Crème Brûlée To Slay

by CeeCee James

  Several table lamps shone warm light throughout the room, the light reflecting off the polished wood wainscoting. From the base of the trim board to the ceiling were bookshelves, each filled to capacity. The oak floors were covered with thick wool rugs, and several of the guests settled down onto the few scattered couches. One of the women held a throw pillow as if unsure of where to set it. Kari stood in the corner with Joe, fiercely whispering into her phone. I just caught one of the words, “babysitter.”

  The local meteorologist leaned against the doorframe. Like so many others, he had his phone out, his thumbs flying across the screen.

  There was a long table against one of the walls holding a tray with a decanter of some dark liquid and a plate of cookies. One of the women who’d laughed at Mrs. Vanderton earlier headed toward them. She scooped up a cookie and shoved it into her mouth, her eyes furtively looking around.

  “What?” she asked around the cookie when she caught Joe watching.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged.

  “I’m stress eating. Just leave me alone.” She grabbed another cookie and walked to the other side of the room.

  I understood stress eating, but not when there was a dead body in the other room. My stomach roiled at the thought and I had to turn away.

  Two officers wandered in our group, asking basic questions like, “What happened?” and “when did she leave the table?”

  I heard a squeak and knew it was the gurney. The paramedics passed by the open doorway on their way to the front door. A blanket covered Veronica’s face. My stomach went from roiling to flat-out rebellion. I held my hand over my mouth looking for a distraction, anything. Spotting a painting, I wandered over to it.

  The painting was abstract, with a lot of green and blue splotches, but it reminded me of the water under a bridge where I liked to play as a girl. I’d dangle my legs over the edge and look for minnows. Breathing deeply, I tried to imagine that place.

  Finally, my heart stopped pounding, and the nausea eased. Kari came over and gave me a hug. The police seemed to be finishing up, and after a few more questions, they said we were free to leave.

  Several sighs of relief hissed through the air at the news and the crowd filtered out, the mayor leading the way.

  I was not so free because I still had to finish cleaning the kitchen. There was a note on the counter from Adele thanking us for our help. Both she and Cecelia had already left by the time Penny and I made it back there. Everything they’d brought to cater was gone, but the items belonging to the house were still there.

  I filled a plastic tub with soapy water and began to wash wine glasses. Penny joined me with a towel. I handed her a glass, and she started wiping.

  “Can you believe she’s gone?” I asked.

  “It’s surreal. She was like the embodiment of bitterness one minute and dead the next.” She shook her head.

  “It’s sad. I bet she had a calendar filled with appointments. She had plans and goals.” I rinsed another glass and handed it to her.

  “Why is that sad?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just that it was so unexpected. Makes me feel bad.”

  “What do you think happened to her?” Penny asked.

  I bit my lip, remembering that face. “I guess she must have choked.”

  “Choked on what? The soup?” Her voice sounded incredulous.

  That was true. It did sound weird when I thought about it that way. “Maybe on a bit of potato?” I suggested.

  “Maybe,” Penny agreed with a shrug of her shoulders.

  I continued to wash and pass them to her to dry. Then, together we polished and packed the glasses. Meanwhile, my thoughts were running on overtime. How could you choke on a bit of potato? Wouldn’t you cough first? But no one had noticed if she had a problem when she left the table.

  My thoughts were running deep, and I was just about to reach a conclusion when another yell broke the relative quietness of the house, this time from a man. Startled, I jumped and screamed myself.

  “Call the police!” the man yelled. “I’ve been robbed!”

  Chapter 4

  I ran, with Penny at my heels, in the direction of the man’s hysterical shrieks. My heart pounded as the sound led us in the same direction where we’d just found Mrs. Vanderton not an hour before. But instead of coming from the study at the end of the hall, the bellowing led us to the drawing room.

  I walked in slowly, my hand trailing on the backs of the velvet chairs that had been set up for the presentation. Up front was the same cloth-draped table. But the sword that had been displayed there like the crown jewel was missing. Mr. Miquel stared down at the table with his mouth open and his eyes wild. His hands hung limp and powerless at his sides.

  “Mr. Miquel?” I called, concerned.

  He turned stiffly, as though he were a wind-up toy on its last few winds. His eyes were red rimmed and his hand reached to clench his chest. He staggered back against the table.

  “Mr. Miquel!” I said, more urgently. Was he having a heart attack? “Are you okay?”

  I hadn’t heard her come in, but Gayle zipped past me. She must have thought the same thing. “Steve! Are you okay? What’s wrong? Steve? Answer me!”

  He reeled on his feet, the table failing to help him keep balance. I ran over and grabbed his arm to steady him. Together, Gayle and I helped him across the room and into one of the chairs.

  I scrambled for my phone from my apron pocket and dialed Frank. He was Cecelia’s grandson, and my old childhood friend. He came back to Gainesville after retiring from the Army about six months before I returned. We reconnected as two adults both trying to survive some past trauma. And now, our friendship was better than it had ever been.

  “You okay?” he asked, forgoing the hello.

  “Frank, It’s been a crazy night, We—”

  “Yea, I know. I’ve been following on the scanner.”

  “Well, we need the police again. I think Mr. Miquel needs an ambulance. He—” I glanced down at him. His coloring wasn’t too good, the shade of gray that made me want to tell Frank to hurry. I turned away from Mr. Miquel and said in a low voice, “He may be having a heart attack. He’s just found out he’s been robbed. Someone took his antique sword—the one the whole dinner was about. It’s missing.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Frank whistled through his teeth. “Anyone else call this in?”

  I turned around and found Penny, who had her phone to her ear. “Maybe? I really don’t know.”

  “Okay, I’ll get on the horn and be right down.”

  I hung up, feeling a rush of reassurance just from knowing he was on his way. I’d really missed him when he hadn’t come with the first wave of police.

  “I’m fine, love.” Mr. Miquel waved off Gayle, who was offering him a glass of water. “I just can’t believe it. Why is this happening?” He stared again at the table as if expecting to find out it was some cruel trick and the sword would reappear.

  “Do you have any security cameras set up?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not in this room. Only in the study, where I keep it locked in its case. Of course, we have cameras at the entrance and all the other exits.”

  “Okay, good. Don’t worry. The police will be able to track the thief down through them. It will be okay, I promise,” I said, trying to sound more sure than I felt.

  He looked at me like he was a drowning man, just hoping for a lifeline. “I can’t believe this has happened. I’m not going to recover.”

  “The police will find it. I’m sure it’ll be just a matter of looking at the video.”

  He groaned and his head dropped. “What a night. What I held dear, gone.”

  I backed away, not wanting to intrude on his pain any longer, and walked over to Penny. She’d never gone past the doorway, and was leaning against the frame, watching from a distance.

  “Girl,” she whispered as I approached.

  “I know. I can’t even believe it, either,” I whispered
back. “You didn’t happen to see anything weird lately, did you?”

  She stared at me like I was crazy. “Weirder than the body of one of the guests that I’d just served dinner to?”

  I grimaced and rubbed my forehead. “Yeah. Besides that.”

  She shook her head. “No. Did you?”

  I shook my head. By now the butler had arrived and stood next to us. His gaze swept across the empty table to his boss sitting in the front row with his head in his hands. The butler’s nostrils flared as he sighed.

  “Have the police been called, ma’am?” he asked me.

  “Yes,” I said. “They’re on their way. Along with an ambulance, I think. Mr. Miquel was not doing too well a minute ago.”

  He nodded and briskly walked up to him. From inside his jacket, he pulled out a silver vial, which he handed to Mr. Miquel.

  Mr. Miquel slowly lifted his head and then accepted the vial. He unscrewed the top and slipped something from inside into his mouth, and then nodded grimly in thanks.

  The police arrived and quickly demarcated the crime scene with yellow tape and the entrance to the room was cordoned off. It was surreal when they pulled Penny and me aside and questioned us again, this time more thoroughly. Detective Kirby, a police officer who’d been on the first scene, asked me what I’d been doing since they’d left earlier, and I explained that I’d been washing dishes. Obviously, Penny collaborated.

  I was so happy to see Frank, although he stayed on the outskirts. Since he wasn’t dressed in uniform, I assumed he wasn’t on duty. As soon as Detective Kirby finished questioning me, I headed over to him.

  “I guess I need to keep a closer eye on you,” Frank said with one eyebrow raised. “Apparently, you’re a trouble magnet.”

  I made a face at him, a little perturbed that it sounded like he was only half-joking.

  The forensic team brushed passed the two of us and began setting up their equipment while a paramedic checked Mr. Miquel out.

  Frank glanced toward the distressed man. “I’ll be right back,” he told me.

  “Okay,” I said, trudging toward the front door. “I’m going to have my van brought up front.” I turned wearily for the front door.

  The doorman was there, looking as polite as ever as he opened the door for me. Outside, I found Penny standing and shivering, while she waited for them to bring her car around.

  “Crazy night,” she chattered while hugging herself. A blue car came down the driveway, and Robert got out.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said as she hurried down the stairs to her vehicle.

  Robert jogged up the stairs to get my number. He gave me a wink, but a clearing of a throat stopped the valet cold. Unbeknownst to me, Frank had followed after me and now stared down at him. Robert ducked his head and hurried to his booth.

  I was tired and leaned against Frank’s shoulder when his arm snaked around me and pulled me close. He smelled like clean soap.

  So far, we hadn’t defined what we were doing together. All I knew was that it felt good.

  It was nice to have someone who was trustworthy and stable in my life.

  “So, how are you doing, Short Stuff?” he said roughly into my hair.

  I chuckled softly at the old nickname he’d called me as a kid. Stable was definitely the word for him. Some things never changed.

  “I’m tired. Honestly, all I can think about is that poor woman. The fact that there’s been a sword stolen hasn’t even sunk in yet.”

  “Poor woman. Hmm. That might be the first time those two words were ever used to refer to her,” he said dryly.

  “Frank! That’s so mean. What an awful way to go.” I shivered and rubbed my arms. I was still in my server’s uniform, and the cold air ripped through the thin fabric.

  “I hear you. But, she was just so nasty. I’ll never forget how she treated my grandma.”

  I nodded. When Cecelia had purchased the Baker Street Bed and Breakfast, Mrs. Vanderton had made it her goal to try to get the city to deny Cecelia’s business permit on the grounds that the house was unsafe. While Cecelia was a family friend and not blood, I felt as protective of her as Frank did about anyone messing with her.

  Then it came to light that Mrs. Vanderton had originally tried to buy it, herself. But the owners had chosen to sell it to Cecelia instead. I’m sure it stung Mrs. Vanderton, especially since Cecelia’s offer was several thousand less than her own.

  It seemed to prove that money didn’t always make up for bad behavior.

  I could hear my van’s coughing approach before I saw the vehicle.

  “You might need to get that to the garage,” Frank said, lifting his eyebrows as the van backfired.

  I nodded and sighed. One more thing on my plate, and my bills were mounting up. I’d just barely managed to scrape up rent for the month.

  Frank must have noticed my stress. “It’ll be okay,” he said, giving me another squeeze as the valet pulled the van up to the steps.

  “Call me if you hear anything,” I said, and then walked down to the van and climbed in.

  Honestly, the smell of barbecue saturated into the fibers of the old catering vehicle felt welcoming and homey as I climbed in.

  I was so ready to be done with the day, and hoped it was done with me, too.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, I shot out of bed when the alarm went off. I’d been dreaming that I was serving dinner at a never-ending table of zombies.

  I clutched the side of the table as my heart pounded in my chest. Where am I? It’s okay. No dead bodies. Quickly, I fumbled with the button to shut off the alarm. My head was still foggy as I headed to the bathroom.

  Like a punch, I remembered Mrs. Vanderton.

  And the sword.

  Ay yi yi. You just couldn’t make that stuff up. I took a quick shower, and then got ready to leave for the B&B.

  Outside was bathed in a cool, gray light from the overcast sky. Snow had fallen during the night, leaving everything white and fresh that February morning. Old Bella hummed along, while I held a hand over the heater vent. She might have her quirks, but she could blast out heat better than any car I’d ever driven before, and I happily soaked it in.

  I walked into the B&B just in time to see Cecelia taking down the hanging heart garland.

  “Good riddance,” I muttered under my breath. The only benefit I could see about Valentine’s Day was all the candy that went on clearance the day after. And then a little louder, I added, “Good morning!”

  “Hello!” she chimed back in that happy voice of hers. “Can you believe the snow?”

  “Well, I for one, am glad we’re heading back to eighty-degree weather tomorrow,” Mr. Johnson said as the married couple came down the stairs.

  “Good morning!” Cecelia told them. “We’re having French toast with homemade applesauce. Is there anything else I can make you for breakfast?”

  “No,” Mrs. Johnson said, shaking her head. “French toast will be lovely.”

  “Okay, then,” Cecilia said, motioning toward the dining room. “Go have a seat and I’ll bring your coffee right out.”

  I followed her into the kitchen and grabbed the carafe and tray of cream. Back in the dining room, I saw that Cecelia had already set the table with flowers, syrup, jam, and a newspaper. It all looked cozy in the early morning light.

  “Good morning,” I said, filling their mugs. “How’d you sleep after last night?”

  Mrs. Johnson shook her head and blew on her coffee. “That poor, poor woman.”

  I realized then that they didn’t know about the sword being stolen, since they’d left right before it was discovered missing. I decided not to mention it.

  “Did you know her?” Mrs. Johnson asked.

  “No, actually I didn’t. I’ve only been back in town for a little over a year. But she was pretty well known, from what I’ve heard.”

  “She seemed to have quite a reputation,” Mrs. Johnson said.

  Her husband jumped in to agre
e. “I’d say so. Did you see how they went after her at dinner?”

  “They did?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just before she left the table. That Gayle lady kept poking her with rude comments. I honestly thought she was leaving because she was offended, not that she was choking.”

  “Mark!” Mrs. Johnson looked horrified.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry for being blunt. That’s what happened, though.”

  “It’s just terrible she didn’t ask for help.” Mrs. Johnson shook her head.

  “I agree,” I said. Stalling for time, I rearranged the breakfast condiments on their tray. “Did you see anything that stood out to you last night? Like, did anyone else leave the dinner?”

  “Well, we did see Mr. Miquel leave the presentation.”

  I was surprised. “You did? About what time?”

  “His phone rang as he was walking up to the podium.” Mrs. Johnson looked to her husband for confirmation. “Remember, honey? He left just before it was supposed to start. He was back about ten minutes later.”

  Her husband nodded. “Yes, that’s right. He did leave for a few minutes. I didn’t think anything about it. I just used it as an excuse to get my wine glass refilled.”

  Mrs. Johnson smiled. “You were having a good time, that’s for sure.”

  It reminded me of how I’d seen Mr. Miquel talking on his phone later. Who was he waiting for? Did the phone call have to do with that?

  “Did you get a chance to look at the sword? What’d you think?” I asked, thinking of how Mr. Johnson loved American Revolution relics.

  “Yes, and it was beautiful. Good, solid American brass hilt with a lion-head pommel and wooden grips.”

  I realized I hadn’t even gotten a chance to see it. That thought bummed me out.

  “I still can’t believe that happened to that poor woman,” Mrs. Johnson pursed her lips. “You know, it reminds me of something I saw when I was a child. We’d just left church and were at a little diner in our town.”