Tea, Treats & Terror

by Carolyn L. Dean

  Lots of witnesses, lots of chaos.

  Lots of suspects.

  She was lost in thought, considering everything that had happened, when Benson gave a sharp bark. Glancing over, she followed his gaze to see what had caught his attention.

  There was a young woman with red hair in the alley by the florist shop, leaned over, with one arm braced up on the brick wall while she was being noisily sick. Slowing down, Amanda pulled up next to the curb and stopped.

  It was Columbia, the harried worker she and Lisa had met in the teashop. Her eyes were dark with melted makeup as she held herself up against the building, her purse forgotten next to her feet as she dealt with another wave of nausea.

  Hopping out, Amanda shushed Benson and slowly walked toward the sick woman, waiting. After a few moments, Columbia seemed to feel better, and opened her eyes, instantly catching sight of Amanda.

  "I'm so sorry," were her first words. Amanda wasn't sure if she was apologizing for being ill in public or something else, but she brushed it aside.

  "Can I help you?" she offered, taking another couple steps closer. "My friend runs the florist shop next door and I know she's got a cot in her back room. How about we get you somewhere more...clean."

  Columbia didn't seem to have the strength to argue, so when Amanda offered her a steady arm to hang onto, she meekly followed her into Petunia's cheery store.

  Petunia was busy misting a group of potted orchids by the front window, and her eyes grew wide when she saw Amanda escorting the young lady in.

  "What happened? Are you okay?" she asked, quickly setting down her mister and walking toward them.

  "This is Columbia. She's new in town and she's not feeling well at all. Would it be okay if she takes a bit of a rest on your cot, Petunia?" Amanda asked, and the florist immediately nodded.

  "Absolutely! Here, come this way," she said, brushing aside the curtain the led to her office. "I sometimes sleep in here, if I have a really early morning delivery," she said, fluffing up the pillow and then stepping out of the way while Amanda eased Columbia onto the bed. "Bathroom's right next door." She looked at Amanda. "Flu?"

  Columbia interrupted. "Morning sickness."

  That was a surprise. Amanda's mind flashed back to the argument she'd heard between Columbia and Ruben Bishop the day she'd first met her.

  Petunia nodded in instant understanding. "Oh, I remember that feeling. I'll bring a bowl and a glass of water," she said, then hurried out.

  There was an old wooden chair next to the bed, and Amanda perched on it, feeling awkward.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she offered, and Columbia managed a weak smile.

  "Do you mind staying a bit? It sounds weird but having something to concentrate on besides my stomach helps."

  Amanda nodded. "All right." She tried to think of what to say to Columbia, who she barely knew. "I'm sorry you're having such a rough day," she said, and the other woman laughed bitterly.

  "Rough weeks. I can't wait for this phase to be over." She sighed. "I think it's been worse because of all the stress." She wiped the mottled mascara from around her eyes with the back of her hand, finally accepted a Kleenex from Amanda. "Thanks."

  "I'll bet you've been under a lot of stress lately, with Ruben dying and moving and all." She smiled. "And now, a baby. Congratulations, by the way."

  Columbia rolled her head toward Amanda, her eyebrows going up. "Let's just say this pregnancy is only adding to the stress. I'm going solo with this baby, and now I've got to figure out how to raise it on my own."

  Amanda couldn't help but ask. "No one else in the picture?" she said, referring to the father, but Columbia wasn't falling for that.

  "Not anymore."

  The words sat there in the stillness of the small room, until Amanda thought of something to say.

  "I'm sorry about your boss dying, too. That must be really difficult for you to work at the teashop when you're...when you don't feel well."

  With a deep sigh, Columbia gave a small smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry he's dead, too, but I always thought his peanut allergy would catch up to him someday. I had to be really careful with every single thing I brought into that place, to be sure it didn’t have any sort of peanut dust or oil or anything on it. He used to tell me stories about why he had to carry the backpack with his epi-pen everywhere he went. Now it makes more sense." Her eyes flicked away. "I'm sorry you came in and saw us fighting that morning. I must've given you a terrible impression of the place," she said sadly, but Amanda tried to correct her.

  "No, no. Not at all. Everyone can have some trouble with their boss sometimes," she offered but Columbia scoffed.

  "Ruben Bishop brought his trouble with him wherever he went, just like that backpack. You'd be stunned to know how many businesses he bilked when he lived in Portland, and how he just ran out of town one night without telling anyone. He left all those creditors and business partners in the lurch, and he's been running from them ever since." She paused. "I'm not even sure if Ruben Bishop is his real name, but after all the checks he bounced before we got here, I'd be surprised if him dying wasn't karma in action, if you believe that sort of thing." Her voice was adamant, "That snake did some terrible things to people, including taking out a reverse mortgage on his own mother's house and pocketing all the dough." She paused for a moment, then snorted in laughter.

  "That creep deserved everything he got."

  Petunia bustled in with a glass bowl and a mug of cold water. "Here. This should help." She hovered in the doorway, seeming to be unsure what to do next. "Do you want me to call a doctor?" she offered, but Columbia shook her head.

  "It should pass here in just a bit," she said. "Thank you for everything. I really do appreciate it." Her eyes flicked over to Amanda. "Thank heavens there are still some people in the world who help others." Amanda smiled and patted her hand, then got up to go.

  “You know what’s really sad?” Columbia asked, then said, “I make the world’s best peanut butter pie. The best. Let’s just say that I knew better than to ever try to make it for the tea shop.”

  **

  Half an hour later, she got a call from James, asking if she knew where Sage was.

  "Why? Is he okay?"

  James’ voice was low and serious. "I sure hope so."

  "Why are you looking for him? What's happened?"

  She could hear her husband sigh. "Well, I've had two people say they saw him walk into the woods by himself at the marathon, right after the ambulance left, and one of the witnesses said they thought he was throwing something into the bushes."

  "Throwing something away? Like what?"

  There was a pause. "Like evidence, maybe. We're not sure."

  "Evidence of what?" Amanda asked, then instantly stopped herself. A man had died. The cops would be looking for evidence of what had happened, and maybe even if someone else did it to him.

  "We're not sure, but I'd sure like to find out. It's no secret that he and Ruben didn't get along, and when I checked the list Sage never got cleared to leave the area before he was gone.”

  “If I hear from him, I’ll let you know,” she promised.

  Thinking of Lisa, something in her chest started to hurt.

  Sage.

  Chapter 14

  “I see you like chickens,” Amanda said warmly as she shifted the bucket of cracked corn from one arm to another. The early morning sea air nipped coldly at her, but the warmth of her thick jacket kept it at bay.

  Her guest, Wendell, pulled his thin coat around himself more tightly. “Um, actually, I do. This rooster of yours is a pip. He won’t let me hardly get near any of his hens.”

  Laughing, Amanda scattered a handful of corn by the coop and watched the chickens run in greedy pursuit. With only a dozen hens and one big, strutting rooster, she’d gotten used to caring for the little flock. They rewarded her by laying lots of big, fresh eggs and eating every bad bug in sight.

  “You be nice to that rooster, now, Wendell. He used
to be a stray and he wound up earning every bit of feed I give him.” When her guest gave her a quizzical look she explained. “Dumb Cluck actually stopped an arsonist and may even have saved my life. When the Inn was set on fire he started crowing like crazy right under my bedroom window. Amazing, isn’t it?” she said with a smile, tossing out more corn.

  “He woke you up?”

  Amanda nodded. “He wasn’t due to start crowing for hours but he did anyway, and that’s when he got this fancy chicken palace—” she pointed at the cute little henhouse, “—because he earned it.”

  Wendell looked impressed. “I guess he did! That’s amazing.” He turned to look at Dumb Cluck with new appreciation, even though the colorful rooster was watching him with absolute suspicion. “Must be nice to have earned a home like that.”

  There was a note of wistfulness in the older man’s voice, and Amanda wasn’t quite sure what to say to his comment. From what she could tell, it looked like Wendell hadn’t had it easy in life, and it showed. Just that morning, she’d caught a glimpse of a crudely-drawn, faded tattoo on his arm he’d automatically pushed back the sleeve of his sweater when he’d sat down at Jennifer’s breakfast of homemade muffins and hot omelets. It had a roughness about it that reminded Amanda of prison tattoos, and she did a lot of thinking on that as she’d walked away from the table, supposedly to get more hot coffee.

  A man with a rough past, but who had a soft spot for chickens and a soft voice.

  Couldn’t be all bad.

  * * *

  Errands that day were easy, with just a quick side trip to the oyster cannery. They were finally getting ready to open their little seafood restaurant, and Amanda had offered to stop by and be one of the taste testers for the new menu. She left Benson with Jennifer and drove down toward the beach, enjoying the scenery and wondering what goodies Crystal would’ve put on the new restaurant’s menu, when she spotted a lone figure trudging along the road.

  She slowed the car and rolled down her window. “Sage?”

  He turned her way, his face full of disgust. “My car broke down by the little cottages. Can I catch a ride home with you?”

  “Get in.” When Sage plopped into the passenger seat she turned toward him, still not driving. “Do you realize how many people have been looking for you?”

  “Looking for me? Why?” he said, obviously startled.

  “Well, you left the marathon without telling anyone, and there was some question about what you were doing.”

  “What do you mean, doing?”

  "Some people say you were throwing something away in the woods, Sage," Amanda said, her eyes boring into his. "You want to tell me about that?"

  Sage shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Amanda shook her head. "I think you do. Two different witnesses came forward, saying that you were in the bushes, probably getting rid of something." She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. "A man had died, Sage, and everyone knows you two didn't get along. He threatened your business and you didn't like it. Now, it's important that you come clean about what you threw away and where that was."

  She could see Sage's face flushing before she even finished talking.

  "Two people? Rats." He gave out a deep sigh. "I never meant for anybody to see me at all."

  Amanda leaned forward, pressing him. "What was it?"

  Sage turned toward her, his dark eyes filled with remorse. "I don't like Porta-Potties."

  Amanda leaned back. "What?" she asked in surprise, and Sage looked at the car ceiling while he replied.

  "Um, I had to take a leak."

  Amanda cocked her head. "You mean, you..."

  "I was using the bushes to...you know. I wasn't throwing anything away. When I saw Grace had seen me I got all embarrassed and ducked back into the woods. That's all. I swear!”

  Amanda started to laugh, first as a small chuckle and then as a full-blown belly laugh. “Okay, hot shot. You’re the one who gets to tell George what sort of things you were up to in those bushes, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Amanda could see the beginnings of a smile around the edges of his mouth.

  “I’m heading to the cannery to try out the new menu. Wanna come with me?” she asked, and Sage laughed.

  “When have I ever turned down free food?”

  Chapter 15

  Truman had outdone himself. As soon as he'd been named the host for the Mad Hatter Tea Party, he'd started plotting how to transform his bookstore into Wonderland. From the moment Amanda pulled up in front of Benny's Bookstore she knew he'd gone above and beyond. Outside, Meg was dressed up as Alice, complete with blue and white dress and tidy apron. Her normal blonde curls had been straightened, and with a blue headband completing her outfit, she was the spitting image of the cartoon character.

  The front window was festooned with over-sized garlands of vines and bright flowers, and there was an assortment of colorful teapots displayed on a tablecloth with scattered cut hearts on it. From the sound of the music, the party was already started, and Amanda took a deep breath as she got out of her car.

  Meg blew Amanda an air-kiss as she held the door open for other guests who were heading into the store, and Amanda smiled back.

  Inside, the music was thumping and bouncy, and she could see several people dancing along. Everyone seemed to be in costume and she had to laugh at some of the choices other people had made. Heinrich, who was a bit round due to overindulging in his own pizzas, had teamed up with Roy Greeley to go as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, complete with short pants and beanies. To her surprise, even Hortense Sandford had shown up in an outfit, and her version of the Queen of Hearts was perfect, right down to her haughty expression and face made pale by white makeup. Benny, Truman's dog, was stuck to his master's side, and was sporting a doggie costume resembling a long caterpillar, complete with fake arms that seemed to be holding a small hookah. Grace TwoHorses, who loved to dress up for any occasion, had decided to come as the Cheshire Cat, and apparently Lisa had chosen the same character as well, because she and Grace were busy comparing costumes.

  Even Amanda's guests from the Inn had gotten into the spirit of the party and dressed as characters. Wendell was sporting a pair of hastily-made rabbit ears and an oversized cardboard pocket watch, while Arlo had apparently found one of the flattened boxes in the Ravenwood Inn's recycle bin and had painted it to look like a huge playing card, the eight of hearts. Seeing Amanda, he smiled and raised his plastic cup to her, then turned and bounced off to join the dancers in the back of the room.

  Truman, as always, had gone completely over the top with the popular party, but even more elaborately with his own outfit. As the Mad Hatter, he'd copied the outfit from a Johnny Depp version of the famous, befuddled tea drinker. He'd gone so far as to temporarily dye his hair orange, and his face with covered in makeup. He was even wearing yellowish contacts, and his vintage coat and floppy, multi-colored tie made him look so much like the famous actor that he would've fit right in being his double while filming the movie. Sage was running the espresso machine, and moving in time to the music, his thoughts on dancing more than coffee.

  The whole front counter was covered with food, and a long buffet table against the wall leading to the bike store was also sagging under platter after platter of potluck goodies. The bike and kite store had been opened up as well, and it was a good thing because there were still people coming in the door. Every bit of space was going to be needed.

  In the corner, enthroned in a tall wingback chair as if she was the queen of the party, sat Mrs. Granger. She was wearing her favorite hot pink velour jogging suit, along with a pink ball cap. Sewn onto either side of the hat were two bat-like wings. Lisa was sitting next to her and Amanda pushed her way through the crowd, finally standing in front of the old lady.

  "I don't recognize your character," she said. "Which one are you, Mrs. Granger?"

  Raising her eyebrows, Mrs. Granger gave an enigmatic s
mile. "Ever heard of the Jabberwock?"

  "The what?" Amanda said, and Mrs. Granger's blew a strawberry of absolute disgust.

  "Am I the only person who's actually read this book? Just because it's not in the Disney cartoon doesn't mean it doesn't exist in the story, by the way."

  Amanda suppressed a smile. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger. I'm not sure I’ve ever actually read the book, but I remember the Jabberwock from the recent movie with Johnny Depp."

  "Johnny who?"

  Amanda was used to be patient with the older lady. "He's an actor. Truman's dressed up like him."

  Mrs. Granger swung her heard toward Truman and gave a harrumph. "There's something wrong with that boy's eyes tonight. I think he needs to get himself to a doctor or something. Maybe it's yellow fever."

  Lisa leaned over, trying to be helpful. "They're contacts, Mrs. Granger. It's part of the character."

  "I take it back. I like the Disney version just fine."

  Lisa and Amanda laughed

  "How about I get you some food?" she offered, and the old lady took the diversion.

  "That'd be lovely, sweetie, but don’t get me anything that has little seeds in it." She closed her mouth and ran her tongue over her teeth. "My dentures had been really wicked to me lately, and I'm trying to be careful."

  "Want some cake?" Amanda asked, already knowing the answer to her innocent-sounding question.

  Mrs. Granger's eyebrows went up. "Are you kidding? Do one-legged ducks swim in a circle?"

  Lisa laughed and as Amanda turned to go Mrs. Granger grabbed her hand. "And a slice of Jennifer's fudge pie, if there's any left."

  Mission set, Amanda headed toward the food tables and picked up two paper plates. Cruising down the line she did as she was instructed, putting an assortment of goodies on both. Mrs. Granger was known for her sweet tooth, so when Amanda was able to claim the last piece of fudge pie for the old lady she felt almost victorious. She chatted with a couple of people as she walked down the line, finally standing next to Arlo, who was holding two plates and dishing himself up a double helping of the yellow butter cake with coconut frosting.