by Jenny Kales
Max wiped his eyes, still laughing. “I don’t know. Jessica Fletcher could probably learn a trick or two from them.”
“If they don’t show up soon, I’m going to be the one who calls the police,” Callie vowed. “What if the killer is watching the inn?” She started pacing around the kitchen until Max stood in front of her.
“Don’t worry,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “If they don’t show up, I’ll go looking for them. It’s going to be fine. Now let’s get back to work.” He pulled a few more jars of beribboned paxemathia out from behind the counter to replace the ones that had been sold. “And,” he said, winking, “I’m thrilled to have some more kitchen help today.”
Callie tried to keep her mind on work but her heart didn’t stop pounding with anxiety until the two beloved ladies had made their way through the front door of Callie’s Kitchen. From the time of the call to their arrival it had only been about twenty minutes, but to Callie’s worried mind, it seemed like hours. Viv looked a bit sheepish but Sweetie held her head up as regally as a queen, almost like she was expecting to be greeted with congratulations for her caper. As if!
“Speak of the devil!” Max said by way of greeting. “I hear you two have taken up volunteer police work.”
“Oh, Max,” Viv said with a twinkly laugh, taking off her hat, coat and scarf and placing them on a chair. “It was all just a big misunderstanding.”
“Yes,” Sweetie repeated. “Big misunderstand.”
“You two could have gotten arrested, injured – or worse!” Callie admonished them, even as she walked over and hugged first Viv, then Sweetie. “Don’t do it again,” she begged the two ladies. “You’ve got me worried sick. And just for that, I’m going to ask you to stay here a while and help Max and me cook. That way, I can keep an eye on you.”
“Sorry, Calliope,” Sweetie said, her pretty face flushed. “We no mean to get in trouble. We just look for something.”
Viv shot Sweetie a warning glance, but in her enthusiasm to confess all to Callie and to be forgiven, apparently, she didn’t see it.
“What were you looking for?” Callie asked, now thoroughly discombobulated.
“What else?” Sweetie asked, shrugging. “Murder weapon.”
Fifteen
The murder weapon? Were they trying to get themselves killed? Callie mentally sputtered. She felt like she now truly understood the term “at a loss for words.”
“Don’t worry, Callie,” Viv said, joining Callie behind the counter. “We didn’t find anything. But I’ll tell you what we did discover.” She found a blue and white Callie’s Kitchen apron and pulled it over her flannel shirt and jeans. Apparently, Viv had known she’d be outside and had dressed for the weather.
“What?” Max asked eagerly. Callie shot him a look.
“Somebody must have broken into the boathouse.” Viv was continuing excitedly. “We saw scratches around the lock and it looked like the door had been forced open, and then hastily repaired.”
“You mean, broke in before you did?” Callie said ironically, folding her arms across her chest.
“Oh, we never got to break in. Bix caught us. You know the rest.”
“Grandma,” Callie began, exasperated now. She took a breath and gazed at Viv’s expectant face and found that she had rediscovered her ability to speak calmly. “Don’t you think the police have been looking for the weapon? Don’t you think they’ve checked the boathouse? Who knows, the lock could have been broken before Natalie’s murder. No one has said what the weapon is, anyway. What makes you think you’ll find it? Or that it’s even a good idea for you to find it? What if the killer is watching us?”
“We smart,” Sweetie answered, somewhat indignantly. “Why should we not find?”
Viv jumped in smoothly. “Callie, the police are doing a fine job, I’m sure. I just thought I’d take a chance and see if I could find any clues.” Her grandmother pouted a bit and went to wash her hands in the hand-washing sink.
“Now Grandma, you know better than that. I appreciate the interest in solving the crime. I know my friend Emma is upset and worried. And we all feel terrible about Natalie.” Callie put her hands on Viv’s shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Let me do any digging around if it needs to be done. Anyway, the killer could have tossed the weapon anywhere. Who knows?”
“Fair enough,” Viv said briskly, choosing to let Callie’s little diatribe roll off of her. “I’m ready to cook. What do you want me to work on?”
Callie looked at Sweetie, who seemed to be following Viv’s lead and not pursuing talk of their “investigation” any further. “Yes, dear. What you want us to do?”
Relieved that the ladies had decided to stop talking about murder weapons and breaking into boathouses, Callie decided to let the conversation go for now. She explained the health and safety procedures for a commercial kitchen, made sure their hair was pulled back from their faces and got the two women started on some quick breads and cookies.
The kitchen regained its peaceful good cheer. To Callie, it seemed like the only place she felt safe anymore was in her kitchen.
Callie and Max worked even more efficiently with their crew of four. Max put some Christmas music on and they had a brief sing-along to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” in the lull between customers.
Before she knew it, Callie was amazed to discover that two hours had passed. Viv and Sweetie were taking a coffee break in the back of the shop. Heaven only knew what they were plotting now. Maybe now would be a good time to join them.
Callie strode into the back room, coffee cup in hand. “Grandma, Sweetie,” she said, leaning against the countertop. “I’m sorry I got so upset with you. It’s just that I don’t want any harm to come to either of you. Or to me, quite frankly. Because if you two get into trouble researching this crime, Dad will kill me even if no one else does.”
Viv made a face. “We’re very sorry. And we do understand. We just want to help.”
“I know.” Callie sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. “You know I care about the both of you. Anyway, I really appreciate the help today, and Max does too. Can you both do me a favor?”
“Yes, honey,” Sweetie said, anxious to kiss and make up.
“Can you drive safely home and please, please don’t go snooping around The English Country Inn again?”
The ladies looked at each other, then back at Callie. Viv sighed deeply. “Yes. But you will share what we learned, won’t you? With your detective?”
Callie laughed weakly. “He’s not ‘my detective.’ But are you sure that you want me to mention it? Bix was going to call the police and you didn’t want him to.”
“He say, he going to ‘bust’ us,” Sweetie answered matter-of-factly. “Your detective, he want to help.”
“All right, OK. But, likely the police have checked into it.” The two women looked at her expectantly and stubbornly, Callie thought. She relented. “Yes! I’ll tell him.” She also had to ask him about Christy’s burglar alarm.
The ladies looked pleased as they bundled back into their outerwear and said their goodbyes to Callie and Max. Viv said something to Sweetie at the door before rushing back to Callie’s side and whispering in her ear. “He may not be ‘your’ detective. But he could be, if you want him to. I’ve seen how he looks at you.” She waggled her fingers at Callie before re-joining Sweetie, the two of them giggling like a pair of school girls all the way out the door.
“What are you going to do with them?” Max asked, after they left. He was shaking his head and smiling.
“I’m not sure,” Callie answered. “What do you do with family anyway? Love them, I guess. Tolerate them, at the very least. And try to keep them out of your business. Except, that last part doesn’t usually work out so well for me.”
“Hey, at least they’re looking out for you.” Was that envy in Max’s eyes? Tough, tattooed muscled Max didn’t talk much about his own family. C
allie felt guilty for complaining.
“And I’m looking out for you,” Callie replied. “Now, let’s finish up here.”
* * *
Luckily, Callie’s car was ready when she called the garage during a lull at work. Max kindly offered to drive her there to retrieve it and she gladly agreed, only too happy to be back in her own familiar vehicle. All she wanted to do was to get home and attempt to relax. And sleep. Slumber had been in short supply these last several days.
With Olivia working on homework at the dining room table and Koukla nestled on her lap later that evening, Callie took a couple of ibuprofen for her jaw and daydreamed about taking a vacation as she did every year when Crystal Bay felt like one big icicle. It would have to be someplace warm. Palm trees, sun, cool drinks. Would Sands be with her? Come to think of it, she’d only had a text from him all day, asking after her health. Usually, he called at least once.
Retreating to more pleasant thoughts of warm climates, Callie imagined herself floating on her back in the water, not a care in the world. Crystal Bay in the summer was wonderful but it was hard to remember the warm, lapping waves of the bay when a gust of winter wind was whipping you in the face.
She must have drifted off, because soon Olivia was shaking her awake. “Mom. It’s for you,” she said. Her daughter picked up Koukla and kissed Callie on the cheek. “You look tired, Mom. You should get to bed soon.”
Amused to hear her daughter repeating words she’d said to her so often, Callie smiled and sat up, rubbing her eyes before taking the home phone from Olivia’s hand. “Thanks, Liv,” she said. Then, into the phone, “Hello? Callie’s Kitchen. This is Callie.”
A warm rumble of laughter greeted her. “Callie’s Kitchen? Aren’t you at home?”
“Yes, sorry. Just a habit. I’m a little out of it. I was napping, if you can believe it.”
“Oh no,” Sands chuckled. “You must have had a rough day. Sorry to wake you, but I thought you’d want to know about the car that ran you into the ditch the other day.”
Instantly, Callie felt alert. “Yes. What did you find out?”
“Later that same evening, a driver ran through a red light right near the place where your car wound up in the ditch. Are you ready for the driver? It was none other than Nick Hawkins, fiancé of Lexy Dayton.”
“Nick Hawkins? Not Mrs. Dayton?”
“No ma’am. He was sober, by the way. Passed the sobriety test. We don’t have proof that he was the same driver, so don’t go spreading this around. But I know you’re doing the food for that holiday party for Lexy so can you please be careful? Even better – can you cancel the event? These people seem a bit barmy.”
Oh gosh. The Dayton party. Some of the baking was done for that, but not all of it.
Callie groaned with exhaustion. “Thanks for reminding me and no, I can’t cancel,” she said irritably. Belatedly, she smiled as ‘barmy’ sunk into her weary brain. “Sorry,” she said with a laugh. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But there’s no way. My reputation would be ruined.”
“Better your reputation than your life, Callie. Think about it.” He paused a minute, then changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but OK. Thanks for asking.” She hesitated. “Just so you know, Bix Buckman said my grandmother and my aunt Sweetie were snooping around near the boathouse. They said it looked like someone had been trying to break in. I promised them I’d tell you.” She sighed.
“That’s odd. I’ll give it another look. In the meantime, will you kindly tell them to stay away from there?”
“I already did.” Callie paused. “I wonder who did try to break in, though?” she wondered aloud. “It wouldn’t have been someone who works at the inn. The staff would be able to get in there anytime, right?”
“You never know,” Sands answered cryptically.
“Also, Christy, the new owner of Tea for Two said that her burglar alarm went off at two in the morning. Guess who’s her part-time employee? Kayla, from The English Country Inn.”
“You don’t say,” Sands said slowly.
“Had you heard anything about Tea for Two?”
“Yes, somebody mentioned something the other day but we get a lot of these calls this time of year. Anything can trip the door alarm – even rats or raccoons.”
Callie shivered. “Yuck!” She decided to change the subject. “So, when do you think we can see each other again?”
“I’m not sure,” Sands said, sounding preoccupied. She was pretty sure she heard him typing. “I’ll call you. Got to dash. Cheers.”
“Bye,” Callie said into a dead phone. He was busy, after all, she reasoned with herself. He was working a murder case.
So why did she feel like he was avoiding her?
First her father, now Sands? Everybody was acting so weird. Holidays, Callie thought. They bring out the best – and the worst in people.
And by the way, what was it with Nick and Mrs. Dayton? Why were they both appearing to be using their vehicles as weapons – aimed directly at her?
Callie lay back down and sighed, desperately wanting to go back to her dream of floating along without a care. But that wasn’t to be. Suddenly she shivered and it wasn’t from the cold wind that was blowing the snow around outside of her windows.
* * *
Tired as she was, Callie welcomed the chance to forget her troubles at work the next day. After another near-sleepless night, she was happy to focus on the simpler, more wholesome tasks involved in baking, cooking and serving customers.
Talk of Natalie’s murder was still a hot topic, but some of Callie’s customers seemed anxious to move on to other, less depressing subjects. With a little prodding, she was soon chatting away with her regulars about the upcoming Christmas season and busying herself with planning food for each of three upcoming events: the Christmas Tea at the inn, the Dayton party and Melody’s book launch.
Max worked alongside of her, busy and competent. Piper rang up customers in between restocking bakery cases and the refrigerator unit. It was wonderful to have extra staff and she even missed Sweetie and Viv working with her. Despite their troublesome investigative behavior, they were efficient bakers and cooks, not to mention pleasant and cheerful company.
During the late morning lull, Callie decided to take a break and check out the “Callie’s Kitchen” Instagram and Facebook accounts. In the last few hours, Piper had posted one new shot of Max, who was beaming for the camera and holding up a jar of what Callie was now dubbing “Spiced Greek Biscotti.”
This post was going to be a sure-fire winner, Callie thought. With his edgy good looks, Max was certainly photogenic. The cookies didn’t look half bad, either. Max didn’t mind having his picture taken, unlike Callie.
Enough playing on the Internet. Putting her phone back in her pocket, Callie decided to get some food prep accomplished so that she could get a head start on her several holiday event items. But before she could bury herself in the kitchen work area, the door jingled and in walked Sands. Callie saw Max nudge Piper and the two of them beamed at her like she was about to go to her first prom.
“Hey, Detective,” Max greeted him. “What can we get you today?”
“Hello, Max, Piper,” he said, nodding. He was wearing his long wool coat and looked exhausted. “Just thought I’d pop in to see Callie,” Sands said, clearing his throat. He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”
“Sure,” Callie said, frowning a bit. “Come on, I was just about to go in the back room.”
She ignored the interested stares of her co-workers and flinched when she thought she heard Piper make a soft “whoo whoo” sound. Callie would have laughed but she was pretty sure Sands wasn’t here for romance.
Callie offered Sands a cup of tea while he took off his coat and draped it over a stool. He sat there, rubbing his face tiredly, but when she handed him the steaming cup of tea, he seemed to perk up a bit.
“So what’s up?”
she finally asked when she was seated across from him.
Sands stirred sugar into his tea. “I wanted to tell you about Bix Buckman. I’ve done some digging and apparently there have been some complaints about him. I’m worried about Samantha. Are they still seeing each other?”
“Complaints?” Callie wasn’t entirely shocked. “You mean, from former girlfriends, or bosses – or what?”
“Girlfriends, unfortunately,” Sands answered, taking a sip of tea.
“I can’t say that I’m all that surprised,” Callie replied, busying herself with a cup of strong coffee loaded with sugar and milk. “He seems to have a bit of a temper. The only thing I don’t get is why Sam is still seeing him. It’s not like her to tolerate a guy with a history of bad behavior.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that one,” Sands said, gazing at Callie with his hazel eyes. “So don’t you want to know what his woman trouble is?”
“Of course!”
“Turns out that the trouble is in his more distant past. Apparently, he hasn’t been violent but he has been “persistent.” No restraining orders, but plenty of complaints regarding letter-writing, phone calls, that sort of thing. When the woman pushed back enough, he would back off.”
Callie thought this over. “So maybe he snapped? I mean, it’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible,” Sands conceded. His sipped his tea and the color started to come back into his cheeks. “I don’t want you to make this a public broadcast, but just let Sam know that he may not be the best choice in the dating pool.”
“I’m surprised Sam doesn’t know about his past,” Callie remarked. “You’d think she would have checked him out. I mean, she does deal with criminals in her line of work.”
“Who knows? She may have investigated him on her own and decided to take a chance. Isn’t that what relationships are? A big gamble, all the way around.”