Quiche of Death

by Mary Lee Ashford

  Gwen came from the other doorway. She must have been looking for the others.

  “That’s all of us for now.” She touched flushed cheeks. “Theo is resting and Mother Arbor said to get started without her. She’ll join us in a little while.”

  No one even mentioned Tom, so I guess it was a given that he wasn’t part of the decision-making team.

  Usually we try to narrow the field on potential covers, taking the advice from our graphics guru, Liz, that too many choices were overwhelming for most people. In the case of the Arbor family project, I’d taken Liz’s field of ten and knocked it down to eight potential covers.

  They were laid out on the table in no particular order.

  “We can eliminate this one right away.” Jezzie picked up a very stark modern design and moved it to one side.

  “I agree.” Gwen nodded. “It doesn’t fit with your brand at all.”

  “I would think simple would be good.” J.J. moved to the other side of the table to look at the design Jezzie and Gwen had rejected.

  “Shows what you know,” Jezzie replied a little too sharply. “The Arbor Family Foods look is down-home, family, loyalty, simplicity.”

  “But this is for the family,” Lucinda noted in defense of her hubby. “It’s not a corporate cookbook.”

  “Are you saying the family isn’t also those things?” Jezzie plucked a different cover design from the group. “I like this one.”

  She had picked one of the busier covers, with graphics of cooking and baking utensils behind the title. It did have the down-home feel she’d mentioned.

  “J.J., I like your idea about a simple look and feel,” Jonathan chimed in. “But I agree with Jezzie that we need something that’s warmer. More family-like. How about this one?” He held up another sample.

  Jonathan had nailed it. At least in my opinion. The one he’d pulled out was the cover I would have picked for the Arbor family cookbook. It was classy and simple, and yet had warmth and elements that spoke to home cooking.

  Looking around at the group, I saw mostly nods of agreement. I moved the other covers off to the side.

  “What do you think, Mother?” Jezzie turned toward the stairs where Theo held Marta steady so she could navigate the stairs.

  The two approached the table. I grouped the selection of covers so they could both see. I’d thought we had a cover, but maybe not.

  “I like that one.” Marta pointed a thin finger at the one Jonathan had picked a few moments ago. “What do you think, Theo?”

  “I like it.” Theo smiled at the older woman. “You have good taste.”

  Okay, maybe we were still on track.

  “If you go with that cover”—I pulled out a couple of compatible interiors—“this would be the type of inside pages we’d be looking at.”

  I placed the examples by the cover and shoved the rejected covers out of sight.

  It didn’t take long for the group to come to a decision on the inside pages. They were a decisive bunch. Though it was clear they deferred to Marta, which was only right. After all, she and Joe, Sr. had started it all.

  As soon as the decisions were made, everyone scattered. Perhaps with things to take care of, or off to do whatever they’d been doing before we rounded them up. You’d think since they didn’t get to spend time together normally that they’d use this get-together to hang out with each other. I was finding out my fantasies about warm and fuzzy family dynamics were not completely on the mark. Families are complicated, I guess.

  “I’m going to run these back upstairs.” Dixie held up the pile of samples. “So we don’t lose track of what was selected.”

  “Sounds good.” I thought they’d made some good choices.

  I found myself alone in the room with Marta.

  “Is it odd having all your grown children under one roof?” I asked. “I’ll bet it’s been a while since that happened.”

  “Hmm.” She picked at imaginary lint on the skirt of her dress.

  One more thing before I lost my chance. Or lost my nerve. Here goes nothing.

  I took a deep breath. “I’d really like some time to talk with you before we leave.”

  Her head raised up and her dark eyes met mine. “About what?”

  “We like to include some family stories when we do this type of cookbook,” I explained. “Maybe a story about where you got a particular recipe. Or a memory about making it for a special occasion.”

  “Doesn’t sound very interesting to me.” She scooted back in her chair.

  “Trust me, it’s more interesting than you think.” I smiled at her. “It would only take a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” She shrugged. “I’m going upstairs to rest now, but maybe after. Would you find Theo for me?”

  “Absolutely.” I stood.

  Dixie had returned and I asked if she’d seen Theo.

  “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Do you want me to check around for him?”

  “He’s probably gone back to his room.” Marta pointed toward the stairs. “You’ll be able to find it by listening for the whiny dog.”

  Okay, then. Clearly not a Frenchie fan.

  “I’ll check.” I climbed the stairs and sure enough, all it took was a walk along the corridor to identify which room he and Frenchie were sharing.

  I tapped lightly on the door.

  I could hear him say something, probably to the dog, and then the door eased open. “Yes?” His dark hair was tousled and his usually crisp clothes were wrinkled. Maybe he’d been trying to grab a nap to make up for his lack of sleep.

  “Your grandmother would like some help in getting back to her room,” I explained.

  “Oh, okay.” He straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. “No problem.”

  He followed me downstairs where Marta was talking with Dixie.

  Approaching her, he leaned in and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Ready to take a rest, dear heart?”

  “More than.” She smiled up at him.

  He helped her up and crooked an arm. She took hold and they made their way toward the stairs.

  “If you’re ready for that talk after you’ve rested, just let me know,” I reminded. I didn’t want her to forget that she’d given me a semi-commitment.

  Dixie waited until they were all the way up the stairs before she asked, “What was that about?”

  “You know, I’d been wanting some family stories to sprinkle in with the recipes and we’re not getting anything like that at all.”

  “No, I’d hoped there would be more exchange between the family members.” She stood.

  “They all seemed reluctant to ask their mother about talking to her. So, I took the opportunity while everyone else was out to ask her if she’d be willing.”

  “Aren’t you the sneaky one?” Dixie grinned.

  “I just think she’s not quite a fragile as they all think she is,” I said quietly. I felt guilty questioning the other family members’ judgment, but I did believe she was tougher than they thought.

  “Let’s go for a little walk.”

  Dixie gave me a quizzical look. “Are you short on steps?”

  “Now that you mention it, I am.” I glanced at my step-tracker. “Come on.”

  Once we were outside, I told her the real reason I’d wanted to get out of the house. Explaining about walking around the house while I’d been out walking Frenchie and finding the cigarette butt in the bushes. The bushes that were in the area where I’d seen someone lurking, not once, but two nights in a row.

  “Do you think it could have been someone who followed Colette here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what to think.” I shrugged. “I called the sheriff and left a message.”

  “Okay, so now I’m a little creeped out about staying here.” Dixie shivered. “I’m
kind of glad we’re leaving this evening after dinner.”

  “I hear you,” I agreed as we headed back to the house. “Let’s get our business taken care of and then we’ll be out of here faster than two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “I don’t know how fast that is, but I’ll be ready.” Dixie looped her arm with mine.

  Chapter Seven

  Back in our shared room, we packed so that we’d be ready to leave after dinner. I made sure to pack my charger so I didn’t leave it behind. Looking around at the room, I thought about what a difference a day made.

  Gwen had let us know that dinner would be ready at six o’clock. In the interim, I kept thinking Marta would send word she was ready for our talk, but she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t even come down for dinner. Gwen explained the older woman was having a tray in her room. So much for my victory in getting her to agree to talk with me.

  The family had arrived in the dining room at the appointed time, trickling in one at a time. I still found it amazing that Gwen and Jonathan had managed to create the perfect atmosphere for a bed-and-breakfast and still keep the feel of a family home. The warm, rich furnishings, the polished wood floors, and the solid, well-placed antiques all merged to create a luxurious, yet homey feel.

  Gwen’s advertising painted the B and B as a setting with tranquility and relaxation, and up to yesterday, I would have agreed. For the first time I wondered whether having a death occur on the property would affect her business.

  Tonight, the fare was simple: prime rib, roasted rosemary potatoes, fresh green beans. Simple didn’t mean it was unremarkable. The food was perfectly done and mouthwateringly delicious.

  However, it was difficult not to contrast the sober mood with the dinner from two nights ago. Still a beautiful setting and great food. The wine still flowed freely and it appeared Jezzie might have again had a wee bit too much. But this was not the chatty and animated group from the night we’d arrived.

  Hilda had helped Gwen carry serving dishes to the table and then had left the room. I’d wanted to get a chance to speak to her before we left, but was afraid I’d have to try to catch her in the kitchen.

  Theo sat next to me, hunched over, moving the food around on his plate. I didn’t see Frenchie’s carrier so I wondered if he’d left the pup in his room. If he’d raise his head and make eye contact, I would ask him.

  I glanced across the table at Dixie, who was in a discussion with Gwen about some of the recipes. J.J. and Jezzie were having a conversation about a planned business expansion. Jezzie was for it, J.J. was not—or at least that’s what I gathered. The more wine Jezzie had, the louder her voice got, so in short order I’d have more details.

  I reached for my knife and accidentally bumped Theo’s arm. He looked up.

  “Sorry,” I apologized.

  “No problem,” he answered. “I’m afraid I’ve not been very good company.”

  “It’s understandable.” I cut through the tender prime rib. “It’s a tough time.”

  “Mmm.” He finally took a bite of the food he’d been moving around.

  “No word from the sheriff?” I asked.

  “No. Hopefully tomorrow he can get in touch with someone from Colette’s work.”

  “Are you involved with the family business?” I’d assumed he was, but since we’d been at Arbor House it didn’t seem that any of the business discussions involved him. Only J.J. and Jezzie.

  “Not really.” He shook his head. “Mother would like to see me more involved, but…” He shrugged.

  “From what I understand, business is good.”

  “It is.” Theo gave me a sharp look and I wondered what that was about. My comment had been sort of a generic throwaway remark. The kind of thing you say when you really don’t know anything about the topic.

  Finding that subject a dead end, I tried again.

  “I’ve never done archery. Are you an archer like the rest of the family?” The minute the question was out of my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat as I realized how insensitive it was.

  Luckily, Theo didn’t take offense.

  “Not as good as the rest, no,” he responded. “My mother and uncles have been into archery since they were kids. Mostly taught by my grandmother.”

  “Your grandmother?” I was surprised. “I would have thought your grandfather.”

  “No, Grand-mère is the champion in the family. When I was little they used to go on hunting expeditions to Canada.”

  “What?” I couldn’t picture it. “What would they hunt?”

  “Deer, elk, wild turkey,” he answered. “I even remember one time when they went on a bear hunt.”

  “That’s amazing.” More than amazing. I was blown away. And it meant any one of them had the skill to have killed Colette.

  “That right. With Grand-mère leading the way.” Theo smiled. “She’s quite the lady and tougher than she looks.”

  There was a clatter that interrupted conversation as Jezzie dropped her fork onto her plate. “Well, this is a fine time to suddenly take an interest.” She spoke to her brother, but her voice carried down the length of the table.

  J.J. pushed back his chair and started to respond, but was interrupted by Jonathan.

  “Could we leave this until after dinner?” he asked.

  There was a look between the two brothers and then J.J. pulled his chair back up to the table. Jezzie looked from one to the other and took a drink of her wine.

  The family seemed so on edge that I wasn’t sorry we were leaving right after dinner. Dixie and I offered to help clear the table, but Gwen insisted they were fine.

  My guess was after the stress of what they’d been through they were ready to have the house to themselves.

  And who could blame them.

  A death that may or may not be accidental in the middle of what was supposed to be a fun family get-together.

  Memorable. But not your warm and fuzzy memories-to-cherish kind of family reunion.

  * * * *

  As we finished packing up and left Arbor House Sunday evening, Friday night’s dinner seemed a lifetime away. My idealistic view of family and relationships had been called into question more than once. And Dixie and I were more than ready to head home.

  The house was still beautiful, but maybe a little less fairy-like in my eyes. The sunset washed the sky in shades of pink, lighting the house and creating shadows.

  I felt my eyes drawn to the corner of the house where I’d seen someone the past two nights. And I now knew, it hadn’t just been my imagination.

  Gwen and Jonathan were the only ones who came to see us off. The rest of the family had gone back to their solitary pursuits.

  We climbed in the Jeep and waved good-bye. Setting the GPS for home, I turned onto the roadway. We hadn’t gone far when my phone bleeped with a text message.

  I handed it to Dixie. “Would you take a look?”

  She read it and smiled. “It’s Max and he wants to know how things went.”

  “Tell him, it’s a long story and then do one of those smiley faces that isn’t smiling but isn’t frowning.”

  “You mean this one.” She showed me one with hearts for eyes.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “How about this one?” Holding the phone so I could see, she’d picked the one with crazy eyes.

  “That’s probably the most relevant one, but not what I had in mind.” I stayed focused on the road, listening carefully for my prompts from Matilda, my GPS lady. I did not want to get lost.

  “Okay, I’ll stop messing with you.” She made a few keystrokes and hit the button. “There—it’s sent.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How are things going with Max, by the way?”

  “Really great.” I smiled. “Once we relaxed and stopped trying to figure out what our relationship was, we—�
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  “Turn left in one-half mile,” my GPS interrupted.

  “Thanks, Matilda,” I said before continuing.

  Dixie shook her head.

  I ignored her.

  “We both got over ourselves,” I continued my previous answer. “And things got a lot better. We’re taking it slow.”

  “I’m glad you’re figuring things out.” Dixie handed me back my phone.

  “I’m not saying I don’t still get all worried and insecure if I don’t hear from him. And I probably drive him crazy with wanting to know everything he’s doing, every thought he’s thinking,” I explained.

  “I’m sure.” Dixie nodded.

  “Hey, what do you mean by that?” I asked. “We’re working on getting to know each other better and that’s a good place for both of us right now.”

  “You know the whole town thinks differently, don’t you?” She shifted to face me.

  “What do you mean?” I glanced over at her.

  “It goes something like this… You and Max were seen at dinner, and last Saturday you two were also spotted at Travers Jewelry. According to the St. Ignatius grapevine, that is.”

  “Hell’s bells, Dixie,” I huffed. “We did go to dinner, but we were at the jewelry store because Max needed to replace the battery in his watch. It’s a really nice one and he didn’t want to scratch the back trying to do it himself.”

  I turned my head to glare at her.

  “Hey, eyes on the road and please don’t shoot the messenger. I’m only telling you what the gossip is that’s going around.”

  “I’m done talking about Max and me.” I couldn’t believe what people inferred from what they’d seen. “Let’s talk about murder instead.”

  We spent the remaining miles, occasionally interrupted by Matilda giving directions, discussing what we knew and didn’t know about Colette. And what possible motives there could be to kill her.

  That was, of course, if it didn’t end up being an accident.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday morning Dixie was in the kitchen area of Sugar and Spice Cookbooks, putting the final touches on some cupcakes and I was in the office putting the final touches on some bills, when the chime at the front entrance dinged.