Books, Cooks, and Crooks (A Novel Idea Mystery)

by Arlington, Lucy

  “Annie, Carrie, are these drinks ready?” I called out.

  Dumping her soggy papers in the trash, Annie reached for Klara’s and Bryce’s cups and proceeded to put lids on them. “Yes, thanks.”

  I stepped out of the way as Carrie grabbed her beverage and people moved in to continue doctoring their own beverages. Annie held the two cups above her head as if to avoid spilling them. “Thank you for helping me clean up,” I said.

  “My mother taught me to take care of messes right away,” she said, and went to deliver the coffees.

  “One of you fools spilled my latte,” Leslie declared. “I had just added the perfect amount of nutmeg and cinnamon, too. Somebody owes me a coffee.”

  Attempting to diffuse another tense situation, I touched her shoulder. “I’ll get you one, Leslie. Have a seat and I’ll bring it to you.”

  I waited for people to clear away from the fixing station and then went to the order counter, where Makayla held out a cup. “Here’s another latte for Leslie, on the house. I’d put a shot of vodka in there if I had any. These folks need to learn to relax a bit. Thank goodness you stayed after Jude left. I’m not used to such prickly customers.”

  I leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll be very glad to have this Books and Cooks thing over and all these temperamental people out of Inspiration Valley.”

  “I hear you. This group is as friendly as a nest of wasps,” she said quietly.

  “You son of a bitch!” Ryan’s angry voice filled the café, striking everyone silent. All eyes turned toward Klara’s table, where Ryan and Bryce stood facing each other like two rams preparing to butt horns. Fury emanated from Ryan as he stepped in almost nose-to-nose with Bryce, whose hands clenched into fists at his side. He retreated a pace.

  I moved to intervene, but Makayla grabbed my wrist. “Don’t get in the middle. Let it play out or you might end up with a shiner,” she cautioned.

  Together, we stood watching the drama unfold. Bryce and Ryan continued to glare at one another, while Klara sat at the table with her coffee, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. Dennis smirked from his stool, and Annie stood behind her boss with a stricken look on her face. At their table in the corner, Leslie and Charlene sat mute while Maurice had his mouth open as if he’d been rendered speechless midsentence.

  Standing beside her brother, Carrie darted a hateful glance in her stepmother’s direction and tugged at her father’s arm. “Daddy, don’t fight with him. She’s the one you should be mad at.” She pointed at Klara.

  He shook her off. “Don’t interfere, Carrie,” he said sharply. “I will deal with Klara in my own way.” He darted his finger at Bryce. “How dare you? You had dinner at our house, you bastard.”

  Mirroring his sister’s movements, Carter pulled Carrie away from the two men. “Come on, Carrie. This isn’t the way to get back at her.”

  Klara appeared unmoved that her family was in the midst of a turmoil precipitated by her actions. Calmly she held her cup to her lips; the only indication that the events affected her was how quickly she guzzled down her coffee.

  Leslie and Charlene got to their feet, directing looks of disdain at Klara. “Honestly, Klara,” Leslie hissed, sidling past her on her way to the ladies’ room. “Could you air your dirty linen in a less public place?” The others in the room stayed frozen where they were, as if they didn’t know how to respond to what was happening. I felt the same way. There I stood, clutching Leslie’s latte, with no idea of how to diffuse the situation.

  However, Leslie’s comment induced Klara to rise. She scrunched her cup and flicked it to the floor by Annie. “That coffee had an odd taste, Annie. Dispose of this and get me a glass of water. We need to get out of here.”

  As Annie hastened away to do Klara’s bidding, Klara turned to her husband and her lover. “Boys, please.” Her chest heaved. Obviously she was more affected by the events than she had let on. She certainly seemed more distressed than she had a minute ago. Her face was flushed and she was breathing rapidly. “This isn’t the place to discuss our issues,” she continued, placing her hand on Ryan’s arm. “Darling, you know you’re—ooh!” Her hands went to her belly and she dropped back into her chair.

  Bryce looked from Ryan to Klara, and back to Ryan again. “Listen, man, I don’t need this crap. I’m outta here. Talk to you later, Klara.”

  Ryan bent over his wife. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m a little dizzy . . . I feel sick.” Using Ryan to pull herself up, she reached out toward the door, which Bryce was just opening. “Bryce!” she called in a weak voice, almost gasping. “Don’t go.”

  Ryan yanked his arm out of her grasp. He glared at her. “Klara, how can you—” His voice changed to one of concern when she stared at him wide-eyed, clutching her abdomen and groaning. He grabbed her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

  She wrenched free. “I’m going to be—” Her hand went to her mouth and abruptly she bent double and vomited on the floor. Ryan leaped back. A look of disgust crossed Carrie’s face and she opened her mouth to say something when suddenly Klara sank to the ground, shuddering. Immediately, the atmosphere in the café was charged with alarm and concern. I set down the cup I was holding and ran over, Makayla hastening right behind me. Bryce dashed back inside. The other patrons circled the prostrate chef, carefully avoiding the puddle of vomit on the floor. Klara shook violently, convulsing as if she were having a seizure, and then went still. Ryan dropped down beside her and gripped her hand. “Sweetheart,” he pleaded, patting her cheek. “Klara, wake up.”

  “Is she breathing?” I asked, kneeling as well. Pressing my fingers to her wrist, I put my ear to her mouth, recoiling slightly from the garlicky odor on her breath. Her pulse was racing. “She is,” I announced. “But very weakly. Someone call 911.”

  “I already did,” said Carter, holding up his phone with a shaking hand.

  Beside him, Carrie stood frozen in place, her face drained of color.

  Bryce touched my shoulder. “Let me.”

  I stood aside as he knelt and took her wrist. Ryan sent a dark look in Bryce’s direction as he touched his wife.

  Turning to Ryan, I asked, “Could this be some kind of allergic reaction? To something in her coffee, perhaps?”

  Ryan’s eyes were wild. He shook his head. “She doesn’t have any allergies.” He watched in anguish as his wife’s lover stroked her forehead. Carrie leaned against her dad and he put his arm around her.

  I began to be fearful, too, as I was starting to suspect that Klara had been poisoned. She’d become ill so rapidly. Not only had she vomited, but she started convulsing almost immediately after she’d drunk her coffee. Had she not complained that it tasted odd? Had she not groaned in pain? I’d read enough murder mysteries to know what poisoning symptoms looked like.

  Quickly, I scanned the faces of the people in the room. Did one of them put something in her coffee in the earlier confusion? A cold dread washed over me as I recalled Klara’s lidless cup sitting on the counter with so many people crowding around it. If she really were poisoned, the remnants of her drink would have to be analyzed.

  “Annie,” I said urgently. “Where’s the coffee cup Klara gave you to throw out?”

  Still holding her boss’s requested glass of water, her face a mask of fright, she pointed to the fixing station. “I put it in the trash like she told me to.”

  I ran over to the bin and took off the lid. There, in the plastic trash bag, were dozens of empty coffee cups. Many of them were scrunched just like Klara’s had been. I sighed in frustration.

  Makayla tiptoed up beside me and whispered in my ear, “Why are you rooting through the garbage?”

  “I think somebody might have poisoned Klara’s coffee,” I whispered back. “Don’t you think the way she got so sick so quickly is strange?”

  With a horrified look on her face, Makayla glanced around at the people in her café. She tied the ends of the bag together and pulled it out of the bin. �
��The police techs will figure it out. But don’t you worry; I won’t let this garbage out of my sight until they come for it.”

  I squeezed her shoulder and returned to Klara. Ryan and Bryce were still hovering over her, their faces drawn and worried. Spotting my bag on a table alongside the forgotten file folder of short stories, I ran to it and retrieved my phone. With trembling fingers, I dialed Sean’s number. As it rang, sirens pealed in the distance, getting louder and louder with each passing second. Soon the paramedics would arrive.

  Please let Sean be with them, I thought. And please don’t let Klara become another murder victim.

  Chapter 10

  THE PARAMEDICS ARRIVED ON THE SCENE WITHIN minutes and we all watched in silent dread as they listened to Klara’s heart, took her blood pressure, and peeled back her eyelids to shine a light on her tiny, black pupils, which seemed to float, unmoving, in a sea of too much white. Throughout the rushed examination, Klara remained completely unresponsive.

  The EMTs loaded her onto a stretcher and then wheeled her outside where the ambulance was double-parked, its rear doors open and waiting to receive her. I expected Ryan to dash after his wife, but he was anchored to the ground, his stunned children on either side. Carrie had her arm looped through her father’s, and Carter was supporting him around the waist. I couldn’t tell if they were holding him up or holding him back.

  In the end, it wasn’t Klara’s husband who rushed forward to accompany her in the ambulance. Nor was it her lover. Bryce seemed completely paralyzed by what had happened. We all were. Except for Annie.

  “I’m going with her!” she cried to the room at large. No one replied, but there was a collective sense of relief that Annie was shouldering the responsibility.

  She’d barely made it outside before a policeman strode into Espresso Yourself through the lobby entrance.

  “Folks! Your attention, please!” He raised his hands in the air as if demanding quiet, even though the coffee shop was eerily still. “I’ve been asked to have you wait until Officer Griffiths arrives. He’ll be here shortly, so take a seat and don’t touch anything.”

  If he was hoping for mute cooperation, he was to be disappointed. Charlene shouted that she refused to be retained against her will while Leslie threatened to call her attorney. Bryce demanded to know why anyone had to stay, while Carrie repeated a string of four-letter words that had me gaping in shock. All of them fought to be heard, their voices rising until Makayla stepped from behind the counter and bellowed, “SHUSH IT!”

  Her voice was deep and strong and cut through theirs like a sharp blade. She held out her hands in surrender. “Please, friends. I know you’re all reeling. I am, too. I feel like I just got off a roller coaster and the ground doesn’t seem very solid beneath my feet either. But hooting and hollering won’t get us anywhere. Let’s grab a chair, have a glass of water, and give ourselves a minute to calm down.” She walked over to join Charlene and Leslie at their table. “Lord, I’m shaking like a wet kitten,” she said softly, showing them her trembling hands.

  Her honesty had an instant effect on the two women.

  “Me, too,” Charlene murmured with a wobbly smile and sank into a chair. Leslie did the same.

  The police officer nodded at Makayla in gratitude and then looked up as Sean walked into the shop via the street entrance. The ambulance was still parked outside but I could see one paramedic signal to the other and slam the rear doors shut. The sound allowed me to breathe a little more freely. In a matter of seconds, Klara would be on her way to the hospital in Dunston. Trained professionals would take care of her. And we now had Sean to handle the mess here. Knowing he’d soon make order out of the chaos created by Klara’s sudden collapse was an incredible relief.

  Sean spoke a few words to his fellow officer and then headed straight for me, his face implacable, and took me by the elbow. Steering me into a private corner, he gazed at me with such intensity that I nearly flinched. “What happened?”

  “I think Klara was poisoned,” I said and quickly described her symptoms.

  Without saying a word, Sean turned and beckoned to Makayla. She hurried right over.

  “I need your keys, please,” he said. “No one can leave and I don’t want any customers coming inside and compromising the scene. If this is a scene.”

  Makayla was obviously unhappy about hanging her closed sign and locking both doors, but she did as he asked. No sooner had Sean started to explain to the room at large that we’d all have to be patient when someone began pounding on one of the locked doors.

  Believing Annie to be already gone, I was surprised to see her standing outside. When Sean let her in, she glanced mournfully around and then burst into tears. “They wouldn’t let me go with her. They said that I . . . that I wasn’t immediate family.” She pointed at Ryan. “You should be with her. She shouldn’t be alone!”

  But it was too late. The ambulance had already pulled away from the curb and was racing down the street, siren wailing.

  Ryan was about to respond to Annie when Bryce pushed in front of him and glared at Sean. “By what right are you keeping us here? Klara got sick and we’re all upset, but it’s out of our hands now. So why do we have to stay?”

  Sean nodded calmly and said, “I’m faced with a difficult problem, Mr. St. John. One of your colleagues was murdered Thursday night and now another celebrity chef has become seriously ill without warning. In my experience, when someone is perfectly healthy one moment and is being rushed to the hospital the next, that individual either has a preexisting medical condition or has fallen victim to violence.” He shifted his gaze to Ryan. “Mr. Patrick, did your wife have any preexisting medical conditions?”

  Ryan shook his head. “She’s mildly allergic to wool, but that’s it. Klara has an iron constitution. She never missed a day of filming because of illness. Every now and then she’ll come down with a cold, but she’s one of the healthiest people I’ve ever met.”

  Carter frowned in confusion and looked at Sean. “So you’re suggesting that someone in this room deliberately made Klara sick? As in poison?”

  “I’m open to all possibilities at this juncture,” was Sean’s cryptic reply.

  Carter was on the verge of saying more, but his sister laid a hand on his arm and he closed his mouth. The twins exchanged a quick look and seemed to withdraw into themselves. For a moment, I envied their closeness. At a time like this, it must be such comfort for them to have each other.

  “I need to conduct individual interviews,” Sean murmured softly and then gestured at Makayla, who was wiping down her espresso machine even though it looked perfectly clean. She scrubbed the stainless steel furiously, completely absorbed in her task. “Does she have an office in the back?”

  “No. There’s only a restroom and a closet, but I’m sure you could borrow our conference room. You’ll need people out of the way while your team checks this place out, right?”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know you think Klara was poisoned, Lila, but that isn’t enough for me to call in a forensic team just yet. The whole station is aware of our relationship so I need to go by the book on this one. In short, I’ll have to wait for word from the hospital before I launch a full investigation.”

  “Then bring all these folks up to Novel Idea,” I suggested, waving at the agitated ensemble. “I’d hate for Makayla to lose customers because the doors are locked and two policemen are guarding a bunch of out-of-towners inside. It’s not good for business and the ambulance will be enough to set tongues wagging.”

  “Makayla will have to be interviewed as well,” Sean said. “And it’s not my job to worry about whether or not her customers can get their soy lattes.” He shook his head, immediately contrite. “That came out wrong, Lila. This is a difficult situation and my actions are limited until I have more information. That frustrates me, but I don’t mean to take it out on you. Let’s get Bentley’s permission to use the conference room. Everyone can gather there and then I’ll take pe
ople into your office for individual interviews. Hopefully, I’ll have word from the hospital by the time we’re ready to begin.”

  “You’d better let these people know what’s going on,” I said and steeled myself for their response. It wasn’t pretty. The second Sean announced his intentions, the coffee shop once again echoed with shouts and indignant protests. The shock and fear I’d seen on people’s faces after Klara had lost consciousness was replaced by a different kind of terror. Before, the concern had been for her welfare, but now, every person in the room realized that he or she was about to be interrogated. I could see them already guarding their emotions, as if they could wall off their private thoughts, actions, and secrets. I’d been questioned enough to know that this was nearly impossible, and I completely understood their feelings of panic.

  When we got upstairs, Vicky informed us that Bentley was in the middle of an important phone call and didn’t want to be disturbed. Sean outlined his plan, and Vicky gave her cardigan a firm tug, assuring him that Novel Idea was completely at his disposal.

  “I think she has a crush on you,” I whispered to Sean as we headed to my office. I wanted to tidy my desk before turning my space over to him.

  Sean’s radio crackled and he paused to listen to the exchange. When it was obvious that the codes were unrelated to Klara’s condition, he turned down the volume slightly and moved to catch up to me.

  I opened the door to my office and was surprised to find Jude reclined in my desk chair, his feet stacked on top of my desk. For some reason, he’d kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. I glanced from his argyle dress socks to his face and back again, failing to comprehend why he’d decided to make himself so comfortable. He wiggled his toes and grinned.

  “Where’ve you been, sweetheart? I’ve been waiting and waiting.” His voice was deliberately husky. I knew he was only teasing by the impish glint in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth had turned upward.