by Jenny Kales
“Thanks. It’s just such a shock. The good news is that Max found a friend to fill in for him already, so I guess it could be worse.”
“That’s wonderful! Who is it?”
“His name is Josh. In fact, he’s one of the actors from the murder mystery night. He played a gangster, I think. He’s tall, with dark brown eyes and hair.”
“Oh, yes. I remember him. Very handsome.”
“The question is: can he cook?”
Sixteen
Callie and Viv were deluged with customers, anxious to grab a bite before the music started. Callie kept a close eye on the lock box as she served the crowd, remembering Sands’ warning at the last Beats on the Bay event.
Finally, Mrs. DeWitt made her announcements and the music started. As Callie had hoped, the music volume was much more palatable than last time, making conversation possible without shouting.
“From what I’ve heard,” Callie said to her grandmother, “Holly Tennyson was worried about her graduate student thesis on F. Scott Fitzgerald. Mrs. DeWitt said you knew some history about the author that pertains to Crystal Bay.”
“Why, yes. It appears that he courted a Chicago debutante. She was very well acquainted with a family who had a summer home in Crystal Bay. As luck would have it, she married the son of that family. She’s said to be the inspiration for quite a few of his characters. That’s all I really remember, dear. I read an article in On the Bay, but that was a long time ago.” On the Bay was a local free magazine, filled with historical lore and tourist info.
“You don’t happen to remember the name of the person who wrote the article, do you?” Callie asked, thinking that the author of the piece might have some illuminating theories.
Viv frowned. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. I feel like it was familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it. You can find old issues at the library or online.”
Mrs. DeWitt rushed over, interrupting their conversation. Her face was flushed with excitement.
“Viv, I need you for a minute.” She nodded at Callie. “A reporter is here, and they want a quote from the organizers. I couldn’t forget Viv.”
Callie was shocked and touched. Mrs. DeWitt usually liked to keep press quotes to herself.
“A reporter?” Viv smiled girlishly and smoothed her hair. She winked at Callie. “Back soon, dear. Hold down the fort.” The two older women strode across the lawn toward a young man in jeans and a t-shirt, with black-rimmed glasses and a camera hanging from a strap around his neck.
Callie smiled as she served the next wave of hungry music lovers. Viv would enjoy seeing her name and quotes in an article, provided Mrs. DeWitt actually did let her get a word in edgewise.
Food was flying off of Callie’s table and the lockbox was filling up with cash. The sight of so much green alleviated some of her existential despair over losing Max as an employee. Callie pulled the box a little closer to her and looked up at the next customer in line.
Tammy Heckstrom stood before her with Phil, Max’s friend from The Tundras. Was he checking out the competition? The band tootled along pleasantly enough, but Callie had to admit she preferred Phil’s band, even despite their high volume.
“Hi, can we have some spanakopita and a couple of those feta-olive plates?” Phil asked.
“You betcha,” Callie said. “That’ll be $15.” She took a $20 bill from Phil’s outstretched hand. “How are you, Tammy? I’m so happy to see you up and about after the other day.”
“I’m holding up, I guess. They still don’t know what happened to me at the show the other night. I thought some music would be a nice change. This is Phil, my boyfriend, by the way.”
Boyfriend. “Pleased to meet you,” Callie said, handing Phil his change. “I think you know Max, my…” She started to say “employee” but then realized that didn’t fit anymore. “My former employee.”
“Former?” Tammy asked, aghast. “He quit?”
“It wasn’t because he wanted to, exactly. His father had a fall, and he’s got to head home to help take care of the family farm.”
“I didn’t know,” Phil said. “I’d better call Max and see how he’s doing.”
“I’m sure he’d like that,” said Callie. “Tammy, can we talk for a minute?” The sounds of the band starting up again wafted across the lawn with a soft breeze.
“I’m going to head back to our seats,” Phil said to Tammy.
“You go ahead,” Tammy told him. “I want to talk to Callie, too.”
Well, well. “Can you give me just a few minutes? I’ll serve the rest of these people, and then we can chat.”
“Sure. Mind if I sit down?” Tammy gestured at one of the lawn chairs Callie had brought with her in the chance she’d have a moment to sit.
Callie nodded as she dished out food to customers, keeping one eye on Tammy, who was placidly eating feta cheese chunks and nodding her head in tune to the band.
Finally, the last customer had been served, and Callie joined Tammy. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Tammy had finished her food. She put her empty plate on the ground next to her chair before speaking.
“Nobody will tell me anything.” Tammy related this news with a disgusted sigh. “My doctor thinks I may have been drugged with a heavy tranquilizer, but the test results aren’t back yet. At least, not according to my doctor. I know you date a cop, and I thought you might have some inside information.”
“Tammy, I don’t. I swear. And even if I did, I’m not supposed to go around giving out information during an active investigation.”
“I know,” Tammy sounded dejected. “It’s just been a really rough week. I’d love to know who did this to me and why.”
“I know. The whole situation is frightening, no question about it,” Callie soothed. “Let me ask you something as long as we’re on the topic. I saw you and Lisa Linley arguing the other day, outside of The Harris House.”
“You did?” Tammy replied. Her face was unreadable.
“It looked rather heated. This is nosy, I realize, but can you tell me what it was about?”
“Just dumb stuff,” Tammy shook her head angrily, remembering. “She didn’t want The Harris House involved in the murder mystery night anymore, for one thing.”
“Why not take that up with Allan Browne?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s not exactly the type to sweet talk anyone.” Tammy’s mouth was a stubborn line, so Callie decided to change the subject before the band’s set ended and more customers swarmed her tent.
“By the way, where did you meet Phil?” she asked cheerily. “He seems to be a good musician.”
Tammy brightened at the mention of Phil’s name. “We met at Crystal Bay College. He’s a grad student in English lit.”
“Does he know anything about Holly’s thesis? Has he read it?”
“Not that I know of,” Tammy said. “They weren’t working together. People generally keep their research to themselves. There’s a lot of competition for grades and fresh ideas.”
Callie pondered this silently for a minute. “That makes sense. Well, just thought I’d ask.”
Tammy nodded toward the register. “Looks like you have another customer.”
Callie looked up and saw a woman perusing what remained of the food. “Thanks. Back in a minute.” Callie served up her last two pieces of spanakopita to the woman and reached for the lockbox to get change.
Except it was no longer there.
Panicked, she turned to Tammy to ask if she’d seen anything.
She was gone, too.
Seventeen
The feeling of panic about the missing lock box full of cash quickly turned to anger. How dare anyone take her hard-earned money? And a cut of it was supposed to go to the Chamber of Commerce, headed by none other than Mrs. Gertrude DeWitt. She was not someone you wanted as an enemy.
Callie hesitated. She had to report the theft to the police, but did she really want them showing up ri
ght now, disrupting the night for Viv and Mrs. DeWitt? Having a reporter here complicated things.
Also, hadn’t Callie’s Kitchen been the subject of enough infamy recently? Reports of a theft could diminish the credibility she’d worked so hard to repair over the last year.
Callie couldn’t bring herself to believe that Tammy had taken the lockbox, basically, from right under her nose. But maybe she’d seen something. Gritting her teeth, Callie vowed to track down Tammy then and there.
One thing was for certain. She was shutting down her food tent.
Callie swept refuse into the garbage and the remaining food into her cooler, so quickly that she probably resembled a video on fast forward. Stomping off into the crowd, she kept her eyes peeled for Tammy, but the crush of people had worsened, and it was slow going through the crowd. She didn’t see Hugh and Raine, thank goodness. Maybe they could only take so much outdoor music in one evening. April Manning was still with her group of friends. All of them were laughing and holding plastic cups of wine and beer. April gave a wave as Callie pushed past.
Finally, Callie pushed her way to the front of the audience and scanned the crowd in line at the beverage tent. Feta cheese was salty and could make a person thirsty.
Bingo. There was Tammy, waiting with Phil, near the front of the line. Callie snaked through the throngs and confronted Tammy.
“There you are! Please, don’t broadcast this, but my lockbox has been stolen. Did you see anything? When did you leave?”
“What?” Tammy looked close to tears. “I’m sorry! I figured you were busy, and we were finished talking anyway. I didn’t see a thing!”
“You should call security,” remarked Phil. Callie nodded at him in weary assent as he stepped forward to place his drink order.
“If you remember anything,” Callie addressed Tammy, “be sure to let me know.”
“I will. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
You and me both, thought Callie as she went in search of Viv to break the bad news about the night’s food earnings.
***
When her alarm went off the next morning, Callie was tempted to throw her clock out the window. She’d spent a restless night. Despite her desire not to make a scene, she’d contacted the police about her stolen lockbox. After leaving Tammy and Phil, she’d found a uniformed officer on duty and had quietly explained the situation to him. He’d checked her tent and taken a report. He’d questioned Tammy, Phil, Viv and a few others, but no lockbox had been found.
Callie rolled over and put the pillow over her head. Her sleeplessness had prompted her to do an online search of the On the Bay article regarding F. Scott Fitzgerald and the young Chicago woman that Viv had mentioned. Frustratingly, the magazine didn’t post all of its articles on its website. Strike one. She’d have to find the article another way.
Koukla jumped up on the bed and started trying to burrow under the pillow, rooting out her owner. Callie laughed at the Yorkie’s antics and staggered out of bed.
It was time to make the doughnuts, or rather, the loukoumades. Josh was starting work as her apprentice today, and it wouldn’t do for her to be late.
Because she knew she would be working late at Beats on the Bay, Callie had arranged for Olivia to spend the night with George. So it was just Callie and Koukla in the pre-dawn light of the kitchen.
Strong coffee, a stronger shower and an internal pep talk finally galvanized Callie. She was even capable of feeling mildly optimistic about Josh as a prospective employee as she unlocked the door of Callie’s Kitchen at 5:45.
The building had an empty feeling to it, as if it missed a presence that was no longer there. Callie smiled at her whimsy. A building, after all, couldn’t miss a human.
Fortunately, Callie was saved from further gloomy ruminations by Josh’s arrival, five minutes early. That was one check in the “plus” column for him.
Callie greeted Josh warmly and provided him with a cup of her strong coffee before offering him a tour of her shop. She showed him where the extra aprons were kept, what was in the freezer, and what the menu’s weekly offerings were. She was chattering away in a dismal attempt to fight off the gloom about Max’s departure, when Josh stopped her.
“Don’t you want to see the dish I brought for you to try? You wanted to test my cooking skills.”
“Yes, yes. Of course! I’m sorry that I’m such a chatterbox this morning. Too much coffee, I guess.” Belatedly, Callie remembered Josh placing a covered dish on a nearby table near the door before she had offered him her frenzied tour of Callie’s Kitchen.
“Great. I’ll go get it. You’re going to love it.”
Josh returned carrying a foil-covered rectangular dish. It smelled good. Josh peeled back the foil to reveal what looked like a baked egg dish. It looked golden and tempting. Callie’s spirits rose.
“Since you had me arrive so early, I thought a brunch-style dish would be nice to try. This is my herbed onion tart.” He cut a square out of the plate and handed it to Callie. “See what you think. It’s still warm. I got up early this morning to bake it.”
Saying a prayer, she took a bite. She chewed and swallowed, then took another bite. The dish had an odd taste she couldn’t quite place. Reluctantly, she tried another forkful. The dish was sweet where it should be savory: that was the problem.
“Josh, this is…interesting.” She set the plate down. “It looks good and smells divine. But I’m sorry to say that something is just a little bit off. Is it supposed to have a sweet taste?”
“Sweet? No way. It should be a little salty, if anything. Let me have some.” He grabbed a chunk of the tart out of the pan with his fingers, eliciting a gasp from Callie. Where was his hygiene? Didn’t he learn that at culinary school? Max, where are you when I need you?
Josh swallowed his bite of food and pushed the rest of the dish away. “Oh, boy. DARN IT.”
“What’s wrong?” Callie was losing patience with this entire enterprise. Maybe she’d be better off alone.
“I must have used SUGAR instead of SALT. How could I do that?” Josh hung his head for a second and then looked back at Callie with a hangdog expression. “I guess I mixed up the two. But I swear that is the first time I’ve ever done that, and I want to assure you that it will be the last. I must have been nervous or something. I’m so sorry.”
Callie didn’t know what to say. It was tempting to order Josh out of her kitchen, never to return. She simply did not have time for basic cooking mistakes at this juncture. Callie pictured Josh accidentally using salt for the large amounts of sugar in her delicious brownie recipe and shuddered. Salted chocolate was one thing, but…
On the other hand, she hated to prematurely dash the hopes of a culinary newbie. He could be trained. And, he had been five minutes early. Plus, he was part of the murder mystery night theater troupe, and would have lots of valuable insider information. She hoped.
Oh, who was she kidding? She was desperate. It was this kid or the loony bin had better have a free room.
“I’d like to give you a chance,” Callie told Josh. “But please, whatever you do, keep any ingredients that look similar completely separate at your work space. Label them, if you have to. Mistakes happen, but we have to make sure they don’t happen too often. In fact, right now, I need as much perfection as I can get.”
Josh appeared receptive to her spiel, so she continued. “I’ve got the Greek Fest tomorrow, so Piper will be holding down the fort and our Callie’s Kitchen menu will be more limited. I’ve made most of the food for Greek Fest, but not all of it. I’m going to need you to help with our regular Callie’s Kitchen dishes today, plus, you can bake some of the stuff that’s already in the freezer. I won’t try to overload you on Day One.”
“Thanks!” Josh whooped. “This is great news.” He shook her hand, pumping it up and down. “I won’t let you down again. I’m your man.”
***
Despite Josh’s enthusiasm, the pace at Callie’s Kitchen was considerably
slower. It wasn’t really his fault, though. Callie had to walk him through steps that Max could do in a flash. However, that was after years of experience, Callie kept telling herself.
Piper showed up at 8 a.m. and that made the morning rush go a little bit easier. Callie noticed that the exuberant Piper was “coaching” Josh in the ways of Callie’s Kitchen, so that helped. “Ordering him around,” might be a more accurate assessment, but Josh was so eager to please that he didn’t seem to mind.
If he didn’t confuse the salt with the sugar or the baking powder with the cornstarch, they just might be O.K.
While Josh was in charge of the rice pudding pot in the back room, Callie sidled over to Piper to see how she thought things were going.
“Josh is serious about cooking, that much I can tell,” Piper said, a worried frown puckering her forehead. “But he is really slow. I have to get used to how he does things.”
“It’s his first day,” Callie pointed out. “He seems to take direction pretty well.”
“He’s a really nice guy,” Piper said, nodding slowly. “But he’s no Max.”
Callie had been trying very hard not to think about that. She was digging about for an optimistic comeback, when the phone rang.
“I’ll get that,” Callie said, relieved not to have to talk about Josh or Max any longer. “Just make sure Josh doesn’t burn the pudding.”
Piper saluted her and walked through the French doors. “Don’t stop stirring,” Callie heard her order Josh in stern tones.
Callie grabbed the phone. “Callie’s Kitchen. How can I help you?”
“You can start by telling me why I never hear about the exciting crises happening in the life of my best friend anymore.” Callie breathed a sigh of relief. The sound of her friend Sam’s voice coated her spirits like a balm.
“Which crisis are you talking about today? I’ve got several.”
“Let’s see. How about that you had money stolen at Beats on the Bay? Or the fact that you watched Tammy Heckstrom drop like a sack of potatoes at The Harris House the other night?”