by Lynn Cahoon
“Good morning, sleepyhead. I take it you’re not up yet?” a male voice teased.
“Isaac?” Mia ran her hand across her face, trying to brush away the cobwebs. It wasn’t Isaac on the phone. This voice was deeper. Friendly, even. She still couldn’t make her mind work to place the name. “Who is this?”
“I’m crushed. This is Trent. You were supposed to meet me at the Lodge at eight?”
Mia sat up. Trent. Crap. What time was it? She grabbed the alarm clock. Eight thirty. So much for today being perfect. She was already almost an hour behind schedule and she wasn’t even dressed. She stared at the phone still in her hand. Putting it back to her ear, she answered, “I’ll be there by nine, nine fifteen at the latest.”
“No worries. I’m just drinking coffee with James.” Trent chuckled. “See you soon.”
Mia clicked off the phone, slipped on her robe and her blue-and-gold Boise State slippers, and sprinted to the hallway. Pounding on Christina’s door, she yelled, “We overslept. Get up and get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
It had been closer to thirty minutes, and Mia was still steaming. The van had taken forever to warm up and they had to wait for the shuddering heat to clear the iced-over windows. Christina sat dozing in the passenger seat. Mia parked the van in the back lot at the Lodge. Turning off the engine, she shook the girl’s arm. “We’re here.”
Christina blinked, then opened her door, climbed out, and stretched, “Maybe I could be a night cook somewhere. Then I could sleep later.”
Mia sprinted toward the Lodge. “Come on, it’s not that early.”
She found James and Trent at a table in the dining room, an assortment of muffins, and a carafe of coffee staged on the table between them. She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen to start prep work. “Sorry, we’re late.”
“No worries. Have breakfast with us. I baked huckleberry muffins this morning.” James pointed to the two extra chairs.”
“Man!” Christina fell into a chair and pulled off her parka. “We didn’t have time for breakfast.”
Mia slipped the prep sheet back into her purse. She glanced at the oversize clock on the dining-room wall. “I guess we can sit for a few minutes.”
“There you go. City girl can learn a lesson.” Trent handed her a filled cup. The warm, dark smell was comforting.
“Thanks. And thanks for getting the steaks. I’m assuming they look good?”
Trent frowned at her. “No shop talk at the breakfast table. Who raised you? Wolves?”
Christina laughed as she buttered a still-warm muffin. “She’s always been this way. When she lived with my brother the first and the last thing they talked about each day was the catering schedule. I don’t think the two of them said one sentence that didn’t relate to food in some way.”
“That’s not true,” Mia sputtered. “We talked about a lot of things besides food.”
“Like remodeling the house?” Christina offered.
“Yeah, like that.” Mia broke open her muffin, smearing a light coating of butter on the inside. Was Christina’s memory more accurate than her own? Had she and Isaac turned into the work couple so soon? Or had it always been about the job? Mia’s musing broke when Fredrick burst into the dining room.
The decorator scanned the room, and then his gaze landed on Mia. His eyes wide, he ran to their table. He carried a basket of apples and they fell out onto the floor as he ran.
“Oh. My. God.” Fredrick’s breathing was heavy. He pulled over an extra chair and fell rather than sat down. He shoved the basket onto the table in front of him. “Oh. My. God,” he repeated. The man’s entire body shook.
“What’s the matter?” Mia’s imagination went wild. The flowers were the wrong tone. The ballroom needed repainting. Or the tablecloths were that pink color Helen Marcum adored. The one thing she didn’t imagine was what Fredrick actually said next.
The decorator put his hands on the table to steady himself. Then he glanced around the table, his voice low and quiet. “Adele Simpson is dead in the ballroom.”
CHAPTER 3
The police had cordoned off the ballroom with yellow tape. Lodge guests were diverted to the far entrance of the dining room, where a breakfast buffet had been hastily pulled together. Officers wanted to talk to the staff on-site sooner rather than later. Mia pulled on an apron and, with Christina by her side, went to the kitchen, helping the line cooks get the meal ready.
That was the thing about working a kitchen; no matter what, people had to be fed.
She’d finished the last batch of scrambled eggs and Christina was working on cutting up a fourth bin of fruit when James returned to the kitchen. “Thanks for helping out.” He leaned against the cooler door, his face ashen. “I can’t believe she’s dead. I mean, yeah, she was old, but why couldn’t she be normal and die in her sleep? Somewhere besides my dining room.”
“Probably measuring the table height or counting the threads in the tablecloths.” Mia wiped her hands on her apron and came around to the front of the kitchen. “You know Adele; she left everything to the professionals until it didn’t meet her expectations.”
James barked out a short laugh. “You’re probably right. I bet she decided the colors of the candles didn’t match the napkins and had a massive stroke thinking about the shame the decorations would bring on her family.”
“Might be true, but so not funny.” Mia smiled at the chef. She’d enjoyed cooking next to James’s staff. He’d trained them well.
“Then why are you smiling?” He stepped closer and patted her arm. “Seriously, you were a lifesaver. They wouldn’t let the rest of my kitchen staff in until the investigation is over, so I would have been screwed. We’re full up with guests this weekend. Most of them are attending the birthday bash tonight.”
“Were attending the party,” Mia corrected. “I don’t think it would be in good taste to celebrate her birthday on the same day she died.”
“On the day she was murdered,” a male voice corrected her.
She turned to see Officer Baldwin standing in the kitchen.
“Funny the two of you are here,” he added, pointing a glance at Christina.
Mia fumed. The guy didn’t like Christina and she’d done nothing wrong. “Not funny at all. Adele hired me to cater her birthday party tonight. We arrived at about nine fifteen this morning to finish prep. Ask James.”
The chef shuffled his feet. “Nine thirty, actually.”
She shot him a glare. “Fine, we overslept. Nine thirty.”
“I just wanted to be accurate. You don’t have to bite my head off,” James mumbled.
“I’d like to talk to you.” Officer Baldwin pointed at Christina. “Now.”
Christina shot Mia a look of pure fear. “I’m working,” she stuttered, holding up the piece of fruit and knife, as if to prove her point.
Mia reached back to untie her apron. “Can I at least be with her? She’s just a kid.” Officer Baldwin had been watching Christina since she showed up at the bus stop a few months ago, first trying to arrest her for loitering, then dropping her off on Mia’s front door with a warning that the Magic Springs Police Force wasn’t a taxi service. The man had it in for the teenager. He wouldn’t make this interview pleasant.
Officer Baldwin looked at her for a few long seconds. “Sorry, you haven’t been questioned. I can’t have her answers leading you to say something to uphold her story.”
Trent’s voice cut into the discussion. “You’ve questioned me already. I’ll sit with her.”
Relief flowed through Mia’s body. At least she wouldn’t be alone with the cop who hated her. She glanced at Christina. “Trent will go with you, okay? And then I’ll talk to the nice officer and we’ll get out of here.” She shot Baldwin a look with her words, hoping he’d take her warning to be at least professional if not nice.
Christina looked like a scared rabbit. Mia prayed Christina wouldn’t say or do anything foolish, like run, but, finally, she nodded and lai
d the chef knife on the cutting board. Mia hadn’t noticed she’d been gripping the knife like a weapon until she saw the release. Apparently, Officer Baldwin had, however, because now he moved his hand away from the gun on his belt. Seriously, this man needed to get laid or something so he wouldn’t be this jumpy. Christina wouldn’t hurt a fly and he treated her like public enemy number one.
Trent put his arm around Christina and nodded to Mia. “We’ll be right back.”
Mia poured coffee and followed them out of the kitchen. She chose a seat where she could watch the door to the makeshift interview room. She saw another man standing in the hallway, and he’d nodded to Baldwin when he entered the room with Christina.
James sat next to her, his coffee cup in hand. And he’d brought a carafe of the stuff. She nodded to the third man. “Who’s that?”
“Sheriff Cook. He’s here, technically, as an adviser to the police, but everyone knows he runs both the Blaine County office and Magic Springs. Hell, I wouldn’t doubt if he had pull in most of the little towns around here. Except Sun Valley. Those guys can’t stand him, and they have the money to keep him out of their investigations.”
Mia shivered suddenly.
“You cold? I can get a chef jacket from the supply cabinet.” James looked at her, worry in his gaze. “It might be shock. You haven’t had the best of mornings.”
Mia shook her head and sipped her coffee. The liquid warmed her throat, easing her jitters. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just realizing Adele’s dead.” The face of someone who wouldn’t be fine crossed her mind. “Oh no. Grans.”
Mia leaned back and closed her eyes. Her grandmother would be heartbroken at the loss of her friend. No matter what kind of pill Adele had been to most of the world, she’d also been Grans’s best friend.
James nodded. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already called her. She wanted to come here to be with you. The police aren’t letting anyone into the Lodge, so I told her she might as well stay put. She said she’ll meet you at the school when you’re done.”
“Probably with a kitchen filled with food.” Mia thought about the years she’d lived with her grandmother. The hours spent in the kitchen cooking and talking. “Grans’s response to any adversity is cooking. I guess we’re a lot alike that way.”
James smiled and sipped his coffee. “We all have our coping mechanisms. For me, it’s hiking. Rain, snow, summer heat, doesn’t matter. If something’s bothering me, you’ll find me on the trails. Last year, when I had to deal with the fallout from Adele’s party, I took a week and flew to the Grand Canyon. I had to buy new walking shoes after that.”
“I hear it’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to go.” Mia watched as the door opened. Christina walked out of the room, her face white. Mia stood to meet her, but she spun left and headed to the restroom.
She cornered Trent. “What happened? Why is she upset?”
Baldwin stepped in front of Trent, blocking Mia from Christina. “Not yet. You need to give your statement.”
Mia raised her eyebrows. “You better hope I don’t find out you were badgering her. I don’t know why you’re so hard on her.”
“I think Miss Adams is the least of your concerns. This way.” Baldwin motioned to the open door.
“Fine, then after this, we’re leaving.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Trent. “Tell Christina I’ll be right out.”
Trent nodded. But before the door closed on the dining room, Mia thought she saw an emotion flash in his eyes. Pity? Worry? She sighed, then walked over and sat at the one table in the tan room. The hotel used it as a small conference room. There wasn’t much in the room except for a built-in counter where food or beverages could be set up and a small lectern. Mia quickly calculated that the room would comfortably seat ten, maybe fifteen, depending on the table arrangements. Smiling to herself, she wondered if she’d ever lose the caterer mentality.
Baldwin cleared his throat and she focused her attention back on the matter at hand.
“So, what do you want to know?” She leaned back in her chair, suddenly tired from all the prep work and then the craziness of the morning.
“Let’s start with where you were last night at about eleven.” Baldwin’s brown eyes seemed to drill into her.
“What? You think I had something to do with this?” The blood pumped in her ears, causing her to sit forward, not sure she’d heard him right. “Are you sure Adele was murdered? Maybe she just had a heart attack or passed because she was old. Old people die.”
Baldwin smirked. “The county coroner hasn’t made a formal determination, but it’s pretty clear she didn’t stick a knife into her own chest.”
Mia gasped. “Adele was stabbed?” She sank back into her chair. “Who would want to kill Adele? Okay, well, maybe anyone she’d ever talked to, but just because the woman could be aggravating.”
Baldwin leaned forward. “You found Mrs. Simpson aggravating?”
“Had you ever met her?” Mia looked at the police officer across from her. Shut up, Mia. You didn’t kill her; stop giving him rope to hang you.
“Interesting.” Baldwin slowly wrote in his notebook. “Now, please answer my question. Where were you at eleven last night?”
“I don’t know. Asleep?”
“Miss Adams said she got up to go to the bathroom and your bedroom door was open and your bed was empty.” He read the information off his notebook. “So where were you?”
Mia thought about last night. She’d gone to bed about ten, the same time as Christina, but then she couldn’t sleep. She’d never slept well before a big catering assignment—too many things running through her mind, lists to write down, and supplies to check—and last night had been no exception. This party would have been the calling card getting Mia’s Morsels into the homes of the Magic Springs elite. She’d been worried about the change in menu and had run downstairs to check a recipe from her cookbook, making sure she’d ordered all the seasonings she’d needed.
Then she’d pulled on her snow boots and a coat and left for a walk around the park next to the school grounds. Alone.
“I went out for a walk,” Mia admitted.
Baldwin’s eyebrows rose. “The temperature dropped to twenty-two last night. You decided to take a stroll?”
“I bundled up. And I didn’t stay out long.” Mia sighed, picking up a pen from the table and twisting it in one hand. “I worry before big events. I’m always thinking about what could go wrong and trying to make sure I prepare for everything. I’m a caterer. That’s what we do.”
Baldwin didn’t answer; he just watched her for a long moment. Mia didn’t break the silence. She hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t going to make her feel like she had.
“Well, everything besides my client winding up dead under the head table,” she admitted. Her first real catering gig on her own, and now Mia’s Morsels was in jeopardy. This needed to be cleared up and put behind her so she could start fresh. Again. She realized Baldwin hadn’t said anything while she mused about her infant company’s demise, just watched her. According to the cop shows she watched on television, giving the suspect time to squirm in silence was always their trip up. People couldn’t stay silent. Well, she could. Because she didn’t have anything to say about Adele’s death.
Finally Baldwin stood. “You’re free to go; just don’t leave town.”
Mia laughed, his words catching her off guard. So typical of the old cop shows on television. She’d been right about the silent treatment. The guy took his investigation skills from the boob tube. Adele’s killer would never be found if Baldwin was in charge of the investigation.
He cocked his head, his face turning a bright red. “You find me funny?”
“You’ve seen the building I bought? I’ve got tons of work to do before I can even think about opening. Where do you think I’ll go? Cancun?” She thought about John Louis’s card sitting on her desk in her study. She’d almost thrown it away. But it was an out. He’d buy the buildi
ng and give her enough to start over somewhere else. And as much as she’d blustered about not selling last night, well, that was before this had happened this morning. She pushed aside the thought of letting the weasel win and felt anger bubble up inside her.
“We take murder seriously around here, Miss Malone.” Baldwin tapped his pen on his little black notebook. “And somehow you’re always in the middle of things when bodies are found lately.”
“I’m not a killer. But I am glad to hear you take this seriously. Just go find the murderer and leave me alone.” Mia spun around and headed to the door.
“I’m watching you,” Baldwin called after her.
Mia headed to the table where she’d left her coat and purse. “I’m in a bad made-for-television movie.” She caught Christina’s gaze and barked at her. “Let’s get out of here.”
Christina flushed and grabbed her coat, following Mia through the dining room.
When they reached the hallway Trent caught the pair. He put his hand on her arm, stopping her. “Hey, what happened in there? Are you okay?”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of this man. “Your police force is a joke. They think I murdered Adele.”
Trent pulled her into an awkward hug and Mia let him. She didn’t know why, but she wanted comfort from this man. Someone to whisper in her ear that everything would be all right, even if they both knew it was total bullcrap. Hell, right now she’d take a hug from the devil himself, or Isaac, whichever demon showed up first. She felt her breath slow and the tears back off. She inhaled one last deep breath, stepping away from the extremely hard and comforting chest she’d been leaning on.
“Thanks. I don’t know . . .” Mia started.
“It’s been a long day.” Trent pushed a wayward curl out of her face.
“And it’s only noon.” Mia smiled. “I’m heading home. I don’t want to leave Grans alone more than I already have.”
“I’ll stop by later.” Trent turned back to the dining room, and Christina stepped toward her.