Weaving The Web: A Cold Hollow Mystery (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 2) (7 page)

After hanging up the phone, Robert Collins raced through the house, did a quick cleanup, and then went to his refrigerator. He pulled some boneless chicken out of the freezer and set it out to thaw. He then yanked all of the ingredients he would need out of the cabinets and laid out his cooking utensils. He smiled as the music played in the background, until something dawned on him. He had no dining room set! Yes, he had a small kitchen set, but it only sat two people. No, this would not do. As he rushed to his truck, he prayed the small furniture store in town was still open. As he drove, he decided he would clear out the other empty bedroom of its twin bed and bureau and store those items in the basement. It was right off the kitchen and it was roomy, so he would turn it into a comfortable dining room. He smiled as he pulled up in front of the store. He was finally getting a break, and he was not going to blow it. As usual, the furniture store only had one dining room set on display and Robert didn’t care for it at all. The manager made his way over to him and tried to sell it to him anyway. Robert shook his head. “I’m picky. I wanted a dark wood.”

The manager’s eyes sparked to life. “Come with me, I’ve got something in the back room. It seats eight, and it comes with eight chairs. If it’s too big for your room, then you just remove the leaf.”

As Robert examined the set in the back room, he ran his fingers over the fine-polished wood and smiled. He noticed a small matching buffet and pointed at it. “I’ll take it all now, providing you can deliver it to my home within the hour.”

The manager could not move fast enough; he wrote up the sales slip, and Robert paid. He gave the man his address and thanked him. Robert then went to the market to pick up the perfect accompaniments to his meal and the freshest spices they had to offer. He noticed one aisle had some boxed dinnerware and put a service for eight into his cart along with new stainless utensils. After he grabbed a fancy tablecloth, he paid for his items and left the store.

***

Chief Hanover made his way to the hardware store and asked the manager to hand over all of the store receipts for the past two months. The manager obliged and pulled out a stool at the checkout counter for the chief. He sat and eyed each receipt. Most of them were from townsfolk buying the usual supplies for home repairs since spring had arrived. The manager had commented now that the folks didn’t have to pay the till or living fee each year, they were making money and finally able to fix their homes the way they wanted. The chief found him to be right. Nearly every resident had receipts in the big pile. He put a few of them to one side and reviewed them a second time. They all belonged to longtime residents.

The manager used the old-fashioned paper receipts, complete with customer name and items sold. He pulled Warren Measly’s receipts out and examined them. He had purchased drywall, some cinderblocks, and various gallons of interior paint. These materials also came with the usual accompaniments: paint rollers, pans, cement, drywall screws, and so forth. When he checked Robert Collins’s receipts, he found them oddly similar to Warren’s. There was a difference: Robert bought mold-proof drywall, which the chief understood. Robert lived close to the lake, and the dampness had a way of settling into a home. He too bought paint, rollers, trays, and drywall screws and joint compound. Nothing screamed at the chief, “Hey, it’s me! I’m the kidnapper!” He had the storeowner make copies of those receipts and pocketed them before leaving.

As he walked out of the store to his cruiser, he came to the conclusion that although Warren Measly was lacking in the height department, both men were equally capable of tackling a woman the size of Bernadette Carlisle, so he needed to stay focused and stay on top of things. He had already done thorough background checks on the new families who’d moved into Cold Hollow over the winter and knew they had no criminal backgrounds. He would start with the obvious recently relocated parolees.

***

Myrna pushed the strawberry-rhubarb pie into the oven and took a shower while it baked. When she finished, she inspected Tom and Liam and found them looking irresistible. She had chosen to wear a light summer dress that ran to her ankles, with a pair of matching flats.

Tom’s eyebrows arched and he let a soft whistle slip. “I never saw this outfit before, is it new?”

Myrna grinned. “I made the dress.”

“When did you have the time?”

Liam answered for her. “She tricked me into an afternoon nap the other day and got out her sewing machine while I slept.”

Myrna squished her face up. “I didn’t trick you. You were exhausted from hiking the new trail with Ranger Hugo and feeding the deer. Did you take one today?”

Liam rolled his eyes and glanced at Tom. “You guys trick me into it all the time.”

Tom laughed and went to the kitchen to check the pie. “I think it’s done, honey.”

Myrna peeked over his shoulder and said, “Yep, let’s get this show on the road.”

Liam tugged at her dress. “What show?”

She giggled and said, “Us, we’re the show. We look so good tonight. I think we should be on television.”

Liam walked to the front door and said, “We should name our show
The Gnome Family Naptime Drama
.”

Myrna held the pie with oven mitts and watched as Tom grabbed the bag of wine and placed a container of frozen vanilla ice cream inside the bag. They were supposedly off for the best meal of their lives.

CHAPTER 10

Robert Collins had showered and changed before his guests arrived. The meal was underway and would be ready in ten minutes. He dusted off his new dining room furniture and set the table with his new dinnerware. He stood back and smiled. The room appeared elegant. The walls were stark, but he’d change them eventually. He went to the living room, put some nice, soft background music on, and checked on the meal to find it coming along perfectly. The house smelled terrific. The chicken marsala was going to be fabulous. The asparagus was sublime, and the angel hair pasta would go into the water when the guests arrived. While it cooked, his guests could nibble on the appetizers he had laid out on the dining table. He hoped his dream came true; he hoped with all of his beaten-up heart. Money would not be an issue. His wealthy parents had paid him off the moment he was scheduled for parole. His bank account was bulging, and he would invest it well and make those numbers rise. His parents wanted him far away from them forever, and it was fine by him. They were the reason for most of his anger issues anyway.

As he wiped down the kitchen counter, he heard a knock on his back door. He turned to see Chief Hanover standing there and waved him inside. The man entered with his somewhat chubby, middle-aged wife, and he greeted them and escorted them to the dining room. He pulled the chairs out for them and apologized for not having any wine to serve yet, as the mayor was supposed to bring it.

Chief Hanover smiled and said, “She’ll be here any minute. We can wait.” He lifted his nose to the air and commented, “Whatever you have cooking in there smells terrific. I can’t wait to get it in my stomach.” He popped a puffed-cheese appetizer into his mouth and rolled his eyes as his wife giggled.

Robert smiled and excused himself to go and answer the front doorbell. He returned with Myrna, Tom, and Liam. The chief stood and shook their hands and sat back down as the others took their seats. Tom handed Robert the bag of wine and ice cream as Myrna brought her pie into the kitchen and placed it on the counter. As Robert put the ice cream in the freezer, he turned to her. “It was a smart idea putting the ice cream in the same bag. It chilled the wine to perfection!”

Myrna smiled. “It was Tom’s idea.”

Robert shrugged. “Either way, get back in the dining room and have a few appetizers. I’ll pour the wine.”

“Sounds good to me. My stomach is growling, and the aroma in here is ready to make it roar.”

He chuckled and escorted her back to the dining room, where his guests were caught up in conversation.

Myrna offered to pour the wine as Robert returned to the kitchen to place the pasta in the boiling water. They took bites of appetizers, and Myrna watched the chief’s eyes roll each time. They were delicious, but Myrna refused to make a decision about Robert’s cooking until she had eaten an entire meal of his. It wasn’t long before he came out with platters of chicken marsala over angel hair pasta, asparagus wrapped with thinly sliced prosciutto ham, and homemade dinner rolls. Myrna’s mouth began watering at the smell, and they passed the platters around the table as though it were Thanksgiving.

There was little conversation during the main meal. They were too busy cleaning their plates. Myrna watched Robert Collins smile during the entire meal. When they finished eating, the questions began: where did you learn to cook, what spices did you use, how did you get chicken to taste so damn good? Robert delighted in talking about his cooking technique, but not in revealing his spices or special ingredients. Myrna didn’t blame him.

The women helped him clear the table and set out dessert plates. The chief’s wife offered to plate the dessert in order to allow Myrna and Robert time to speak about his restaurant arrangements in private. Myrna took her glass of wine with her as Robert brought her out to his backyard.

While they were gone, the chief excused himself to the bathroom, but he never made it. He rushed from room to room, listening and searching for any evidence linked to the Carlisle woman. He crept down to the basement and found it nearly bare. He noticed a small closet beneath the staircase, opened it, and found it was empty. He made his way back up to the dining room.

Myrna congratulated Robert on the fine cuisine as they walked farther away from the house and toward his newly planted vegetable garden. She glanced at it and knew he had planted enough for a family of ten.

“So, where is my restaurant supposed to be located?”

She turned to him. “Right beside my bakery on Main Street. I close at three o’clock each day, so I had a notion if you opened at four o’clock, there would be no competition.”

His hands were in his pockets as he stared at the ground. “Good. I prefer preparing three-to four-course meals. It sounds good to me. However, I need to order my desserts from you.”

Myrna’s eyebrows rose. “How much dessert?”

She watched as he assessed the question and turned to her. “I’ll give you a list a day ahead of time to correlate with my menu. You can have the boy, Donnie, deliver my order to me in the early afternoon as I prep for dinnertime.”

“You have a lot to do, Robert. Can you handle this financially? You’ll need new equipment, furniture, dinnerware, and menus. How soon can you get it up and running?”

He waved a hand before his face, as if annoyed. “I have it all planned out. I always have.” He tapped his forefinger against his temple.

“Money is not an issue?”

“Nope. Besides, I have to go back to the furniture place tomorrow and speak with the manager. I think he’ll be eager to set me up with what I need at the restaurant.” He extended his arm out to the house. “He’ll also have to help with my house. The guy who lived here was a pig with no taste.”

Myrna agreed and asked, “What will you call the restaurant?”

“Carla’s Fine Cuisine.”

Myrna stopped smiling, remained silent, and gave Robert a cold, hard stare. When she spoke, it was harsh. “Explain the name to me, Robert. Explain it to me right now.”

Robert raised his arms in surrender and took a step backward. “Easy, does it, Mayor. When we were in prison, we were taught to make amends for our crimes and ask forgiveness. I mean, you’ve seen my file. It’s not as if I can call the young girl and say, ‘Hey, remember me? I’m the rotten bastard who raped you when you were young.’ It’s not like I can even find her after all these years, so I came to the conclusion that by naming my restaurant after her, as homage, it would provide me with some sort of feeling of forgiveness.”

“You don’t remember the girl’s last name?”

He shook his head as he stared at the ground, ashamed. “I can’t even remember what she looked like. I was blind drunk the night I assaulted her. All I remember is her first name, for some weird reason. I know she testified against me, but I wasn’t allowed in court. It was one of her stipulations.”

“Why were you blind drunk the night it happened?”

He let loose a single chuckle. “My parents were rich and demanding. I had gotten in a heated argument with them, and I was furious.”

“Yes, I read about your anger issues, but you seemed to have gotten it under control when in the rehabilitation facility.”

He stared her in the eyes. “Well, you can thank the staff psychiatrist and the cooking instructor for it. The place was like a vacation compared to regular prison.”

Myrna sipped the last of the wine and nodded. “It is a great place.” Robert took her empty glass, and they walked back to join the rest of the company. “I think you should get the restaurant open in time for the day after Fourth of July and make sure Carla Macy doesn’t think you named your place after her.”

Robert grinned. “It’s a good plan, Mayor. Mrs. Macy is a nice woman with two great kids. I’ll tell her the name of the place is to honor someone from my past. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Good idea.”

“I have to ask you something, though. What’s with the name of your bakery?”

Myrna stopped walking and turned to him. Her expression saddened. “It was originally Sophia Barner’s bakery, and I inherited it in a way. I left the name ‘Sophia’s’ in order to honor the best friend I ever had in my life.”

Robert had heard some gossip around town about a recent family tragedy. He normally ignored gossip; perhaps he should have paid better attention.