Death at the Day Lily Cafe (13 page)

I crossed my arms. “Will he try to see you?”

“Uh, no. But if he comes near my mother—” He stopped, still gripping the knife. He lowered his eyes. His chest lifted and fell. “‘He who knows how to be aggressive, and yet remains patient, becomes a receptacle for all of Nature's lessons.'”

I studied him. “Lao Tzu?”

Custer dropped the knife onto the cutting board. “Thank you for the key lime bar. Now, how do I make this soup?”

 

T
WENTY
-
TWO

“How do you spell asparagus?” Crystal called from the chalkboard. She had already drawn a small glass and colored it a bright green. “It doesn't look right to me.”

Glenn spelled it out while placing coffee mugs and saucers at each table.

“That looks really cute, Crystal,” I said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of shooters.

“So you figured out a recipe?” Glenn said.

“I think so. Want a taste?”

Glenn set the last of the mugs on a table and brought the empty tray over to the bar. “Always,” he said with a devilish grin. “Why else do you think I work here?”

“So it's all about the free food?”

He set the tray down on top of the stack. “Free
good
food.”

“Grab me one, too,” Crystal said as she climbed down from the step stool.

Glenn picked up two small glasses. He handed one to Crystal and they knocked them together. “Oh, this is delicious,” Crystal said after taking a sip. “What did you put in here?”

“Shallot, butter, half and half, and Custer suggested a few spices. Warm or cold?”

“I say warm,” Glenn said, and finished the glass.

“Agreed,” Crystal said. “We're going to sell a lot of these.” She spun around on the toe of her Toms shoes. “I'll be back. I need to redo my hair. This humidity is giving me some serious frizz.” She untied the piece of raffia she fastened at the end of her braid as she walked.

“Guess what?” I said to Glenn.

“You have news?” Glenn straightened the collar of his white oxford.

“I was thinking it would be good to hear more about what happened to Kevin and Jake at the tavern. You know, to get a better idea of how it occurred. Also to understand CJ's tendencies. He seemed willing to step outside with Jake; doesn't that mean he could have gotten in an altercation with someone else?”

“And how are you going to arrange that?”

“Done.” I grinned. “Are you free to go to Kevin and Jake's house for dinner Sunday night?”

“
Hello
, coworkers,” Crystal called as she re-braided her hair. “Why am I the only one to ever notice we have patrons?”

“Wouldn't miss it.” Glenn walked over to the door and unlocked it. “Welcome to the Day Lily Café,” he said as several customers stepped inside. The sun was blazing, the air vibrating. One customer in the first party wore a tank top that already had dark spots under her arms. The cheeks of the small child she removed from a collapsible stroller were cherry red. I escorted them to a table and decided to lower the thermostat a few notches.

The café filled quickly. Not long after we opened the doors, Jackson sat at the bar wearing a Crawford's Construction polo shirt and khaki shorts. “Don't even give me a menu, darlin'.” He set his elbows on the bar. “Bring me your special and a hot cup of joe.”

“Can I start you with a soup shooter?”

“If you think I'll like it, you don't even have to ask.”

When I brought him the soup and coffee, I noticed Gretchen waiting for a table. I motioned her over. “Do you mind sitting at the bar?”

“I'd prefer to,” she said as she hopped onto the high chair. She exchanged greetings with Jackson while I set her place.

Jackson's soup glass was already empty. “I'll have another,” he said. “And you're going to want one of these too, Gretch.” I felt his eyes on me and looked up. “Doesn't Miss Rosalie look extra pretty today?”

My face warmed.

Glenn approached. “Bigger glasses for the shooters next time,” he said, looking harried. “That woman over there has had three.”

“We can start right now,” I said. “We certainly have enough asparagus.”

“Hello, Glenn,” Gretchen said with a wide grin. “Did you get new spectacles?”

“Why, um, yes,” he said as he shoved them higher up his nose. “Yes, I did.”

“They make you look exceptionally fetching.”

Glenn rolled his shoulders back. “Why, thank you.”

“Yes,” Jackson said, “quite fetching.”

“I hadn't noticed,” I said. “But Gretchen's right, they are very nice.”

“I honestly don't think they're any different from the pair I had before.” He pushed through the kitchen door with a tray in his hand.

“Part the sea, I'm coming through.” Janice rounded a party of four waiting for a table and strode up to the bar. She peered in the confections case. “Where are the espresso bars?” she said, slightly out of breath. “Did Custer eat them all?”

“Kevin didn't bring me any today,” I said. “The key lime bars are awfully good.”

Janice sat down. “I ran from my car to get here. I can't take this heat anymore. I'm going to die. You are all invited to my funeral.”

I set a glass of ice water in front of her. She immediately lifted it to her blazing cheek. “You're here again, Jackson? It's a Thursday. Aren't you supposed to be working over at the college?”

Jackson sipped his coffee. “They still aren't letting us back because they haven't found the stolen money.”

“So who's building the dorms?” Gretchen asked. “Don't they have to have them finished by the fall?”

“The college has always prided itself on hiring local. But now they've brought in a construction company from Baltimore.” He wiped his mouth and dropped his napkin in his lap. “They better figure this out pronto. They're going to tear down that old dorm that was built in the sixties next. And I'm counting on that contract.”

“Are they trying to figure out who did it?” Janice said.

“I certainly hope so.” Jackson wadded his napkin. “Because if they are waiting for a confession, whoever took it has probably already hit the road.”

Custer emerged from the kitchen with a tray of soups. “It's too crowded back there. Can you use these?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and smiled. “They are going like hotcakes. I think that little pinch of turmeric you put in there did the trick.”

Custer filled his coffee mug and turned to go back to the kitchen. He stopped and looked over at Jackson. Jackson eyed him warily. When he opened his mouth to speak, Custer held up his hand. “Don't waste your breath.”

I watched Custer go. Jackson scowled. “Everything all right?” I set glasses of soup before Boone and Gretchen.

Jackson picked his up immediately. “It is now.”

“Do you know Custer?”

“He used to work for CJ Fiddler. Got fired right before CJ died.” He took a healthy swallow of soup. “Not sure why. He was a pretty good worker.”

“He's doing a good job here, too,” I said. “Jackson, did you know CJ very well?”

“We've worked a few jobs together. He was pretty quiet except after he'd had a few. You know how some people are totally different when they've been drinking? Like a different personality. That was CJ. All of a sudden he'd be talking like a magpie. Sometimes he was pretty funny. Other times, well, he'd be hard to take.”

“He installed the most beautiful marble compass rose in my foyer,” Gretchen said. “It's really quite stunning.” She lifted her soup shooter. “It's the first thing people remark about.”

“Too bad he's dead.” Janice licked her finger and dabbed at what remained of her lime bar. “My kitchen needs a new floor.”

“Did you see the story on the Baltimore news?” Gretchen said. “They interviewed the sheriff.”

“He couldn't stand still,” Jackson said. “And he never took off his sunglasses.”

“I think he may be right about charging the wife,” Janice said. “Lori is close to my age. If I was married to anyone but Trevor, there could be some violence. And I would be declared innocent by reason of hormonal imbalance.” Janice scanned the room. “Maybe you didn't hear me say that.” She lowered her voice. “I mean, what I was trying to say is Trevor's a good guy. You got that, right?”

Gretchen covered her mouth and giggled. She corrected her posture when Glenn approached the bar.

Glenn sidled up to me while I frothed some milk in a small metal pitcher. “Rosalie,” he said, and waited for me to finish. “Do you realize what's happening?”

“Something good?” I glanced up at him.

“Very good.” He leaned in. “Don't you see?”

I set two lattes on the bar and faced Glenn. “See what?”

“Look around you and take it in. It's your dream. You've created a gathering place.” He beamed. “You have regulars, my dear. And they love it here.”

 

T
WENTY
-
THREE

Although I was tired from the long day, my brain was buzzing and not the least bit interested in turning in. I carried a cup of tea out to the back porch. The tea was a gift from Crystal. She grew the herbs herself in a small garden behind her house. According to Crystal, it was a blend of dandelion and juniper berry for cleansing the kidneys and liver, and cinnamon for taste and just about anything else that ailed you. She hoped we could offer it at the café.

I took a small sip and let the flavors settle in my mouth. After another sip, I was sold. She would have to come up with a brand name. We could even write up a little description for the back of the menu. And maybe we could sell the tea at the café. Better yet, in Layla Parker's lovely gift shop two doors down. It was always good to support neighboring businesses while promoting my own.

I propped my feet on the ottoman and looked out at the night. Fireflies blinked on and off. The sun was a faint memory on the horizon, a thin strip of violet glowing above the distant trees.

Annie was out with Custer again. They had been together every night since they met. Just the thought of Custer caused a tug in my gut. I sipped again. It was clear after this morning that Custer was not the least bit interested in seeing his father. And Tyler barely acknowledged his brother's existence. Who was this man, and how did he impact his son? If he was merely an absentee father, that was one thing, but if he was a father who inflicted harm, that was an entirely different story. I shuddered to think Custer was the one who stole the money. It just didn't fit with his quoting Lao Tzu.

I was looking forward to our dinner with Kevin and Jake. I would have to find a subtle way to ask them about the incident at the tavern. I didn't want to suspect them, but I couldn't leave a stone unturned. And what about the sheriff? Was he Jamie's biological father? I sipped more tea. I wondered if either of them considered it a possibility. If Jamie knew, would he have confronted his father? Fathers. All these thoughts about fathers and the disconnection and dysfunction regarding their offspring triggered thoughts of my own.

A waxing moon illuminated wispy clouds as they drifted past. A fox barked in the distance just as a pattering of rain began to fall. A breeze carrying an earthy scent cooled my skin. My father had loved an evening rain. I would often find him on the porch watching it fall, a warm smile on his face. When I started to talk he would say,
Hush now, little Rosalie. Let's just listen
.

I hugged my knees and tried to visit the memory from a different perspective. Was he trying to get rid of me, or did he want me to share his appreciation of the rain? Maybe it was his form of meditation.

I listened. The drops were heavy as they plopped on the leaves, a precursor to a bigger rain to follow. My father's favorite book was
The Grapes of Wrath
. He read it at least once a year to remind him of his blessings.
This verdant land we are borrowing is a gift from God,
he would say. Although we owned our modest property, in his mind, we were just borrowing it from Earth for a bit.

In the evenings he would often invite my mother to walk around the perimeter of the farm. As in his favorite book, he thought it important to lay eyes on what he owned as often as possible. I accompanied them occasionally, often skipping ahead or getting distracted by bunny nests or a turtle hidden in the grass. Sometimes he would tap me on the shoulder and say,
Lookie there, little Rosalie. See the fruit on those trees? In three days you're going to eat the best peaches and cream you ever tasted
.

I smiled at the memory of those peaches.

My entire family was a little surprised when I got into the University of Virginia. But my guidance counselor explained that the school needed to fill their quota of students who weren't from Northern Virginia, where the better schools were. My father had hoped I would return to our rural roots. But I couldn't wait to leave. I ached for excitement and variety. And when Ed asked me to marry him and move to the DC suburbs, I jumped at the chance.

And so I followed Ed. I loved him and wanted to please him. Unlike my father, Ed appreciated my attention and efforts. It seemed to work for a while. Until it didn't.

 

T
WENTY
-
FOUR

Sunday's lunch special was based on a meal I'd prepared for one of our suspects last year while searching for Megan Johnston's killer: grilled cheese and a creamy tomato bisque with a small chopped salad on the side. But this was no ordinary grilled cheese. The bread was sliced over an inch thick and was based on Aunt Charlotte's recipe, full of whole grains and seeds. The melted aged cheddar was topped with lettuce, red onion, and fresh tomato, the bread slathered with pesto mayonnaise.