Max felt a smile escape. “Grandpa Beverd. I’d forgotten he used to say that.”
“All the time. Especially if we didn’t smile when we got up in the morning after staying overnight.”
“Since we stayed up half the night giggling, we usually were ‘out of sorts’ by the morning.”
“By the way, I stopped at home and took Rosie for a short walk,” Bess said. “She’s so sweet.”
Max smiled and picked up the menu. “I don’t know about sweet but thank you. What’s good here? I’m not familiar with Dutch cooking.”
“The only thing Dutch about this place is the name and the decor. The menu is American, but good. I like the grilled chicken sandwich and the taco salad.” Bess grinned. “I don’t know if taco salad counts as American—or pizza either, for that matter.”
“Can I take your orders? Oh, hello, Bess.” A thirty-something man with cropped red hair and a roundish face stood with a pad and pencil, ready to write.
“Harry, these are my cousins, Max and Lil, here for the festival.” Bess turned to the other women. “Harry is Wanita Eldridge’s son. She’s the woman who runs the volunteer program at the mill.”
Lil nodded. “We met her this morning. She offered to take me to the quilt shop Monday. She was so sweet. Apparently, she’s a retired teacher?”
Harry slipped the pad in his apron pocket. He nodded and his face changed from customer-welcoming to grieving. “You were there this morning?”
“Dean was giving them a private tour of the mill when he discovered the…I mean, Peter,” Bess said.
Harry wiped his brow and looked at Max and Lil. “You know, I passed Peter on my way to open the restaurant this morning.” He paused. “He was such a nice man. And so smart! He was trying to redevelop the Semper Augustus tulip.”
”Harry also hybridizes tulips,” Bess explained to Max and Lil.
Max was interested in this process, but she was more interested in something else Harry said. “What time was it when you saw Peter this morning?”
“Uh, probably it was about 6:30. I open at 7:00 for the breakfast crowd. He was walking toward the mill, actually, about a block away from Engle Street.”
“He must have been on his way to the race. Did you report that to the police?” Max persisted.
Lil said “Max thinks she’s a detective.”
“I do not. But I’m sure that information could be useful in fixing time of death. You don’t have to be a detective to know that—it’s just common knowledge.”
Harry’s eyes went back and forth between the two women. “No, I didn’t call them. I guess I’d better.”
A nearby wall clock chimed. Harry grabbed the pad back out of his pocket. “I forget what I’m doing. Our special today is a fruit plate. For dessert, there’s a choice of our famous apple pie or our Death by Chocolate cake—oh, dear. That’s very unfortunate. I’ll be right back.” He rushed over to a blackboard above the cash register counter, quickly erased “Death by Chocolate,’ and wrote in perfect Palmer method penmanship “Chocolate Cake.” Simple and direct, no frills.
“You can tell his mother was an elementary teacher,” Lil said, in reference to the handwriting.
Harry returned looking more frazzled, as he observed the growing crowd of customers. “So what can I get you? Have you had enough time to decide?”
“I’m going to have the fruit plate,” Lil said. “That sounds great.”
Max closed her menu and said, “Me too.”
“Make that three,” Bess said.
While they waited, sipping delicious iced tea, Bess told them a little more about Peter DeVries.
“He came here thirty or forty years ago and taught computer programming at the college. That was in the early days of the science, of course. He developed a very successful software program, but according to his contract, the rights remained with the college. So he retired and spent his time on desktop and mobile apps that made him very wealthy. He has donated generously to local and many other charities. Along the way he became a huge supporter of the Tulip Fest—he has Dutch ancestry—and interested in the hybridization of tulips. He never married. There were a couple of romances I heard about, but apparently they didn’t last.”
“It’s hard to imagine anyone being angry enough to kill someone like that,” Lil said.
“I know,” Bess sad sadly. “And it wasn’t just what he did for the town, but he was genuinely nice to everyone—really a caring person.”
Harry was back with their fruit plates. Bess took hers and smiled up at Harry. “Thank you. You’re not usually waiting tables.”
“Two of my wait staff called in sick this morning, and of course with the fest, we’re busier than usual.”
“Well, good luck,” Lil said.
Harry looked at Max. “I will call the police. Thank you for reminding me.” And to the whole table: “Can I get you anything else?“ When they all shook their heads, he said “Enjoy your lunches,” and turned and left.
Max said, “I overheard some women talking this morning at the pioneer village about someone named Helen who should be notified about Peter’s death. Dean said he had heard rumors about them.”
Bess paused between bites. “Yes. Helen Bakke. I’d heard that too. Interestingly, Helen was a student of Peter’s when he first started teaching at the college. Oh, he’d maybe been there three or four years, I guess. Helen was a local girl—as a matter of fact, she had been the Tulip Fest queen a couple of years before. Beautiful girl—and she is still a very attractive woman. She married Adrian Bakke of the Bakke furnace family, so now she’s very wealthy in her own right. Adrian died five or six years ago. And, according to the gossip mill, Helen and Peter started seeing each other recently.”
“Did Helen and Adrian have any children?” Max asked.
“Two boys. Erik and Hans. Both grown now and Hans is working in the family business. Erik is a local doctor. He’s also very active in the community theater. He did a wonderful job in Death of a Salesman recently.” She looked inquisitively at Max. “Why?”
Max shook her head. “No particular reason. Sometime inheritances can cause serious disruptions, and I wondered if one of the sons was especially opposed to his mother marrying again, if it came to that.”
Bess gave a wry grin. “You do have an evil mind, Max. But I don’t think this romance is nearly that serious—maybe more of a convenience—you know, for companionship. Helen has done an excellent job of running the business and is worth more now than when her husband died. The sons have contributed to that, and both received honors from business and civic organizations.”
“Just a thought.” Max popped a chunk of pineapple in her mouth. “Somebody definitely wanted to make a statement by having the body discovered that way. No idea what kind of statement it is.”
“I certainly agree with that,” Bess said.
Lil said, “I asked Mrs. Eldridge this morning if she knew Peter well and she got kind of flustered—like maybe she had a romantic interest in him. Was he a player?”
Bess frowned. “Not that I knew of. Wanita Eldridge? Interesting. Do you want to talk about plans for the afternoon, or go back home and rest? Has this awful business kind of ruined your interest in the fest?”
“Oh, I don’t want to make light of this death, but since we didn’t know any of the principals and there’s really nothing we can do to help anyone, I would just as soon take in an event or two. What do you think, Max?” Lil said.
“You’re right. What’s on this afternoon?” Max asked Bess.
Bess looked at her watch. “The street cleaning and then dancing will start in about an hour. And they offer lessons after that. Interested?” She raised her eyebrows at them.
“In wooden shoes? What if we didn’t bring ours?” Max took a big bite of her chocolate cake and wiggled her eyebrows back at Bess.
“They have them in all sizes for anyone who wants to try it.
“I’m game,” Max said, without really thinking ab
out it.
“If she does it, I’m definitely in,” Lil said. “I’ve been taking tap dancing lessons all winter.”
Bess laughed. “Seriously? You guys haven’t changed since we were kids. That’s great! Then after the lessons, they have a cheese market demonstration. It’s really something to see.”
“Okay—one thing at a time. This cake is fantastic.” Max was already regretting her spur-of-the-moment declaration about the dancing lessons. She looked out the window near their table. Rats, it didn’t look like a chance of rain.
Harry returned to their table. “Can I get you anything else?”
Bess laughed. “I think we’d better quit. Max and Lil want to take dancing lessons in the wooden shoes. If they eat too much, they won’t be able to trip the light fantastic.”
“Really?” Harry grinned at them. “Good for you! Um, Bess, what do your suppose will happen with Peter’s hybridization work?”
Bess looked surprised. “I have no idea, Harry. It’s far too soon to know that.”
“Of course, of course. You’re right.” Harry busied himself stacking plates. “Thank you so much for coming, and I hope you have a good afternoon.”
After he left, Bess said, “That was odd. And certainly inappropriate. His mother would have a fit if she knew he had asked something like that so soon after Peter’s death.” She picked up her purse. “Are we ready to go, girls?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Max grumbled. “And even though it’s called Dutch Treat, I’m buying so I’ll meet you outside after I pay the bill.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary—,” Bess began.
Lil put her hand behind Bess’s back and pushed her toward the door. “Remember, just say thank you.”
“Thank you,” Bess said over her shoulder as she was propelled toward the door.
Chapter Six
Back outside, Bess pointed toward one corner of the square where men, women and children in Dutch dress were wielding buckets and long handled brooms as they began the street scrubbing. Spritely accordion music played in the background. Some of the cleaners splashed soapy water from buckets in front of the sweepers to be spread and scrubbed with the brooms. All of the cleaners smiled at the crowd as they moved along the street.
Max came up behind Lil and Bess. “I’ve never seen so many people happy about cleaning.”
“They probably wouldn’t be if they had to do this more than one weekend a year,” Bess said. Then she pointed to a side street at a van covered with bright graphics and sprouting antennas from the roof. “Channel 17 is here.”
“Because of the murder?” Lil asked.
“Or just here to cover the Fest,” Bess said. “I’m sure they’ll latch on to the murder soon enough.”
The bright sun and soft breeze quickly dried the street behind the cleaners. By the time they had circled the square, it was ready for the dancers.
A group of people gathered in the center of the street. The women wore a variety of dresses, most with black or dark-colored full skirts partially covered with bright-patterned aprons or overskirts. Many wore white lace-edged shawls around their necks and crossed over their bodices. White winged hats of various shapes topped off the outfits. The men were dressed in dark, loose pants and shirts, and most wore black fishermen’s hats. All of the dancers, of course, wore wooden shoes.
The men and women faced each other in two lines. The music began again, louder now, and they began a series of hops and kicks, punctuated by the clomp of the shoes. They bowed, dipped, and circled their partners, always with the hops and skips.
Lil snapped several pictures. “That really looks like fun.”
“It doesn’t look terribly hard,” Max said. She was somewhat encouraged that she might be able to do this after all.
The group performed several different dances. At the end, the woman who had been announcing and explaining the dances over a PA system thanked the crowd.
“And if you’d like to try a little clogging yourself, be at the Dutch Bank parking lot just around the corner there—,“ she pointed—“at 2:00 for a quick lesson. You won’t qualify to dance with these people—,” now she indicated the dance group— “but you will see why they think it’s so much fun!”
Many in the crowd laughed and shook their heads, but Bess pointed at Max and Lil and said, “Let’s go, ladies!”
They followed Bess weaving through the crowd. Max again doubted the wisdom of this decision. She had never been a paragon of coordination.
A small trailer sat at one end of the parking lot with its doors open. Inside were stacks of boxes.
“That’s where you get your shoes,” Bess said.
Max balked. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve done it before. I’m almost an expert—well, maybe not. Besides, someone has to take the movie.”
“No movies!” Max insisted.
“Okay, okay.” Bess winked at Lil.
“Is there a charge?” Max asked a young man who was handing out shoes.
He pointed at a box with a slot in the top by the open trailer door. “Just donations.” Max and Lil each added a couple of bills to the box.
The woman who had been announcing the dancing program was also the instructor. She walked into the parking lot and clapped her hands to greet them. Besides Max and Lil, there were five other takers on the lesson.
The woman introduced herself as Josie and slipped on a pair of wooden shoes. Max put hers on and was surprised at the comfort.
“Not bad,” she said to Lil.
Josie lined them up and instructed them to put their hands on their hips. She led them through a series of hops and skips. The pace was slow, and soon all of the participants were laughing at their more than occasional falters. They bowed to each other and followed Josie doing a kick and a stomp combination.
Max started to turn back to wave at Bess, when her foot slipped sideways and down she went. The woman behind barely caught herself from falling on Max.
Bess rushed forward. “Max! Are you okay? No—sorry—of course not. Where do you hurt?”
Max started to push herself up. “My right ankle—just a twist—yeoow!” She collapsed back down.
Everyone gathered around her.
Lil knelt beside her. "Let me get your shoe off." She began to tug gently.
"No wait," Max began. "Oh, crud." She couldn't see her foot because she wore sport socks. But the area above her ankle had darkened and begun to swell.
Several people gasped. Bess peered down. "Such a pretty combination of purple and black."
Josie took charge and ordered everyone back. "We'll resume the lesson in a couple of minutes."
“Where’re your keys?” Lil asked. “I’ll bring the car around, and my cane is in there too. You can use that. We can get you to a doctor or an ER.” She looked at Bess for confirmation.
“Yes, there’s a clinic just a few blocks away.”
Max groaned again. “You’re not driving my car!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Lil held out her hand. “I’m not going to hurt it. Keys!”
Max looked around the group of faces, but didn’t see anyone who was going to come to the rescue of her car. “In the side pocket of my purse. But be careful!”
Bess had been holding their purses and handed the keys to Lil, who rolled her eyes. “We could take her in my car,” Bess offered.
Lil said, “She won’t leave her car downtown. She’ll get over it.” She took off for the lot near the mill, about a block away, where they had left the Studebaker.
Bess and Josie helped Max up and supported her as she hopped on one foot over to a nearby bench.
When Lil pulled up in the little red car, Josie looked up and then did a double take. “Wow! No wonder she doesn’t want anyone else driving it.”
Max lifted her head and gave a weak smile. “I know, right?”
“You are a little OCD about it,” Bess said.
Max snorted because she couldn’t think of a good
retort. They helped her to the car and Max immediately realized she didn't want her foot on the floor. "Lil, help me lift my foot onto the dashboard."
"You're kidding, right?"
Max groaned as she put her hands under her calf and tried to lift the leg herself. "Did you hear a joke?"
"Okay, okay. Just sit still."
After two attempts, Max's foot rested on the dashboard and she leaned back into the seat. "I can't believe I did this."
"I can," Lil muttered. She half-jogged back to the driver's seat.
Bess got in the back seat. She gave Lil directions to the clinic while Max growled about Lil’s speed and braking and turning.
Regardless, in a few minutes, they pulled up to a small brick building, nondescript in every way and certainly not Dutch. Inside, Bess got Max’s insurance cards from her and went up to the receptionist, while Lil helped Max get seated in the waiting area. The table next to them held a prominent display board with pictures of children in what appeared to be developing countries. A pocket in the lower corner of the display held information brochures.
When Bess returned, she said, “How is it feeling?”
“Sore.”
“We’re in luck. The doctor is just finishing up with a patient and then they’re going to squeeze you in. It’ll be Dr. Bakke, Helen’s son Erik, who I was telling you about.” She nodded toward the brochure in Lil’s hand. “Dr. Bakke is very active in that organization. He spends part of his vacation every year volunteering for them. He just got back not too long ago from Central America.”
“I hope it doesn’t hurt.”
“What do you mean? I thought it already hurts,” Bess said.
“When they squeeze me in.” Max gave a little grin.
Bess looked at Lil over Max’s head. “She must be going to live. She’s getting her sense of humor back.”
“Well, it was my own stupid fault. I should have paid attention to what I was doing.”
Lil patted her hand. “You’re right about that.”
A nurse opened a door. “Ms. Berra? Come with me.” She pushed a wheelchair toward Max, who started to protest, but decided she wouldn't mind the ride.
The Mystery Sisters series Box Set Page 25