“I’ll give you that, but if I’d had to shut down Lorna’s kitchen, I wanted to be able to warn her about it tonight.”
“Good thing you didn’t have to.”
“The six-o’clock thing?”
“The seniors, Trudy, and I are working the café first thing in the morning so Lorna won’t have to cancel a luncheon that’s already been paid for.”
“The breakfast and lunch crowds keep the café jumping on Saturdays, so I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help.”
“Yes, but she’d really like to know what happened to her husband and why.”
“You don’t have your own theory, Nixy Drew?”
“Aren’t you hilarious,” I drawled, adding an eye roll for good measure. “I do have several theories, but hey, you’re the detective.”
His lips quirked. “Good of you to remember.”
“As bad as I feel for Lorna,” I went on as I stopped at the mouth of the alley, “doesn’t this take Aunt Sherry off your suspect list? She was with us from the time I left Clark until Trudy screamed. Two victims of violence in about as many days isn’t a coincidence, and since Sherry didn’t bash Clark, it’s reasonable she didn’t kill Elsman.”
“It’s not that simple. You’ve seen the physical evidence I have. It implicates Miz Sherry Mae, and it will until I get reports from the state lab.”
“I still think Clark knew something about Elsman’s killer, and that’s why he’s been attacked, but it could be something else. Like he owed money to the wrong people.”
He held my gaze. “What wrong people? Is this about the gambling rumor?”
“It’s not a rumor. Lorna confirmed it tonight while we waited with her. He was gambling on the Internet. They fought about it today.”
He looked away. “How angry is she?”
“Not enough to beat up her own husband, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s frustrated and hurt by his deception, but she’s even more frightened.”
His mouth tightened. “I’ll talk with her. Meantime, work in the café tomorrow. Help Lorna. Watch out for yourself and Miz Sherry Mae and her friends. Let me investigate my leads without worrying about having a next victim.”
“Hey, I’ve helped with leads, you know. Like Mrs. Gilroy being a sort of witness, and—”
He held up a hand. “Conceded, but your help is raising my blood pressure.” He put his hands on my shoulders, then trailed them down my arms before he let go. “The best thing you can do to is stick close to the Six and stay safe.”
He strode to the crime scene techs, and the breath I didn’t realize I’d held came out in a long sigh. Of all the towns in all the world, why had I stumbled into his? And why oh why had Mrs. Gilroy’s remark about warm male bodies taken root in my head?
I shook myself and hotfooted it to my car. Pick up the ladies, get home, go to bed, and work hard not to dream of Eric Shoar. That was my plan, and I was sticking to it.
• • •
THE SUN WASN’T YET UP WHEN WE ARRIVED AT THE Lilies Café the next morning. We’d taken all three cars in case we needed to make a grocery run or the day got to be too much for anyone. We each donned aprons from Maise’s stash, too, in case Lorna didn’t have enough for all of us. Fred and Dab wore half aprons, but the women had the full bib versions. Which I’m sure Eleanor appreciated. She was dressed to the nines as usual. The rest of us were in working clothes, me in one of my new pairs of jeans and a stretchy top.
I’d noticed Lilyvale kept its streets clean, and there wasn’t so much as a scrap of paper in the alley to indicate Clark had been attacked there. Not even the kind of detritus the paramedics had left behind when they’d treated Sherry at the farmhouse. I was happy about that for Lorna’s sake.
The Six had naturally been disappointed the night before when I’d told them Clark’s attack hadn’t erased Sherry from Shoar’s suspect list, but they didn’t seem to have a thing on their minds today except running the café. Trudy had already turned on the lights, so we all set to work.
I pitched in with Dab and Trudy to set the tables with utensils and napkins, be sure the salt and pepper shakers were sufficiently filled, and add packets of sugar and artificial sweeteners to the white holders.
Fred familiarized himself with the bar area, where the coffee and soda machines sat and the glasses were stored. Then, because he’d refused to leave his tool belt at home, he clacked his walker around the front of the restaurant, oiling a hinge here, tightening a screw there.
“Told you somethin’ would need fixin’,” he said to no one in particular.
At seven, Dab unlocked the front doors, and the stream of customers began flowing in, despite the fact that it was barely light. In fact, though sunrise had come, dark clouds threatened rain.
“’Bout time,” one man said. “Been a dry April so far. We need rain.”
And we got it not two hours later in the form of drizzles, but that didn’t hurt business. I consistently scooted to the kitchen and bar for food and drink orders, bussed my tables, reset them, then started all over again. Trudy and Dab were just as busy, as was Fred. Sherry and the ladies cooked, plated meals, and kept one of the dishwashers running constantly.
Honestly, I didn’t know how Lorna and Clark ran the café by themselves.
When I voiced that aloud, Sherry laughed. “It’s busier than usual because the town’s turning out to support the Tylers. I’m sure Lorna has a load of food that’s been left at the house, too.”
Ah yes, trouble food. I wondered if Maise would be whipping up something for Lorna or if café duty equaled a covered dish. It sure did for me.
The customers we were most concerned with, the book club ladies, were a breeze to serve. Trudy and I had teamed up to wait on the party of ten, and they raved not only about Lorna’s potpies and the decadent desserts, but also the petite side salad and special dressing Maise had whipped up.
Finally, at about two in the afternoon, the crowd thinned, and we took turns breaking for a bite to eat. I was too tired to be hungry, so Maise fixed me half a sandwich made with the last of the roast beef she had found in the industrial fridge. She offered soup, too, but I declined.
As I settled at a table by the bar, my feet propped on a chair, and bit into my refreshingly cold sandwich, I realized I’d been in Lilyvale a full week. A week that felt like a month, but in a good way. I needed to call the art gallery again and tell Barbra not to expect me for another few days. Or a week, I amended and idly wondered if the latest showing was going well. Oddly, I found I didn’t truly care. That was a little scary because I enjoyed my career.
I also needed to run a search for Trudy Whitman.
I stood outside under the café awning to call Barbra. Instead I reached my big boss, the gallery owner Felina Gates. When she told me to take my time, assuring me my job was safe, I about happy-danced on the spot.
I Googled Trudy Whitman next, but as the first results popped up, so did my quasi-favorite detective.
“Any coffee left?”
“Fred just brewed a new pot. Come on in.”
He followed and I waved him toward the coffee station as I took a seat and closed my phone’s search screen. “Everyone is in the back, cleaning. Do you mind serving yourself?”
He grinned. “Waiting tables harder than you thought?”
“Let’s just say I’m out of shape for this kind of work,” I said as he went behind the bar. “How is Clark? Have you heard?”
“I saw him this morning. Lorna, too.”
“Will he need surgery? Is he awake?”
“He’s awake, but he’s still pretty out of it. He doesn’t remember anything from last night. As for surgery, so far, so good. He’s being closely monitored.”
He came to the table and took the chair next to mine. I noticed then that he looked exhausted and yet a little excited. Or maybe he was just wi
red on caffeine. He took a few sips of steaming coffee and leaned back in his seat.
“Did you get any sleep?”
“Not much. Between Jill Elsman’s murder and the attack on Clark, Chief Randall is on a rant. I understand that. I’m as fed up as he is waiting for information. Waiting for leads to actually lead somewhere. Although we did get one break.”
Hope surged so strongly, I nearly leapt into his lap to hear the news. “Did you hear back from the state crime lab about the murder?”
“Not yet. This is about the attack on Clark.”
“Well, tell me. Did the crime scene techs find something?”
“They’re still cataloging, and everything will go to—”
“Little Rock. I know. That’s your mantra. Will you please stop the torture already and tell me about the break? You know you can trust me not to blab.”
He nodded and sipped again. “Okay, we got a tip from some guys out hunting feral hogs in the woods on the far side of Stanton Lake.”
“Razorbacks? Somebody hunts those at night? Aren’t they dangerous?”
“They don’t attack unless defending their dens.”
“Okay, so the hunters tipped you to what?”
“One of them tripped over a baseball bat. When they looked at it with their high-powered flashlights, they saw blood and hair residue on the end of it. They’d heard about the attack on Clark before they went hunting, and called their find in to us. The techs and I went out, and we may have a few viable footprints, too.”
“The hunters didn’t see or hear anyone in the woods?”
“No, I wasn’t that lucky, but I’m taking what I can get.”
He took a long swallow of the cooling coffee. I didn’t dwell on details like his strong jawline or the muscles bunching in his arms. Nope, not me.
He cleared his throat, and I snapped my gaze to his. “So I don’t suppose you heard any useful gossip from customers.”
“Lots of exclaiming about Clark, lots of sympathy for him and Lorna. A little speculation about needing more officers. That’s it.”
“Yeah, about now I could use the help.” Again he drank, this time in swallows instead of sips, so the coffee must’ve cooled. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out keys. “These are for Trudy. Her car was clean, so I parked it in the lot for her.”
“She’ll be relieved to know that. Thanks.”
He stood and pulled out his wallet, but I waved him away. “Go. Your coffee is on the house today.”
“Is that an executive decision?”
“You bet, and Lorna would agree.”
He smiled down at me. “Don’t work too hard.”
He ambled out, and you know I paid due attention to that rear view.
I also had a twinge of conscience about keeping the yearbook page to myself. Then again, it was Trudy’s story to tell. I’d see what I could find, and go from there.
• • •
I TOOK MY PLATE AND GLASS, AND TRUDY’S KEYS, to the kitchen. Maise stirred a pot of what smelled like a chicken dish, and Aster checked rolls in the oven. Trudy and Eleanor wiped the stainless steel counters while Sherry, Dab, and Fred perched on metal stools with wooden seats.
“No customers,” I said when Dab started to rise. “Detective Shoar was here, but he only wanted coffee.”
“Roger that. We’re out of most everything except desserts and the chicken and dumplings here. Just put your dishes in the sink.”
“I’ll wash them. Oh, and Trudy, he brought your car back and parked it in the lot. Here are your keys.”
“Thanks, Nixy. I wish he’d tell me I can go home.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be soon,” I said and turned on the hot water. And I mean hot. I adjusted it to the far side of warm and scrubbed.
“What did Detective Shoar have to say?” Sherry asked.
“That Clark is doing well but doesn’t remember being attacked.”
“No, he doesn’t,” a familiar voice said.
A chorus of “Lorna!” rang out, followed by hugs.
Lorna looked awful. No makeup, reddened eyes, hairdo smashed on one side. I don’t know what kept her upright except willpower.
Sherry steered Lorna to the café. “Let’s sit out here so we won’t miss any customers coming in.”
“Were you busy today?”
“Slammed,” I told her. “Everyone said to give you and Clark best wishes.”
Lorna’s lips tightened and she swallowed. “Lilyvale is a town of generous-hearted people. Even when the detective had to question me about who could have it in for Clark, he was kind. He put a guard on Clark’s hospital door.”
My gaze met Sherry’s. “Why is that?” she asked.
“He’s afraid Clark knows something about Jill Elsman’s murder. Something he doesn’t know he knows. Eric wants to protect him. And me.”
Her voice went raw, and more tears threatened. I handed her a napkin, and she blotted her face.
“I want to thank you, thank you all, for taking over the café today.”
“We’re happy to help,” Dab said with a pat on her hand.
“Reminded me of the time we nurses had to take over the shipboard mess hall,” Maise declared.
“We’ve already discussed it, and we’ll run things tomorrow, too,” Aster added. “I’m sure the after-church crowd will come in.”
Lorna smiled, shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I’ve decided to close tomorrow. I’ll probably close for the week.”
“But, Lorna—”
“No, Sherry Mae, I need the time away to focus on Clark. Besides, I’ve been closed only for holidays for years now. I want a break.”
“Then take the time. Your customers will be here when you’re ready to reopen. Now, have you eaten? Maise has chicken and dumplings, and there are a dozen lemon bars and turnovers.”
“I do believe there are chocolate croissants, too,” Eleanor added.
“I need to get back, but I’ll take some servings with me. If Clark can have more than liquids for dinner, he’ll love the chicken and dumplings.”
I stayed at the table with Fred, Dab, Eleanor, and Trudy while the other women trooped to the kitchen. When Lorna came out with a large glass bowl with a lid and a flat rectangular plastic container, Dab rose.
“Let me help you with those, Lorna.”
“Appreciate it, Dab. My car is just outside.” At the door she turned. “Thank you all again. I’ll figure out a way to repay you.”
Fred snorted. “Let us know next time you make them turnovers so I can be first in line.”
Lorna flashed a grateful smile. “It’s a deal, Fred.”
“What now?” Trudy asked. “Do we stay open Lorna’s regular hours?”
“She told us just now in the kitchen,” Sherry said, “to close about four. She asked us to take leftovers home or pack them up along with any other perishables and drop them at the food bank.”
“Good, then I’m goin’ upstairs to check for squeaky doors. You know of anything else up there that needs fixin’?” Fred directed the question to Trudy.
“Uh, yes, sir. One of the sinks leaks.”
“Then you come help me.”
“Sure, Mr. Fishner,” she said, beaming.
That struck me as odd until I realized she’d been a cheerful ball of energy today. And her comment about being bored and having no friends. I didn’t think she’d be counting Fred as a friend, precisely, but she was occupied.
Sherry and the ladies went to the kitchen to begin packing perishables, but I knew they’d hold back desserts for Fred. Okay, for all of us.
Dab had come back, and we set to work looking for the flattened boxes that were in the storage room. We found the tape, too, and as we securely taped the flaps, Dab took them to the kitchen to be loaded with food.
I’d just dragged out two last medium-sized boxes when the bell over the door jangled, and Bryan Hardy strode into the café.
“If you’re here to eat, there isn’t much left.” No, I did not use my polite voice, and he didn’t seem to notice.
His glance darted around the room. “I’d hoped to catch Lorna here.”
“Why?” I put the box flats on the table with the tape and started assembling them. He moved marginally closer as if to help me, but he didn’t lift a finger.
“I went to the hospital to see how Clark is, but the guard wouldn’t let me in. Which,” he said, spreading his hands, “I guess I understand. The officer is following orders as he should, but I am also an officer of the court.”
Huh. Did he sound nervous or just perturbed that the guard hadn’t bowed to his position as a prosecutor? I mentally shrugged. Probably the latter. Pinched pride.
“Well?” he demanded. “Have you seen Lorna?”
I ground my teeth at his tone. Had I thought of him as shy? How wrong could I be? He had the arrogant attitude his aunt did. I ripped off a length of tape and applied it to the bottom flaps.
“Lorna was here a while ago. She said Clark is doing well except he doesn’t remember anything.”
Bryan looked startled and took a step closer. “He doesn’t remember being ambushed?”
“Who said he was ambushed?”
He seemed startled, then gave me a pitying look. “It stands to reason,” he said slowly, as if talking to an idiot. “Clark would fight back if he saw an attack coming. Does the doctor think he’ll get his memory back?”
“It’s a head injury. Who knows?” I put a second strip of tape on the box.
He frowned, shook his head. “I hope he’ll remember how to play golf.”
“Golf?”
“That’s how we got to be friends. Playing every Sunday in a foursome. This is the first time he’ll miss a round. Guess it’ll be a threesome for a while.” He gave me a hard stare. “I hope you took my advice to stop asking questions about Elsman’s murder.”
I stared back. “I’ll stop when my aunt is cleared and not a second before.”
Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case Page 23