Nothing.
From what I could tell, Aunt Stella used her laptop for buying clothes and for e-mail.
I checked a five-drawer oak filing cabinet. I opened the last one marked S–Z. There it was: a blue hanging file labeled Sunshine Food Supply.
All the invoices were there, with the exception of those from the last couple of months. I remembered that I had seen two envelopes from Sunshine Food Supply in the grocery bag that Nancy had given me.
I reached over and picked up the bag from the floor. Leafing through everything, I found just what I was looking for.
Of course, no mushrooms were listed. Not that I expected big, red letters that said “poison mushrooms, one can” along with the cost in the right-hand column; I just expected something—anything—to jump out at me.
I compared the two invoices. They were both basically a standing order for the same goods: tomato sauce, produce, assorted boxes of cereal, eggs, bread, several cuts of meat, cold cuts—on and on it went.
The delivery person was listed as “M.C.”
Funny, those were the same initials as the victim, Marvin Cogswell the Third.
Was this just a coincidence? Would Marvin’s father or son want him dead? And why?
Oh, wait! Roberta Cummings was his emergency contact, but did he have a next of kin? Was the obituary wrong? Was Ty wrong in not having discovered any relatives?
The doorbell rang, and I figured that it was Ty Brisco. He’d wanted to talk more, and I couldn’t wait to show him what I’d found.
I practically skipped to the door, invoices in hand. It was Ty with a cardboard box containing two take-out cups of coffee and a waxed paper bag that looked like it contained doughnuts.
Bless his heart. I’d save my cake for another time.
I opened the door, and he stepped into the living room. He was just about to step out of his boots, when I noticed that at his side was Blondie. She was washed and fluffed, and two little pink bows were over her ears.
“No one seems to be looking for her. No microchip,” Ty said, answering my unasked question. He petted the dog on her blond head. “So I’m going to foster her. When they put her up for adoption, I get first dibs.” He shot me a charming grin. “I hope it’s okay with my landlord if I have a dog in my apartment.”
“As long as Blondie behaves herself, no one should mind.”
Blondie seemed to know that she was accepted. She licked my hand, and I just melted. I bent over to pet her, and she rolled over onto her back.
“She wants you to rub her tummy,” Ty explained.
“Oh, okay.” I did so, and also petted her head and back for good measure. I just loved the feel of her soft fur. “I’ve never had a pet in my life.”
Ty smiled. “We can share Blondie.”
I liked that idea. “Blondie is more than welcome to come in. And Ty, forget about your boots,” I said. Another couple layers of winter crud couldn’t do much more harm.
As I spread out the two pieces of paper on the table in front of him, he set down the cardboard box. Blondie curled up in front of the furnace grate.
Smart dog.
“Look at these delivery slips,” I said, pointing to the initials of the delivery person. “‘M.C.’ was the delivery person on the last two occasions. Actually, I looked back even further. M.C. was the delivery person for all the deliveries in the last six months. Once a week, he came to the Silver Bullet.”
“M.C.?” He raised a perfect black eyebrow.
“Yes. The same initials as our victim, Marvin P. Cogswell the Third. Could there be a Marvin the Fourth?”
Ty popped the lid on a take-out cup and handed me the other. “We couldn’t find any living relatives when we went to look for the next of kin. And this guy would be living in town, for heaven’s sake, if he delivers for Sunshine. That means he would have been at the funeral, or at least the cemetery.”
“Maybe not. Not if they were estranged.”
“True. This is a good lead. Good work, Trixie.”
I let myself bask in the glow of his compliment while I loaded cream and sugar into my coffee. “I’ll ask Max or Clyde. They’d know if there were more Cogswells around. They seem to know everyone. Or Juanita certainly would know. She’s lived in Sandy Harbor a long time.”
“Then why wouldn’t she have told me?” Ty asked.
My heart sank. I didn’t want Juanita implicated. “Good point, but maybe she forgot. Or maybe she really doesn’t know.”
“Small town,” Ty reminded me. “Everyone knows everyone.”
A peek out the window told me that Max was sprinkling more ice-melting granules onto the sidewalk leading to the diner. “Let me call Max,” I said, pulling out my cell. I punched in his number and could see him answer his phone.
“Hell-o. Max here.”
“Max, this is Trixie. Do you know the name of the man from Sunshine Food Supply who usually delivers to the Silver Bullet?”
“Yup.”
I raised my eyes to the heavens, praying for patience. “Would you like to tell me his name?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Then tell me his name!”
“Mark Cummings.”
“Mark Cummings,” I repeated for Ty’s sake, who then wrote it down on a small pad that he pulled from an inside pocket of his coat. “How long has he been delivering for Sunshine Food Supply?”
Max rubbed his chin. “For a long time. He delivers to all the restaurants in Sandy Harbor and round abouts.”
“Anything else I should know about Mark Cummings?”
Max hesitated. “I don’t think so. Other than his sister is Roberta. You know, the gal who was living with the health inspector who died in the kitchen.”
“Oh! Of course I know her.” I hung up the phone, and I repeated Max’s statement word for word before I forgot. Then I sat down at the kitchen table as did Ty.
Ty grinned. “So the delivery person, who delivered for Sunshine Food Supply just before Marvin was poisoned, is Mark Cummings, the brother of Marvin’s live-in girlfriend?”
“Bingo.” I reached for the bag of doughnuts, suddenly famished, and pulled out a peanut doughnut.
“Don’t get excited, Trixie. We have to find out if Mark had an ax to grind with Marvin.”
“Maybe he didn’t like something about Marvin. Maybe he didn’t like how Marvin was treating Roberta.”
Ty pushed his hat back with a thumb.
“I can tell you that Roberta called 911 three times on Marvin the Third. And he was charged with disorderly conduct. It’s public knowledge because all arrests are published in the paper, so I am free to tell you. I hear that that their fights are legendary.”
I swallowed. “And wouldn’t a brother, like Mark, be upset if he knew that Marvin was using his sister as a punching bag?”
“Upset enough to poison him?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what really happened. Maybe he really did assault Roberta, but she never said.”
“It’s worth checking into. I think I’ll have a little talk with Mr. Cummings.” He took another sip of his coffee and clamped the lid back on.
The beeping warning of a large motor vehicle backing up was loud enough to be heard in the next county. Blondie lifted her head, and her ears stuck up like radar. Then all three of us looked out the kitchen window at the diner.
Another bingo.
“You won’t have far to travel, Ty. The Sunshine Food Supply truck is here, and unless I’m totally mistaken, Mark Cummings will be driving.”
But why was he here? I wasn’t expecting another delivery until next week. Besides, I was thinking of cutting back on the standing order since no one was patronizing the diner.
I followed Ty out the door, slipping into my parka and hopping into my sopping wet boots as I walked. Then I sank into the slush that I’d grown to hate.
We crossed the parking lot in record time and walked around to the back of the diner where deliveries were made and the
door was always unlocked.
Chapter 8
When Ty and I approached, the Sunshine Food Supply deliveryman was wheeling a dolly stacked with cardboard boxes down a ramp.
I could see Ty reading the colorful printing on the sides of the boxes. I did the same.
“Pies, doughnuts, crushed tomatoes, American cheese, lettuce…and what’s that on the bottom?” I swallowed hard as I looked at the cartoon of smiling red toadstools dancing around the bottom of the box. “Sliced mushrooms?”
He pushed his cowboy hat back with a thumb. “You gotta be kidding!”
“I didn’t order them! Why on earth would I?” I shrugged. “Remember, the diner is a mushroom-free zone—or at least it used to be.”
Just as we were about to question the deliveryman, Ty’s radio went off. I couldn’t catch the garbled, static-filled message, but all cops seem to have some kind of radio ear.
He handed me Blondie’s leash along with some kind of rope that I assumed was to keep her from running away. “I gotta go. The roof of the American Legion collapsed from the weight of the snow.”
“Oh no! Were there people in it?”
“Yes.” He shot the reply over his shoulder as he ran to his SUV.
I could already hear the sirens of emergency vehicles in the distance, and I said a quick prayer that everyone was okay.
I wanted to hop in my car and see if I could help, but first I had to check out this delivery and do something with Blondie.
“Uh, hello. Could you stop a minute?” I asked the deliveryman, as he wheeled another dolly full of boxes down a ramp from the back of the Sunshine Food Supply truck toward the back door of the diner. “I’m Trixie Matkowski, the new owner of the Silver Bullet. And you are?”
He froze in place, and I thought he looked like a scarecrow. He was as thin as a rail, and his royal blue jumpsuit was three sizes too big.
“I know who you are.” He grunted. “You’re the one who poisoned Marvin Cogswell. I saw you at his calling hours.”
He must have been one of the few individuals sitting in the funeral parlor when I arrived with Ty. “You deserve a medal for offing him.”
Looked like he wasn’t a fan of Marvin. “No medal for me. I did not poison him,” I said sharply. I was ready to throw him off my property, but then I decided that I’d get more answers out of him by being sweeter.
I offered my hand, and after the seconds ticked by, he shook it, not even taking off his grimy glove. Blondie sniffed him, and he took a step back.
“Is that a friendly dog?” he asked.
“I think so. I’ve only known her for a grand total of about fifteen minutes, but she hasn’t bitten anyone yet.”
He didn’t crack a grin at my joke. As he looked down at Blondie, his lip curled on one side. Obviously, he wasn’t a dog fan.
“And you are?” I asked again.
“Mark. Mark Cummings.” He answered impatiently and pointed at the name embroidered on his jumpsuit.
Like I could see that through the folds of the material!
“You’re Roberta’s brother?”
He stared down his pointed nose at me.
“How did you know that?”
“Just a guess. Same last name. How’s she doing today?” I was truly concerned. If she loved Marvin the Third, it’d be a difficult loss for her to handle.
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen her lately.” He pushed the dolly a couple of feet, but I held up my hand like a traffic cop for him to stop.
“Mr. Cummings, I just had a delivery a couple of days ago. I don’t need anything, and I never placed this order.”
He shrugged. “It must be a standing order.”
“Maybe, but not mushrooms. Never mushrooms. We don’t use them at this diner. It’s a…custom. Could you tell me who ordered these items, please?”
My heart pounded. Was this a cruel joke?
With a noisy sigh, he put his dolly upright, trudged to the front seat of the truck, and pulled out a clipboard. He scanned the paper on top with a bony finger. “It’s a phone order.”
“So, who phoned in the order?”
“It doesn’t say. Just says phone order.” He tossed the clipboard back onto the seat.
“Mr. Cummings, please call your office and ask who ordered it. Maybe someone remembers who phoned it in.”
“Lady, I’m busy. You call the office. So, do you want this stuff or not?”
“Not.”
He swore under his breath. Blondie growled next to me. She didn’t seem to like Mark Cummings any more than I did. Mark Cummings and his sister were totally unfriendly.
He rolled the dolly back up the ramp, slammed everything that he could possibly slam, got in the cab, and finally pulled away. I walked through the silver metal doors to call Sunshine Food Supply.
I tied Blondie to a nice dry spot, retrieved her water bowl, and gave her fresh water. I had to remember to ask Ty if he had dog food for her. Maybe I’d head over to the Dollar-O-Rama and pick some up.
Blondie was going to be Ty’s dog, but she was getting to know me, too. I petted her, and she licked my hand. I was falling in love with the blond-haired cutie.
Since there were no customers, Cindy and Nancy were out front having a cup of coffee. I gave them a wave through the pass-through window, and they waved back.
I pulled out my cell and phoned Juanita to ask her whether she’d placed a recent order with Sunshine.
“No, Trixie. Nada. We still have lots left. It’s going to spoil if we don’t get more customers.”
My stomach sank to my knees. I already knew this, but I didn’t want to think about it. I guess it was time to donate whatever couldn’t be frozen.
Maybe the emergency personnel and rescuers at the American Legion could use some sustenance. It would give me people to cook for, and I loved doing that.
I’d talk to Nancy and Cindy and among the three of us, we could prepare food and desserts for everyone. But first I dialed Sunshine Food Supply. I had to get to the bottom of the mushroom delivery.
“Let the sun shine with Sunshine Food Supply. This is Candy, and I’m here to take your order.”
“Candy, this is Trixie Matkowski over at the Silver Bullet Diner.”
“Oh, hi! Welcome to Sandy Harbor, Trixie.”
She was sweet, delightful, and perfectly named.
“Not even five minutes ago, Mark Cummings was here to deliver an order. Could you possibly tell me who placed that order?”
“Sure can.” I heard the typing of keys. “It was a phone order.”
“I know, but do you remember who placed it?”
“It was a woman. I thought it was you. I remember that she was in a hurry, and I was disappointed that I didn’t get to welcome you to Sandy Harbor. So…welcome again!”
“Aww…thank you again.” She really was adorable. “Did you recognize the voice? Anything?”
Candy hesitated. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. Something is very wrong. I didn’t place the order, and I don’t know who did. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this so it doesn’t happen again.”
“I don’t remember anything else.…Oh, wait….”
“Yes?” I held my breath, waiting for a clue to drop.
“She ordered a case of sliced mushrooms in water. The Silver Bullet never orders mushrooms, so I thought that was peculiar. Porky and Stella hated them. So I said, ‘Mushrooms? Are you sure?’”
“Yeah, then what?”
“She said something like, ‘They’re a gift.’”
“A gift?” I asked.
“Isn’t that funny?”
“Hilarious,” I said, even though it was anything but. “Candy, from now on, take orders for the Silver Bullet only from me. We’ll have a code phrase, like…uh…Sandy Harbor is a beautiful place.”
“Okay! That’ll be fun.”
“Thanks for the information, Candy.”
“And thank you for calling Sunshine Food Supply, in business since 19
49.”
I mulled things over. A woman ordered a case of mushrooms to be delivered to the Silver Bullet. It certainly wasn’t me. I doubted that the waitresses, Nancy and Chelsea, would have a reason to do that, and Juanita certainly wouldn’t. But what did I know? I still hadn’t met some of the other waitresses—the part-timers or the subs.
Had Juanita already phoned them and told them not to come in due to the lack of business? Would one of them hold a grudge, or think that such a practical joke would be funny?
No. That couldn’t be it. I had just agreed to Juanita making the calls to them and cutting back their hours. No one would have had the chance to put together such a perfectly timed practical joke.
Would they?
Not to change the subject, but didn’t I have to relieve Cindy sometime today or tonight? And when was Bob, the other cook, due to return?
And where was my notebook?
Nancy walked into the kitchen and found me staring stupefied at the large plastic container of snowball cookies that I’d made—when?—a day ago? A couple of mornings ago? I was losing all track of time.
Cindy’s beautiful cinnamon buns were nicely arranged on a faux silver tray and covered in plastic wrap.
If only people were here to enjoy them.
“Trixie, are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Just thinking.” I forced a smile.
“My sister just called me,” Nancy said. “She lives near the Legion Hall.”
“Is everyone okay?” I was so caught up in my own worries, I’d forgotten about the collapsed roof. How horrible of me.
“They don’t know yet. They think that there were about a dozen people there. They were having some kind of meeting. I guess volunteers are digging through the debris—wood and shingles, ice and snow and water. It might take a while. My brother-in-law owns a construction company, so he’s called in his crew and brought in some equipment.”
My heart ached for those trapped inside and their families. I sprang into action.
“Nancy, grab Cindy. Let’s pack up some coffee and treats for the volunteers and whoever else is there. We’ll make sandwiches from whatever we can put together from the fridge.”
Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery Page 9