“Perfect. Your future pie extends the fun of the pie party,” the Professor replied. “I’ll send you directions to my home.”
I checked the meeting-room schedule on the wall. “There are no meetings scheduled in here for the next few days, so you can leave the photos out.”
“Thanks, Kelly,” Mary said.
I left them to their project and returned to the work area. Elise had put chopping boards next to some stations and bowls at others. Containers of flour, sugar, and chopped nuts, along with a variety of other ingredients, had been placed on the table. Name cards identified where each person was to sit. Elise had wisely put Ned and Peter at opposite ends of the table.
People began to file in and find their places. They put baskets of collected mushrooms next to their chairs. Ned and Clarence conversed as the remainder of the class got settled. Peter was last. He kept his gaze averted from Ned and Clarence, though I could see a little pink creep up his neck. I was glad he was controlling himself.
Elise stood at the head of the table. “I hope you all had an enjoyable mushroom-hunting experience this afternoon. We won’t be using any of the ones you found. The law requires I use only certified mushrooms in my classes because poisonous ones can be hard to identify sometimes. Now it’s time to clean, prepare, and cook the ones I’ve provided. While you’re doing that, I’ll look at what you’ve brought in.”
She gave instructions to each person as to what they needed to do. Soon knives were chopping, ingredients were being measured, and the cooks were underway. Elise began sorting through the fungi that had been brought in, making notes on a clipboard.
The phone rang.
“Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast,” I answered.
“Hello. This is Roger Simmons, and I have a message for Clarence Norton.”
“Hi. This is Kelly Jackson. I’d be happy to take the information.”
“Please tell him the dog has been approved for the contest. The committee might make changes to the rules in the future, but they feel it’s fair for him to use his dog this time.”
“I’ll let him know. Incidentally, I know you’re into woodworking, and I was shown a sinker log today. Fascinating.”
“Their grain and coloration are beautiful. I utilized them as much as possible when I built my gallery.”
“I’d love to see what they look like.”
“I don’t have anything scheduled late morning tomorrow. Would you like to come out for a visit then?”
“That’d be perfect.”
“How about eleven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Roger gave me directions, and I hung up. I joined the group at the table. “Clarence, Max has been approved to participate in the hunt Saturday.”
“Great.” Clarence’s habitual laugh punctuated his comment.
I glanced over at Peter. The slight pink had turned crimson. His knife chopped faster and faster. I was glad when the last mushroom on his cutting board disappeared into little pieces and his fingers were still intact.
While the class worked, I helped Helen put out the wine and cheese in the parlor for the guests. An hour later, candy cap mushroom ice cream was beginning to freeze and the aroma of baking cupcakes permeated the air. A smell like maple syrup hung in the air from the candy cap fungi.
Elise finished putting a piece of paper in the last basket. “Thank you for all of your hard work, class. Tomorrow you get to reap the rewards.” She put her clipboard down on the table and held up a form. “I’ve made notes, to the best of my ability, about what type of mushrooms you’ve found. There’s an “eat at your own risk” disclaimer clause at the top of the page. I’m not a licensed mycologist.”
Eat at your own risk? That sounded a bit scary.
Elise passed out several papers to the group. “Tomorrow you’ll be able to choose from a variety of activities to take you to different mushroom sites in preparation for the contest, which starts Saturday at nine. The awards will be presented Sunday. You meet at the town hall each day. Its location is on the map I gave you. We’ll meet back here tomorrow at five for dinner and then feast on the desserts you created today. I wish you all the best of luck in the hunt.”
Ned walked over to the counter and sat down, making more notes.
Peter stopped next to him on his way out. “Remember what I said about not following me and not putting any of my information on your website.” He uttered the words in a low, menacing voice.
Ned carefully placed his pen next to his notebook. “Your threats mean nothing to me. From what I hear, you’re the one who should be worried. There’s a logger with a broken nose from a chair you were holding, who plans to get even.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Maybe there are reasons other than mushrooms behind your concern about being followed.” His gaze locked with Peter’s. “You know what I’m talking about…the sinker-log wood you’ve been selling. I checked, and you don’t have a permit. There’s a lot of grumbling among the locals as to where you’re getting it. Most figure you’re stealing it. You warned me about people being unhappy. I’m returning the favor.”
Peter’s fists once again clenched. He put his face next to Ned’s. “Like I said, none of your business.”
“Everything is my business. I’m a reporter.” Ned put his hands on the counter. “I plan on pursuing who is taking the logs. Whoever it is has to have a partner to be able to get them out. If it’s you, you and your buddy should be watching over your shoulders.”
Peter glared at him, turned, and stomped out. I was relieved nothing more had come of it.
The rest of the class dispersed. I’d noticed the Silver Sentinels leave by the side door so as not to disturb the amateur cooks. I cleared the table as Elise washed pots and pans. Ned continued making notes.
“Time to go.” Ned started for the door.
I noticed he’d left his pen. I picked it up and read Blue Moon Restaurant on the side. “I’m new to the area. Is this a restaurant I should recommend to people?”
Ned turned and laughed. “No, it’s been gone a long time. I imagine the pen is now one of a kind. I like it and its slogan, ‘each new day brings a new beginning,’ and so I’ve continued to replace the ink cartridge.”
“I understand about finding the right pen. I…”
The sound of banging pots and pans grew so loud, it made it hard to hear. Our conversation stopped.
Ned and I looked at Elise. Her face was contorted and her knuckles white with the intensity with which she gripped the pans.
Ned took a step toward her. “Elise, I’m sorry the restaurant closed.”
“Really?” she hissed. “Then why didn’t you write an article about the truth of what happened? You only wrote about the food poisoning, which wasn’t our fault.”
“I didn’t know about that until much later. The place was already shut down.”
Elise slammed a pot on the counter. “Later could’ve saved a reputation. Righted a wrong.”
“It’s over now, Elise. Let it go.”
“You can create a reputation or destroy one with every stroke of your pen, with every word you type. You didn’t do anything to help the owners or me.”
He gathered his things. “Sorry, Elise, it’s old history. It happened a long time ago.”
She glared at him. “If you were a decent reporter, an honest person, you would let the public know. Telling only part of the truth makes it a lie…and makes you a liar.”
“It’s too late, Elise.”
“It’s never too late for someone’s reputation.”
The words were said to his departing back.
Her gaze bored into him.
If looks could kill…
Chapter 6
Elise turned back to the sink and grabbed the last pot off the counter. I could see a tear roll d
own her cheek. She brought the back of her hand up in a fast, jerky movement and wiped it away.
“I’m sorry for losing my temper, Kelly.” She scrubbed the pan and didn’t look at me. “It took months to find the cause of the food poisonings. By then the company responsible was out of business. The owner of the restaurant, a friend of mine, ended up having a stroke. A dark cloud hung over my head from people wondering if it was my fault. I had a hard time getting work.”
“It sounds like you have every reason to be upset.”
She glanced at me and blinked a few times. “Thanks. The restaurant business is tough as it is. Places come and go. Unexpected problems only make it worse.” She sighed. “But I love the work. That’s why I stay with it.”
“Loving what you do for a living is a wonderful experience that some people never have. Some don’t even know what would bring them that feeling. Being able to love what you do is special, and you’ve had the strength to stick with it, even when it’s been difficult. It shows your depth of passion.”
Elise stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “I really like what you just said. I’ve never thought of it in quite that way.” She finished drying the pot and put it away. “Thanks.”
The sound of crunching gravel outside, the inn’s unplanned doorbell, announced the arrival of a vehicle. We both looked out the window of the back door. A red monster truck covered in dirt and riding high on oversize tires pulled in. I’d noticed many of Redwood Cove’s young adults favored this type of vehicle.
“That’s my son,” Elise said. “He’s bringing food for the dinner.”
The buzzer on the oven went off. “The cupcakes are done.” She began pulling out trays and putting them on cooling racks.
“I’ll go out and show him where the refrigerators are in the storage shed.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll straighten the room and get my equipment packed up. By then these should be cool, and I can put them away and get out of your hair.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not in the way.”
While we’d been talking, Helen had been coming into the kitchen every so often to replenish trays. Since she’d prepared the food earlier, everything went quickly and smoothly for the guests’ evening appetizers.
I went out the door and down the steps. A thin-faced young man in blue jeans with a long blond ponytail clambered down from his high perch.
I smiled. “Hi. I’m Kelly Jackson. Your mom’s finishing up inside. She said you have supplies. I’ll show you where they go.”
“I’m Joey. Pleased to meet you.”
An enormous winch on the front of his pickup caught my eye. “We have one of those on a truck at our ranch in Wyoming. It’s not anywhere near as big as yours, though.”
“My friends and I do a lot of off-roading. It’s come in handy a number of times when we’ve gotten stuck.” He opened the truck’s tailgate and took out a box.
“I bet it has.” I saw a paper bag in the back of the pickup. “Is that part of the food for tomorrow?”
“Yep. Everything in there is for Mom.”
I picked it up and gestured for him to follow. In the shed, I flipped on the light and led the way to two double-door stainless steel refrigerators.
“The one on the left has a lot of room in it,” I said. “We’ll use that one first and see if everything fits.”
With two of us unloading, we were done in less than ten minutes. Joey and I went to the work area.
“Hi, Mom.” He gave Elise a quick hug. “I was able to get everything on your list, and it’s all put away.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
“A couple of my friends and I want to go out driving for about an hour. I got some new spotlights for the truck at a garage sale and want to try them out. Then we’re going to have burgers at O’Toole’s Sports Bar.”
“You boys have a good time, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Don’t wait up for me. I might stay and watch a basketball game.”
“Okay.”
Joey said good-bye and left. Elise had stored the cupcakes in plastic containers. Helen came in with a tray of dirty dishes and glasses. A familiar rattling in the driveway told me Daniel had arrived. A few minutes later, the back door burst open, and Tommy, Helen’s son, ran into the room, followed by Allie, a slender girl with ebony hair to her waist. Her dad didn’t follow her in, so she closed the door behind her.
Tommy slid to a halt when he saw Elise, appearing startled at the sight of an unfamiliar person in the kitchen.
At the same time, a distant howling began. It came from the direction of Helen’s cottage. I realized Fred, Tommy’s basset hound, was nowhere to be seen, but it was clear he knew Tommy was home. The baying became louder and louder and continued at full volume on the back porch. Daniel’s face appeared in the window, and he opened the door.
Tommy threw himself down on his knees, flung his arms wide, and called, “Fred!”
The dog was all motion—ears flapping, legs pumping, and tail wagging. The short-legged, long-bodied tricolored dog hurtled into Tommy’s chest. Boy and dog rolled over and over, Tommy laughing, Fred crooning.
“Okay, you two. Enough.” Helen shook her head and smiled. “Tommy, this is Elise Jenkins. She’s teaching the mushroom class I told you about.” Helen looked at Elise. “My son, Tommy, and his four-legged sidekick, Fred.”
“Hi,” Tommy said.
Fred gave her a basset-hound grin and a tail wave.
Daniel put his hand on Allie’s shoulder. “This is my daughter, Allie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Allie said.
“Same here,” Elise replied.
Daniel sat at the counter. “I only saw Elise’s car in the lot and when I peeked through the window I could see the class was over. I thought it would be okay to free Fred.”
Helen nodded. “I’m glad you did, and I suspect you made our neighbors happy as well with all the noise he was making.”
Tommy jumped to his feet and noticed the fungi on the table and began pointing. “Pig’s ear. Chanterelle. Puff ball. Or it could be a poisonous amanita.”
Allie joined him. “There’s a hedgehog and a pink coral mushroom.”
Elise went over to the table. “I’m impressed you both know so much about mushrooms. They aren’t something I’ve had many kids show an interest in.”
Allie spoke up. “The school starts teaching us about mushrooms in first grade. They want us to know that some are very dangerous so we can be careful and also watch out for our animals. There’s a unit every year at each grade level teaching us different information about them.”
Tommy dropped down on the floor next to Fred and hugged him around his neck. “They have lessons about them in art, science, math, reading, and writing. What you get taught depends on how old you are. It’s cool.”
Elise picked up her toolbox of kitchen equipment. “I’m glad to know that. It’s nice the school system is teaching you about the area you live in.” She looked at me. “I’ll be back tomorrow at three to set up for the dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “Even the mushroom cupcakes. They smelled divine this afternoon.”
“It should be fun.” Elise waved from the door. “Bye.”
Allie and Daniel left. Tommy settled in a beanbag chair, with Fred draped over his lap, and turned on the television. Helen checked on the appetizers and then pulled out the baskets we’d use to deliver breakfast to the guests tomorrow. We had settled into a comfortable routine.
“I’m going to work on some files,” I said. “I’ll take care of the fire, like we discussed. You don’t need to come back after dinner.”
“And I’ll be over earlier in the morning to get the coffee and tea ready.”
We were creating a good team. I’d taken over tending the fire in the evening to
give Tommy and Helen more time together. We’d had guests requesting drinks be available earlier in the morning, so she was handling that.
I went back to my rooms and grabbed leftovers from my refrigerator. After heating them in the microwave, I sat down to look at some orders.
The cell phone rang. The number showed it was Scott Thompson, an administrator for the same company I worked for. My heart was like a dysfunctional team of horses—one wanted to leap for joy, the other kick and run away.
My marriage had ended abruptly, due to my once best friend and my husband deciding they wanted to be together, and the experience had left me relationship leery. Baby steps were all I was willing to take.
Scott had recently agreed to create a center to improve the lives of local residents in a variety of ways including classes on nutrition and opportunities for organic gardening. There was even a herd of llamas to provide wool for weaving. It was a project dear to the heart of our boss, Michael Corrigan. He loved the community and wanted to do something special for the people of the town.
“Hi, Scott. Nice to hear from you. How are you doing?”
“Fine. Redwood Cove Community Center is beginning to come together, and I’ve had time to settle in and start trying some new recipes.”
I remember how surprised I was when I discovered he was a gourmet cook. His position in the company had him on the road most of the time. The offer he’d accepted would keep him in Redwood Cove for at least two months, a big change of pace for him.
“I’m glad to hear it. I know that’s something you wanted to pursue during your stay here.”
“Do you like guinea pigs?”
What in the world?
“Why…why do you ask? You know how much I love animals. Do you…do you have one you need to find a home for?”
“No. I’m wondering if you’d be willing to be one and come over for dinner tomorrow at five thirty.”
I laughed. “I’d love to, as long as I don’t have to dress up like a guinea pig.”
“Great! See you then.”
We said our good-byes and I checked the parlor. It was empty. I closed the doors on the fireplace, checked the locks on all the doors, and called it a night.
Murder at the Mushroom Festival Page 4