Sprinkles of Suspicion

by Kim Davis

  “That sounds fine. Thank you.” I was dying to know about my living accommodations but didn’t know how to mention them. I looked over at my mother, hoping she’d get the hint, but she was too busy smiling into David’s pale-blue eyes. My heart dropped. Poor Lars. “When would you like me to begin cooking for Mrs. Skyler?”

  “How about right now?” He looked at his wristwatch. “I’d love to stay and sample what you prepare, but I need to leave for a meeting.”

  I gulped. Now? Talk about trial by fire. “Uh, sure. Except I came here with my mother, and I don’t have a ride home.”

  Again, he waved his hand in dismissal. “Matilda will have her driver take you and your dog home once you’re done. I want you both to get to know each other.”

  Driver? This was a whole new world to me. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Skyler didn’t say a word as her son kissed her cheek goodbye. He gave me a quick wave and took my mother’s arm as they walked to the front door. Without a backward glance, my mother left me to face a woman who clearly disliked me and wanted nothing to do with me. Silence hung in the air after they left. Mrs. Skyler sighed and then walked gracefully toward me on high heels I never would have been able to manage. She stopped when she stood a foot from my face. I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet her gaze.

  She held out her hand. “May I?”

  I was confused until she pointed at the lists of foods her son said she could and couldn’t have. I handed them to her. “Of course.”

  She sniffed. “Limited to four ounces of red wine served with dinner each night. No gimlets, no processed sugar, no white bread, no cheese.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes narrowed to mere slits. Then she turned abruptly on her heels and marched toward the closed French doors.

  Unsure what she expected of me, I sat still and tried not to worry I would be fired before I even began my new job.

  Matilda was halfway through the French doors when she whirled around. “Young lady, follow me.”

  I told Piper to stay and then trailed Matilda into a library turned office. Books lined two walls, from floor to ceiling. In the corner, a rolling librarian ladder sat parked between shelving. The wall facing the bay was lined with French doors, and I watched a sailboat float by. A large, ebony-colored desk sat in the room’s middle atop a colorful Persian rug. A computer monitor and keyboard were the only items on top of the desk. On the remaining wall was a matching credenza complete with a printer and other office paraphernalia.

  She walked to the credenza and pulled open the door to a cabinet. Hidden inside was a paper shredder. She fed the offending list into the machine and looked at me with twinkling pale-blue eyes. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

  Chapter 32

  Mr. Skyler was paying my salary, but while I had an obligation to him, I was the one who had to live with Mrs. Skyler. Not sure what to do, I tried to appeal to her sense of well-being.

  “Your son is trying to keep you from getting lightheaded and falling again.” I pointed at her broken arm. “Eating healthy can keep your bones strong and help your balance.”

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my balance, young lady. I’m strong as a horse.” She snorted. “Serves me right for walking down the stairs while sexting that hunky new silver fox I met at the ballroom dance studio.”

  My mouth fell open. I was sure I misheard her. She didn’t say “sexting,” did she?

  “You can close your mouth, dear. That’s not an attractive look on you.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Skyler.”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere, isn’t it?” She glanced at her watch. “Do you know how to make a gimlet?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a teetotaler?” Her tone made it sound like avoiding alcohol would be a cardinal sin.

  “No, but I tend to stick to wine.”

  “Hmph.” She motioned for me to follow her.

  We went back to the grand living room, where she opened an eight-foot-tall by five-foot-wide cabinet door. Hidden behind it was a bar that slid out. “Let me teach you how to make a gimlet.”

  Mrs. Skyler filled a cocktail shaker with ice from a small refrigerator at the back of the cabinet. Then she poured a few healthy glugs of gin over the ice, along with some Rose’s Lime Juice. I was worried because she measured nothing, and it looked like a lot more gin than lime juice was going into the cocktail shaker. After shaking the mixture vigorously, she strained the cocktail into two frosty martini glasses pulled from the refrigerator.

  She garnished each one with a lime twist, handed me a glass, and downed half of her drink. “Cheers!”

  “Uh, cheers.” I took a tentative sip. It surprised me how smooth and flavorful the drink was. Still, it wouldn’t do to get loopy in front of my new employer, so I didn’t take another sip.

  Mrs. Skyler refilled her drink and motioned me to follow her again. “I might as well give you the grand tour. Honestly, my son needs to stop worrying about me. Even with my broken arm, I can manage on my own.”

  If he knew she was drinking in the middle of the day and sexting while walking downstairs, I suspected he’d be a whole lot more worried.

  I followed my new employer around on her tour, starting with the upstairs. There were five bedrooms and six bathrooms. I was distraught when I peered out the windows and didn’t see a pool or a pool house anywhere. Was I going to have to sleep in my car? I wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject.

  Mrs. Skyler and I paused for a few minutes on the balcony of her upstairs master bedroom and watched the sun reflecting on the waterway as it descended on the western horizon. Gulls cried, and pelicans skimmed the surface of the water in a V-shaped formation, hunting for fish. Colorful boats with sunburned passengers glided by the house. Some people took a second look to examine us standing on the balcony, and I wondered what they were thinking.

  With her son out of the house, the elderly woman’s personality was on full display. She had a biting wit but was affectionate with my dog and courteous to me. And she loved her gimlets. After the upstairs tour, we stopped by the bar for another refill, but she never appeared inebriated. When I called her Mrs. Skyler for the third time, she halted in her tracks.

  “Please call me Tillie. Why my son has to be so formal is beyond me.” She took another sip of gimlet and motioned to my almost-full glass. “Don’t you like it?”

  “It’s delicious.” Surprisingly, I meant it. “I had a bad experience with alcohol recently….”

  She winked at me. “Ah, yes. So, dearie, how are you going to get away with murdering that tramp?”

  I had taken another small sip of the gimlet just as she asked me that question, and I inhaled the cocktail down the wrong pipe. Coughing and sputtering, I put my glass on the bar so I wouldn’t spill it. Piper nudged my knee as I bent over at the waist and coughed more. The question wasn’t one I had planned on hearing. My mistake had been hoping this elderly woman was out of the local gossip and news loop, but instead, she was in the thick of things.

  Once I caught my breath, I straightened up and smoothed out my skirt. “I truly am innocent.”

  “That’s a shame.” Tillie tsked. “I was so excited to tell my bridge group that my new caretaker and chef is a murderer. Are you sure you didn’t kill her? She deserved it.”

  “No!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but there was no reason for anyone to get the idea I was a killer. I lowered my voice back to a normal volume. “I mean, no, of course I didn’t kill her, but someone is trying awfully hard to frame me for it.”

  She didn’t say a word for several moments while she tapped a manicured aqua-colored nail on her lower lip. Tillie leaned toward me and broke the silence. “What are we going to do about it? We need to investigate.”

  Under no circumstances could I allow that to happen. Mr. Skyler would fire me if he found out his mother was getting involved in a murder investigation, so I did what I’d been doing a lot of lately—I lied. “Th
e detective is doing a good job investigating, and I’m sure he’ll find the murderer soon.”

  “Please, don’t mollycoddle me,” she said with a snort. “I’m aware you’re their prime suspect and they’re only looking for evidence that proves you killed her. Granted, you’ve got a good attorney, but he’s not putting enough time into your case.”

  When my mouth dropped wide open again, she tapped my chin. “What are we going to do about that?”

  I took a huge swallow of my gimlet. “How? How do you know so much about me and what happened?”

  “Dear, you’re famous, or perhaps it’s infamous.” Tillie’s eyes glinted. “All of us women who have been cheated on and lied to applaud you for doing in that husband-stealing hussy. We hear things and share with the group when we play bridge.”

  She really meant they gossiped while playing bridge, and lucky me, I was the current fodder for the gossip mill. After another slug of the gimlet, Tillie topped off my glass, and I ended up telling her about my investigation. I didn’t doubt for a moment she would broadcast the details at the next bridge gathering. I hoped the extent to which I had been meddling in Detective Jackson’s investigation wouldn’t get back to him.

  After I spilled my guts to Tillie, she patted my hand. “I’ll get my friends together, and we’ll brainstorm ideas on who you should investigate next. I think the most likely culprit is that Amy gal, so we must find a way to get her to confess.”

  Chapter 33

  Matilda would get me fired for sure if Mr. Skyler found out about this. “While I really appreciate you trying to help, you shouldn’t get involved. Your son will probably sue me, or worse, if he finds out I’ve put you in danger. Beside, losing one job already this week is more than enough.”

  “Mr. Wilkins is nothing more than a sanctimonious hypocrite!” She ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Why, my best friend and I saw him at one of those nudie bars in Vegas last month. He was stuffing dollar bills into a stripper’s thong, so how does he think he can get away with firing you for that picture floating around the internet? Or because you had the misfortune of finding that hussy’s body?”

  My eyes bugged out, and my mouth dropped open again. I quickly closed it before Tillie could say anything. Nudie bar? I shook my head and decided not to tell her I was fired because of the blackmail threat. “It’s probably for the best. I hated working there, anyway. Honestly, I’ve never really enjoyed accounting.”

  “Then why in the world would you ever make a career doing it?”

  “It was the path of least resistance.” I shrugged. “I needed to do something, and early in our marriage, Philip talked about transferring to northern California. If I earned an accounting degree, it would be easy to find a job no matter where I ended up. Police don’t make a lot of money, and I had to work.”

  “If you could have any job in the world, what would you do?”

  “That’s easy. I’d open a bakery specializing in cupcakes and birthday cakes.”

  “Then what’s stopping you? Why haven’t you followed your dreams?”

  “To be honest, it’s the money.” I didn’t want to share the information about Philip’s gambling addiction. “We were always short on money and couldn’t afford for me not to have a steady paycheck. Plus, it takes a lot of money to open a bakery.”

  “Doesn’t your sister do catering?”

  “Yes, and I work with her sometimes. I’m trying to establish a portfolio of my cakes and create specialty cupcake recipes.”

  “Why don’t you become a cupcake caterer?” Tillie looked at me like I was dense for not coming up with the idea myself. “At least to start out. When business grows, you can add in custom cakes.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have a licensed kitchen, and to pass inspection, I’d have to give up Piper. My condo is too small to keep her isolated.”

  Tillie stood up suddenly. “Follow me.”

  Now what? I followed the tottering woman down a long hall on the opposite side of the house from where we had been sitting. I was tottering just as much as she was. The gimlets had finally caught up with me.

  When I walked through a wide archway and turned the corner, I gasped. An industrial-sized kitchen greeted me. An eight-burner stovetop and professional-sized stainless double ovens beckoned me to bake. The enormous refrigerator and separate freezer took up almost half of one wall. An eight-foot butcher-block island sat in the middle of the kitchen. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the island and gleamed in the pinpointed lights. I ran my fingers lightly across the wood surface and swooned.

  In a small alcove outfitted with a bistro table and two chairs, a large bay window afforded a partial view of the waterway while allowing in ample light. A skylight over the butcher-block island brought in natural light while soft fluorescent lights, recessed into the high ceiling, chased away any shadows hiding in the corners of the room. The room was perfect for creating recipes and then bringing them to life.

  “Use my kitchen and get your catering company going. You won’t have a problem passing inspection here.”

  I turned to her, tears in my eyes. “Really? But I’m sure my caretaking job for you is only temporary until your arm heals.”

  “This kitchen is rarely used, except at Christmas. Even then, the caterers bring in the food already prepared and don’t cook here.” She waved away my concerns. “If my son relents and decides I don’t need help, there’s no reason you can’t still use my kitchen.”

  I wanted to hug her but was afraid I’d hurt her arm, so I patted her uninjured arm instead. “If you’re sure, I’d love to try it.” I gave an inward sigh of relief. I would be able to bake the cupcakes for the Chamber meeting like I had promised Carrie.

  “Wonderful. I’d like to hire you to make cupcakes for my bridge group next Wednesday.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Can you make gimlet cupcakes?”

  After assuring her I could make just about any cupcake flavor, I suggested it might be time for both of us to eat. The alcohol had gone straight to my head, and since Tillie had drunk more than I had, I assumed she should eat too. While I perused the contents of her massive refrigerator and her freestanding side-by-side freezer, my mind whirled with ideas on how to create the gimlet cocktail cupcakes. I was sure they would be a hit, given the refreshing citrus and botanical notes of the gin. The trick would be to layer the flavors so they didn’t get lost or muted from the flour and sugar.

  Tillie excused herself and said she needed to text her friends. I hoped she really meant she wanted to catch her friends up on the gossip rather than engaging in sexting. I shook my head. Tillie acted like a wild twenty-something, and I acted like I was an octogenarian. It made me a bit melancholy to think I had somehow missed out on life all this time without knowing it.

  Chapter 34

  I sautéed chicken cutlets and created a pan sauce with lemon juice, capers, and a bit of butter. With the fresh lettuce and cucumbers I found, I made a salad with a simple oil and balsamic vinaigrette seasoned with French whole-grain Dijon mustard. In the walk-in pantry, I located half a loaf of a crusty baguette. After slicing it, I rubbed the surface of each piece with a clove of garlic and toasted them. I set the small bistro table with placemats, utensils, and glasses of ice water. After our food was plated, I called Tillie back to the kitchen. I expected her to complain about the lack of wine or alcohol with dinner, but I thought she’d had enough.

  Instead, the elderly woman dug into the chicken and salad like she hadn’t eaten all day and then drank most of her water. I offered to refill both her plate and glass, but she declined.

  “If you cook like that all the time, I’ll gain weight.” Tillie wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin I had placed by her plate. “My son won’t be happy with you. Don’t forget he wants me on an austere diet.”

  “Don’t worry. This is a healthy meal with a decent level of calories.” My mother had drilled healthy eating into me my whole life. “Healthy food doesn’t have to mean bad-tastin
g food or no flavor.”

  “Well then, I’m looking forward to you cooking for me.” She sighed contentedly. “I was tired of the fried chicken and gravy Dorie always brought me to eat. Don’t get me wrong, I love fried chicken. Just not several times a week.”

  I nodded in agreement and cleared the table. Piper was lying just outside the kitchen. She looked at the plates and whined. I needed to get her home and fed soon.

  “Oh my, where are my manners? Poor Piper, you’re probably hungry.” Tillie motioned for my dog to join her at the table. “There’s a new bag of dog food I can open for Piper. It’s left from my sweet dog, Tatum. I lost her a couple months ago and haven’t cleaned up her things yet.”

  “That’s okay. She can wait until we get home.”

  Tillie’s face fell. “Of course. You probably have special food you give Piper.”

  “It’s not that. I didn’t want to cause any extra work for you.” Now I felt bad. This feisty lady was lonely and had obviously been missing her dog. “I’m sure Piper would be grateful if it’s not any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared, and within a few minutes, she was back bearing a bowl of heaped-up food. She filled another empty dog dish with water from the prep sink located in the middle of the island.

  We chatted while Piper wolfed down the food. I knew she wasn’t deprived of sustenance and couldn’t be all that hungry, but when Piper was given a new brand of food, she thought it was treats and chowed down. She acted like I’d take it away from her if she didn’t eat fast enough. Once Piper had licked the bowl clean, Tillie stood up.

  “I called my driver, and he’ll be here in thirty minutes. You probably want to take a look at the pool house so you can see what you need to bring with you.” She retrieved a set of keys from a drawer in the island and then motioned for me to follow her. “If there’s anything you need, I can furnish it for you.”