Purrder She Wrote

by Cate Conte

  The second stipulation was that the benefactor remained anonymous. There were no consequences, the attorney explained, but it was more of an honor-system thing. He or she wanted to remain anonymous, and we needed to respect that.

  This one was harder for me. I was dying to know. Grandpa never spoke about it—a pride thing, I thought—but I knew he wanted to know as badly as I did. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was using his investigative hat on this project, but he’d never say anything. So making a few gentle inquiries to see if I could solve that mystery was also on my to-do list. I didn’t want our benefactor to be upset, but curiosity was winning out. Maybe I’d get Becky to help me. Lord knew she loved playing investigator. I’d just have to convince her not to publish the story if she found out. Although she might be tied up for a while with this murder.

  A knock on the screen got my attention. We weren’t open until noon and it was only eleven thirty, but I smiled at the woman standing on the porch and went over to unlock the door. Since I didn’t have a porch with a double door yet as the main entryway for the café, I had to keep the door locked at all times so I could make sure none of my residents slipped out. “Hi, there. Did you make a reservation over e-mail?”

  She froze. “Oh gosh, no. I just wanted to see you for a minute. Should I come back?”

  “Of course not. Come on in.” I held the door wide.

  She stepped in, looking around as I locked the door behind her. She appeared to be about my mom’s age. She wore a blue skirt that looked expensive but dated, and a black tank top designed to look like strings of pearls hung from the top. The lines around her eyes suggested her life might not be easy. She held an old-style picnic basket over one arm. Her blond hair was streaked with silver and fell just past her ears in waves. The ends were split. “Good morning.” She fluffed her hair with nervous fingers. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the decor and the relaxing cats. “I’m Felicia Goodwin. Gigi is my daughter?”

  “Oh! Hello,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m Maddie James. So nice to meet you.”

  “Same,” she said. “What a lovely idea for the cats.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “They seem to like it. Come on in. So you wanted to see me? Or were you looking for Gigi? She’s not here yet. Well, I don’t actually know if she’s coming today.”

  Felicia Goodwin twisted her fingers together nervously. “I’m here to see you. I won’t take much of your time.”

  “Sure. Would you like to sit?” I waved at one of the small bistro tables I’d found at a flea market a couple weeks ago. So far I’d decorated the place in a bohemian style of sorts. No matching furniture but everything was fun and colorful. I loved flea markets and garage sales. You could find such great stuff. “Do you want coffee and a muffin? We have some amazing tropical fruit muffins today.”

  Felicia followed me over to the table. “No, thank you. But I’m glad you mentioned muffins.” She sat and took a deep breath. “Gigi has spoken so highly of you and what you’re doing here. I’m not sure if you know that I run a catering business.” She rooted around in her small white purse and pulled out a business card. As she pushed it across the table to me I noticed her hand was shaking slightly. “I hope you don’t mind me being so bold to ask you this, but I wanted to see if you were interested in having some food for the café catered. I can do any type of food you want. Breakfast, lunch, light snacks, anything. I have recommendations I can give you. My business is only a few years old, but we have a fabulous reputation. And I brought samples.” She laid a hand on the picnic basket, her eyes hopeful.

  “Samples?” I eyed the basket.

  “Yes. I figured you’d need to taste the food in order to make a decision, so I wanted to make it easy on you. Now. I have a few things with me that would do well as breakfast fare.” She opened the basket and rooted around, pulling out her wares and setting them in front of me. “I have a cinnamon roll with maple frosting that’s a favorite. For your health-conscious folks, I can do small cups of oatmeal with their choice of fruit. Also yogurt parfaits, and I have milk alternatives. Almond and coconut milk.”

  It looked like she had a lot more food in there. “Mrs. Goodwin—”

  “Felicia,” she corrected automatically.

  “Felicia. This is lovely of you. Really.” I glanced at the simple, light blue card. Felicia’s Fare was printed boldly across the front in raised pink lettering. Pictures of cakes and fancy dishes of food provided an opaque background for the text. Felicia’s name and a phone number were in the bottom corners.

  Felicia was waiting—anxiously, it seemed—for my response. I wasn’t sure what to say. Ethan was running the café. He might need help eventually, but I wasn’t sure now was the right time. And we’d still not completely sorted out our budget. “Thank you so much for coming by. As Gigi probably mentioned, we’re just getting up and running and figuring out what we’re doing,” I said. “We only have tentative hours at this point for the rest of the season, but we’ll likely adjust them. We still need to make some changes to the house and get a real kitchen going to operate out of. And I’m sure you know I have a business partner who’s currently running the food portion of the café.”

  “I can supplement whatever he’s doing,” Felicia broke in.

  “It’s entirely possible,” I said. “We’re still in planning mode. I’ll speak with him and get back to you soon.” I smiled at her. “Thanks so much for considering us.”

  Felicia Goodwin’s face told me that wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she offered me a wobbly smile and nodded. “Of course. If you’d like to do a different kind of tasting, say for lunch or snack offerings, I can bring food samples over whenever you’d like.”

  I wondered what was up with Gigi’s mother. She seemed kind of desperate to work for me. Or maybe she was just desperate for work. If that was true, I felt sorry for her. Although a good caterer should be living large right now, given the amount of people who gave fancy parties around here all summer long. “That sounds fabulous. Let me talk to Ethan and I’ll give you a call in a couple of days. Does that work?”

  She nodded and rose. “Thank you for your time. And please, take the samples. Let your partner try them too.” She handed me her basket. I accepted it.

  I watched her walk out the door, shoulders slumped, and made a mental note to see what I could get out of Gigi about her mother’s situation. I really didn’t think I needed more food in here, but it was worth a conversation with Ethan, at least. I looked back at the table where she’d left her samples. It would be wrong to let it go to waste. Especially that delightful-looking cinnamon bun. I know I’d had two muffins already, but I hadn’t had lunch yet either …

  I picked it up and took a bite. My goodness, it was amazing. I took another. Before I’d realized it, the bun was half gone. Maybe we did need to hire her after all. Or not, if I didn’t want to die of a sugar overdose.

  I sat down to savor the treat, reveling in its moist, cinnamony flavor. Ethan’s tropical fruit muffins were good, but wow. I’d have to downplay just how good these buns were when I talked to him. He might get jealous.

  Chapter 16

  Gigi showed up ten minutes later. She rode her bike here, so I didn’t hear her until she appeared on the doorstep. She looked like she’d gotten no sleep. Her black hair was tucked under a blue bandanna with skulls on it. She wore a pair of ripped-jean shorts and a tank top that looked like she’d had it rolled in a ball and shoved into her purse. The tank top offered me an unobscured visual of the tattoo on her left shoulder of a giant owl. I figured Adele had called her.

  It occurred to me I needed to talk to her about setting some permanent hours. And Lord help me, it looked like I needed to tell her how to dress too, if she planned to be here when we were open. Cleaning in ratty clothes was one thing, but I did want us to look presentable otherwise.

  But we got busy right away, so I didn’t even get to ask her where she’d disappeared to yesterday. People lined up outside for their
time slots. Everyone scheduled showed up for the first two hours. They all wanted food too. The cost for an hour with the cats was ten bucks, so the food was really where we were going to make the money. I’d have to do some serious cost-and-benefit analyses to see if even considering hiring Felicia Goodwin made sense.

  While most of our visitors wanted to focus on the cats, there were a bunch who wanted to talk about Holly. Even nonresidents who didn’t know her had heard the news, and how the murdered woman had been at the café not long before she died. I felt like there was some weird desire out there to see the last known place she’d had a temper tantrum.

  JJ wandered in at some point, and decided he liked the three kittens. He was curled into a little ball sleeping in the middle of their bed, and they crowded around him like he was their dad. It was adorable. I took a few pictures for the Facebook page that I still wasn’t great at updating regularly. A social media person was definitely on my list to add to our budget.

  During one quiet moment when the cats were lounging with their visitors, Gigi sat down on one of the floor pillows and pulled Jimmy onto her lap. She petted him, staring off into space. I figured it was as good a time as any. I went over and sat next to her.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She glanced at me, her eyes wary. “Hey.”

  “Was everything okay yesterday? You kind of just left.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  Police disease? “Are you okay today?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. So how are you liking the café?”

  “I love it,” she said, immediately relaxing. “It’s so great. The cats love it too. I can tell. They really like being here instead of in that awful animal control place.”

  “Yeah. It’s a pretty great setup for them,” I agreed. “So you think you want to volunteer regularly, then?”

  Gigi nodded. “If you’ll let me, I’d love to.”

  “Please. I need the help. We’ll need to settle on the hours though. I need to know when I’m going to have help, you know?”

  “Okay,” she said vaguely.

  “Do you work anywhere else?” I asked. “What hours would be better for you?”

  She gave me a blank stare. I wondered how old she was. I thought Katrina had said something about her being in college, but she seemed much younger than that to me.

  “Gigi? Do you have another job? Like, with your mother?”

  Gigi visibly recoiled. “No.”

  Whoa. What was that about? “Oh,” I said casually. “I thought you’d sent your mom here. You know, with her samples. She came over this morning. Delicious food.”

  “My mom came here?” Gigi clutched the cat so tightly he meowed, then bolted from her grasp. Seemingly lost without a cat to hold, Gigi crossed her arms over her chest and hunched over miserably.

  “Yeah. She seems anxious to cater for us.” Odd reaction. But then again, I was one of those lucky gals who always had a good relationship with my mother. I guessed this island could be pretty small if you didn’t get along with a family member.

  “Are … are you letting her?”

  “Ethan and I still have to talk it over to see if we can make it work in the budget. But the food was amazing. Does she have a lot of jobs?”

  “I guess,” she said.

  “Has she been catering long?” I asked.

  She jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “A few years. Since my dad died.”

  Ah. It was starting to make sense now. Maybe Felicia Goodwin hadn’t needed to work up until that point and was now struggling to find a way to stay afloat. “She must have a lot of customers, especially this time of year,” I said, trying not to sound like I was digging for info.

  Gigi shrugged. I was dying to know if they simply didn’t get along, or if she seemed so uncomfortable for another reason. Really, I wanted to know if her mother was dependable and drama-free before I even considered hiring her. But maybe her daughter wasn’t the most reliable witness.

  “Do you know where else she caters?” I asked. “I forgot to ask her for references. My brain is so full of cats.” I smiled apologetically.

  “I really don’t,” she said. “She gets around though.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do with that statement. “Would you still volunteer here if your mom was part of the deal?” I asked. Blunt, maybe, but I was a business owner. I had to figure out what was best for my café.

  She looked at me, eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. “Of course. I love the cats. And Adele … wants me to.”

  “As long as you want to,” I said.

  Silence. I was starting to get a headache. I wasn’t so sure I was cut out for this part of the business-owner life. Counselor had never been my thing. Ethan was much better at dealing with the people who worked in our juice bar. He was chill enough, while still being the leader he needed to be. I, on the other hand, had little patience for people’s minidramas.

  “Well,” I said, when the silence grew awkward. “So you don’t work with your mom. Where else do you work?”

  A look of panic passed over her face. “Why? Are you not going to let me work here if I work somewhere else? I wouldn’t, but I need some money—”

  “Gigi,” I interrupted. “Of course that’s not why I’m asking. I just want to make sure your hours are realistic given your other commitments.” What was up with this girl?

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay. Then I’m part-time at the dry cleaners over in Turtle Point. But my hours are flexible.”

  “Well, great. I’d love the help in the mornings with the cleaning,” I said.

  “Is Adele coming in the mornings?” she asked.

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure of Adele’s schedule right now. That’s why it’s really important I get your hours solidified. Make sense?”

  Gigi nodded.

  Encouraged, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up the notes I’d written about café hours. “So I was thinking of being open six days to start. It may change once I get a contractor in here to do some work, but we’ll figure that out later. We’re doing trial runs with the hours for what’s left of the season. I was thinking a mix during the week of days and evenings. Closed Mondays. Longer hours Saturday, and probably keeping noon to four on Sundays. I need to staff cleaners for both the morning and evening, as well as someone to oversee the café itself when it’s open. Ethan and I will be here, of course, and Grandpa will help out when he can, but we can plan that better if we know when we’ll have volunteers.”

  Gigi nodded. “I understand. I can be here pretty much every day for a bit. How about if I come early three mornings and clean, and then I can come back when you’re open the other three days and help with the customer stuff?”

  “Works for me. Here, I printed out a calendar.” I casually leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the manila folder I’d set down. “Do you want to write your hours in for me?” I uncapped a purple felt-tip pen and handed that over along with the calendar. Gigi chewed on her lip as she pondered what to write, as if she’d never be able to change her mind if she put it down on paper.

  The girl made me nervous. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was acting like a skittish barn cat, or if there was something off about her. She filled in her hours for the next two weeks, then handed the calendar and pen back.

  “Thanks. So,” I said, unable to avoid the elephant in the room any longer. “I’m guessing you heard about what happened last night.”

  Gigi stared at me, then nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “Is Adele going to get blamed?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Because … she told me she probably would.”

  “When did she tell you that?”

  “This morning. When she called me to come over and help you.” She looked back at me, wiping at the tears. “She didn’t do it.”

  I looked at her carefully. She seemed really sure of that. “I don’t believe it eith
er,” I said.

  Gigi nodded, encouraged. “That woman was nasty. Just plain mean. She—” She stopped abruptly.

  “She what?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” Whatever she’d been about to say, she thought better of it. She looked at her phone. “I have to get going. Is that okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay,” she said, and fled out the front door. I watched her go, wondering how involved she’d been in Adele’s ongoing battle with Holly.

  Chapter 17

  Ethan’s muffins were a hit so he kept them coming, which left me alone on the café floor after Gigi left. I hadn’t seen Grandpa since I came inside, but I suspected he’d gone in the side entrance and down to the basement once he and Leopard Man had finished their conversation. I had a pretty good idea that he was up to something relating to Holly, and I itched to confront him about it. So after I showed the last guests out just after four and locked up, I hurried downstairs to his man cave. It struck me as funny that Grandpa didn’t get his first man cave until seventy-four, but it was the perfect alternative to losing his living room. We’d moved his old furniture down there, and he’d even set up a little office for himself for the private-investigator work he’d been doing on the side. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, he investigated on a daily basis, but it came in handy to have the gig up and running during times like this.