

  “How are you this morning?” I asked her. We walked toward the front door of Goldie’s home.

  “Sleepy. Vernon got a call at about 3:00 this morning.”

  “Goodness. What in the world?”

  “I have no idea. He’s been gone ever since, and I haven’t heard a word from him.”

  I stopped at the front porch steps. With one hand on the wrought iron railing and my left foot on the bottom step, I stopped and said, “Well, you don’t look sleepy. You look absolutely marvelous this morning. Is that a new sweater?”

  Evie nodded. “It is. I’m beginning to think that pink really is my color.” Then she frowned.

  “Why the frown? Are you worried about Vernon?”

  Evie shook her head. “Oh no. But whatever has happened must be a doozy.”

  The front door opened, and we both looked up to see Goldie, well-dressed in a skirt and matching sweater and ready for company. “Good morning, my friends,” she said.

  Minutes later the three of us sat around Goldie’s kitchen table, eating the egg casserole and sipping on orange juice from tall glasses that winked at us in the morning sunlight spilling from eastern windows.

  “How are you doing, Goldie?” I asked her. “You look good but . . . really. How are you doing?”

  Goldie’s eyes misted over, but she shook her head as though willing herself not to cry. “I’m doing okay.” She forced a smile. “You have no idea how much there is to do when someone dies. I suppose it’s all to keep one grounded.”

  “Oh, I do,” Evie said. “I won’t pretend that losing a parent or even both parents is the same as losing a spouse, but I handled everything when mine died.”

  Evie’s parents had been killed in a car accident years ago. Although her sister had come from the East Coast to help, eventually the bulk of it all fell on Evangeline.

  I reached over and patted her hand. “Those were tough days,” I said to her so as not to diminish what she’d gone through. I turned back to Goldie. “What’s next for you?”

  Goldie took a bite of food, then swallowed. “I’m going through Jack’s files today.” She jerked her head backward. “The ones in his desk in the back. There’s a small filing cabinet in one of the bedroom closets.” She sort of laughed. “I have to find the key first.”

  “Find the key?” I asked.

  “Mmm. I’m sure it’s in his desk somewhere. Andrew says that usually things like that are in plain sight and not hidden like most people think.”

  “Andrew?” Evie asked.

  Goldie nodded. “Andrew Morrow.”

  “From the funeral home?”

  “Yes. He’s been very helpful with everything.”

  “Andrew Morrow from the funeral home,” Evie pressed.

  I thought I saw Goldie blush. “Yes, Evangeline. Andrew Morrow from the funeral home.”

  I could see Evie’s suspicion tentacles rising. “Goldie,” I spoke softly. “Why is Andrew Morrow helping you . . . with everything?”

  Goldie shrugged. “I suppose that’s part of his job. He came by about a week after Jack’s . . . passing.”

  Evie opened her mouth to say something, but I stopped her by continuing, “What did he say when he came by?”

  Goldie’s hands dropped to her lap, and she sighed. “Oh, I don’t know, really. He said he was coming by to check on me. We had cake and coffee together and talked about what I should expect over the next few weeks and months—you know, the kind of things he sees in his business. He’s a sweet kid.”

  Evie bristled. “Anyone besides me ever wonder why Dutch Jenkins never adopted that child? I mean, Amy married Dutch when Andrew was—what—six or seven?”

  “He was five. And I can’t say I ever really thought about it,” Goldie answered.

  “What was the deal with his biological father?” Evie continued.

  Goldie took a sip of juice then nodded. “I think he died.”

  “He died? Now, how in the world did you hear that, Goldie Dippel?”

  “Gossip,” Goldie said. “Years ago I heard . . . when Amy was pregnant . . . I heard that she’d met the young man
one summer when she was working at the recreation department in Fort Collins and that they were planning to get married but that he was killed somehow. I don’t know how. Car accident? I don’t know.”

  “Have you asked him about it?”

  “Evangeline!” I exclaimed. “What a thing for Goldie to ask a man young enough to be her son.”

  Evangeline widened her eyes at me as she said, “Well, how in the world am I supposed to know what people talk about in situations like this?” She looked again at Goldie. “What about Olivia? How is she doing?”

  I was grateful the conversation was turning from Andrew and his mother to something else. For a moment there I thought Evangeline had lost her mind. Or maybe she just didn’t know what I knew, that years ago Jack and Amy had had an affair. The last thing Goldie needed right now was to be reminded of Jack’s past indiscretions.

  “Olivia clucks over me like a hen,” Goldie answered. “You’d think she was the mother and I was the child.” She smiled. “Enough about all this. What about you two? What’s going on?”

  I finished the last of my breakfast with a quick swallow before I answered. “I have to go see about my mother today. The issues of Alzheimer’s are so vast, I hardly get used to what’s happening when something new comes along.” I looked at my watch. “But before I go there, I’m supposed to meet Michelle for an early lunch at Higher Grounds.” I laughed. “All I’m doing this morning is eating, I guess.”

  Evangeline shook her head. “I’m going home and going back to bed.” Evie explained the events of the early morning to Goldie before raising the index finger of her right hand. “Oh, that reminds me. I went to see Doreen yesterday . . . to talk with her about getting some help for her drinking.”

  “Really?” I asked. “How’d that go over?”

  “I actually think it went over pretty well. She brought up Horace Shelly. About all that happened years ago when she ran off with him. How she was sorry she’d left Vernon and, most especially, Donna.” Evie sighed. “It really was a strange conversation.”

  “Where were you?” Goldie asked. “When you talked to her, I mean?”

  “At her trailer. I’d gone over there to talk to her . . . to ask her to get some help for her drinking, if for no other reason than for Donna, I suppose.”