I looked over at Vera, who shrugged. I shrugged back. “We’d like to see the publisher, if we could.”
“I’ll let her know you’re here.” She clasped her hands together over her heart and then sat down and hit a few buttons. “Ms. Sommers, Rebecca Anderson is here to see you.” She paused. “Yes. In the flesh. There’s a police officer with her.” She listened and then hung up. “Ms. Sommers will be right with you.”
I sat down wondering how long “right with you” would be. It was about fifteen seconds.
“Rebecca!” Molly Sommers strode out into the lobby. Molly was a woman in her fifties with close-cropped gray hair. She wore a pantsuit and a pair of reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. “To what do we owe this honor?”
I stood, feeling a little confused. “I was hoping to ask some questions about the investigation into Cathy Hanover.”
“Ah,” Molly said. “That explains your police escort. And this is?”
“Sorry. Officer Bailey, Ms. Sommers.” Everyone shook hands. I felt like I was at some kind of bizarre dinner party.
Molly gestured for us to follow her. “Come on back to my office and we’ll chat.”
We walked into the bull pen and Molly stopped and clapped her hands. “Everyone, may I have your attention?”
All five employees stopped what they were doing. It wasn’t a huge paper, after all.
“Everyone, this is Rebecca Anderson. I know many of you recognize her from her appearances on the front page, three of them above the fold.”
There was a smattering of applause. I looked over at Vera, whose eyes had gone wide.
“She’s here visiting today to find out about our investigation into Cathy Hanover, another person to whom we owe much.” She then led us into her office at the corner of the room. We walked through to more slow clapping.
“Let us know if we can help,” a young man called after us.
We settled into chairs. Molly leaned back in hers and asked, “So what precisely can I do to help?”
I looked around. I’d expected a little more resistance. “We were hoping you could tell us how exactly you got the tip that led you to investigate Cathy.”
“I can do better than that. I can show it to you.” She popped up, went over to the filing cabinet and, after rummaging around for a few moments, pulled out a Ziploc bag with a piece of paper inside it. She laid it on her desk in front of me. “This was delivered to the newspaper anonymously.”
I slid the bag closer to me. It was a piece of stationery. Someone had cut letters out of magazines or newspapers and glued them to it to create a message. It was a list of five of Cathy’s fake companies and then the words “Check them out.”
“You have no idea who sent it?” Vera asked. “How did it arrive?”
“Someone slid it under the front door during the night. It was here when we showed up in the morning.” Molly motioned for us to take it. “Go ahead. We got what we needed from it. You can have it.”
“Thank you.” Vera picked up the bag and we both stood.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
“No. Thank you,” Molly said. “Your escapades have done more for our circulation in the past few months than any of the promotions we’ve tried. You’ve been better for our sales numbers than double coupons. We owe you, Rebecca. Now go out there and make some trouble!”
• • •
“That was weird,” Vera said as we walked back.
“You think?” I’d been prepared for all kinds of things. For snubs or rude words or proclamations about protecting sources. I hadn’t been prepared for being lauded as a heroine.
“It hadn’t occurred to me that you actually sell newspapers.” She smiled.
“It wasn’t ever my intention.” I hoped never to do it again.
“A good deed is a good deed regardless of the motive behind it, Rebecca. I think you should take the win.” Vera patted me on the back.
She had a point. “Let’s go show it to Dan.”
Vera plunked it down on Dan’s desk. He pulled out a form that they both signed, making the chain of custody official. She nodded at him and left.
“Why on earth would someone cut letters out of magazines to paste in a note like that? It’s not like the old days where they might be able to match a specific typewriter to a note,” I said.
Dan shrugged. “Some people are traditionalists.”
“Is there anything else about it that might help us?” I peered at it through its plastic protection.
“Only if there are fingerprints on it.”
“Do you think someone would go to the trouble of cutting out letters from magazines without wearing gloves? Besides, won’t that take time?” I thought for a second. “We should ask Cathy to take a look at it. Maybe she’ll see something that none of the rest of us do.”
“What kind of something?” Dan asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little like the blackmail video and she’ll know it when she sees it.”
“I’ve heard worse ideas.” He picked up the phone. “Vera, can you bring Cathy in here?”
A few minutes later, Vera led Cathy in. “Hey, Bunkie!” she said when she saw me. “I’ve missed your company, but at least now I get visitors.”
I stood up and went to hug her, but Dan made a noise in the back of his throat. I looked over at him and he shook his head. “No contact.”
I blew Cathy an air-kiss and sat down.
“So what’s up?” Cathy asked.
Dan slid the note inside its clear plastic bag toward her. “Did you ever see this?”
Cathy leaned over and read it. Then she sat back in her chair. “No. I never actually saw it. That was the petard that hoisted me, was it?”
“It’s what got the Sentinel started.” Dan tapped it. “Is there anything about this note that could point to who sent it?”
Cathy’s brow creased. “Why? What difference would that make?”
Dan and I exchanged a glance. “We think maybe the person who sent it might have some connection to who killed Lloyd McLaughlin.”
She snorted. “Still trying to clear your name, are you?” she asked me.
I nodded. “It’s probably best not to be known as the town poisoner when you run an establishment that serves food.”
“Let me look again,” she said. “Can I smell it?”
“You want to sniff the note? What for?” Dan’s eyes narrowed.
“A hunch,” she said.
“What can it hurt, Dan?” It wasn’t like she could snort up any clues.
Dan sighed. “I have no idea. Go ahead. Just don’t touch it.”
Cathy picked up the bag, opened the top and inhaled deeply. She very carefully sealed it shut and sat back in her chair. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe what?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat.
“Geraldine did it. Geraldine turned me in. The two-faced little witch.” She shook her head. “Then she took all my ideas to run for the council herself. If I wasn’t the one behind bars, I’d be impressed.”
“You know that by sniffing the note?” Dan didn’t look like he was buying what Cathy was selling.
“She put it on the scented stationery I gave her for her birthday. I was pretty sure I recognized the paper, but the sniff sealed the deal. What an idiot.” Cathy shook her head.
“Smart enough to figure out what you were up to,” Dan pointed out.
“True. Although considering the amount of time she spent at my house, she had ample time to snoop. I just never considered that she might betray me like that.”
There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
• • •
“What does this do to our theory?” I asked Dan after Vera had taken Cathy back to her cell.
&n
bsp; “It doesn’t help it.” He rubbed at his chin. “There hasn’t been even a hint of Geraldine being part of any of the other instances of blackmail or poisoning.
“Does it hurt?” I wasn’t sure. I’d been so sure we’d be able to link the tip about Cathy to Sheri.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it a bit. I’m still going forward on getting the search warrant for Sheri’s house.” He looked grim. “Tree-hugging, composting, tie-dyeing Sheri. I’m not sure I can see her as a murderer. It’s so not who she is, and I definitely can’t see her as the granddaughter of a Nazi.”
It wasn’t who she was. Sheri was about the future, about hope. She wanted clean air and water for our kids. She wanted everyone to be safe. She didn’t wear patchouli. “That’s exactly the point. Her reputation—her personae—is so the opposite of a Nazi. Plus there’s that whole thing about her being into genealogy.” If it was true, if it was Sheri’s grandfather who Esther was talking about in the diary, maybe there were other reasons to suspect him.
Dan leaned forward. “What whole thing?”
“Sheri did some kind of research thing about Grand Lake and her grandfather. She probably knew. She knew her grandfather was a Nazi and covered it up.”
“How did she cover it up?”
“She didn’t put it in her town history document.”
Dan made a face. “Okay. A lie of omission. Still, it doesn’t seem like enough.”
“I disagree. Her reputation is, at least in part, from being part of one of the grand old families in Grand Lake. If her family wasn’t so grand . . . Well, don’t you think that would hurt her enough to cost her a hotly contested election?”
“Maybe.”
“And if that Nazi relative had killed a teenage girl to keep his secret?” I pressed.
Dan shook his head. “You’re still talking murder?”
“I think I am.” I didn’t like it, but it was what made sense.
“You said you were going to worry about the diary and nothing else.” Dan’s brow furrowed.
It was hardly my fault. “How was I supposed to know that there was going to be a murder and that I’d be involved in it?”
“Because there always is!” He threw his hands in the air.
I waited a minute for him to calm back down. “Dan, can I be there when you search?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Why?”
“I don’t know. In case I see something you don’t?” I just had a feeling.
He nodded.
“Okay. I’m going to go check on Carson over at my shop. Call me when it’s a go, all right?”
“Will do.”
I grabbed my jacket and Sprocket, and I left City Hall for the short walk over to POPS. It had been days since I’d checked in with Carson. I knew he could do whatever needed to be done without any help from me, but it felt good to start to normalize my life. Maybe Dan would prove Sheri poisoned the popcorn and my name would be cleared and I’d still have customers when I reopened the store, unlike what had happened at the diner.
I heard a buzz of noise half a block before I turned onto Main Street. Voices, maybe. Nothing more. I quickened my step, wondering what was going on.
A line of people stretched close to a block in front of the diner. Was this some kind of belated response to me helping Megan change her menu? Had I been right after all? Would people come once they knew how much better the food would be?
I stopped, trying to figure out who was in line and why they might have had a change of heart. I didn’t recognize any of the faces. I did recognize some of the aromas wafting my way. I hoped I was wrong. I pulled out my phone and called Haley.
“Why is there a line at the diner?” I asked without saying hello.
“I’m not sure how to tell you this,” Haley said. “Maybe you should read about it first.”
“Read about it? Where would I read about it?”
“Go get a copy of the paper.”
“I was just at the paper!”
“Did you read it?”
I hadn’t. I hadn’t even glanced at it. “Hold on.” I went over to the newspaper kiosk, dug a quarter out of my jeans and dropped it into the slot. I grabbed out the top paper and read the headline:
“Collaboration between Famous Chef and Local Diner Creates a Culinary Smash”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Haley said. “I guess your idea of upgrading Megan’s cooking was a good one. It didn’t work out because of your, uh, problems.”
“You mean the problems Megan caused?” I swear I could feel my blood pressure rising.
“Yes. Those ones. But Antoine didn’t have any of the same issues. He hasn’t poisoned anyone.” Haley sounded apologetic.
“I didn’t poison anyone, either!” My own sister! I couldn’t believe it!
“Yes, but everyone thinks you did.”
I sighed. “I cannot catch a break, can I?”
“Anyway, the night that you had your Grand Opening, Antoine and Megan decided to try it themselves,” Haley explained.
“And stole my idea and are making big bucks on it.”
“Looks that way.”
“And Antoine has a reason to stay in town indefinitely.”
“That looks that way, too.”
I put my head in my hand. “Does anyone want to kill me now?”
“Probably. It seems like someone in town usually does.”
I hung up and shouldered my way through the line to the front door. At first there were some protests, but then I heard my name being murmured. Olive Hicks was seating people at the front. No one ever needed to be seated at the diner. There were always tables. Always. Not today. Every chair was taken. Every stool at the counter had a butt in it. “I need to speak to Antoine.”
Olive shrank away from me. “He’s kind of busy.”
“He is not too busy to see me.” I pushed past and made my way to the kitchen.
It was like I could feel the rhythm and the heat of the kitchen before I got there. My heart pounded. My breath came quicker. I swayed. I pushed through the metal doors and there it was in front of me. Antoine’s kitchen.
Oh, he hadn’t remodeled. The fixtures were the same as the ones I’d cooked on only days before. The counters were arranged in the same way. Nothing had moved. Yet it was demonstrably different. Somehow the air had changed. It was charged with the special electricity that Antoine brought to a cooking space. With a pang, I recognized it and rejected it all at once.
“Antoine!” I yelled.
Everything stopped. Everyone froze, knives in midair, spoons in midstir, spatulas in midflip. Then there he was, threading his way toward me through the kitchen, his smile bright and his blue eyes even brighter. My traitorous heart did the smallest of skips.
“Rebecca! You are here!” He held his arms open as if I was going to embrace him.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” I gestured around the kitchen.
“Why not? You had absolutely the most brilliant of ideas, chérie. Why start from scratch? Mademoiselle Megan has much established here. Plus it means less competition.” He smiled as if I should be glad of his good fortune.
It also meant that he would have a reason to be in Grand Lake pretty much forever. “Three meals a day, Antoine? It’ll kill you. Even with staff. L’Oiseau Gris kept you hopping for twelve hours a day and that was with two dinner seatings.”
“That’s the beauty of this. I’m not responsible for all of it. I will be contributing signature dishes. Over time, I might expand to take over more. Then again, I might not. We will go with the flow, as you say.” He gestured for me to move out of the way and let the staff return to work.
Going with the flow was most definitely not Antoine’s way. “That doesn’t sound like you. You like a plan. You like things mapped out. You like
things to be definitive.”
He shrugged. “It’s true. That was how I liked things. Then someone came into my life and captured my heart. I threw out one set of plans and made another. And then that same person left me and broke my heart into a thousand little pieces. I am still searching for a new plan. Maybe this will be it.”
I knew the person he was talking about was me, and the sharp knife of guilt cut at me. I didn’t buy it one hundred percent, though. “I didn’t break your heart. I derailed your plan. That’s different.”
“We all experience things in our own way, do we not? The destruction of my plan feels to me like the destruction of my heart.” He clutched at his chest.
“Fine. I broke your heart. I still don’t see how this thing with Megan constitutes a new plan.”
“Perhaps I will travel around to different cities and create a few signature dishes at places and help them revitalize.”
“I thought you hadn’t been able to come up with any new recipes. I thought you’d barely been able to cook with that broken heart of yours.”
“I know! I was so pleased with what I did with Megan’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I think it’s because I was here. Near you. Your essence permeates the town and I soak it in.”
“I don’t want you to soak in my essence. I want you to leave my essence alone.” I put my head in my hands.
He shrugged again. “You have no control over your essence once you release it into the world.”
I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. “What would it take to get you to go away?”
“More than you could ever possibly pay.”
Sixteen
Everything had backfired on me. Everything. I wandered down Main Street in a daze. It had all started going wrong the second I’d come back to Grand Lake. Well, maybe not the actual second, but soon after. I made a plan to work with the woman who inspired me most in life and she was killed. I tried to get some free publicity from my ex-husband and he ended up being accused of murder. I tried to make a little money while my shop was closed and someone ended up being poisoned. I tried to make sure my ex-husband didn’t have a niche to fill in the local restaurant scene and created a perfect opportunity for him instead.
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