Read Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) Online
Authors: Judy Alter
“
I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone else in this town.” She was gathering her purse and notebook, so I stood too.
“
No, you don’t. But if you don’t approach us with a chip on your shoulder and an eye for our weak spots, you mind find us all more cooperative. I’m not sure I’m crazy about being back in Wheeler after years in Dallas, but there are things I like. I’d be glad to talk to you about them and about the things I don’t like.”
“
Like a lack of men?” Her tone was bitter.
“
No, that’s not one of them. Please don’t pre-judge me…or my town.”
She stalked away, and I knew I
’d made an enemy.
Donna came in a little later
. “Sara Jo’s back. I don’t know if I’m glad or not.”
“
I know. She was here early this morning.” I thought it best not to say any more.
“
Well, I’m glad to have her back for the cooking school if nothing else. You know, it was her idea. Have you made any progress on your menus?”
I
knew
there was a deep down reason I resented Sara Jo, and now I knew what it was. “Not yet,” I said, “but I’m working on it.
****
And that’s how Rick Samuels found himself in my kitchen that night, eating Beef Wellington and Caesar salad. I’d even made a quick trip to Canton in the afternoon to pick up some good beef tenderloin, the kind I could never afford to serve at the café, and some puff pastry, along with a better than usual cabernet.
“
What’s the occasion?” he asked, seating himself at the table. It was one of those rare evenings when he had changed out of his tan uniform and wore a plaid shirt with starched jeans and, of course, boots. I always liked him in his uniform but somehow he looked better to me tonight.
I
, on the other hand, had on jeans that were not creased, an oversize shirt, and one of Gram’s aprons. Not a fashion picture. “I’m practicing for Donna’s cooking school.”
“
Whoa! Back up! She’s going to teach a cooking school? I thought you said she can’t cook worth…well, you know.”
“
She can’t, and she isn’t. I am.”
“
And you got roped into this how?” He was laughing as he opened the wine.
“
I told you Sara Jo would be trouble. This is all her idea. But I decided it might be fun, and I want to practice my cooking skills on some nicer things. So, tonight, Monsieur, you get Beef Wellington and Caesar salad.”
“
You aren’t going to put chopped liver on it, are you?”
“
Liver pâté? No, it’s not in this recipe. I’m trying to simplify for the ladies.”
“
Whew! That’s a relief.”
I started to laugh, and then the giggles came, stopped only by a sip of wine and a sobering thought about Sara Jo.
“If this is the worst trouble she causes, it won’t be so bad. But I talked to her this morning, and I have lots of worries.”
“
Let’s eat first,” he said.
I tasted, rolled
the wine around on my tongue, and pronounced it superb. Then I giggled again. We were not exactly wine connoisseurs—what’s the word for that? Oenophiles?
Over dinner, served of cou
rse on Gram’s Blue Willow china but with Reidel O glasses I’d recently ordered, I told him how Donna was going to be administrator of the class.
“
What’s that mean? She’ll collect the cash?”
“
Well, yes, but I’ll demand my fair share. And we’ll send the ladies home with dinner that they’ve cooked. For two. If they have children, they’ll have to feed them chicken nuggets.”
“
I think you’re crazy to get into this,” he said, “but if you’re sure you want to and you’re not just doing it to appease Gram…”
Does he know Gram talks to me? Or is that a figure of speech or whatever?
“Depends on who signs up, but I do think it could be fun. I mean, I expect Mrs. Reverend Baxter and a few others from the church. We can only take ten or twelve. Donna says she’ll put up flyers in the café and an ad in the
Wheeler Tribune.
She’s even talking about advertising in Canton, though I can’t imagine anyone would come that far.”
“
Is Sara Jo coming, since she suggested the whole idea?”
“
Oh, I doubt that. She doesn’t strike me as the domestic type.”
“
Me either,” he said wryly.
It was a chilly night, even for March, and dishes done, Rick built the first fire I
’d ever tried in Gram’s fireplace. I guess he was a former Boy Scout because he knew exactly what he was doing—from opening the damper to laying the fire—and we soon had a nice but small blaze going. Granted, it was a little smoky, but he warned me it would be because the fireplace hadn’t been used in forever. I doubted Gram ever built a fire, but she’d had some firewood stored on one side of the house, now dry as could be from age.
“
You need a man around here,” Rick growled. “Firewood shouldn’t be stored against the house. Bugs and termites and all kinds of critters. You need a storage shed.”
“
One of those ugly prefab things?”
“
Yep.”
“
I have that old wood shed of Gram’s.”
“
Yeah, the one that’s about to fall down on itself. Termites would eat it in a flash.”
My first thought was if Steve
Millican were here, he’d put a pre-fab one together for me, but he was in prison somewhere in Texas.
“
So what else are you going to teach these ladies to cook?” he asked.
“
Well, how about making veal piccata with chicken?”
“
Good idea. And?”
“
And I haven’t gotten any further. Maybe stuffed Cornish hens?”
“
No man in his right mind will eat a Cornish hen,” he scoffed. “You’ve got to choose meals they can feed their husbands but don’t yet know how to cook.”
“
That leaves out a lot of good things, like roast chicken and pot roast. These ladies already do that.”
Our talk quieted, and we sat peacefully staring at the fire
, Rick’s arm around my shoulders, resting lightly, but still I was much aware of it. Finally, he said, “Ten o’clock. Way past my witching hour, and I have to tell my deputy he can go off the clock.”
“
Deputy? I thought you didn’t have one.”
“
I don’t, but I told Tom I had special plans tonight, and he volunteered.” And with that Rick Samuels took me in his arms and kissed me, hard and deep, and I felt myself responding, though my first instinct was to push him away. He was the one who pulled away, saying, “Too tempting, Kate. It’s been too long for both of us.”
Shaking, I stood when he did but I was speechless. In the kitchen, he made light of things, thanking me in a sweeping bow for a lovely evening. He planted a kiss on my nose, and then he was gone.
Why did I think of David Clinkscales at that moment?
I
n the end, Donna and I decided on six lessons rather than the ten that had overwhelmed me, with a $100 fee for the course. We wouldn’t make much profit, and we’d have to have twelve students to make it work. We had studied the kitchen at The Tremont House and thought we could fit twelve women in there. They’d take turns cooking, but each would leave with portions for two.
I
’d fix the Beef Wellington with oven roasted potatoes, chicken piccata with risotto, chicken enchiladas with refried beans and Mexican rice, shepherd’s pie with a spinach salad, quail with dirty rice and black coffee gravy (for the husbands who hunted), and pan-fried trout with home-style fries—the kind where you slice a raw potato thinly and fry those slices until they’re golden brown. It takes patience. And I’d explain that the same technique for the trout could be used for the bass that men caught locally, provided they cleaned their fish for their wives to cook. Printed recipes, with suggestions for side dishes would accompany each lesson—and I’d incorporate Gram’s old dictum that you had to have something green on your plate at every meal. No turnip greens, because of my horror of them since my grandmother died after eating greens tainted with digitalis and because these ladies knew how to cook greens. But maybe a spinach casserole.
To my surprise, we go
t twelve ladies within three days and had a waiting list. And the first one to register? Sara Jo Cavanaugh. I was so surprised I asked her why she registered one day when I ran into her at The Tremont House. I was there for a planning session.
“
Sorry, but I didn’t think you’d be the domestic type,” I said. “Hope you’re not offended.”
“
Not at all, and you’re right. But what better way to get to know the ladies of the town? I’ll send my portion home with Donna and go on eating veggies and fruit and yogurt.”
She
’d been in town three weeks, and she’d signed up for a six-week course. I was dismayed.
Mrs. Reverend Baxter was indeed one of the ones who signed up, as I expected, but I was surprised that Miss Tilly signed up.
“It will give me meals for two nights,” she explained. “I do get so tired of cooking for myself. And I’ll enjoy the fellowship.”
We didn
’t tell either of them that Sara Jo had signed up.
There were others, some of whom I didn
’t know well. Bonnie Smith, mother of that high school boy Cary who’d been teased in the café, was on the list, and so was Barbara Wallace, who now managed Joanie Millican’s old dress shop, with, I must say, considerably less panache.
To my amazement, Carolyn Grimes called from Crandall and said,
“Chester can find himself another 911 dispatcher once a week. I need to get out and among some ladies who aren’t from Crandall.” I laughed and said I’d be delighted to see her.
Two sisters from Canton registered, and the rest were a blur to me, though I was sure I
’d recognize most of them from the café. From their addresses, they lived nearby—one or two actually in Wheeler and I couldn’t believe I’d missed them, one from Van, two from Martin’s Mills. Donna knew the two from Wheeler but dismissed them as “old biddies.”
“
Donna,” I said sternly, “you got us into this, and you’re going to have to go into it with the attitude that every one of these ladies is your best friend.”
She glared at me.
Meanwhile, Sara Jo kept a low profile, so low it scared me.
****
The cooking lessons weren’t scheduled to begin for a week when a totally different trauma erupted in our lives, unconnected to Sara Jo. Or was it?
Donna flew into the café a little after three one afternoon, hair flying, eyes red, mood—frantic was the only word for it. I prepared myself for one of Donna
’s tragedies that were minor disturbances to the rest of us, but this time I was wrong.
“
Ava!” she shouted. “She wasn’t at school when I went to pick them up. Nobody has seen her. Kate, do something! Find my child.”
I
’d be lying if I didn’t say fear clutched my heart. I had to steady myself by holding on to a chair. When I could move, I put my arms around Donna. “Slow down, Sis. Let me help. When did anyone last see her?”
“
She has gym the last period of the day—that damn basketball practice she loves so much, and the coach said she was there today. She was in her classes all day until then. It’s like she just vanished into thin air.”
You can
’t help it. The worst scenarios go through your mind. A predator had grabbed her—she was fourteen, on the edge of womanhood, ripe for a pedophile. Oh, hell, what did I know about pedophiles? The calmest solution that came to me was still fraught with danger. She’d run away. How many kids run away at fourteen and are never seen again, victims of the streets, white slavery—hadn’t I read an article about that recently? Reason took hold of my brain—unless she thumbed a ride out of Wheeler, she was probably safe from predators and slavers. But what if she headed to Dallas?
“
Donna, did you call Tom?
She gave
me a withering look. “Of course. He and that boyfriend of yours are out looking all over town for her now. That Samuels is driving the town, and Tom is questioning people at the school.”
I didn
’t miss the derision in the words “that boyfriend of yours.” But, not knowing what else to do, I said, “Donna, sit down and start calling all her friends. You know them, know their families. Ask if they’ve seen her.”
She moaned.
“My poor baby. Out there all by herself.”
Probably not,
but I kept that thought to myself. Seemed likely to me we’d find another girl missing, and the two were off on a lark. It was a pleasant day with warm sun, though it would be cool by dusk—surely they’d turn up by then.
“
Did you check the B&B?”
“
No. Why should I?”
“
Just trying to think of places she’d go. You sit here and call her friends. I’ll get Marj to bring you coffee, tea, whatever you want.”
“
Wine,” she said.
“
Sorry. We don’t have that. Pick up your phone and start calling. I’ll be right back.” I flew to my car and broke every speed limit to get to The Tremont House. She wasn’t there, but Rick was and so was Sara Jo.
Rick took one look at me and said,
“I guess we had the same thought.”
“
Yeah. No good?”
He shook his head.
“I’ve searched the house and the outbuildings. Nothing.”
Sara Jo was visibly upset and for once didn
’t have her notebook out. “What can I do to help?”
Rick looked at her.
“Stay here. Call me if she comes here.” He handed her his card.
“
What about Henry and Jess? I didn’t even think to ask Donna.”
“
They’re with Tom at the school. When he’s finished there, he’ll deposit them in the café. Where’s Donna?”
“
I told her to call all Ava’s friends. Left her at the café, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes home. Maybe on the off chance Ava decided to walk home. Maybe because Donna wants a glass of wine.”
He shook his head, as though unbelieving.
“You go back to the café, keep Henry and Jess. I’m going to start searching places we might not think of—like the stock tank behind this place.”
I didn
’t even want to go there in my mind…unless he possibly thought he’d find her meditating by the water’s edge. Fourteen-year-olds didn’t kill themselves did they? Particularly not popular ones? I knew I was fooling myself. Teen suicide was a huge problem, and Ava was unhappy…
No, Kate, don’t go there!
As we headed to our cars, he said to me,
“You know of anything she’s upset about?”
I
’d been going over that in my mind and nothing seemed helpful. “Donna doesn’t pay much attention to her now, what with the B&B and Sara Jo for company.”
He looked at me sharply.
“Her mother spends a lot of time at The Tremont House, late at night, talking to Sara Jo. Tom says she sometimes doesn’t come home until the kids are in bed, and then she’s not up when they go to school.”
“
Not good.” He shook his head again. I knew there were no love lost between Donna and Rick, but now he seemed truly disgusted.
“
Rick, a year ago, when Irv Litman was alive, Ava had it pretty good. Donna kept taking her to Dallas for weekends with Irv. They’d shop, they’d go to high tea at the Adolphus—all pretty heady stuff for a young girl. You don’t think….” I didn’t want to put this into words, but I finally did. “You don’t think she’d try to get to Dallas thinking she could live that life again?”
“
I don’t know. How stable a girl is she?”
I had to think long—and honestly—about that.
“I don’t think she’s grounded, because she doesn’t get Donna’s attention. And I think her head was turned by those trips to Dallas and all the clothes Irv bought her and….”
His hands were on his hips in
indignation. “Donna let her lover buy her daughter clothes? What did Tom do?”
“
Let’s not go into all that now. Just trust me. Tom loves his family and wants to keep them together. I think that’s his weak point.”
He turned
away abruptly. But the set of his shoulders told me he was angry. “We can’t stand here analyzing. I believe in action. Go back to the café.”
By the time I got there, Donna had gone home—to wait for Ava, according to Marj. But it seemed to me half the town of Wheeler was there, milling about. Nobody was eating, though most held cups of coffee.
“Word got around,” Marj explained, spreading her hands helplessly and then wringing them on her apron. “I made coffee on the house. Hope you don’t mind.”
“
No, good idea. You haven’t seen Tom, have you? He’s supposed to bring Henry and Jess.” I’d no more than spoken than he came through the door, holding Jess in his arms, big as she was, and pushing Henry in front of him. Wordlessly he gave me a huge hug, and I could hardly bear the pain in his eyes. But there was something else there too. Anger. Clear, cold anger.
“
This is Donna’s fault. I blame her completely. And when we find Ava, it’s not over.” This wasn’t Tom, the gentle teddy bear of a man I knew; this was an angry, determined man I barely recognized. And he frightened me a bit.
“
I’ve got to go,” he said. “Try to keep these two calm, though this crowd”—he gestured toward the people milling around—“won’t help. I’m gone.”
And he left, though I had no idea where he
’d gone.
People came in for dinner, but by now word had spread around t
own, and inevitably most people stopped at the corner table where I’d put Henry and Jess. Comments ranged from “You poor dears,” to “I know you’re scared,” and “It will all be all right. Ava will come home.”
If she can,
I couldn’t help thinking.
What if someone snatched her?
Gram spoke at last—did she know I
’d been waiting. “Kate, she’s safe, and she’ll be all right. Take care of her family. You’ll have your chance to take care of Ava.”
Thanks, Gram. And just what do I tell Donna…and Rick…and Tom?
As if on cue, Donna stormed into the café. “She’s not coming home. I know that, and I can’t sit around an empty house by myself waiting. I’ve got to do something.”
I tried to soothe her, imagining what she was going through. If I was so upset, what must the child
’s mother be feeling? In a flash, she told me.
“
I feel betrayed. It’s this town. She got tired of living here and went to find a life for herself. But she’s too young. She just doesn’t know that yet.” And then she said the words I dreaded, “Oh, if only Irv were here.”
“
He’s not,” I said, perhaps too harshly, “and Tom is and he’s worried to death about his daughter.”
“
Well, I am too,” she wailed.
Sure, but you
’re worried about yourself, Donna Bryson!
Tom came in and said almost roughly to Donna,
“Come on. Let’s go home and wait. Rick put out an APB so officers all around are on the alert. I described her, gave him a photo and, best as I could remember, told him what she’s wearing.”
“
Why doesn’t he put out an Amber Alert?” Donna complained.
“
Because there’s no proof of abduction. In fact, I don’t think she’s been abducted.”
“
She only had a light denim jacket,” Donna moaned. “She’ll be cold.”
Tom didn
’t even look at her, just took her arm and led her out, saying over his shoulder, “Kate, will you take care of Henry and Jess?”
“
Of course. I think I’ll take them home with me.”
And that
’s what I did, because the constant cloying attention they were getting made them nervous. Jess was on the verge of tears, and Henry just looked down at the tablecloth every time someone new approached. Marj agreed to close for me, giving me a tight hug and adding, “I’m saying a prayer.”
I thanked her, gathered up the children, and
sneaked out the back door. It had grown chilly, and as we crossed the lot to Gram’s house, Jess asked in a tiny voice, “Do you suppose Ava is cold?”
“
I hope not,” was all I could say.
I settled them with grilled cheese sandwiches, poured myself a glass of wine, and called my sister
’s house. Tom answered, and I hated that for a minute I had gotten hope up in his mind. “Tom, the kids are settled, eating grilled cheese. If it’s okay with you, I’ll bathe them, put them in some of my T-shirts, and tuck them in Gram’s bed. Their homework can wait. This is an extraordinary situation. Homework be damned.”
Behind me, I heard Henry gasp.
Tom’s voice was tighter and more controlled than I’d ever heard it. “Yeah, Kate, and this isn’t a place for them to be right now. I’m grateful. I’ll talk to their teachers tomorrow—after we see what tomorrow brings.”
Neither Henry nor Jess were interested in bathtub games—Henry was too old and insisted on taking a shower
“in privacy,” while Jess was just plain pitiful. As I toweled her dry, she clung to me, her thin body trembling, and cried. “I’m scared, Aunt Kate. Scared for Ava, and I guess scared for myself.”
“
It’s all right to be scared, sweet girl. I’m sure we’ll find Ava, but right now, we’re all scared. And look at the bright side—you don’t have to practice your spelling tonight.”
“
Yeah.” It wasn’t an enthusiastic reply.
We got teeth brushed and headed for Gram
’s room to say prayers and get in bed, though Henry protested he was too old to sleep with his little sister.
“
Henry,” I said gently, putting an arm around his shoulders, “Jess needs you right now. She needs comfort.”
“
Okay.” He reached out and patted his sister’s back. “I’ll take care of you, Jess.”
She looked at him with pure trust.
I wish I had that kind of relationship with my sibling!
I flipped on the light in Gram
’s room…and there she was. Ava was sound asleep in Gram’s bed. The light wakened her, and she sat up, dazed, slowly recognizing us.
“
What’s going on? Why are Henry and Jess here?”
I threw my arms around her.
“Better question, sweetie. Why are you here? Do you know the whole town’s looking for you? Your parents are worried to death, and so was I. You could have come here if you’d asked, but why did you just leave your mom waiting for you at school? Chief Samuels has put out a bulletin. We were afraid you’d been kidnapped. We’ve all been terrified.”
Ava rubbed her eyes.
“Really?” Her face brightened just a bit, as though the news that people worried about her was reassuring. Then she slumped. “I’ve caused a big problem, haven’t I?”
Now that she
was safe, I wasn’t inclined to let her get away with much. “Yes, you have. And you owe a lot of us an explanation. First, I have to call your parents and Rick…and Sara Jo, who’s waiting at the B&B. You all go in the kitchen, and I’ll fix hot cocoa.”
I made the calls, quickly giving my message. Rick and Sara Jo were relieved; Tom shouted,
“Hallelujah!” and Donna cried. They wanted to rush right over, but I suggested they wait a bit, maybe half an hour, until I could get the children settled. That was because I was listening to Gram.
“
Kate, keep those children with you tonight. They need love and peace.”
“
Yes, Gram.”
Donna
’s voice rose to shrill heights. “Why do I have to wait? I’m the child’s mother.”
Tom grabbed the phone and said,
“I think you’re right, Kate. Get the younger ones in bed, feed Ava…I bet she’s starving…and then we’ll be over.”
And that
’s just what I did. Henry and Jess went to bed over loud protests, but they went, and within ten minutes both were sound asleep. I gently closed the door to their room and went back to the kitchen, where Ava had devoured her sandwich and was eating an apple.
“
I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”
“
Well, yes and no. We’re all so relieved that you’re safe, but at the same time, you acted thoughtlessly. Didn’t it occur to you that we’d worry—a lot?”