by Jenny Kales
Olivia threw herself into George’s arms, and he held her tight. Callie patted her daughter’s back gently. George looked up at her, and she mouthed to him “Let’s change the subject.”
George nodded minimally and stood up, briskly brushing off his hands. “How would you like to help me in the kitchen?” he asked Olivia. “I’m baking spanakopita and I brought one of your favorite dishes: pastitsio. You can help me heat it up.”
“No, Pappou. I’m not hungry. I had Tastee Freeze with Dad. Anyway, I just want to go to my room.”
“You go then, dear. Maybe you’ll eat later, yes?” Bless George, who always worried about an empty stomach, even at a time like this.
Olivia nodded. Her eyes were swollen and red. Callie’s heart went out to her daughter and again, she cursed her helplessness at the situation. Why, oh why had she been the one to find Holly?
Did someone plan it that way?
Four
“I can’t believe this,” George said firmly, once Callie had Olivia settled in her room. The two were sitting at the small kitchen table, sipping an after-dinner coffee. Koukla was fed, but still she sat patiently at their feet, waiting for food to drop.
“You can’t believe it? How do you think I feel?” Callie said in a terse whisper. “Let’s not upset Olivia any more than she already is.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” He lowered his tone as much as he could, not an easy task as he had an assertive speaking voice. George’s command of English was excellent, but even after all of his years in Wisconsin, he still had a strong Greek accent, and when he was upset, it got even stronger. “Still, who would want to kill this young woman? This is crazy.”
“Who told you about Holly, anyway?” Callie asked.
“Didn’t I tell you? I got a police scanner.” George beamed proudly. “Since you’re seeing this detective, I figured, I may as well know what the police are up to.”
Callie groaned. “Seriously, Dad. You didn’t.”
“I did! Even so, I was just about to call Kathy and tell her there had been another murder in Crystal Bay, but she called me first.” Even though Callie wasn’t used to George being involved with a woman, Kathy was growing on her. She was petite and bubbly and a snappy dresser. George seemed smitten.
“How did she find out? From another realtor?”
“No. Apparently, she received a call from Raine. One of the people who work with that theater troupe doesn’t live too far from where that poor young lady was found.”
“Who lives in the neighborhood where the murder happened?” Callie asked, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“A man named Allan Browne. He has big bucks, I guess. That’s a nice neighborhood, no?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so.” Big bucks indeed. How much could a theater director make? But then again, he may have inherited his home. Lucky him.
“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find her,” George said sadly. “This is a terrible thing. I feel almost silly with the concern I’m about to share, but I need to say it.” George’s forehead was creased with worry lines.
He smoothed his curly brown-grey hair with both hands. “What about the church festival? Will this affect business? It’s one of the biggest fundraisers of the year for the church. And we’re counting on tourism, not just our local friends. Another murder could turn people off to visiting Crystal Bay. Which means they won’t attend our festival…” he broke off in misery.
Callie patted George’s hand. She always enjoyed the festival, but it was the last thing on her mind right now. Still, she knew it was a highlight of George’s year and he was right. The church desperately needed this annual source of income.
“Dad, don’t worry. The festival will be a hit. Just give us some good weather, that’s all we need.”
“Eh, I know.” He sighed. “No use worrying. I’m also happy you agreed to help me bake all of those pites. I know it’s a lot of work, but maybe it will help you take your mind off this latest unpleasantness.”
“Maybe,” Callie said dubiously. Making pites and summer fruit pies was soothing work. She just wished the order wasn’t so large.
Callie picked at her food and chatted some more with George before going upstairs to check on Olivia. She was asleep, with tears dried in streak marks down her face. Poor kid. Callie kissed her daughter’s cheek gently, so as not to wake her, and tiptoed back down the stairs to say goodnight to her father.
“She’s sleeping. Thanks again for coming over, Dad.” She hugged him tightly. “You really did help me by being here, and Olivia was comforted too. I could tell, even though she wanted to be alone.”
“You were the same way, hrisi mou,” George said affectionately. “Always wanting to be alone when you were upset. You get some rest, and we’ll talk tomorrow. Kali Nihta.”
“Kali Nihta. Good night,” Callie called. She locked every door and window and wondered when she’d ever hear from Sands. She knew she should call her best friend, Sam.
Callie sat down on the sofa, rubbing her eyes, hoping to get some of the tiredness out of them. It didn’t work.
Koukla took the opportunity to jump on her lap and Callie petted her absently, thinking. Sam would surely she’d have some insights. She figured it was useless to keep waiting for Sands’ call, as he was probably busy. She could picture him, brow furrowed, hunched over a huge Styrofoam cup of tea as he reviewed the evidence.
Before she could do anything, though, she had to change out of her clothes and take a shower. Her gruesome discovery had made her feel soiled, somehow. She folded up her too-tight jeans and pushed them onto the highest closet shelf. Maybe she should lay off sampling her own baked goods so often before attempting to put them on again.
When she was showered and dressed in a loose tee and cotton shorts, she felt calmer and ready to talk to her best friend. Callie never knew when or if Sam would be available. As a criminal attorney, she kept hours almost as irregular as Callie’s. To Callie’s great relief, Sam answered her phone.
“Well, well, well. Nancy Drew strikes again,” Samantha greeted Callie. “Sorry, it just slipped out,” she said over Callie’s sputtered protests. “I was just kidding. The truth is, I’m worried about you, Callie. Bad luck seems to be following you around.” Sam adopted a tough exterior in times of crisis, especially when she was worried or stressed.
“You think?” Callie answered sarcastically. “How did you hear about Holly Tennyson?”
“Oh, the usual way.” Sam seemed to be regretting her previous glibness. “One of my colleagues mentioned it. This is the kind of news that travels fast. As you should know.”
“I sure do.” Callie sighed. “Well, what do you think happened?”
“I have no idea,” Sam said briskly. “How’s Olivia taking it?”
“Not well,” Callie replied. “And I don’t blame her. I’m not taking it very well either.”
“Well, what does Detective Dreamy have to say?”
“Ha, ha,” Callie answered. “You know he can’t tell me everything. Anyway, I haven’t talked to him since he met me at the crime scene.” She gulped, remembering. “I did find out one odd thing, though. Well, more like a coincidence. Or maybe not. That arrogant theater director, Allan Browne, lives in the neighborhood where I found Holly’s body.”
“You don’t say,” Sam sounded thoughtful. “That is a little strange. What do you make of it?”
“I wish I knew. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”
“Not at the moment, but give me some time. Off the top of my head, I’d say that he didn’t seem like the nicest guy in the world, but that doesn’t mean anything. Some of the ‘nicest’ people in the world commit the worst crimes. There was this one guy…”
Callie felt a headache forming behind her eyes. “Listen, I’d better go. It’s been a long day.”
“All right, friend. If I hear anything or think of anything to help, I’ll let you know. Let’s talk soon.” The two rang off.
***
The next day dawned hot, sunny and humid. Callie dragged herself out of bed early and checked on her daughter, who was due at day camp. She wondered if Olivia would be too aggrieved to attend, and wondered also what she’d do with her if she was. The life of a single mom.
Sands had texted late the previous evening with an apology for not calling and a promise to see her that evening. So there was that, at least.
Before she could do anything else, Callie decided she needed coffee and headed down to the kitchen to brew some. Koukla was lounging in her dog bed, but she followed Callie into the kitchen for her treats, fresh water, food and a trip outdoors. Before Callie had finished her first cup of strong coffee, Olivia straggled downstairs dressed in her camp T-shirt and shorts. Her face was scrubbed, her long, honey-colored hair was combed and she looked fairly alert.
“I see that you’re planning on going to camp,” Callie remarked, folding her into a tight hug. “Good for you.”
“Yeah, we’re supposed to go swimming today. I’m sad about Ms. Tennyson, but I don’t really want to talk about it now, Mom.”
You and me both, Callie thought. “No problem,” she said to her daughter brightly. “Let’s go.”
Callie dropped off her gloomy daughter at the YMCA building in town and was in a pensive mood as she arrived at her shop. Max was already in the work room, rolling out what looked like mass quantities of pie dough while Piper handled the customers at the front of the shop. Sitting on the stainless steel countertops were bowls of glistening blueberries, crimson strawberries and dark cherries.
“Hey, Callie,” Max said, not stopping his work. His muscles rippled as he rolled out dough and started placing it in pie pans. “The fruit we got from our supplier this morning is off the charts. We’ve had a lot of requests for fruit pies, and anyway, they’re on this week’s menu. I figured I’d get a head start.”
“Sounds good to me,” Callie said. “Thanks, Max.” She was touched to see him working so hard, no doubt trying to rectify his previous slip up. She was also charmed to note the small pie cutters he was using to decorate the pies with pastry designs of strawberries, cherries and hearts. Callie’s Kitchen patrons would love these extra touches.
“Did you hear about…” Callie began but Max cut her off.
“I did hear. Holly Tennyson is dead.” Max looked grim.
Oh boy, Callie thought. Everybody knows. The thought made her feel slightly uneasy.
“Yes, I can’t say much about it, other than I was the ‘lucky’ one who found her.” Callie shuddered. “It was just coincidence. Hugh was supposed to be there, not me.”
“Hugh?” Max asked. He furrowed his brow, which only serviced to emphasize the piercing on his left eyebrow. “Cripes. I don’t mean to be morbid, but he wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, would he?”
“I don’t think so,” Callie said, but this was the second person who’d brought that up, Sands being the first. What connection, if any, did Hugh have with Holly? Maybe she should dig around a little bit, but she was truly sickened at even the thought that the father of her child could do such a thing.
“I’m really sorry,” Max said, brushing his hands to get the flour off of them. “Just look out. You keep finding yourself in these … uh. Situations, shall we say.”
Callie stared at him, exasperated. “I know. And I promise you it’s not intentional!”
“I know. No offense intended. Hey, why don’t you give me a hand, and let’s get these babies in the oven.”
Happy to focus on fruit pies and not unsolved murders, Callie washed up at the hand-washing sink and joined Max at the table. The two worked companionably for several minutes before Callie heard the unmistakable sounds of Grandma Viv’s voice at the front of the shop. Callie wiped her doughy hands on her apron and swung through the French doors that separated the front of the shop from the busy workroom.
“Grandma!” Callie said, happy to see a friendly face. Viv wore a pink oxford shirt over white capris, her feet in white Ked sneakers. As usual, every silvery gray hair was in place, and she looked much younger than her 80 + years. Standing next to Viv was Mrs. DeWitt, local philanthropist and the owner of an opulent waterfront home. She was slightly younger than Viv and was dressed in her usual casual but elegant manner. Callie nodded at her with a smile. She and Viv were old friends, and Mrs. DeWitt had awarded Callie a cash prize in a local business contest through Crystal Bay’s Chamber of Commerce.
“Hello, dear.” Viv said. “We heard the terrible news about Holly Tennyson. You must be distraught. But I think I have something to get your mind off of it. Gert and I are here to ask you a favor.”
“If I can,” Callie said, bracing herself.
“It’s like this, Callie,” Mrs. DeWitt said smoothly, stepping forward. “You probably know that Viv and I are helping the Chamber with our Beats on the Bay series this summer. Well, we thought it would be helpful to you, and to our attendees, if we could offer some refreshments each week. You know, just some tidbits and nibbles, maybe some sweets to be sold at a table. Nothing too complicated. We thought of you immediately.” Mrs. DeWitt smiled at Callie, clearly unwilling to be denied.
Callie looked at Grandma Viv. “It would be a great business opportunity for you, dear,” Viv said encouragingly. “I know you’re busy but think of the possibilities!”
“Yes...” Callie said slowly, calculating how many extra hours she would have to put in. The Greek Fest baking was already taking up a lot of her time.
“I can help,” Max interjected. Callie stared at him, aghast, and he just smiled and shrugged.
“See!” Mrs. DeWitt beamed at Max. They must really be desperate, Callie thought. Once, Mrs. DeWitt had told her that Max’s tattoos and eyebrow ring “weren’t appetizing” for someone in food service.
“I guess it’s settled,” Callie said. It would add to her already stacked workload, but the extra income would be very welcome. She was still trying to dig out financially from the near shut down of her business after becoming a murder suspect not that many months before.
“Wonderful, dear!” Viv was jubilant. “I knew you would help us. Anyway, you should join us sometime as an audience member. It’s a lot of fun. You can bring your boyfriend. And it would take your mind off of this latest…unpleasantness.”
“I just might do that,” Callie said. When she and Sands would have the extra time, she didn’t know. But music under the stars sounded pretty good after what she’d been through in the last 24 hours.
After the two women had left, Callie decided it was time for a heart-to-heart with Max.
“Thanks for offering to help me with this extra work, but Max, as you know we are both going to need to work some extra hours. Don’t forget, I also offered to help George bake for the Greek Fest.”
“I haven’t forgotten. But I’m thinking if I show my father how much I’m needed here, he might get off my back about wanting to have me come home and help him.” Max looked at his shoes, speckled with flour and confectioner’s sugar. “The thing is, he wants an answer really soon.”
“And? What are you going to do?” Callie held her breath.
“I don’t know yet. I didn’t want to tell you this, but there’s a chance I might have to leave Callie’s Kitchen and help him out, after all.”
Five
Callie was still reeling from this revelation when a group of three customers burst through the door, laughing and chattering. Max ran out to greet them, clearly wanting to escape the conversation. As soon as Max had left the work room, Callie sat down at one of her stainless steel worktables and put her head in her hands.
Of course, she could always find another employee, but where would she find an employee to equal Max’s loyalty? He had his quirks, but he was truly dedicated and a skilled, enthusiastic cook. Plus, he’d stood by Callie when her business was going through a rough patch and had even recruited his girlfriend to do social media work for college credit. No doubt about it: Max was a gem.
Callie measured rice, sugar and whole milk for her rich version of rice pudding, aka rizogalo, as she fretted about Max. He’d talked about wanting to take culinary courses and becoming a professional chef, so she’d always figured she’d lose him someday, but she wasn’t ready yet.
It didn’t matter if she was ready or not. “Someday” may have already arrived.
Food prep beckoned and soon, Callie was mixing cooked rice into a pot of milk and sugar. The comforting scents of rice pudding normally soothed her soul and made her hungry, since it was one of her favorite desserts. Not this time, though. The more she stirred, the more worried she became. What about Piper? Would she leave too?
Once the pudding had cooked into a thick, fragrant porridge, Callie stirred vanilla extract into the pot, placed the pudding into individual containers and sprinkled them with cinnamon. Composing her face into a cheery, customer-friendly smile, she headed out to the front of the shop, her arms filled with that day’s main course selections. She planned to restock the take-out refrigerator.
“Hi, Callie,” said a throaty voice and Callie looked up, startled. It was Tammy Heckstrom, the woman who scared her half to death the other day when she was pretending to be dead at the murder mystery night. She was also Holly Tennyson’s grad school classmate, Callie remembered.
In total contrast to her glamorous get-up at The Harris House, Tammy looked bedraggled in frayed jeans and a pink T-shirt that looked as if she’d slept in it.
“Hi, Tammy,” Callie said, concerned for the grieving young woman. “How are you?”
“Not that great. I was wondering if we could talk. About Holly.”
Callie glanced at Max, who raised his eyebrows at her and nodded towards the crowded shop. Suddenly, the buzz of happy voices had stopped, and you could hear a pin drop.