by Cate Conte
“So she’s out,” I said. “Wow. That’s good!”
“Mmm,” he said, noncommittal. “Ethan’s making a snack, so I’m going to grab something to eat and then come out here to keep an eye on things.” He patted my arm and returned the way he’d come.
I shook my head, amused, and went over to lock the door. As I did, a woman rushed up to me with three of Adele’s catnip mice in her hands. Looking at them made me feel vaguely ill, but I swallowed it and smiled at her.
“Excuse me. Can I buy these?” she asked, her eyes bright.
“Of course. They’re five dollars each.”
She forked over a twenty. “Keep the change. These are the real things, right?”
“The real things?” I repeated.
“Well, yes, dear. The real mice. The one the murderess used to kill that woman. Do you happen to know which color was used?” She smiled sweetly, her tone so disconnected from her actual words that it took me a minute to catch up. “I want to tell my friends I have an exact replica of the murder weapon in my hands!”
Damian, who’d come up behind the woman, took a startled step back. I knew how he felt. My jaw had already hit the floor.
“Um,” I managed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I hope your cats like the toys.” Great answer. So much for thinking on my feet, but she’d really just floored me. I pocketed the money and bolted for the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Grandpa and Ethan asked simultaneously when I burst through the door. Grandpa had a half-eaten Danish in his hand. Ethan had stopped mid-pour of some fancy coffee.
I sank down into a chair. “I feel like this is becoming one of those murder houses where the tour buses drive by,” I said. “If I see any trolleys come down this street I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Word’s spreading, eh?” Grandpa said, calmly finishing his snack.
“I would say so. A woman just bought some catnip mice. Wanted to know if they were the real thing. As in the murder weapon.” People never ceased to amaze me. “I need coffee.”
Ethan finished pouring the coffee and set the cup on a tray. “I’m sorry. Did you just say someone came in here to buy replicas of the murder weapon?”
I nodded.
Ethan shook his head. “Small-town thing?”
Grandpa and I nodded simultaneously.
“Makes sense,” Ethan said, and went to deliver his coffee.
I got up to pour myself one of his dark roasts. “Grandpa,” I said, turning back to him. “What am I going to do? People are going to come sniffing around here like it’s the next Amityville Horror House!”
Grandpa chuckled. “You’re being a little dramatic, Maddie.”
I opened my mouth to let him have it, but was interrupted when Tommy Gregory poked his head in. “Excuse me, Maddie?”
I turned. “Yes?”
“There’s, uh, a guy at the door to see you? I didn’t let him in. Wanted to ask you first if it was okay.”
Grandpa and I looked at each other. “What kind of guy, Tommy?” Grandpa asked.
Tommy shifted from one foot to another. “He’s a tour guide. He wanted to know if he could bring some people inside to see the place. They’re doing a tour of the town murders, and this is a spot that plays into both recent murders. So he wondered if they could come in, or if they should stay outside?”
Grandpa simply stared at him.
I was overcome with a ridiculous urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Still think I’m being dramatic?” I asked Grandpa. “People need hobbies, I swear.”
“That is a hobby,” Grandpa pointed out. “People love those murder and scandal tours.”
“I guess,” I said. “I’d much prefer a pub tour, but that’s me.”
Chapter 35
After I’d made it clear enough that I wasn’t willing to list the café on any spooky tour itinerary and decided to stick with my reservations only for the rest of the afternoon, things calmed down. We closed up at four on the dot. It felt like the longest four hours I’d spent in weeks. And Ethan and I still had to meet with Felicia, then I had a date to get ready for.
Felicia was right on time, which I appreciated. Because not only did we need to talk menus, but I had a proposition for her. Only she showed up before Gigi had a chance to leave. I heard the knock at the door but didn’t make it out in time to get it before Gigi did. I peered out of the kitchen doorway to see mother and daughter staring across the room at each other as if they’d never seen each other before.
Felicia cracked first. She pasted a smile on her face. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hello,” Gigi said stiffly, then walked past her mother and out the front door.
Felicia’s face fell. She bowed her head, but not before I saw her cheeks redden at the slight from her daughter. I felt sorry for her. I waited for a beat to save her the embarrassment, then stepped out, smiling brightly. “Hi, Felicia!”
Her head snapped up and her smile was back in place. “Hello, Maddie. Is this still a good time?”
“Absolutely! Come on in.” I beckoned her to follow me. We went into the kitchen.
Ethan placed a tray of leftover pastries on the table. “Welcome, Felicia. Coffee?”
“No, thank you,” she said, pulling out a chair and perching awkwardly on the edge. “The kitchen is lovely. I remember coming here for dinner once. I really enjoyed your grandmother’s company.”
“You were friendly with my grandma?” I asked, surprised. Why hadn’t I known that?
“My mother was,” she said. “Your grandmother had dinner with her every couple of months. One night she invited me along. It was after … my husband died.”
“That’s lovely,” I said. “My grandmother was thoughtful like that. I’ll take some coffee,” I said brightly to Ethan. “So. We were going to talk about menus.”
“Yes,” Felicia said, reaching into her bag. “I brought some samples for you to look at. Some are breakfast only, others are breakfast, lunch, snacks. I can work through the pricing depending on the variety you choose.” She handed me a stack of laminated cards.
Ethan came and sat down next to me. I glanced through the pages, then handed them to Ethan. “These look amazing, Felicia. As long as the cinnamon buns are on here, we’re good.” I grinned at her. “On second thought, maybe they shouldn’t be. I’ll weigh three hundred pounds in no time.”
“This is great. We should do a mix,” Ethan said to me. “We’ll go heavier on the pastries and breakfast items. I like the dairy-free options for yogurt too. Then we can do a small selection of sandwiches and chips. What do you think?”
“Perfect,” I said. “You’re the food guy. Whatever you think, I trust you.”
He tugged at his beard. “She says that now,” he said to Felicia. “She should trust you. You’ve been in business longer than us, I’m sure.”
She froze. “Oh. Well. I don’t know about that,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You two have your juice place, don’t you?”
Ethan glanced at me and nodded. “Yeah. We opened it up about four years ago.”
Felicia’s gaze dropped to the table. “You’ve got a year or so on me. I mean, I’ve been cooking forever,” she hastened to add. “My food is top-notch, I promise you. But my business is fairly young. Three years. Since I lost my husband.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Thank you. Me too. Gigi’s had a very hard time ever since, I’m afraid.”
“At least you have each other,” I said, aware that my words were trite and probably untrue. But I had no idea what else to say.
Felicia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “My daughter rarely finds comfort in anything I can offer her.”
“Oh.” I looked at Ethan, who continued reading menus. I desperately wished he’d interject right now, but he was engrossed. “I’m sorry, Felicia. She’ll come around. Every daughter goes through that with their mothers, right?” It wasn’t for me and my sisters, but I had enough friends who went
through it that it seemed like it could be true.
She looked at me as if she’d never seen me before. “No. I didn’t. But ever since Gigi went off to school and came back thinking she’s some political activist, she’s been different. She prefers to do things her own way. She’s hooked herself up with the wrong people. I guess she’s following her own path. But honestly? I don’t even know her anymore. She’s angry and secretive and troubled. She won’t even come home and stay with me. She’d rather live like a homeless person out on the beach. She stopped working for me. She’d rather work at a dry cleaner making minimum wage.” Felicia shook her head, the frustration oozing out of every pore. “I mean, she doesn’t even have any friends her own age anymore. She spends all her time with that woman. And she’s picked up bad habits from her. I swear, she’s become as jaded and cynical as Adele. Although now she’s in jail, so I guess that’s over.”
Too late, she seemed to remember who she was talking to. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean … I feel terrible about what happened,” she said, nervously clasping her hands together. “And I think being here is good for Gigi. I hope you won’t hold what I’ve said against her.”
“Of course not. That’s between you two. She’s been helping us a lot here,” I said. “Please don’t worry about that.”
“Okay. Thank you. I should be going. What time would you like me here tomorrow?”
“We’re going to open at ten, so maybe nine?” Ethan said. “Let’s go with these menus to start.” He handed three back from her pile.
She nodded. “Perfect.” She tucked the others in her bag and added a Post-it note to the ones he’d selected, then rose to go.
“Before you go,” I said. “I need to ask you something.”
She turned slightly pale, but sat back down. Mother and daughter were a lot alike. Both buckets of nerves. “Yes?”
“My dad needs help with his annual gala for the hospital and he’s asked me to … sort out some details. I guess the major problem is they have no caterer. And the gala is a week from Saturday. Would you be interested in the job?”
Felicia’s eyes widened. “The hospital gala? The annual event? The auction?”
I nodded. “The very same. What do you say?”
She burst into tears.
“Oh, jeez, Felicia…” I looked helplessly at Ethan. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Why are you crying?”
Ethan reached over and patted her arm. “This is a great opportunity, Felicia, don’t you think?”
“It’s amazing,” she choked out. “Maddie, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I said, bewildered. “So … you do want it?”
“Yes!” She jumped up and threw her arms around me, almost knocking my chair over.
“Well. Great,” I said, once all four chair legs were back on the ground. “I have to get some details in place, but I heard there’s a meeting tomorrow at the venue. The Emerald Hotel downtown. Can you make it? It’s at three.”
“I can make it,” she said tearfully. “I’m so overwhelmed that you asked me. Thank you!”
After about a hundred more thank yous, I ushered her out the door. I closed and locked it behind me and slumped against it, feeling insanely relieved.
One item crossed off the to-do list.
Chapter 36
I called my dad back. Thankfully I got his voice mail so I left him a quick message and told him I had a caterer on board, and that I’d call his person Charlotte tomorrow to get the rest of the team organized but I was unavailable tonight. I thought about shutting the phone completely off, but my type-A personality would never let me. But I had a date tonight and I didn’t want the entire world intruding on it.
I did think about asking Lucas if we could have a quiet night in somewhere. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being out in public. Maybe I could convince him to watch a movie at his place or something. Although I’d never even seen his place. He’d seen Grandpa’s house, of course, not only because of the café but over the summer when he’d come over to fix the plumbing and pick me up for a couple of dates. I wondered what his place was like. I presumed he lived alone, but he’d never said.
I guess I’d never asked though. Which made me feel like a jerk. What the heck was wrong with me? I thought back to Val’s and Becky’s questions about whether or not Lucas and I were official, and why the heck we weren’t. It all came down to one thing—me. I mean, I wanted to be, but things kept sidetracking us. Sidetracking me, actually. But I liked him. God, I really liked him. He totally made my stomach flip every time I saw him. And he kept asking me out, so I was hoping the feeling was mutual.
But I had to be better at letting him know I was just as interested as him. Starting with tonight, where I would not discuss Holly Hawthorne’s deadness.
No. The only things we were talking about tonight were ourselves, so we could learn more about each other. And a nice outfit wouldn’t hurt. I wasn’t going to show up wearing jeans and a T-shirt. In fact, I needed to take some initiative. Instead of waiting for him to show up and ask me what I felt like, or expect him to have planned the evening, I was going to find somewhere nice to go and make reservations. Show him I was just as engaged as he was.
Going out in public was what we’d do, I decided. No hiding out for us.
And I was going to take my time getting ready and enjoy the process.
But first I checked in on the new cats Katrina had dropped off. A gray guy named Myron who hated the car and had been hiding ever since he’d come in because the trip had traumatized him. I managed to coax him out of his cubby with some of my best treats and got to pet him a bit. And a female tiger cat who was the friendliest gal I’d met in a while. I played with her for a bit then headed for the shower.
Unfortunately I didn’t make it there before my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen. My mother. No doubt wanting a Val update. But I had a bone to pick with her.
“Hi, Mom. I can’t talk long. I’m going out tonight. And I’m kind of mad at you.”
“Mad at me?” my mother asked, sounding surprised. “What on earth for? And who are you going out with? Craig or the cute dog groomer?”
“The dog groomer! What is it with this Craig thing? I don’t want to date Craig!”
“Well, he wants to date you,” my mother said. “It’s clear to pretty much everyone. But at least you know what you don’t want.”
I didn’t have much of an answer to that.
“I hope you have fun. Have you tried the new seafood place in Turtle Point?”
“No. What new place?” I asked, curious in spite of myself.
“It’s amazing. They’ve been open for a few months now, and they’re super popular. Saltwater is the name,” my mother said. “I can make reservations for you. I know the hostess. What time?”
“He’s picking me up at seven, so seven-thirty?”
“You got it.” I heard her scribble a note in her ever-present notebook. Ever since my mother had decided she was writing a mystery novel, she carried notebooks everywhere she went. She wrote down phrases she overheard on the street, descriptions of people when she was sitting somewhere people-watching, and whatever random, crazy ideas popped into her head. And sometimes her grocery list. I hadn’t seen the book yet and she was cagey about discussing her progress, but she was still going strong.
But right now she was messing with me. Trying to make me forget I was angry. “Stop trying to distract me. I’m still mad.”
“Honey. What are you mad about?”
“You volunteered me to run Dad’s gala! I have no time to run Dad’s gala. I’m not a party planner. And I have a new business to run! What were you thinking?”
“Whoa. Hold up. What do you mean, run Dad’s gala? I told him about your idea to hire a project manager, that’s all.”
“Well, apparently that project manager is me. Along with the food coordinator and the auction-item figure-outer. He said you both agreed that no one is better at details than me!
That’s not even true. Val is way better.”
“Oh no,” my mother muttered.
“Yeah. Oh no,” I said.
“Maddie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to ask you to do it. I just told him he should think about getting someone to do it. I’m sorry. I can talk to him.”
“No, forget it,” I said sullenly. “I’m roped in now. And I already found him a new caterer.”
“You did! That’s amazing. Who?”
“Felicia Goodwin,” I said.
She paused. “Really?”
“Really. Why?”
“No reason. That’s great, honey. Let me know if you need help.”
“Great. I do. I’m calling Dad’s team of people tomorrow and setting them loose on the auction items. Maybe you can help.” I smiled, feeling slightly vindicated. We could make this a family affair.
“Oh. Well, of course I’ll help,” my mother said, sounding less than thrilled. “Just tell me when you need me.”
“I sure will.”
“How’s your sister?”
“She seems to be okay,” I said. “Ethan is keeping her entertained.”
A pause. Then, “Ethan?”
“Yeah, Ethan. Something wrong?”
“Not wrong, exactly.” My mother exhaled. “I talked to Lilah Gilmore today. She called me.” Her tone of voice suggested this had been the low point of her day.
I didn’t blame her. Lilah was the island gossip. She knew everything long before everyone else did, and loved being the town crier, especially for the really good stuff.
I mentally cringed. “And?”
“Well, as expected, there’s lots of talk floating around about the Tanners and what’s going on.” Mom hesitated. “She also said she’d heard Val was cozying up to some other man. Clearly digging for information. I told her to mind her own business.”
“Good for you, Mom.” Not that I doubted how my mother would handle a situation like that. She was the quintessential mama bear who would rip out someone’s eyes before letting them say a cross word about anyone in her family.
“But Maddie—do you know what she’s talking about?” The worry was there, sneaking into her voice even though she made an effort to sound casual. “Because it sounded like your partner. When she described him. Red hair and a beard.”