After she was done in the kitchen, she picked up her phone again, this time to call Margie. She had already told the older woman about how perfect Pete’s store had been, and now had to be the bearer of bad news and tell her that it probably wasn’t going to work out. Lilah had no idea who the store would go to now that Pete was gone. If he still owed money on it, it might go to the bank, she thought, but she didn’t know what they would do with it. Like Reid had said, it would probably take a while to get everything straightened out.
Her neighbor was just as upset by the news as she was. She invited Lilah over immediately, offering to talk about the death of Pete.
“But what about your family?” Lilah asked.
“Oh, Robby’s taken the kids out to the farm—they’ve cut down all the corn, but they’re still offering hay rides and tours, you know. Eliza’s here, but she has a headache and has been staying in the guest room all morning. As long as we’re quiet, we shouldn’t disturb her. You can help me with lunch, if you’d like. I’m just getting started on some homemade tomato soup. I figure soup and grilled cheese sandwiches will be just the thing to warm the kids up when they get back.”
“If you’re sure I won’t be intruding…”
“Not at all, dear. I could use the company.”
So Lilah changed out of her cooking clothes—she really needed to buy an apron, how had she forgotten the last time she was at the store?—and headed over to Margie’s house after a saying a quick, affectionate goodbye to Winnie and Oscar. Her friend’s kitchen was already full of mouthwatering scents when she walked in; not its usual warm vanilla, but onion and garlic and tomatoes. A pot was bubbling away on the stove, and a loaf of rye bread from the local bakery was sitting on the counter.
“What is this town coming to?” Margie asked with a shake of her head after greeting Lilah. “Two murders in as many months, and now a suicide. Vista used to be such a wonderful, family-friendly place. I’m not sure I even feel safe going out after dark alone anymore.”
“Don’t say that,” Lilah said. “Vista’s still wonderful. None of those deaths were connected. I’m sure every town goes through a rough patch every now and then.”
“I know.” Her friend sighed. “It’s just that I knew Pete. Not well, of course, but my husband and I used to stop at his store every Sunday evening for a sandwich after our stroll in the park.”
“The sandwich shop must have been open for a while,” she said. Margie rarely talked about her husband, and Lilah didn’t know anything about Mr. Hatch other than that he had died a few years before she’d moved to Vista.
“Oh, it’s been there for years and years,” Margie said. “Always in the Talbot family. I think Pete’s father passed it down to him about a decade ago, though of course he’s worked there much longer.”
“Wow, so it must really have been a blow when he decided he had to sell it,” Lilah said.
“I can’t even imagine what that poor lad was going through. I’m sure he did everything in his power to keep the place.”
Lilah, who had been wondering whether Pete’s death was really a suicide or not, realized that it wasn’t that far-fetched an idea. Faced with the prospect of selling the store that had been in his family for generations must have driven him to the end of his rope. With the fact that he was by the sound of it, deeply in debt, she could begin to see what might have caused him to do it. Still, it was hard to believe that the man she’d met only the day before, who had seemed so nice, had really ended his life shortly thereafter.
Continuing to gossip about Pete and the sandwich shop, she set to work helping Margie make lunch. She’d never made tomato soup herself before, so the casual cooking session quickly became a learning experience. The older woman seemed unable to turn down an opportunity to pass on her skills, and Lilah wasn’t complaining. She had been spending a lot more time in the kitchen lately, but almost exclusively for cookie making. Since a diet of only cookies didn’t really appeal, no matter how good they tasted, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to make some other dishes.
“The soup’s done boiling,” her friend said. “Could you get the food mill out of the cupboard by the stove? Run the soup through, then put it back on the burner on low to keep it warm. I’ll start slicing the bread for the sandwiches.”
“Sure.” Lilah opened the cupboard and looked inside. “But ah, what does the food mill look like, exactly? I’ve never used one.”
Margie bustled over and got it out for her. “Mine’s a bit old-fashioned, I’m afraid. It’s already set up. Just pour the soup in—slowly, so it doesn’t splash, and turn the handle.”
She did as she was told, and after only a couple of minutes found herself with a bowl of what very closely resembled the premade tomato soups that she had grown up on. Meanwhile, Margie had managed to carve the loaf of bread into slices of almost uniform thickness, and was busily buttering the bottom of a large pan.
“I’ll make the kids’ fresh when they get home. What would you like on yours?” she asked. “I’ve got American, cheddar, and swiss cheese, corned beef, fresh tomatoes… really anything you could want on a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“Oh, you don’t have to, Margie. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“It’s no trouble at all, dear. What will it be?”
“Just swiss cheese and corned beef then, if you’re sure.” The truth was, she was hungry, not having eaten anything other than a cookie for lunch so far, and all of it sounded pretty good to her. Thinking of the cookie made her realize suddenly that she did have something to contribute to this meal, after all. Promising to be right back, she hurried of to her house to grab a container of cookies, promising herself that she would make up the difference next time she worked on Reid’s order.
When she got back to Margie’s house, Eliza was sitting at the counter with a blue ice mask pressed to her eyes. She looked up when Lilah came in, then replaced the mask over her face.
“It’s these migraines,” she was telling her mother-in-law. “They just make life miserable. It’s hard enough, trying to have a career and also be a mother. To be saddled with debilitating pain once a month on top of everything else, well, it’s a burden.”
“My mom used to get migraines,” Lilah said as she set the container of cookies down on the counter. “She tried every medicine under the sun, but nothing worked until she stopped drinking caffeinated beverages and began using essential oils around the house.”
“I don’t think giving up my morning coffee is going to solve this for me,” Eliza said. “These are tied to my hormones. Every month, like clockwork.” She sighed and laid her head down on the counter.
“Do you remember going to Talbot’s Sandwiches last time you and Robby came to visit?” Margie asked as she flipped a sandwich over in the pan.
“That little place downtown that had insanely low prices?” the other woman mumbled, her eyes still hidden behind the mask. “I only remember because Robby told me his dad used to love that place.”
“That’s the one,” Margie said. “Well, the owner committed suicide—”
“When?” Eliza asked, sitting up suddenly.
“I don’t know,” Margie said, sounding surprised. She looked to Lilah, who shook her head.
“I don’t know exactly. It would have to have been either last night, or early this morning.”
“Didn’t you see him yesterday?” Eliza asked, peering at Lilah through a hole in the mask. “I remember her saying something about you buying the sandwich shop. My migraine was coming on then, so I wasn’t listening closely.”
“I did. I saw him yesterday afternoon.”
“That’s interesting,” the other woman said, removing the mask and turning it over so the colder side would be pressed against her face.
“How so?” Lilah asked. The woman had a way of making her feel on edge.
“Well, it’s going to be sold a lot cheaper if the bank auctions it off, isn’t it?” Eliza shrugged and closed her eyes again.
“It just seems like a useful coincidence for you. From what I heard, you were absolutely in love with the place.”
“What are you saying?” Lilah asked, beginning to get angry. “Do you think I killed him?”
“I’m just saying it’s a coincidence, that’s all,” the woman said. “You know what, Margie? I think I will take my sandwich and soup down to the guest room. Thanks.”
With that, she got up and, still pressing the mask to her face, vanished through the doorway that lead to the dining room and the rest of Margie’s house. Lilah was fuming. Eliza had only been here a few days. What right did she have to throw around accusations like that?
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
It seemed that Eliza hadn’t been the only one to suspect Lilah’s connection to Pete’s death. The next morning, she got a call from the police station asking her to come in to answer some questions. Eldridge, the detective on the other end of the phone, didn’t say what for and she didn’t ask. She could guess. He already didn’t like her, and had probably jumped at the opportunity to link her to something nefarious.
Annoyed at the situation, though still shocked enough by Pete’s death not to complain, she called Randall at the diner and told him that she’d probably be at least an hour late. He told her it was fine, and when he heard the reason for her tardiness, said that he’d be interested to hear her recount her tale when she came in. The diner was a hot spot for gossip. She was sure her story would be spread around town by the time it closed that evening.
The Vista police station was a small standalone building on the edge of town. Lilah parked next to one of the two police cruisers and sat for a moment in her car, trying to figure out just why she felt so anxious. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but there was still a bundle of nerves in her stomach. It likely had to do with the fact that her previous encounters with Detective Eldridge never exactly ended well. He thought that she was a nosy busybody, prone to interfering with police investigations. Was he likely to believe anything she said during this interview?
After mentally bracing herself, she walked through the front doors to see him waiting by the receptionist’s desk. He waved her over without a word, and she followed him back to his office. She tried to convince herself that it was a good sign that he hadn’t brought her to the interrogation room—maybe she wasn’t a suspect after all.
“Ms. Fallon, can you tell me in detail about the last time you saw Pete Talbot?” he asked after gesturing for her to sit down in a chair across the desk from his comfortable leather seat.
She had been expecting this, of course. She had opened her mouth to tell the tale, when something occurred to her. How had Eldridge known about her meeting with Pete? She and Reid had been the only ones there… other than that scruffy drunk. She figured the chances of him knowing her name were pretty slim, though. Perhaps Pete had written their meeting down somewhere so he wouldn’t forget it, or maybe Reid, who had been acquainted with Pete, had already been interviewed. Deciding it didn’t really matter, Lilah cleared her head and got back to telling her story.
When she was done, Eldridge offered her a glass of water, then began asking her questions.
“What price was he asking for the store?” She told him. “Do you feel that was a fair price?”
“Yes,” she said. “And well within my budget.”
He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and crossed something off the notepad in front of him. “What was your first impression of Pete when you met him?”
“He looked tired,” she said, remembering the bags underneath his eyes.
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know… he seemed nice. When we got there, he was arguing with a guy who said Pete owed him money?”
“What was this man’s name?” Eldridge asked, showing a spark of interest for the first time.
“Andrew,” she said. “I didn’t catch his last name.”
He nodded and made a note. “And you said ‘we’? Who else was with you?”
“Reid Townsend came with me to see the shop,” she told him. How did he know about her presence, but not Reid’s?
He made another note, then asked her if there was anything else she wanted to tell him. When she said there wasn’t, he stood up and led her out of the room. “We’ll call you if we need anything else.”
With that, she was free to go.
Lilah went straight to the diner, eager for the hours. When she walked into the kitchen, she almost ran over Kate Emery, her favorite of the other employees. The two women got along well, and had often mentioned meeting outside of work to get coffee or go shopping, but so far their schedules hadn’t aligned.
“Oops, sorry,” she said, catching the tray that Kate was carrying just as it began to tip.
“That was my fault,” the other woman said, taking the tray back from her gratefully and straightening the dishes. “I didn’t call out that I was coming through. I wasn’t expecting you here this early.”
“Talking to Eldridge didn’t take long. Did Randall call you in to cover for me? Sorry you had to come in for such a short time”
“Yeah, but I’m glad you got here early. I’ve got an exam to study for today.”
Kate was taking classes at the community college a few towns over with the dream of eventually becoming a nurse.
“Good luck on the test, I’m sure you’ll do well,” Lilah said, stepping back and holding the door for her co-worker.
“Thanks!” Kate said brightly as she walked past. “I’ll just drop this order off, and pop back in to tell Randall I’m leaving.”
Randall Price owned the little diner. He was an old man who seemed perpetually grumpy except to those who knew him well, and was rarely found outside of the kitchen during the hours the restaurant was open. The diner had one back-up cook, but Lilah didn’t think he’d been in for months.
When he saw her come into the kitchen, he beckoned her over to where he was frying a hamburger patty on the grill and told her to spill the beans. Lilah wasn’t surprised that he was interested in the suicide—it was an almost unheard of tragedy in Vista—but was surprised when she found out that he knew Pete Talbot.
“How did you know him?” she asked.
“I watched little Petey grow up,” he said, flipping the patty with a satisfying sizzle. “His father, Samuel Talbot, was this diner’s main competitor in town. He was also one of my best friends back in the day.”
“He was your main competitor and your friend?”
Randall gave a rare smile. “We used to make bets on who would make more sales each month. When his wife got cancer, I donated a portion of the diner’s profits to a fundraiser for her hospital fees. I never married, but I know he would have done the same for me.” He shook his head. “Poor Pete. I’m sure glad Samuel isn’t around to see this.”
Lilah didn’t know what to say in response, so she busied herself instead with putting on her apron and name tag. Randall was silent until she returned from taking the burger out to the guest at table three.
“When you saw Pete, did he say anything about his sister, by chance?” he asked as she returned and began to load up a plate with a double order of fries.
“I think he mentioned something about a sister, yeah,” she said. “It was just in passing, though. Why?”
“Beth went away for college right after she graduated high school, and hasn’t been back since.” Randall said. “I’ve got an old letter that her father wrote to her before he died. It’s sitting in my office right now, in fact. Look, if you hear from her about the sandwich shop, could you ask her to stop in? If I’m not here when she comes by, you can give her the letter yourself.”
“Of course,” Lilah promised. She grabbed a fresh squeeze bottle of ketchup from the counter and put it on the tray next to the fry order before bumping the swinging door to the dining area. She paused in the doorway and looked back, feeling an unusual surge of pity for the old man. She tried to imagine what it would be like to get the news th
at someone she knew, someone she had watched grow up, even, had killed themselves. She couldn’t fathom it. It was bad enough when it happened to a near stranger.
Resolving to work extra hard around the diner in the coming days so Randall wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, she let the door swing shut behind her and hurried over to the table of three impatient teenagers to deliver their fries.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
Lilah had been so distracted by Pete’s suicide that all thoughts of the Thanksgiving cookie order for Reid’s company had been temporarily driven out of her mind. When she glanced at her calendar a couple of days later and saw the day of the event circled in red permanent marker, panic set in with a vengeance. She had less than a third of the cookies done. If another disaster happened, like when she had burned half of the maple brown sugar cookies, she would be hard pressed to make it up in time.
Deciding that if she was serious about this, she had to start acting like it, she made up her mind to reserve the entire afternoon for cookie baking. This time, she wouldn’t let herself get distracted and burn half of them.
The maple brown sugar cookies had been an undeniable success, and she was confident that they would be a hit at the event. She was a little bit less certain about the next type of cookie she had planned; a spin on chocolate chip cookies, made with white chocolate and toffee instead of the usual semi-sweet chocolate chunks. She wasn’t usually a fan of white chocolate, and wasn’t sure whether her attempt at baking with it would be successful. That, combined with the fact that she had decided to make her own toffee instead of picking some up at the store, made her more nervous than usual.
Killer Maple Cookies: Book 3 in Killer Cookie Cozy Mysteries Page 3