Quiche of Death

by Mary Lee Ashford

  “Go for it.” Theo ambled to the coffee service, poured a cup, and took a long sip.

  “Any luck in contacting Colette’s family?” Lucinda asked.

  “None.” Theo sat down at the table. “I reached out to some of her friends from work, but they didn’t have any information. They suggested calling the human resources office at the company where she worked. I’ll call tomorrow when they’re open and have them check her emergency contact info.”

  “That seems like a good idea.” Lucinda took another bite.

  I was wishing I hadn’t been so quick to volunteer to take Frenchie out. I was afraid I’d miss out on any other news. Theo seemed in a sharing state of mind this morning.

  I coaxed Frenchie out of the carrier and snapped her leash on. Dixie started to get up.

  “You go ahead and finish your food.” I motioned her to sit back down. “I’ll just pop out with Frenchie here and be right back.” I tried to telegraph that she should stay put and listen in for the latest news.

  Frenchie seemed excited to get out of the house, and we took a quick walk down the side of the parking lot so she could do her business.

  Once we’d done our loop, I walked Frenchie toward the area where I’d thought I’d seen someone that past two nights. There were huge green hostas and big blue hydrangea bushes planted along the side of the house, and a slight dip in the elevation at the back.

  Stopping at the corner, I looked around, careful to keep a grip on Frenchie’s leash. We walked the area. I don’t know what I expected, but there was no evidence of anyone having been hanging out by the house.

  The flowers on the hydrangea bush were a sweet floral and I leaned into inhale the scent. As I did, I noticed a cigarette butt on the ground at the root of the bush.

  Thinking DNA and identification, although a secretive smoker was not necessarily a killer, I didn’t want to contaminate the evidence. Leaving it in place, I hurried back to the front of the house.

  We were headed back to the entrance when a car pulled into the drive. Stepping onto the grass to make sure the pooch and I were out of the way, I watched the dark blue Buick pull forward into a parking place.

  J.J. got out and pocketed the keys, heading for the house. Had he not even seen me?

  Frenchie and I followed on his heels as he climbed the steps to the front porch and then went inside. Opening the door, I kept Frenchie on the leash, not sure if I could trust her to roam free or not. And for that matter, I wasn’t sure what the house rules were about pets.

  I stopped to slip off my shoes. I’d collected a bit of grass clippings when I’d moved off the parking lot surface and into the grass.

  J.J. dropped the car keys on a small table and continued on.

  The group in the dining room greeted him and Gwen pointed him toward the food.

  “Were they able to find the problem?” Lucinda asked.

  “They were and the brakes are now as good as new,” J.J. answered. “Though it may be time to trade. I think that car is jinxed.”

  “Now, almost everything is fixed.” Lucinda smiled. “It’s almost new.”

  “Any news?” he asked Theo as he passed by him on his way to get a plate.

  “None.” The guy looked a little more pulled together than he had earlier. But either being more with it or his uncle’s presence seemed to have made him less talkative.

  “Good morning, Mother Arbor.” Gwen set aside her laptop and stood. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  She moved forward to take Marta’s arm as the older woman made her way slowly down the staircase. J.J. set his plate aside and came forward to help.

  “Mostly I need coffee.” The octogenarian echoed Theo’s earlier sentiment. Her sharp dark eyes surveyed the room as J.J. and Gwen helped her cross to one of the easy chairs near the table. Her gaze landed on Frenchie.

  “What are you going to do about that dog?” She turned her head to look at Theo. “I could hear her whimpering late into the night.”

  I hadn’t heard the pooch, but Marta’s room was probably on the second floor and closer to Theo’s room.

  “We’re still trying to track down Colette’s family.” Theo poured a cup of coffee and took it to his grandmother. “I hardly slept at all.”

  “No luck with her friends?” Marta asked.

  Theo looked at her over the rim of his cup. “None.”

  She reached over and patted his hand. “We’ll sort it out.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was clear the matriarch of the family doted on her grandson. And, unlike his mother, she didn’t blame him in any way for the tragedy.

  Gwen had put together a plate for Marta and set up a small table for her use. Theo stayed near her side and they talked quietly. He coaxed the poodle back in her carrier and closed the door.

  The family members who’d been there for breakfast seemed ready to scatter and I wasn’t sure what the plan was for the day. I had finished my coffee and enjoyed that slice of banana bread, which was worth every single calorie, by the way.

  I wanted to be sensitive to what they were going through, but on the other hand they’d asked us to continue with the project.

  Leaning over to Dixie, I said quietly, “I need to run back to our room to make a phone call. While I’m there I’ll grab that packet of cover samples that Liz sent us.” Liz was a local graphic designer we’d used on most of our cookbooks. She always managed to somehow understand the overall essence of a project which has a huge impact on the finished product. For the Arbor family project, I felt like she’d nailed it. I hoped they thought so, too.

  “Good idea,” she agreed. “Maybe we can get a few decisions out of the way, and then if they’ll let us take the recipe cards with us, we can get out of their hair.”

  “It’s worth a try.” I gave her a thumbs-up.

  Chapter Six

  I met Hilda on the stairs on my way to our room to pick up the cover samples.

  “That poodle seems to like you,” she commented.

  The woman carried a small tote of cleaning supplies and took the stairs slowly, one step at a time. “Maybe she could stay in your room, instead of with Theo,” she continued. “Then she won’t cry all the time.”

  “I feel bad for her.” I followed Hilda up the stairs. “It’s got to be confusing to a dog that the person she’s most attached to is suddenly gone.”

  “Imagine so.” She shifted the tote to her other hand.

  “Do you clean the rooms as well?” I asked. “I thought from what Gwen said, you mainly help with the baking and occasionally with the serving. That banana bread was amazing, by the way.”

  “That’s one of my recipes.” She almost smiled. “Simple. Turns out every time.”

  “It certainly turned out today. I confess I snuck a second piece.”

  “Glad you liked it.” Again, not quite a smile but a small twitch at the side of her mouth told me she was pleased at the compliment.

  “So, if you’re not cleaning…” I left off the rest of the statement, hoping she’d fill in the blank.

  “Police are done with Theo’s fiancée’s room.” She nodded down the hallway. “Gwen’s busy. Theo’s a basket case. I told them I’d take care of packing up the girl’s things.”

  “That would be hard.” I hadn’t thought about Theo having to deal with packing all of Colette’s things. And what would they do with them when they hadn’t identified any family members. “Would you like some help?”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged.

  That wasn’t a no, so I followed her down the hallway. Hilda opened the door and I stepped in behind her.

  The police had either left a mess when they went through the room or Colette had been a bit of a slob in the short time she’d been there. Clothing was draped over the bed, the brocade fainting couch, and even the lamp. Hilda located a
suitcase that had been stashed in the closet and laid it open on the bed.

  I plucked the purple silky robe off the chaise, carefully folded it, and placed it in the suitcase. Hilda started on the closet, taking things off the hangers, folding them and adding them to the suitcase.

  Theo had never mentioned what Colette did or where she worked, but looking at some of the labels, it was clear that she’d had expensive taste. Some of the brands were ones I hadn’t shopped even when I’d been part of the corporate world. Some of the scarves she had undoubtedly cost more than my whole wardrobe. And then there were the shoes. Not sure how many pairs you need for a weeklong stay at a rural bed-and-breakfast, but Colette had made sure she had any situation covered. And, to top it off, there were six purses of various colors and sizes.

  I was sure the police had checked pockets and bags when they’d searched the room, but I couldn’t help but pat down jackets and sweaters and peek in purses as I went. All empty. It looked like if they’d found anything, they’d taken it with them.

  The bright pink coat Colette had worn when she arrived had slipped off its hanger and fallen on the floor of the closet. Hilda pulled it out and shook it. And then laid it aside.

  I picked it up. “I can’t help but think if she’d been wearing this coat that she might have been more visible. And maybe would still be alive.” I reached out and patted the coat, checking the pockets. “I wonder why she chose a different jacket.”

  “Not even a different one of her own. Though she had plenty.” Hilda waved a hand at the growing stack beside the suitcase.

  “What do you mean, not her own?” I asked, picking up yet another scarf and doubling it over.

  Hilda had moved on to the dresser, opening the top drawer. “She must have gotten downstairs and then realized she needed a jacket. Then I guess she may have taken one from the hooks by the back door,” she explained over her shoulder.

  “Oh, no.” I stopped mid-fold.

  I didn’t know that the pink coat would have made any difference at all, but it seemed sad that a split-second decision to borrow a coat that blended in with the landscape could have cost the poor girl her life.

  In addition to Colette’s luggage, a pastel pink case embroidered with Frenchie’s name held doggy toys and grooming items. I set it by the door. What would happen to poor Frenchie was still up in the air. I held out hope that a dog-loving family member would be found, but in the interim, Theo might be able to use some of the dog toys. It was clear the guy didn’t have a lot of experience with dogs.

  I helped Hilda get the suitcase closed and off the bed. We placed it along with Colette’s matching train case of jewelry and cosmetics by the door.

  “Thank you.” She dropped to the end of the chaise, eased off one shoe, and rubbed her foot. “It was easier with help.”

  “You’re welcome.” I patted her shoulder. “I’m happy to make myself useful.”

  “What’s next for you and your friend?” she asked. “I hear they want to go forward with the cookbook.”

  “They do, but I’m having trouble getting them to focus.” I suddenly realized how that sounded. “Sorry. Don’t get me wrong. What happened was awful and it’s understandable everyone is thrown for a loop. Who wouldn’t be, right?”

  “Don’t worry.” She shook her head. “I know what you mean. But they would have been unfocused even without this. That’s the way they are.”

  “You’ve known the family a long time, then?” I sat on the edge of the bed.

  “A long time ago when we were all kids. We were in school together.” She continued to rub her foot. “Then the Arbor food business hit the big time and they moved away. I was glad to see this place taken on by some of the family. Jon and Gwen have fixed it up real nice.”

  “How did you come to work here?”

  “I retired from teaching a couple of years ago and moved back to the area. I’d been looking for something part-time. A teacher’s retirement only goes so far.”

  “And you’re a great cook,” I added.

  “Gwen needed some help in the kitchen when they first opened, and a neighbor told her I might be interested.”

  “And they remembered you?” It seemed possible. Though Hilda looked older, if they were in school together, they might remember.

  “Not at all. Jon was younger than me and was pretty little when they moved away.”

  “How about the older siblings?” I asked.

  “No. J.J. has always had his head in the clouds even as a kid. Jezzie was a year behind me in school, and I guess we really didn’t hang out with the same crowd.”

  “Hmm.”

  I was still disappointed they didn’t remember Hilda. I’d moved around a lot so I hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from my childhood, other than cousins. But I’d always imagined if you had roots in a place that it would be different.

  “Doesn’t bother me.” She reached down to put her shoe back on and winced.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “That looks painful.”

  “It’s fine. I have a bad corn.” She tugged the shoe on. “It gives me fits from time to time. I should’ve worn different shoes.”

  “Can I help you lug these somewhere?” I pointed at the suitcases.

  “No, Gwen said just to leave them here.”

  “All right then, I’m headed up to my room to get the paper samples and we’ll see if I can corral enough Arbor family members to make a decision on the cover.” I winked at her.

  “Good luck with that.” This time it was a real smile.

  * * * *

  Climbing the stairs to the third floor, I considered Colette and her personal belongings. The fact was there’d been not much personal in what we packed up. Was that because the forensics team had taken anything personal when they searched her room? Or was it that Colette herself was a bit of a mystery?

  I called Sheriff Terry’s number and left him a message about the cigarette butt I’d discovered by the house. I wondered if I should put it in a baggie or something, but decided I’d wait for him to call me back.

  Pulling the bag of materials from where I’d stashed them under the bed so they’d be out of the way, I dumped them out on top of the quilted spread. Sorting them out, I selected the cover samples and a few of the paper samples to take downstairs with me.

  We’d planned to have this discussion with the family group the first day of our stay, but yesterday had, as my Aunt Cricket would say, gone to hell in a handbasket.

  The day seemed to be warming up, so I swapped my sweater for a cotton top, ran a brush through my hair, and touched up my lipstick.

  “Straighten your shoulders, suck in your stomach, put some color on, and get to it!” I said to myself in the mirror.

  That one was not from Aunt Cricket; it was directly from my mama. Classic Cate Sugarbaker.

  Picking up the samples, I started back downstairs. When I reached the second floor, I heard a door open. I was sure someone had just gone in the room that had been Colette’s. I stood for a few minutes, waiting to see if they would come back out, but everything was quiet. Stopping outside the door, I listened, but couldn’t hear anyone moving around inside.

  I waited a few more minutes, but decided I couldn’t lurk in the hallway any longer. Taking the stairs, I reached the first floor, where Dixie was engaged in a conversation with Lucinda about family farms. Dixie’s family had been in farming for several generations and Lucinda had come across background during research of her own family that suggested they might have been part of early farm settlements in Iowa.

  Lucinda got up to refill her coffee and Dixie leaned toward me. “What took you so long?”

  I glanced around. Everyone else had gone except for Jonathan, who was flipping through photos on his iPad.

  “Sorry. I helped Hilda pack up Colette’s things,” I whispered. “I thought there might
be some clues there, but it looks like the forensics people took anything like that.”

  “That because it’s their job.” She bit her lower lip. A sure sign that she wanted to say more. “Shall we see if the group is up to even talking about the cookbook?”

  “I’ll track down Jezzie and Gwen.” I put my packet of materials on the table. “You see if you can keep Lucinda and Jonathan here.”

  “Got it.” She reached for the samples.

  Gwen had disappeared since I’d been upstairs, but now that I knew where her office was, I knew where to look. The kitchen was empty, so I slipped down the short hallway. She was at her desk, but on the phone.

  She held up a slim finger.

  I waited while she finished the conversation and then explained what Dixie and I were looking for in terms of decisions about the finished product. We’d talked about it before we’d taken on the project but it had been a while, and I didn’t know how much information she had shared with the rest of the family. She’d been our point person.

  “I think I can round up the family members.” She stood. “Or least the ones that have an interest in the cookbook. I’m afraid Tom is only interested in his golf game or his futures. And Theo—well, poor Theo is understandably focused on other things.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I hope asking to get these decisions out of the way isn’t inappropriate. We don’t want to push.”

  “Oh, no, not at all.” She picked up her cell phone and dropped it in the pocket of the gauzy jacket she wore. “We could use something else to talk about right now.

  “I’ll meet you in the dining room with everyone I can track down.”

  “Sounds good.” I headed back to the dining room.

  Dixie had managed to hang onto Lucinda and Jonathan. I cleared newspapers and random glasses from the table and laid out the cover papers and some examples.

  “I’m told I need to be here.” Jezzie walked in from the kitchen entrance and looked over the items on the table.

  J.J. was right behind her. He took a pair of glasses from his pocket and joined her in perusing the cookbook materials.