“Pets need vets,” he said with authority. “Orville is retired, but he looks after the few around here. He probably has the equipment to check for a chip. Want me to take Sukey over?”
She looked down at the dog in her arms, obviously torn. But like any responsible pet owner, she finally nodded. “She probably ought to be looked at. I don’t know if she’s had shots or anything. I’m not sure how I can pay him.”
“He doesn’t usually take payment. I think he’s hiding out from the IRS.” Monty lifted the mini-dog from her arms. It slurped all over his face until he got her situated. “I’ll tie her to the post when I bring her back, if that’s okay.”
She actually looked up at him. A cloud passed over her crystalline eyes, but she managed a smile. “Thank you.”
Monty felt as if he were ripping out her heart, and she was thanking him for it. Orville had damned well better not find anything wrong with the mutt.
Fiona felt bereft as the mayor carted off Sukey. In her heart, she knew the dog wasn’t hers. But she didn’t think the thugs who had kicked her owned her either. The Yorkie had very intelligently run away, just as Fee had done. Well, she’d not exactly run away. She’d had her destination planned for months. She’d just been waiting for a propitious time. That time had come when she’d been fired and Sukey raced out of the alley.
She was about to go to her room and wash before returning to the café when Amber popped out of her shop and hailed her.
“You have time before the lunch rush for a tarot reading. C’mon over, and I’ll give you some iced chai tea.” Amber gestured at her colorful storefront.
Fee had utterly no desire to have her tarot read. She knew her past. She didn’t need anyone else knowing it. And she had no particular desire to guess what happened next. She believed in free will and didn’t think even a gifted Lucy could predict the future.
But she liked Amber and didn’t want to be too standoffish. “I told Dinah I’d help her bake.” That wasn’t a complete lie. She’d promised to help if asked. She re-directed the conversation in what she hoped was a friendly manner. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but you look familiar to me. Are you someone famous?”
Amber laughed. “I just have one of those faces, I guess. Ask Dinah to please keep baking her gingerbread even though it’s spring.” She returned inside her shop.
Not wanting to appear a complete liar, Fee continued on to the café instead of the peace of her room. She could wash up in the kitchen.
Fortunately, the hiking party had all returned to their homes or to open their shops instead of congregating in the café. Fee didn’t know what to do with her walking stick so she left it hanging on the coat rack inside the door.
The café was mostly deserted except for a few coffee drinkers, as Dinah had predicted. Fee wondered if customers picked up in the summer months. She had enough business classes to understand a restaurant had a certain dollar amount it needed to earn per seat to make a profit. She hoped Dinah’s rent was low—or maybe that was how Monty meant to shut her down. Crap.
“Teddy says she wants three kinds of wedding cakes for her reception,” Dinah said the instant Fiona entered the kitchen, making her glad she’d returned. “They gonna have hundreds of people at Delphines, and she wants something for everyone. If we do this right, she’s hoping we can make Hillvale a wedding venue. How good are you at cakes?”
A wedding venue would increase business. She could get behind that.
“I’ve never made a wedding cake, but I know how to pipe icing, if that’s what you’re asking.” Fee donned an apron and sifted through her mental recipe box. “I once made a lemon and raspberry cake with vanilla buttercream icing. That thing was so rich, it didn’t need fancy decorations.”
“That’s it,” Dinah said triumphantly. “I hate white cakes. I do chocolate bourbon and spice, but white is just nasty. Only that’s what they all want for the pictures. You get that recipe, and I’ll order up the ingredients when I make my list. The resort will make the sheet cakes for us, but we’ll bake the big one here.”
Fee grimaced. She didn’t want to explain how she worked with her sense of smell, but she didn’t want to let Dinah down either. Or Teddy. A wedding cake had to be special, and that required her nose. “How big does the main wedding cake need to be?”
“Just make it pretty and taste good, three layers anyway. I’ll do the same with my chocolate and spice and the resort can follow our recipes.” Dinah clucked to herself as she put rolls in the oven.
As long as she had enough materials on hand, Fee didn’t have to write out measurements. That worked. She scribbled her list of ingredients. She’d give the resort bakers the base recipe. That would have to do. “Do you have enough baking pans for three cakes of that size?”
A reception for hundreds! Fee thought she might swoon in delight. She’d been working in kitchens since she was a kid—doing her best to please her foster families. Since then, she’d helped with family parties and restaurant galas. She’d worked with caterers who had fed hundreds—but she’d not been in charge of any part of it.
“Have you ever fed hundreds at once?” Fee asked as she handed over her grocery list.
“I cooked for a governor’s mansion once. I can manage.” Dinah gestured at the refrigerator. “We need to start on lunch—get out three hamburger patties, four chicken patties, and a veggie burger.”
There was no way she could ever replace Dinah. But at least she was in good hands. Delighted that Dinah was trusting her with a few kitchen duties, Fee took out the ingredients for the café’s regulars. She put the veggie burger in a skillet by itself and threw the rest on the big griddle. “Does no one in this town cook for themselves?”
“Mariah’s nesting, so she’s been fixing some at home. But Pasquale’s grocery is small and doesn’t keep much frozen or fresh, so there ain’t much but basics without a run into town. It’s like feeding a camp of hungry kids some days.”
Nesting? Fee figured that meant the black-braided woman was pregnant. Tall and athletic, she hadn’t looked it. “Mariah is the one married to Keegan?” she asked tentatively.
Dinah cackled as she sliced tomatoes. “At Christmas. Reckon they weren’t planning on making it official so soon, him being Scots and not even a citizen yet. But it’s good to see that girl settle down. Her daddy is old Thomas. Mr. Kurt got him acting as maître d’ at Delphines. Keep this up, and we’ll have reg’lar families again.”
Fee would like to go through the front door of Delphines sometime, as a patron instead of a cook, just to see what it was like. The fanciest place she’d ever eaten had been the kitchen in a San Francisco mansion when she’d been working with the caterer.
Even wealthy mansions had people who smelled wrong, although not as fishy as the cartel. The rich covered up their crookedness better, she supposed. Or maybe different levels of crime had different odors.
These were the kind of things she’d like to have time to think about, if life would just quit throwing rotten apples at her.
She was filling water glasses at the counter when Mayor Monty entered. She glanced over his head to the big window and saw Sukey tied to a post, happily gnawing on a dog treat. The Yorkie was wearing a fresh new scarf. Fee relaxed a smidgeon and dared flash the hunk a smile. “Did Orville find anything?”
Monty took a stool and gulped the water she offered. “Nope.”
Fee breathed a sigh of relief—that meant Sukey was hers.
“Orville looks big and mean and talks gruff, but he’s a softy. He checked her all over, gave her a bath, and found a smaller collar and leash, said that other one would have hurt her neck.”
“Does he ever come to town? I really need to thank him.”
“For breakfast. Otherwise, he only shows up occasionally to throw his weight around. You’d embarrass him if you said anything. Just remember he’s good when he says something bad.” Monty swiveled to acknowledge someone clasping his shoulder.
Fiona returned to taking ord
ers, uncertain how to feel about this extraordinary town where people actually looked after each other. There had to be a dark side. Remembering Peggy and the snake-bit guy and occasional mention of no more bodies, please, might indicate there was more to Hillvale than appeared.
Aaron, her landlord, showed up after the lunch crowd tapered off. He sat down in a booth with Monty, who was still there, talking business with his brother and several others Fee didn’t recognize. The Kennedys in their tailored shirts and gold watches fit right in with the two city suits across from them. In black turtleneck and blazer, Aaron had a more creative style.
Desperately wanting to keep her neat new accommodations, Fee hurried over with a water glass and her order pad.
She checked out the window while she was there, reassuring herself that Sukey was happily sleeping in a sun spot.
She wanted to offer her gratitude again to both Monty and her landlord, and tell Aaron that she’d happily dust his inventory, if he liked, but she was intimidated by the smell of wealth in the booth. The odor of rich leather and cologne often covered the rankness of dirty money. To Fee, the two city businessmen smelled like Dinah’s cash register.
From experience, she knew her best method of showing appreciation was through her food. She set down Aaron’s water glass. “You look as if you could use a salmon salad today. Dinah has a nicely seasoned piece already cooked, if you’re interested.”
She’d learned as a child not to say You smell as if you could use a salmon salad. She was far more experienced at not mentioning her idiosyncrasies these days.
Aaron had big deep brown eyes a woman could drown in, if not careful. But his scent didn’t appeal to her as the mayor’s did, so she thought she was safe with him.
He wrapped his long fingers around the glass she’d given him, jerked slightly, and narrowed his eyes to study her. “Yes, salmon, thank you. Tell Dinah you need the afternoon off to come with me and Monty to look at the hit-and-run car.”
She hadn’t seen that coming. Even Monty turned to stare.
Aaron didn’t explain. Fiona fled to the kitchen.
Her mind screamed questions she couldn’t put words to, even if she dared ask, which she didn’t. She prepared the salad and dressing herself, raising Dinah’s eyebrows as well. But when she was nervous, she fixed food. The scent of celery soothed her. A mild touch of garlic, a little thyme, a dash of pickle juice. . . and her rattled nerves calmed.
The dish apparently passed Dinah’s approval. She let Fiona carry it out without saying a word.
“Why?” Fee dared to ask once she reached the table, newly courageous now that she’d calmed down.
Aaron pointed at his water glass and kept his voice low. “I can read your touch the way you read my smell.”
Fee nearly dropped the salad in his lap. He caught it before it tipped.
He could read her touch? A man was weird like she was?
He knew about her ability to smell weird things?
A million questions bounced inside her skull, but the mayor’s glare told her she was about to wear out her welcome real fast.
The strangers got up with Kurt Kennedy to pay their bills, and she hurried to the register to take their money, escaping the mayor’s disapproval.
Aaron couldn’t know what food she wanted. That’s what she did—translated smells into food. So what did her landlord read about her? Her mind?
That almost terrified her enough to send her fleeing down the mountain again.
Eight
Wednesday
“What the hell did you say to her, Townsend? Fiona looks as if she’s ready to bolt,” Monty muttered to the too-damned sophisticated antique dealer.
Aaron had shifted to the seat across from him after the bankers departed. Keeping their mother separate from the corporation’s business dealings meant Kurt and Monty had to meet bankers away from the lodge restaurant. The bankers seemed happier at Dinah’s anyway. Carmel’s demands had become exhausting for all.
“Harvey’s right. Our new waitress is another Lucy,” Aaron said complacently, digging into his salad.
Crap damn.
Monty shoved aside the soup he’d ordered and wondered if he could pretend not to have heard Aaron. He didn’t want the only normal woman in town to be a Lucy.
Of course she was a Lucy. Hillvale was a crazy magnet. If he believed in Lucy craziness, he’d believe the stars were telling him to get out of town now.
“You’re telling me you read Fee’s mind from touching your water glass or something funky like that, aren’t you?” Monty said with a sigh of resignation. “Could you just make it simple? Tell me she’s a murderer, and we should call Walker.”
Aaron raised a pointed eyebrow and finished chewing before replying. “She’s scared and angry and that leaves a strong impression. I picked up an image of her dog and a bike that looks a lot like Peggy’s—and the one she’s parked in my storeroom. I detected vague vibrations of worry and appreciation, but whatever inspires those aren’t strong enough to leave images. Only TV sitcoms are simple.”
“Just shoot me now,” Monty muttered. Then realizing that Aaron seeing images didn’t make Fiona a Lucy, he relaxed. “So you think she’s a Lucy because she leaves images on your water glass?” He was prepared to laugh over that.
“No, I think she’s a Lucy because she knew exactly how I like my salmon and that I was feeling out of sorts and needed a piece of home. I used to live on the coast.” Aaron cut a piece of his fish and chewed it with an expression of satisfaction—an unusual look on the saturnine dealer’s face.
That didn’t even make sense for a Lucy. Monty dismissed the notion and returned to the more concrete impression of dog and bike, because he’d seen them in real life. As had Aaron, so that hocus-pocus stuff didn’t fly. “So the bike and dog mean we need to take her with us why?”
“I’m not sure,” Aaron admitted. “I don’t know how her talent works. I just feel as if there could be a connection between her and Peggy and the bike and the dog. And if she has a gift, she might pick up something I don’t.” Reluctantly, he added, “And maybe it’s not safe to leave her alone.”
That was something Monty could get his hands around. “I recognized the snakebite guy as one of the men sneaking around outside Dinah’s kitchen last night. There may be something in that. I don’t think I can persuade Fiona to talk if we’re both in the car though.”
Aaron shrugged. “You drive her down, work your charm. I’ll follow in my van. I have a few antique pieces to pick up anyway. And maybe I’ll buy another security camera for the alley.”
Monty shoved away from the booth. “My guess is that, after your demand, she’s currently figuring out how to grab her dog and run. I don’t advise telling her about security cameras or she’ll really freak. I’ll play Mr. Nice Guy and settle her down. She may need us.”
“That’s the impression I’m getting,” Aaron said with complacency, returning to his salad.
Monty stopped at the register, forcing Fiona to come to him. When she silently took his money without looking at him, he leaned his hip against the counter and began smoothing troubled waters. “Aaron’s a Lucy. You can take what he says with a grain of salt. But I owe him a favor, so I told him I’d satisfy his curiosity and provide a chance to investigate that Jag. Walker said the cops are done with it, and it’s just sitting in the lot, waiting for the owner or his insurance company to pick it up. Peggy deserves our doing everything we can to find her killer.”
She gave him a cautious, sideways glance. “Why does he want me to go?”
Monty shrugged. “Mine is not to reason why Lucys do anything. At least Aaron isn’t saying Peggy’s ghost is haunting him.” He gestured at the nets on the ceiling. “Those are Mariah’s ghostcatchers. She says spirits cling to Hillvale more than to other places.”
Fiona’s lips almost curled in the corner. “Ghosts? I know Hillvale is famous for them, but I thought it was some kind of tourist attraction. Gilmore has garlic. Hillvale h
as ghosts.”
“It is. You should have been here at Halloween. We pack the town. Not that anyone ever sees ghosts but the Lucys, so who’s to know what’s actually there, right?”
She thought about that and her almost-smile slipped away. Monty wanted to see her happy and laughing. He bet her fey face came alive then. Before she could throw obstacles in his path, he continued, “Aaron’s driving down in his van. I’ll take you down to make him happy. If you have any shopping to do, there’s a discount store not far from police headquarters.”
She didn’t look pleased, but she nodded. “There’s cell reception down there? I need to call my friend and arrange to have my things sent up here.”
Monty straightened. “Where? We’ll have Aaron pick them up if they’re anywhere in his driving distance.”
She looked reluctant. “I don’t want to be more obligated to him than necessary.”
He read that as not wanting to let him know more about her. He backed off. “OK, then. It slows down in here by two. We’ll come get you then.” He read her glance at the window and added, “We’ll take the dog too.”
Fiona nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. Monty didn’t need super Lucy powers to understand she was alone and scared, and she didn’t know or trust him or anyone. But without a last name, he couldn’t ask Mariah to use her super computer powers to look up the waitress. He wondered if Walker had demanded Fee’s ID, but Monty figured his police chief would have told him if he’d uncovered anything interesting.
Which reminded him he should ask about the snake-bite victim’s condition. He’d like a few questions answered.
Fiona had polished the counter and helped Dinah clean up the kitchen by the two o’clock deadline. Cleaning didn’t distract her nearly as much as cooking, but Dinah didn’t need her help preparing for the evening meal at Delphines.
So Fee distracted herself with hopes that the cook would be so overwhelmed operating two facilities that she’d someday trust Fee with the café. Everyone needed a dream, and that one wasn’t totally impractical. If business increased, Dinah would need a bigger kitchen and more help—if Fee didn’t make one of her characteristic missteps causing Mayor Monty to shut things down. So, she’d best stay on his good side.
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