by Jenny Kales
“I insist,” April said, grabbing one of the weightier looking coolers from the dolly. “I lift heavy things every day. And I’ll bet you do, too. You and I truly work for a living unlike Allan Browne and his acting troupe.”
April grimaced as she swung the cooler onto her shoulder. “Most of them are graduate students or they have parents supporting their every whim. I only went to two years of community college before I realized I could make more money doing physical labor. Believe me, this is nothing. Anyway, I’m headed to Beats on the Bay, too.”
Who was Callie to deny help from a supporter of the working woman? She smiled at April gratefully. “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”
The two walked the short distance to the park to the event location. April was quiet. Callie, intent on lugging her heavy wares without jostling them, was grateful that April wasn’t the chatty type. She was more out of breath than she would have liked to admit.
“Why, hello, dear!” Viv greeted Callie as they arrived at the bandstand. “You’re early.” Viv was dressed in a light blue T-shirt with a Beats on the Bay logo, khaki shorts and the sturdy trainers she wore whenever she knew she’d be on her feet for a while. “And who did you bring with you?” Viv asked with a smile.
“Grandma Viv, this is April Manning. She was nice enough to help me carry all this stuff.”
“Set that cooler down right here, April,” Viv said, indicating a spot near the back of the tent. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” April said, bobbing her head in greeting. “I met Callie at the Harris House. I work with Hugh, your son-in-law.”
Viv looked questioningly at Callie.
“Yes, that Hugh,” Callie confirmed for her grandmother in a deadpan voice. “In fact, I recommended him for the job at The Harris House.”
April blushed but then recovered with her friendly smile. “Sorry, ex-son-in-law. I’ll just put this stuff down.” Callie shrugged and smiled at Viv as April scurried to the back of the tent with the cooler. She was gone for mere seconds before she jogged back to Viv and Callie.
“Well, I’d better leave you to it,” April said with a flick of her long blonde braids. “I’m supposed to meet up with some friends.” Suddenly April grimaced.
“Are you all right?” Callie asked.
“I’m fine. It’s just a little muscle spasm. It comes with the territory in my line of work.”
Callie felt guilty, but then again, April had offered to help. “Mine too. Long hours on your feet and heavy lifting: that’s one thing we have in common. Well, have a good time and thanks again,” Callie said. “I hope you’ll stop by the tent. I’m known to reimburse people who help me with food.”
“Will do,” April said. She smiled, waved and headed in the direction of the gazebo.
“Isn’t she sassy,” Viv commented when April was well out of earshot. “She is darling, though. She works with Hugh, you said?”
“Yes. Much to Raine’s chagrin, I’m sure,” Callie answered with a wicked smile.
Viv raised her eyebrows at her granddaughter. “You never told me why you’re here so early.” She frowned. “I hope you’re covered at work.”
“Don’t worry. Max told me to go ahead. He’s holding down the fort with Piper.” She took an appreciative look around the tent, which was well-outfitted with a long folding table and a couple of chairs. Not that she’d have the chance to sit much, but it was nice to have the option. “You’ve got a great setup for me here. Who put the tent up for you? And the table? I would have done it.”
“Oh, no need. Gert DeWitt took care of everything. Well, her volunteers took care of everything.” Viv smiled. “You just go ahead and get settled. We’ve got a lockbox for your money, along with rolls of change and some cash.”
So it was cash only. Well, hopefully no one would throw a tantrum over not having one of those little portable credit/debit card machines. Callie hoped the cash-only policy wouldn’t hurt her sales.
Callie finished arranging her food on the table. The array of sweet and salty treats offered something for everyone: spanakopita triangles, the Greek butter twist cookies, koularakia, cherry pie wedges oozing with dark, sweet juice and some more of her chocolate brownies (she’d found that it always paid to have some chocolate). She was just about to sample a brownie when Mrs. DeWitt sidled up to her.
“I can see that we asked the right person to sell refreshments. This all looks scrumptious. May I?” She gestured to the table of food.
Callie nodded as Mrs. DeWitt grabbed a piece of cherry pie and took a forkful. “Mm-mmm.” Mrs. DeWitt chewed contentedly and Callie handed her a napkin. “I was right. Delicious.”
Mrs. DeWitt started to take another bite but paused, fork in the air. “I forgot to tell you. Before this tragedy, I spoke to Holly Tennyson at Crystal Bay College. She called and was in what my mother would have called “a state.” Apparently, she was trying to find someone in the English department to talk to about her research, but everybody had already left for the day. The next thing I heard, she was dead.”
Eight
Callie’s blood ran cold. Max had also said that Holly was “stressed” about her graduate school project. “What did she need to know?” she pressed Mrs. DeWitt. “Did she mention any specifics?”
“She wouldn’t say. I suggested she call back after the weekend, but then, well…”
“She was murdered,” Callie answered for her. “I know she was writing a paper on F. Scott Fitzgerald. But what would that have to do with anything? He’s been dead for decades.”
Mrs. DeWitt raised her eyebrows. “It’s said that he passed through Crystal Bay, back before he was famous.”
“Really?” Callie was intrigued. She had enjoyed The Great Gatsby and some of Fitzgerald’s short stories in high school English class, but that was as far as her interest had gone. “Did you discuss any of this with Holly?”
“No, I tried to make conversation with her but she wanted somebody in the English department, not me.” Mrs. DeWitt made a slight frown of disapproval at anyone not seeking her out as an expert source on any problem.
Before Callie could ask another question, she was distracted by a loud crash. It appeared that the band was setting up and somebody had dropped some type of important-looking equipment. Loud curses followed, and Mrs. DeWitt’s face flamed bright red.
“Excuse me,” she said, handing Callie the plate with a half-eaten piece of cherry pie on it. “I need to go have a word.” She stomped off in the direction of the hapless musicians.
Before Callie could process what she had just heard about Holly, she realized that the lawn was starting to fill up with concert goers. Briskly, she ducked behind the table, ready for her first hungry clientele. The lockbox for cash and change had been thoughtfully placed on the table. Searching for Viv, she located her in the crowd and gave her a smile of thanks. Viv's blue eyes twinkled back at her granddaughter just as Mrs. DeWitt took the stage to introduce the band.
“Hello and welcome,” Mrs. DeWitt said brightly into the microphone. Callie giggled as she noticed how Mrs. DeWitt narrowed her eyes at the band member with the foul mouth before continuing. “It is our privilege to offer you this lovely family entertainment here tonight.”
Mrs. DeWitt continued in a friendlier tone. “If you’re hungry, Callie’s Kitchen is offering some delicious treats for your dining pleasure. Sodas, water and beer are available at the tent located just to the left of the stage. Cash only, please. Now, let’s give a warm welcome to The Tundras!”
The Tundras? Callie took a closer look at the band, which used to include her friend Samantha’s former boyfriend, Bix Buckman. Although he was a bristly sort, Callie was fond of him. He’d helped her out of some difficult situations in the past.
Bix wasn’t there. It appeared he’d been replaced by a lean young man with slicked back blond hair. Callie didn’t recognize him.
The band launched into their first song, and it wasn’t long before pe
ople were lining up for Callie’s food. She served customers at a steady pace, shouting to be heard over the band. Maybe next time, her food tent could be farther away from the main stage, she thought, as a headache started to throb over one eye.
She looked up as the next customer approached. He looked familiar. He was tall and slim, possibly in his early 20s, with curly dark hair, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. He handed her a plastic “Tyme Machine” bank card, and she shook her head apologetically. “Cash only,” she said. “Sorry.” Had he not heard Mrs. DeWitt’s announcement?
“Seriously? I’m really starving. You can’t make an exception?”
“There’s no way for me to do that. I don’t have a credit card machine.”
“Aww.” The guy shook his head in disgust, and Callie realized where she’d seen him before.
“You’re one of the actors from the murder mystery play at The Harris House, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah, I am,” he said, somewhat warily. Then he smiled. “Did you see our show?”
“Yes, I did. You were all terrific.”
“Thanks.” The young man smiled, showing a set of perfect teeth. Suddenly, his face fell. “It wasn’t so great what happened afterwards, though. I’m sure you heard.” He gave Callie a look that could only be described as glum. “Everyone is asking me about it.”
He must be talking about Holly, Callie thought. She wanted to keep him talking, but they were holding up the line. She heard customers grumbling.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, handing him the spanakopita and cookies he’d selected. “You can pay me back. It’s only ten dollars. You’re good for it, I assume?” she asked with a smile.
“You bet. Thanks!” the young man answered, grabbing the food. “I’m Josh, by the way. See you then, uh …”
“Callie.” She pointed to her “Callie’s Kitchen” signage.
Josh nodded and dashed away from the tent, as if he were afraid she would change her mind.
When Josh left, Callie heard the band announce that they were taking a break. A rush of new customers approached her table, and she was swamped for the next several minutes.
While Callie was crouching down looking for extra plates, she became aware of a pair of high top sneakers appearing next to her behind the table. She stood up, startled. “Max. Hi! You made it.”
“You look like you could use some help,” he said, gesturing at the line of customers.
“Maybe just until the next set. I’m almost out of food. It’ll be time to close up shop soon.” Callie took cash from the next customer and placed it in the lockbox. It would be nice to have another set of eyes on the money as well.
“You got it,” Max said. “I’ll take the orders, and you handle the money.”
“Sounds good,” Callie said, relieved that she had a helper. The two worked the line efficiently and soon, the sounds of the band warming up again wafted over to the tent. The last stragglers paid for the remaining items on the table and went back to their seats on the grass.
“Well,” Callie said assessing the remaining items. “We’re left with no spanakopita, exactly two pieces of cherry pie and a few brownies. All the koularakia are gone.”
“Nice!” Max was enthusiastic. “It’s been a success, then.”
“Looks like it.” Callie agreed. “I’m glad we sold so much, but I’m a little tired.” She looked around, realizing one person was missing. “What happened to Piper? Isn’t she with you?”
“Yeah, she is. I left her with some of our friends who came to see the show.” He gestured to the crowd. “Our friend, Phil, took over for Bix Buckman” He nodded at the young blonde man Callie had noticed when the band had first arrived.
“Why don’t you go and join her?” Callie suggested. “I really appreciate your help, but you’re officially off duty. And in a few minutes, so am I.”
Max grinned at her before darting off into the crowd in search of his friends.
Before she knew it, the band was taking their final break of the night. Holding onto the cash box in one hand, Callie made her way through the crowd, looking for a place to throw away the refuse that had accumulated around her tent. Evening had fallen and a delightful, cooling breeze was wafting up from the lake, a welcome break from the humidity and warm crush of bodies.
On her way back to the table to retrieve her signage and tablecloth, she narrowly missed bumping into a group of young people. “Excuse me,” she said, ready to dart around them and eager to settle up the night’s earnings with Mrs. DeWitt. Holding on to so much money was making her nervous.
“Hey, Callie,” said one of the young men. Josh. He proffered a ten dollar bill.
“That was quick,” she said, surprised and relieved that she had already received payback.
“I went to a Tyme machine,” Josh explained sheepishly. “That was nice of you to give me food on credit. It was great!”
Callie smiled at the compliment. Her smiled faded when she noticed that the crowd was watching her intently. They all looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to see their features in the dimming light.
“Are these more fellow actors?” she asked Josh. The small group nodded in assent. Tammy Heckstrom, Callie noted, was not with the group. Did that mean they didn’t like Tammy or did she have better things to do?
“Hi,” a few of them mumbled, not very interested in a 30-something woman with hair frizzing around her face from the heat. Callie could just imagine what she looked like after rigorously serving customers in this humidity. She’d cut them some slack for their lack of friendliness. They were mourning the loss of a fellow cast mate.
Callie tried another topic. “I heard you have a new member of the cast,” Callie ventured, curious to know more about the people who had spent some of Holly Tennyson’s last days with her. “I ran into Raine, your costume helper. She told me she’s stepping in to help out.”
“Uh, yeah,” Josh was the only one who spoke up. “She is. Should be good.”
A few half-hearted voices of assent followed, but Callie could tell she’d worn out her welcome with this group. If the prevalence of empty beer cups around them was any indication, they were probably fading fast.
“Well, see you all at the show. Thanks for the money, Josh.”
“You bet!” was his hearty response.
Callie trekked back to her station where she was met by yet another visitor, and a very welcome one at that – Sands.
“Hello, there,” he said brightly and Callie responded in kind, but then she noticed he was frowning at her cash box.
“What is that?” he said in an urgent tone. Then, more quietly: “Cash?”
“Yes, well, there was no one to watch it…” she began, but Sands interrupted.
“You shouldn’t walk around with cash like that. You could get mugged!”
“You’re right. But don’t worry: Nobody mugged me.” Callie was touched by his concern but realized something must be bothering him. “What’s up?”
Sands rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry to be so intense. It’s just that there’s been a rash of break-ins in Crystal Bay these last few weeks. I guess I’m a little hyper vigilant. Still,” he said, coming closer to her and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t walk around with money like that. You just never know.”
“What kind of break-ins are you talking about?”
“So far this summer, it’s been mostly the usual stuff. One or two places have been hit when the summer residents are out of town. But recently, some of the waterfront homes have been targeted. Gilded Age homes, and such. People are coming up for the summer and finding their homes ransacked.”
“That’s terrible,” Callie said, now feeling silly that she’d been toting cash around with her for a portion of the evening. “But don’t those places have elaborate security systems?”
“Most do. But when they do arrive at the summer home, so to speak, some people forget to leave them on during the day. And it looks like somebody may have
been dismantling some of the security systems, which is extremely troubling. By the way, it should go without saying that you shouldn’t repeat any of what I just told you.”
“I won’t,” Callie said faintly. “Sands,” she said. “Just tell me one more thing. Where are the homes that have been broken into?”
He looked at her, affection and exasperation in his eyes. “Well, you can read it for yourself online, so I’ll just tell you. The neighborhood you found Holly in is the primary area that’s been targeted.”
Nine
“What’s been taken?” Callie asked anxiously. A rash of burglaries didn’t sound good. Maybe they’d target local businesses next.
“That’s the strange thing,” Sands replied, frowning. “It’s mainly been small, token items like cash or jewelry. Large items are left alone, but the common denominator is that the houses are generally ransacked. Luckily no one’s been hurt.”
“Thank goodness for that!”
“Just be careful,” Sands said, looking into Callie’s eyes. “I suggest you make sure your alarm system at Callie’s Kitchen is in top working order.”
“Will do,” Callie smiled. “And speaking of working order, what are you doing here? I expected you to be working tonight.”
“Officially, I am,” Sands replied. “I’m here to observe the crowd. You never know what you might see.”
“You’ve got my interest,” Callie answered. “Observe anything so far?”
Sands looked pensive but then he smiled at her. “You’ll be the first to know.”
Callie started to clean up debris from her table. Sands started to help but she waved him off. “You’ve got your own job to do. I’ve got this.”
“I didn’t feel like cleaning. I was just being polite,” Sands said, deadpan. Callie laughed and put the last plate away. “OK, done.”
Sands nodded and continued to scan the crowd, hands in pockets, eyes darting around. “Looks like a lot of people are here. Anyone you know?”
“Yes, of course. To start, there’s Max, Piper, Viv and Mrs. DeWitt. Bix Buckman’s band is here but he’s not. I guess a friend of Max’s took over his spot. April Manning is here: she works with Hugh and is doing some renovations on the Harris House. Oh, and some of the actors from the murder mystery play. I just met them.” A slight exaggeration. She’d met Josh officially, that is, but the others hadn’t offered any introductions.