Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by Danielle Collins

  That definition could fit CeCe, but would this woman have stayed for so long if she felt CeCe was incompetent? Not to mention that Margot had worked with CeCe and knew for a fact that she was one of the most competent chefs. Margot began to wonder if Shelly would freely admit to who she was talking about or if she’d have to artfully coax it from her.

  “You think he’s playing favorites?” she said conspiratorially.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Shelly said, crossing her arms over her chest, her white chef’s coat pulling taut at the shoulders. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Stan and Lela just as well as everyone else but she…” She shook her head. “She’s a piece of work. Dropped three plates just last night.”

  Margot had known CeCe to be a bit klutzy in the past, but three plates? That didn’t seem right. Then again, they had found a dead body and there was the potential that her ex-husband was stalking her. It would be enough to make anyone a little distracted. Still, she was jumping to conclusions.

  “I mean, Alice is nice,” Shelly continued, as if Margot’s silence had been some sort of judgment on her comments. “I really like her, but I don’t think she should be working in the kitchen. To go from the front desk, to guest services, to waiting on tables? It’s just not logical.”

  Margot almost breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t get a feeling that Shelly had it out for anyone, but her frustration was evident. Though now that she possibly felt guilty, she had no end of nice things to say about the sweet waitress as well.

  “Sorry, you caught me on a bad day. This whole mess with Detective Rexton coming in and taking over has us all in a tizzy. I mean, we have to make lunch for a whole extra twenty people or so.”

  Margot offered her sympathies and promised to clean up her station. Shelly was quick to welcome her to be as messy as she’d like and that they’d have someone take care of it. Then she was off to her next task.

  Hearing about the extra workload the kitchen staff had, she decided to help and made a few dozen cookies to give to the workers and officers. She even had enough left over to put out as snacks while people waited for lunch that would likely be late.

  All the while, she puzzled over her conversation with Shelly. She had known, or at least suspected, that Shelly wasn’t to blame for the terrorizing things happening to her friend, and yet her comments described an anomaly. Why was Alice in the kitchens? It sounded as if she’d already had a go at many of the different areas of work at the resort and without much luck.

  A loud clatter from the other side of the kitchen showed the very woman, her eyes wide and several other staff members looking at her in frustration as a platter of food lay on the ground. Margot took it as her cue to leave, but she puzzled over the facts without being able to make much sense of them.

  The late afternoon found her being questioned by a deputy. He was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties and new to the force. During the first few minutes while he took her statement, she learned more about him than he asked questions of her. He was recently engaged, new to the police force, and had just gotten a puppy named Wolf, who was in fact not a wolf.

  “I-I’m sorry, Missus…” He checked his notebook again. “Missus Durand. I’ll admit this is my first time questioning anyone about a m-murder.” He wiped sweat from his brow, even though it was cool in the lodge area.

  Margot took pity on him. “Don’t worry, Deputy Forrester, we all have to start somewhere. My late husband was a detective and I remember him coming home after a particularly hard case one night and telling me he was going to quit.”

  The young man’s eyes widened. “Really? Did he?”

  “No,” she said with a smile as her thoughts filed back to that night and what Julian had said. “In fact, I had him tell me all about the day—the details he could share, of course—and at the end of it, I told him he’d done the right thing and that he’d go back the next day and do great.”

  “And what did he say to that?” the deputy asked, leaning forward as if the answer could hold the key to his own anxiety.

  “He said I was right and he was a smart man for marrying me.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I advise you to talk with your fiancée after you’re done with work tonight. Have her give you some perspective, because we all have to start somewhere, no matter what we’re doing. Chances are, she’ll give you some good insight into who you are and how proud she is of you.”

  “Gosh,” he said, the tips of his ears reddening, “you sure know how to put a fella at ease.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now, how about I tell you what I remember from the crime scene?”

  Blinking, it took the man a moment but he was back to his notes instantly and nodding, like he’d suggested it. “That’d be great, ma’am.”

  She did and watched as he made a note of everything, including her observations about the things that seemed out of place.

  “You sure are observant,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

  “My husband taught me a lot about observation.”

  “He did a good job.” He grinned and looked down. “I think that’s all I had for you. You’re free to go.”

  She thanked the young man and rose. Seeing Jenny at the other side of the room near the table where she’d placed the cookies and left-over pastries, she walked toward the young woman. She was almost there when an officer approached her. She gently tapped Jenny on the shoulder, and the girl nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Gah!” Jenny said, the sound reverberating throughout the lodge. “What are you trying to do? Scare me to death?”

  “I’m sorry,” Margot heard the officer say. “It’s just time for you to be questioned.”

  “Do I have to?” Jenny said, taking another bite of one of the éclairs Margot had made. “It’s just, I’m like…” She paused, the pastry dropping from her hand. “Oh my gosh, do these have milk in them?”

  The officer’s eyes went wide. “If it’s an éclair, then yes, there’s usually a cream filling.”

  “I-I didn’t know,” she said, tossing the plate into the trash and grabbing her stomach with her other hand. “I-I’m going to be sick. I’m— I’m really allergic.”

  Then, as wide-eyed as the officer, Margot watched as Jenny turned and all but ran to the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong?” she said, as if she hadn’t just heard the whole exchange between them.

  “Seems that young lady is allergic to milk products. Though why she would have been eating an éclair is beyond me. Doesn’t everyone know what’s in those?”

  “Clearly not,” Margot said, her attention wandering in the direction of where Jenny had run.

  “Say, you’re the woman who made these, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, pulling her attention away from where Jenny had gone. “I am. I hope that was all right.”

  “More than,” the woman said, pouring herself a refill of coffee.

  The act brought something to mind for Margot. The first time she’d met Jenny, she’d been drinking coffee. Margot distinctly remembered her pouring a large amount of cream into it. It was possible it had been a non-dairy creamer…but Margot was almost positive it had just been cream.

  “Miss?” the officer said.

  Margot blinked and forced a smile. “Sorry, I was distracted for a moment there. What did you say?”

  “Just wanted to extend the gratitude of all of the officers here to you. Cookies and coffee, it’s really all we need in life.” She winked and then picked up her clipboard, obviously looking for the next name on her list since Jenny was now missing.

  The hairs on the back of Margot’s neck pricked as if in a sensation of warning. Why had Jenny avoided her interview with the police? Was she afraid of them? Or afraid of what she could contribute to the investigation? But it was unlikely she’d had anything to do with the man’s death, Margot and CeCe hadn’t been that far behind everyone else leaving. It seemed improbable that Jenny could have been over there without being seen.
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br />   Then again, stranger things had happened, and she couldn’t be sure. Either way, she felt the need to keep an eye on Jenny.

  Chapter 8

  Margot took the plate of goodies she’d prepared and made her way past the free-standing Staff Only sign placed in front of the stairs. While she hadn’t directly been invited to come up at that moment, Stan had said he wanted to try her pastries and she felt as if this was as good a time as any. Especially seeing as how the investigation of Darren Stevens’ death was now reopened. There was something about pastries that could ease the burden of the soul, or at least she’d always felt that way.

  Careful to make sure the plate was well-balanced in one hand, she raised her other fist to knock but the door opened before her knuckles could connect with the solid surface.

  “Oh,” she said, blinking and looking up. “Are there cameras out here?”

  Lela smiled back at her. “Not up here,” she admitted cryptically.

  Margot mentally kicked herself for not noticing where they were placed. She had a feeling they must be at the base of the stairs. Why such high-tech security?

  “How can I help you, Margot?” Lela asked, poised and charming as always.

  “I thought I’d take Stan up on his request for pastries. I hope you don’t mind, but CeCe said I could use the kitchen. Is she still up here?”

  “No, she left about fifteen minutes ago to start working with the dinner crew. There’ll be extra mouths to feed, that’s for certain.” Lela seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment before regaining it with an elegant smile. “You said you brought pastries? Stan will be pleased. Do come in.”

  Margot smiled her thanks and followed the woman into the lavish space. She again marveled at the appointments that had no doubt been handpicked by the matriarch of the resort.

  “You have such a wonderful eye for design,” Margot pointed out.

  “I studied interior design in college and fell in love with it. Would you like some iced tea?” At Margot’s nod, she turned to the bar to fix the tea. “I had my own agency when I lived in New York years ago, but Stan somehow convinced me to leave it all behind and move to the Blue Ridge Mountains of all places. Can you believe it?”

  Margot placed the serving platter on the coffee table and took a seat in one of the faux cow’s hide chairs. “I can’t. I’m sure it was a shock for you to be up here. I mean…it’s beautiful, but decidedly not New York.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” she said, bringing over a silver platter with two glasses on it, a lemon wedge atop each glass. “But I’ve fallen in love with it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “And what about you? CeCe has told us all about your baking exploits, but what is this I hear about investigations?”

  Margot blinked. Where had she heard that? “I, uh…”

  “I was curious,” Lela said, sipping her tea. “I Googled you.”

  “And what did you find?” she said with a laugh.

  “Several articles from the North Bank Times detailing your hand in solving crimes. Dare I say they follow you?”

  Margot swallowed uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

  “Of course not, dear,” she said, patting Margot’s hand. “I was just surprised is all. What do you make of the death of poor Darren? I’m still in shock.” She leaned back, her face growing paler by the moment.

  “I’m not sure. It seems as if the police are doing a good job—”

  “Nonsense. Sal assured us it was an accident only to show up twenty-four hours later saying it was murder. I do want to get to the bottom of this, believe you me, but I’m terrified of what it will do to our reputation.”

  “What can you tell me about Darren?” Margot said.

  “Not much. A good man. A bit of a recluse, really. He’s lived up in the mountains all his life. We were fortunate to hire him as our groundskeeper. I’m at a loss as to what to do now, but that’s not important.” She sipped her tea and choose an éclair from the plate, placing it on one of the napkins she’d brought over. “You and dear CeCe found him, didn’t you? I’ve been meaning to come apologize to you for that.”

  Margot blinked. “Apologize. But why?”

  “My dear,” Lela said, with all the grace of a southern debutant, “when one’s guests find a dead body, one finds it necessary to apologize.”

  “I see.” Margot took a sip of her tea, trying hard not to smile. The situation wasn’t funny, and yet Lela was just so proper.

  “Speaking of CeCe,” Lela continued, “can you tell me what’s gotten in to her? She’s never been so…off.”

  “What do you mean by ‘off’?” Margot asked, though she knew exactly what Lela meant.

  “She’s just not been herself.”

  At that moment, Stan came through the door, shedding his baseball cap. “Margot!” he bellowed. “What a treat. And oh boy, are those pastries?”

  She smiled up at the congenial, if not flamboyant, man. “Yes, they are. As promised.”

  He plopped unceremoniously down next to Lela and reached for the largest religieuse on the platter.

  “Oh, Stan,” Lela said, giving him an admonishing glance.

  “What?” he said around a mouthful of the pastry and cream.

  She rolled her eyes and looked at Margot. “He’s on a diet.”

  “I’m as healthy as a horse. And this is delicious,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.

  Margot smiled.

  “I was just asking Margot about CeCe, dear. Haven’t you noticed her acting differently?”

  He nodded, his mouth full.

  “Maybe it’s just the added stress of the investigation,” Margot offered, though feeling a bit guilty because she knew exactly what was going on.

  “True,” Lela said, her gaze sliding into the distance. “But I think it started before that.” She looked over at her husband, wiping a bit of cream from the corner of his mouth and offering him a sweet smile before looking back at Margot. “I know it may seem a bit strange—that we are her employers and yet so worried about her—but I feel comfortable telling you this, since you are one of her closest friends.”

  Margot’s heart began to beat faster. What exactly was Lela going to share with her?

  “You see,” she said glancing at Stan before looking back at Margot, “we love CeCe like she was our daughter.” At the word ‘daughter,’ her voice cracked. “We care for her very deeply and she’s been invaluable to us here.

  The couple looked at each other for a moment and Margot felt like there was more they wanted to share but they held back.

  “I almost forgot!” Stan slapped a hand to his head. “These pastries took my mind off of what I was doing. Lee, we’re wanted down stairs. Sal needs us to answer some questions. I'm sorry, Margot. I hate to break up the party.”

  She smiled and stood. “Not at all. I just wanted to share these with you. Thank you not only for letting me stay here, but for taking such good care of my friend.”

  “She’s been a blessing to us.” Lela’s eyes glossed over in admiration and Stan wrapped his arm around her.

  Margot thanked them and excused herself, but her mind stayed with their conversation. Was it possible that what was happening to CeCe actually had nothing to do with Rick?

  Margot’s mind was spinning with thoughts as she left the Wilkinsons’ space, bypassing them as they broke off to talk with Detective Sal. He eyed Margot as she walked past with something close to annoyance, but she ignored it. Instead, she went to find CeCe.

  The minute she walked into the dining hall, she knew something was wrong. All staff members had frozen where they were and CeCe stood in the midst of it all, a broken vase and light pink roses scattered at her feet.

  Margot took a quick inventory of the staff, but found only Alice was missing, if she’d counted everyone. Then it was as if CeCe was awoken from a spell. She took a step back and a card she’d been holding fluttered to the floor. She blinked rapidly just as Margot’s phone b
egan to vibrate. Of all the times to have reception enough to get a call, she thought.

  Then, CeCe’s eyes only briefly meeting Margot’s, she took another step back and shook her head before she ran out of the side door. There was no way the staff hadn’t seen her terrified expression. Margot knew something had to be done.

  Boldly, she stepped forward and carefully picked up the card, pocketing it, and then she turned to face the kitchen staff.

  “CeCe’s been having a bit of a rough time. You all know that we were the unfortunate ones to come across Darren’s body and I really think it’s affecting CeCe on a deep level.” She felt the card in her pocket and looked at the roses. Another supposed gift from Rick? Margot wasn’t sure what they meant, but she had a feeling it wasn’t a good memory. “Besides, she’s not a fan of pink,” she finished lamely.

  “We’ll get it cleaned up,” one of the busboys said, and the rest of the crowd nodded in agreement, dissipating to their various tasks as if nothing had happened.

  Margot made her way to the side door, but turned to look back as Alice came in to the dining hall. She looked pale and…was it possible she looked nervous? Their eyes met for a brief second before the sous chef called out to her and she scurried over to where he stood.

  Once outside, Margot pulled the card from her pocket. Careful to hold it by the edges in case there was a way to get prints from it, she read the inscription.

  Why don’t you love me any more? I’m going to shower you with gifts until you do, Love Bug.

  -Rick

  Margot frowned. It didn’t sound threatening, and yet it didn’t sound positive either. But the most notable thing was the signature. It very clearly said Rick.

  Then her phone started vibrating again and she pulled it out. Adam.

  “Hello?” she said, pausing to stay near the lodge where the signal was strongest.

  “I’ve got some news.”

  Margot looked down at the note and then let out a light sigh. “What is it? Not good, by the sound of your voice.”