by Sofie Kelly
I didn’t think Rebecca knew what Kassie had been doing. Had Ray? “Very interesting,” I said to Owen.
He murped his agreement.
* * *
I got down to the set about half an hour before filming started, which gave me plenty of time to check in with Eugenie and deal with any last-minute questions from Peggy. They were shooting Back to Basics and then Favorites. The Basics section would take the least amount of time. After that had been filmed we’d break for lunch—catered by Eric—and then finish with Favorites.
Everyone was wearing the same clothes they had worn on Saturday and I watched a member of the production crew check shoes, hair and jewelery for continuity’s sake since we were filming the first part of the show last.
Everything went just as well as it had the day before. Peggy and Richard already had an easy, relaxed chemistry—not flirtatious, more like siblings without the sibling rivalry. I could see that Ruby had been right to suggest Peggy as the replacement judge.
Russell came to stand next to me while we were waiting for the set to be cleaned up before the Basics judging. He was wearing a long-sleeved orange T-shirt that still managed to show off his muscled arms and his ubiquitous Vans—this pair was orange and red. When I used to watch the original version of the show I’d always wondered why everywhere was so clean during the judging. Did the bakers scurry around after they were finished to make each station presentable? It turned out a bunch of production assistants and a couple of producers were the ones scurrying around to make everything look good again, while the bakers got to step outside for a few minutes’ break.
“Thank you for the mouse,” I said to Russell. “It’s so small and perfect.”
He held out his closed hand and when he opened his fingers another tiny mouse sat on his palm. “One for Hercules and one for Owen,” he said with a smile. “I have their names right, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do,” I said, taking the little paper creation from his hand. “Thank you for mouse number two. You know, I think they need names.”
Russell wrinkled his nose and pulled his mouth to one side as though he were deep in thought. “Russell is a very nice name,” he said, “or so I’ve heard.”
I nodded and held up the paper mouse. “Russell, meet Russell.”
The human Russell bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure.”
“If this is Russell, then the other mouse has to be Eugenie, don’t you think?” I said.
“Eugenie and Russell,” he said thoughtfully. “Russell and Eugenie. In either combination the names do work well together.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said with a smile.
He gestured at his paper creation. “Be careful. You know what they say: When the cat’s away, the mice will play.”
He gave me a cheeky smile and walked off.
* * *
Everything ran so smoothly that filming actually finished a bit early. To my delight Rebecca was chosen Hot Shot—the week’s best baker, in other words. For the Favorites segment she’d made her honey-sunny bread. Richard had complimented the flavor and Peggy had noted both the texture and the crispness of her crust.
Caroline had made a spicy tomato sourdough loaf, which had coaxed a smile from the usually serious Richard. And Ray’s sourdough focaccia with rosemary, sea salt and garlic had filled the set with its delicious aroma as it baked.
Sadly, Stacey was eliminated. Her basic sourdough loaf hadn’t held its shape and was overbaked. And both Richard and Peggy had felt her sourdough biscuits were too heavy and too bland.
Maggie and I had been standing together, watching the final judging segment. We hurried over to Rebecca.
“I knew you were going to win Hot Shot,” Maggie said, folding Rebecca into a hug.
“The credit has to go to my mother’s recipe,” Rebecca said, bright-eyed with excitement.
“The credit has to go to you,” I said, stepping up to hug her as well.
Stacey came up behind Rebecca and tapped her on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Rebecca!” she said with a smile. “You deserve being the Hot Shot baker this time.”
“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Rebecca said. “It’s been such a pleasure to get to know you.”
Stacey nodded. “You as well.”
Maggie leaned toward me. “I have to get going. I have some more illustrations for next week that I have to work on.”
“I had fun Friday night,” I said. “We have to do it again.”
“Pizza?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I loved Maggie’s pizza. “Absolutely.”
Maggie raised a hand in good-bye to Rebecca and headed for the community center.
Caroline, Ray and Eugenie joined us then. Ray and Caroline were still wearing their aprons and Caroline had a dusting of flour in her hair.
“I need to try that bread,” Ray said to Rebecca.
“So do I,” Caroline said. “What made you think of adding walnuts?”
They dragged Rebecca away, all of them talking at once.
Beside me, Stacey still had a smile on her face.
“That was nice of you,” I said.
“You’re wondering why I’m not sulking and going off somewhere to lick my wounds,” she said.
I shook my head. “No. I’m just impressed by the way you’re handling the fact that you have to leave the show. It isn’t easy to be gracious about someone else’s win when you lost something.”
“Actually it is easy,” Stacey said, brushing a bit of what looked like orange zest from the sleeve of her sweater. “I never expected to make it on the show, let alone get this far. I’ve gotten way more out of this experience than I ever expected, so I’m happy.”
“I’m sorry to see you leave,” I said.
“I’m not going yet,” she replied. “I’ve already taken the time off so I’ve decided to stay here a bit longer, maybe explore the town a little.”
I smiled. “Come see the library if you have time.”
She smiled back at me. “I’d like that.”
Richard was heading in our direction.
“Excuse me, Kathleen,” Stacey said. “I have to let Richard tell me he thinks I’m a great baker even though we both know by the face he made when he tried my biscuits that he’s a little iffy on that.”
She was still holding her apron and she leaned over now and set it on the end of Rebecca’s workstation. As she did, the fine silver chain she was wearing around her neck slid out of her dress. I caught sight of what looked like a tiny red heart-shaped paper pendant hanging from the chain. I hoped that meant Stacey had someone special to commiserate with. Even though she hadn’t expected to make it this far, being ousted had to sting a little.
I started for the truck when I realized that Charles was ahead of me, headed in the same direction. I caught up with him at the curb.
“We need to talk,” I said.
He shrugged. “Yeah, I figured this was coming.” He gestured at the grass. “You wanna walk?”
I nodded and we started walking away from the building that housed the set.
“I saw you talking to Elias yesterday,” Charles said.
“When you told me that Elias warned you not to tell anyone that you slept with Kassie, why didn’t you tell me the two of you stood on the street and argued where anyone could have heard you?”
“Duh! Because it doesn’t make him look good.”
“Him shoving you doesn’t make him look good?” I said. “That’s what you were worried about?”
Charles held up a hand. “First of all, I may have been a crappy boxer but I still could have laid the dude out right there if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t and I wouldn’t. Like I told you before, I learned my lesson about getting physical with people. I let him shove me like that to let off a little steam. And second, like I said, it doesn’t look
good for Elias to be putting his hands on me and saying he’ll take care of things and then a couple of hours later, Kassie is dead. I know how the police think.”
I exhaled loudly. “Well, it looks worse when the information comes from a witness who heard the two of you instead of from Elias or you.”
“Look,” he said. “I just don’t think he killed her. I really don’t. And the guy’s been good to me. I wasn’t going to hang him out to dry.”
Charles just didn’t seem to see he hadn’t made things better.
“You also didn’t tell me that you used to box in Chicago.”
At least this time he had the good grace to blush. “Where Kassie’s father had a gym. Yeah, I probably should have said something about that. I only knew the guy by reputation, which was enough, believe me. I swear, though, I didn’t know Kassie was his kid at first. Do you think I would have slept with her if I had? Jeez, I don’t have a death wish.”
I kicked a rock and sent it bouncing along the ground in front of me. “When did you find out who she was?”
“Elias told me when I told him about the two of us hooking up.”
I had no reason to disbelieve him but I wasn’t sure I should believe him, either. Not that it really mattered. “How did you get down to Eric’s the night of the murder?” I asked.
“I drove down with some of the crew, Norman and a couple of the camera guys.”
The last piece slid into place. “Well, unless you happen to be some sort of sprinter, you have an alibi for Kassie’s murder.”
Charles grinned and patted his ample midsection. “The only time I run is for free donuts.”
“So why didn’t you say where you were from the beginning?”
“What does it matter?” he said. “You know, and I assume you’ll tell your boyfriend so the police will know. And anyway, I’m not even a suspect.”
I was pretty sure Fred the Funky Chicken would have been able to tell he was hiding something. “Oh, humor me,” I said.
His mouth moved but no words came out.
There was a bit of a breeze and the wind lifted my hair. I pushed it away from my face. “Charles, I hope you don’t play cards,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“Because you can’t bluff to save your life. Tell me why you didn’t mention you had an alibi or I’m going to think there’s a reason you don’t want everyone to know you were helping wait tables at the café.”
His gaze slipped away from mine.
I stopped walking. “Wait a minute. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“No,” he said. He really wasn’t a very good liar. A lot of people weren’t.
I just stood there looking at him.
Charles swiped a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. I didn’t tell you because I was trying to downplay the whole thing.”
“Because?” I prompted.
“Because I’ve been watching you. Sometimes you’re too smart for your own good.”
I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism.
“I was afraid you’d figure out what I was really trying to do that night,” he said.
“Which was?”
He shook his head. “I was trying to get into the kitchen, okay? I wanted to find out what Eric’s secret ingredient is in that chocolate pudding cake. Dessert Week is coming up.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You were going to steal Eric’s recipe? You’ve got to be kidding. You couldn’t have fooled anyone. Every single person in Mayville Heights has eaten that pudding cake. More than once.”
“I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” Charles said, his jaw clenched. “I just wanted to know what his secret was so I could make a couple of adjustments to my lava cake recipe. No harm, no foul.”
I sighed. “There is no secret ingredient, unless it’s the fact that Eric puts his heart into every recipe he creates.” I had liked Charles up to now, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure how I felt about him.
He was shaking his head again before I finished speaking. “I’m an ex-con, Kathleen. I’m not like Caroline, making healthy versions of comfort food for her five kids. Or like Rebecca, using recipes that go back three or four generations. I was raised by a single mother who was also raised by a single mother. Neither one of them knew how to cook.”
“No one is asking you to be Rebecca or Caroline or anyone else,” I said. “Be who you are. For all you know there will be someone watching who will get inspired by you.” I looked at him for a long moment and then I turned and walked away.
I drove home and had a late supper with Owen and Hercules. I had left chicken soup in the slow cooker and the delicious smell filled the kitchen. After I’d eaten and the boys had given me their most mournful looks, Hercules decided to go out into the porch and stare out the window—maybe looking for his grackle nemesis. Owen decided to stay in the kitchen and do everything possible to get in my way.
The phone rang as I was finishing the dishes. It was Marcus. “Hi,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m having dinner with a couple of the guys from the workshop and then we’re heading back.”
“I miss you,” I said. “Drive safely.”
“I will,” he promised. “Did Lucy and the other cats like their new place?”
I explained how well things had gone that morning. Then I told Marcus how I had discovered that Charles had an alibi. I realized from his response that he already knew.
We said good-bye and I set my phone on the counter. I finished the dishes and tidied the kitchen. Then I got out the envelope that Eugenie had given me on Saturday.
I spread the papers across the table, deciding that I would sort things into three piles: one for Peggy, one for Eugenie and one for anything I was unsure about. Everything else could be recycled. I was just getting started when my phone rang again. It was Roma. I had called her during the afternoon to check on the cats—who seemed to be adjusting well. She had said she’d call me after supper.
“Smokey went back to the carriage house maybe an hour ago,” she said. “Which made me a little anxious, but Eddie saw him return to the cat house about five minutes ago. I think that’s a good sign.”
“Number one, you have to come up with a better name than ‘cat house’ for their new home. And number two, has Eddie been out in the yard watching the cats all day?” I asked.
“No,” she said, somewhat indignantly. There was a brief hesitation. “He’s been watching from the porch. With binoculars.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Roma, that man loves you to the moon and back.”
I pictured the goofy smile she got on her face whenever the conversation turned to Eddie. “I know,” she said.
I told Roma if she needed me in the morning to call. “I’ll be up. Owen thinks if he’s up, everyone should be up.”
She laughed and said she would.
I said good-bye and turned back to the table. My furry early-riser had jumped onto a chair and seemed to have started sorting the papers without me.
“Owen,” I said sharply.
He jumped at the sound of his name and one paw knocked a pile of pages on the floor. I groaned and I might have muttered a word under my breath that librarians generally did not use.
Owen immediately jumped down and started nudging papers toward the table.
I crouched down next to him and began to gather the rest.
“Merow?” he asked, a little tentatively it seemed to me.
“No, I’m not mad,” I said. “Just next time wait for me, please.” I realized if anyone had heard the conversation they would think I was talking to a person and not a cat.
Owen suddenly peered in the direction of the refrigerator. He stretched out a paw and snagged a piece of paper that had slid partway underneath.
“Thank you for your help,” I said as I
took it from him. It looked to be a photo of a couple of teenagers, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old.
Owen just sat there staring at me.
Okay, it seemed that I was missing something. I took a closer look at the picture. The two teenagers, a boy and a girl, were on a tire swing. She was wearing a bikini top and a tiny pair of white shorts. He was wearing denim cutoffs and a tank top. I recognized the boy. “That’s Ray Nightingale,” I said, tapping the page with a finger.
Owen murped his agreement and began to wash his face.
I studied the girl. “Hang on a minute. That’s Kassie.”
The cat’s golden eyes flicked to me for a moment without missing a pass of his paw over his face.
I straightened up, still holding on to the picture. “Ray and Kassie knew each other when they were kids?” I had recognized who they were pretty quickly. They had to have recognized each other.
“Why didn’t Ray say something?”
Owen seemed as puzzled as I was.
Could he have been involved in Kassie’s death? No. That didn’t make sense.
I probably should have just called Marcus with the information, but I didn’t. I reached for my cell and called Maggie instead. She was probably still in her studio at Riverarts.
Maggie confirmed that Ray was there or at least he had been about ten minutes earlier when she’d gone down to her Bug to get the new paintbrush she had left in the car.
I told her I needed to talk to Ray and she didn’t even ask me why. She just said she would be at the back door to let me in.
I stuffed all the papers back in their envelope except for the photo. That I took with me. Owen disappeared into his basement lair. Figuratively for a change, not literally. Hercules had gone out onto the back step and was staring at the sky again. I stopped to give him a head scratch.
“Please don’t start a war with the grackles,” I said. “I don’t want to come home and find out I’m living in The Birds.”
As promised, Maggie was at the back door to let me into Riverarts. Ray was one of the newer members of the artists’ co-op. He’d had to wait a while for studio space in the converted school, and he was there a lot.