“Darling, you know me too well.”
A waiter wearing a black apron and crisp white shirt approached our table.
“We’re not quite ready to order,” Lance said. “We’re waiting for one more.”
“We are?” I asked.
At that moment, Arlo strolled into the bar. Lance gave me a sheepish grin. “We are.”
Lance introduced Carlos and Arlo, who immediately discovered they shared a mutual fandom for international soccer. Apparently, Arlo’s sports enthusiasm wasn’t limited to softball.
When the waiter returned to take our orders, I opted for the Drawing Down the Moon and Carlos went for a classic gin and tonic infused with basil and mango.
“I’ll take an IPA,” Arlo said.
“Same for me,” Lance seconded. I caught his eye and gave him a gasp. Never in my life had I known Lance to order a beer. “It sounds refreshing, doesn’t it?” He raised one eyebrow.
“My top reason for taking this job and moving to Oregon was the beer.” Arlo handed our waiter his drink menu. “I’m making it my mission to sample every beer while I’m here.”
“Excellent plan,” Lance replied. “The choices are limitless.”
“What about food?” Carlos interjected. “A cheese board and pommes frites to start, si?”
“Si, si!” Lance clapped.
Carlos put in our order when our waiter returned with drinks.
“A toast to friends new and old,” Lance said raising his pint glass. It was so weird to see him holding a frothy beer.
“Cheers!” We clinked our glasses together.
“How’s the softball team doing?” Lance asked Arlo.
“They are a great group of players. Have any of you followed the team?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I’ve read about their success in the paper, but I’ve never made it to a game.” The SOU softball team had won the national championship the past two years. The team had become local media darlings, garnering articles and interviews.
“You have to come. They are a blast to watch. Their hitting is a thing of magic. We have a game tomorrow night, I can get you tickets if you’re interested.”
“How charming. I so enjoy sporting outings.” Lance ran his long graceful finger along the rim of his pint glass.
If Arlo picked up on Lance’s lack of sport’s knowledge, like referring to a softball game as a ‘sporting outing,’ he didn’t correct the flub.
“How was your meeting?” Lance asked Carlos.
Carlos shifted his arm and massaged my neck. “It was good. Yes, I think we are making nice progress.”
Lance knew about Carlos’s meeting?
I caught Carlos and Lance share the briefest of looks.
Carlos avoided my eyes. “Nothing. It was just a meeting with a vendor who may have a new bottling system for us I will fill you in later. We do not need to bore Arlo with talk of work.”
“Don’t mind me,” Arlo said with a smile. “I have my beer and French fries are on the way, so I’m perfectly content.”
Our pre-dinner snacks arrived. We noshed on creamy Rogue Valley cheeses, crusty bread, marinated olives, and pommes frites dipped in a lemon dill aioli.
“You are liking Ashland, yes?” Carlos asked Arlo after spreading a generous helping of blue cheese onto a cracker.
“Absolutely. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever been. If I wasn’t experiencing it myself, I would say it’s too good to be true. The people are nice, the weather is more than nice, the views, the wildlife, and the food. I can’t think of a single negative.”
“Except for the murder,” Lance mumbled under his breath.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be crass,” Arlo apologized. “I should have thought of that. I’m out of the loop, but I have heard a number of people talking about how much the town loved the man who was killed.”
“Don’t give it a thought.” Lance sounded embarrassed. “You’re spot-on about how idyllic Ashland can be, it just so happens that tragedy struck. Not to worry. Juliet and I are on the case. We’re working hand in hand with the police to ensure that all will be made right soon.”
“On the case?” Carlos moved his arm from my shoulder, so he could look directly into my eyes. “You are working with the police?”
“Not officially.” I kicked Lance under the table. “The Professor, as he’s affectionately known around town, is Ashland’s lead detective and happens to be married to my mom,” I explained to Arlo. “He’s like a second dad to me. Sometimes he’ll talk through a case with me, that’s all.”
I tried to kick Lance again, but he scooted closer to Arlo and out of reach.
“And you, Lance?” Arlo asked. “How have you become involved in the investigation?”
Lance shot me his signature Cheshire grin. “That’s classified.”
Carlos’s deep eyes were filled with concern. “It is not dangerous for you to be helping, is it?”
“No, of course not.” I reached for a fry and dipped it in the aioli sauce. “You know the Professor, he would never put me in a dangerous position.”
That seemed to bring Carlos a bit of relief. The only person currently in danger was Lance. I wanted to throttle him for bringing up the subject.
Thankfully, our waiter shifted the topic by checking in to see if our drinks needed refreshing and if we were ready to order dinner. I perused the menu and decided on a green salad with pears, candied walnuts, blue cheese, and grilled chicken. Suddenly I was famished.
Arlo was a great conversationalist. He kept us engaged and off the topic of murder with stories of his various theater travels. Lance hung on his every word.
Carlos added in anecdotes of outlandish requests from passengers. “You would not believe what people will ask for. I had one lady who was furious with me because her spaghetti noodles were too long. Customers they will rewrite the menu. Can I get my sushi cooked, please? Or, I would like fish and chips with no fish.” He bumped his forehead in exasperation.
“The same is true in theater,” Arlo added, catching Lance’s eye and giving him a sly grin. “We can both attest to bearing witness to plenty of mishaps. At one theater I literally had to tell an audience that we hear you, we see you, we even smell you—so please shower and leave your leftovers in the car. Live theater is, well—”
“Live,” Lance answered for him. They had scooted closer together. “Don’t get me started on patrons who show up drunk. A pre-show cocktail is always a great idea.” He paused and raised his glass. “But no one wants a drunk sitting front and center.”
Dinner was masterful. Carlos devoured his pork belly. He was hard to please when it came to food. That was true for most chefs, but he ate every bite on his plate.
“This is most impressive. The chef has a delicate touch. I would like to say hello.”
When we finished, Carlos called the waiter over to ask if he could stop in the kitchen. Arlo excused himself to use the restroom.
“Thanks a lot, Lance. I hadn’t really said much to Carlos yet,” I whispered when they were both out of sight.
“Sorry. Sorry.” Lance threw his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know.”
My cell phone buzzed at that moment. I reached into my bag and saw Thomas’s face on the screen. “It’s Thomas,” I said to Lance.
“You better answer it.”
I answered the call. “Hey, Thomas, one sec. I’m walking outside.” I stood and left the bar so as not to disturb the other diners. The air outside had gone cold. “Okay, I can talk now. What’s up?”
“Jules, where are you?”
“At Alchemy, why?” I didn’t like the solemn tone in Thomas’s voice.
“I’m at your new space. You better get down here quick.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
Were those sirens in the background?
“It’s okay, Jules, no one else has been hurt, but someone has set your kitchen on fire.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Wait, Thomas, it soun
ded like you said that Scoops is on fire.”
“It is, Jules. You should get down here.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “Okay, I’m on my way.” I hung up and ran inside. Lance and Arlo, who had returned to the table, were considering the dessert menu.
“What’s wrong, Juliet? You look like you’ve seen a ghost—or worse—Richard Lord.” Lance chuckled at his own joke.
“It’s Scoops. Someone has set a fire. Thomas is there he wants me to come right away.” My hands shook as I spoke.
“Sit down.” Lance took charge. “I’ll settle the bill and get Carlos. We’ll get you there. You shouldn’t drive in your state.”
I wanted to protest, but followed his advice.
Arlo modeled slow and steady breathing. “Do this with me. In … and … out. In … and … out.”
Panic tried to fight its way to the surface, but I breathed with Arlo. All of the hard work we had put in prepping the new space only to have it go up in flames. Who would do this? And why?
Carlos and Lance hurried to the table.
“Let’s go, Julieta. Lance will drive.” Carlos laced his fingers through mine. “It will be okay. It is just a kitchen, si?”
“Yeah.” I squeezed his hand as we left the restaurant. He was right of course. The important thing was that Thomas had said no one had been hurt, but still we were so close to being ready to open. What if we had to start over?
Lance flew down Pioneer Street. We made it to the Railroad District in less than five minutes. My heart thudded in my chest as we pulled up in front of the shop. Two fire trucks were on the scene, along with Thomas’s squad SUV and the Professor’s unmarked sedan.
“Juliet!” Mom waved from the sidewalk. She was standing near Nana’s Food Truck.
I ran over. “What happened?”
“We don’t know yet, honey.” She hugged me. “Doug and the fire chief are sure that it’s arson. Someone lit a garbage can on fire and set it right in the middle of the counter.”
“How bad is the damage?” I could smell smoke, but didn’t see any flames. From my vantage point all I could see was a pile of rubble and clouds of thick smoke.
“Doug’s in there now. He’s going to give me a report. As you can see, the pergola has collapsed. I don’t know about the rest of the kitchen yet. One of the firefighters I was talking to said he didn’t think it was as bad as it could have been.” Mom pointed to Cyclepath, where Hunter was talking to Thomas and Detective Kerry. “Hunter was working late and smelled smoke. If he hadn’t been here, who knows? The entire kitchen and most likely the yoga studio would have burned. The firefighters were on the scene quickly. I know that there’s some damage, but I don’t think the kitchen is a complete loss.”
“That’s a relief.” I let out a sigh. Then I glanced at the bike shop. Thank goodness Hunter had alerted the fire department.
The Professor came over to us. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Apologies. It’s certainly smokey over there.”
“How bad is it, Doug?” Mom asked.
“The counter and the far wall of cabinets have been badly burned, most likely beyond repair. The pergola is not going to be salvageable, but the equipment appears to be in functional shape. The fire crew is mopping up now. Once they’ve finished you can go have a closer look for yourselves.”
“And they’re sure the fire was intentional?” I asked.
The Professor folded his hands together and frowned. “They are. There is no question about that. Whoever set the fire used your highly flammable paint stain. It was spilled on the counter and splashed on the cabinets to ignite the flames. Without the fast-acting response from the fire crew, the attached studio would have been next. The culprit doused the entire adjoining wall with paint stain.”
“Why?” Mom voiced what I was thinking. “Who would want to sabotage our little ice cream shop?”
“It’s too soon to say, but I highly doubt that you were the target.” The Professor’s eyes traveled across the street. “I need a moment with Thomas and Kerry. I’ll be back shortly.”
He walked away.
“What do you think that means?” I asked Mom as Carlos, Lance, and Arlo approached.
“Addie’s studio?” Mom turned around and looked at the building.
“That’s what I was wondering, too.” I didn’t say more, as Carlos gave Mom a hug. If someone had targeted Addie’s studio, it couldn’t be a coincidence. There had to be a connection with the Wizard’s death. I felt like there was something obvious I was missing. It was like the pieces were laid out for me, I just couldn’t put them together in the correct way.
“Helen, you are okay?” Carlos asked Mom.
She pressed her lips to his hand. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine. In fact, it sounds like the fire was contained quickly.”
“That’s good news,” Lance said.
Arlo hung back.
“Mom, have you met Arlo yet? He’s the new managing director at OSF.”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Arlo extended his hand. “I’m sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances though.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, regardless.” Mom smiled broadly.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Lance asked.
“That’s so kind of you, but no. We have to wait for the fire department to finish cleaning up and inspecting the scene. You should go home. It’s late,” Mom said.
Lance looked to me. “Do you want company, Juliet?”
“No. Mom’s right. Go home. I’ll check in first thing in the morning and let you know where things stand.”
“If you’re sure?” He hesitated.
“Go, Lance.” I stepped forward and kissed his cheek.
He pressed his hand on the spot. “I’m never washing this again.”
Mom tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, Arlo, you have your work cut out for you with this one, don’t you?”
Arlo didn’t miss a beat. “You have no idea.” He threw a palm to his forehead.
“Hey, I’m your ride home. You better watch it.” Lance swatted him.
They left together. I surveyed the scene around us. Flashing lights made it hard to focus. Puffy white smoke—or maybe it was steam—rose from what was once our outdoor kitchen.
The Professor came over again. This time with Thomas and Kerry.
“Well, any more news, Doug?” Mom asked.
“One interesting fact has emerged. Hunter is sure that he saw someone matching the Wizard’s description earlier. He’s reporting that he saw a man in a cape, riding a bike near the shop not long before the fire broke out.”
“So someone is still pretending to be the Wizard even though he’s dead?” I asked out loud.
“It appears that way.” The Professor rubbed the rust-colored stubble on his chin.
Could it be Sky? It made sense on one hand since he had disappeared and before that he’d been hiding out in our kitchen. The sticking point was motive. Why would Sky want to impersonate the Wizard? That didn’t make sense. If anything he had seemed scared to me.
Addie showed up. She must have been stirred from her bed since she was wearing a pair of Uggs slippers and a bathrobe. “What happened?” she shrieked. Her nostrils flared.
“There’s been a fire.”
She glared at the Professor. “Obviously! I mean who did this?”
The Professor explained the strange turn of events in his calm and steady manner. “I often turn to the Bard at times such as this. I find his words insightful. ‘Wisely, and slow, they stumble that run fast.’”
The veins in Addie’s thin neck bulged. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that we must do our duty and investigate with careful consideration.”
“You need to figure out who did this—now!” She jabbed her finger in the air. “I want a name and I want them behind bars tonight.” Addie’s outburst made Mom take a step back.
“I understand your frustration,” the Professor r
esponded in an even yet authoritative voice. “Alas, I’m afraid that’s not exactly how things work in the real world. Perhaps on television, but not here. We have procedures we must follow and an investigation to complete.”
Addie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s unacceptable. Just because I’m a millennial doesn’t mean that I’m an idiot, old man. You obviously need to put a team of people on this now.”
I cringed. That was uncalled for. What Addie likely didn’t understand was that this was Ashland’s team. And, the Professor was hardly an old man, and Addie had some nerve berating him like that when his sole purpose was to help us.
He took it in stride. “I too wish that things were different, and yet they aren’t. As the Bard would say, ‘Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.’”
“I’m not afraid,” Addie shot back. “I’m pissed. Someone tried to burn down my studio. I want them found and in jail. If you’re not going to do it, I’m going to find someone who will.” She didn’t bother to hang around to hear the Professor’s response.
We watched her march toward a group of firefighters.
“She’s not happy,” Mom noted.
“That’s an understatement,” I agreed. “Although, the longer I spend with Addie, the more I think that’s the way she operates in the world. She has a short fuse.”
“Which is so odd given that yoga is her chosen profession.”
The Professor was quiet. I noticed that he was carefully observing Addie’s interactions with the fire crew.
Carlos looped his arm around my waist. “It is late. I think we should go. Let the police and fire complete their work and we can come first thing in the morning. It is too dark to see much tonight, anyway.”
“Wise advice.” Mom gave him an approving smile.
“Indeed, might I beg your help in escorting Helen home,” the Professor asked. “I have the sense that it may be a late night.”
“Of course.” Carlos extended his free hand to Mom. “We will gladly give you a ride.”
Mom turned to the Professor. “Do what you need to do, Doug.”
They shared a sweet kiss. I appreciated their relationship in so many ways, but one of them was how they allowed each other autonomy while still offering support.
Chilled to the Cone Page 16
