by Ellery Adams
Earl stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands dry with a dishcloth. “Sounds pretty boring.” He winked at Cooper. “But, Coop, you have had an exciting few days.”
“I’m not sure exciting is the word I’d use,” Cooper replied. As she spoke, she tried to memorize every inch of her home, every look on her daddy’s face, every tone in Grammy’s voice. She didn’t want to let any of it slip away. She continued. “Lest you all forget, I didn’t volunteer to have my truck broken into and Daddy’s camera stolen. I don’t have to worry about that anymore, at least. The police are in charge of finding who did it, although they probably won’t. And the insurance company is replacing my window and sending a check for a new camera.”
“Then you can take it easy tonight.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. I have plans.”
“Date with Nathan?” Grammy asked.
“A cooking class with the Bible study group. We’re going to learn to make something French and find out from Nathan’s sister all she can tell us about Sinclair’s death.”
“I’ve been to a few cooking classes,” Maggie said. “But I don’t think I’ve ever discussed murder at any of them.”
“Yes, well, you know my friends. We like to do things a little differently.”
• • •
Cooper walked into the classroom, apron in hand and hair in a tight ponytail at her mama’s suggestion. “Safer to have your hair up in the kitchen,” Maggie had said, and she didn’t have to tell Cooper twice. Cooper knew her way around office equipment, but Maggie was the one with the kitchen expertise.
Quinton, Jake, and Savannah stood at a large granite-topped island, and Quinton waved when he saw her enter.
“I staked out this table for us,” he said. “Just enough room for the group and your plus one.”
“Plus one?” Savannah asked. “Who else is coming?”
“I am,” came a voice behind Cooper.
Cooper turned to see Christine and Nathan approaching, and her mind instantly turned to Nathan’s news. She pushed the thought away, though, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t be sad or worried. She would enjoy the cooking class . . . and learn as much as she could to help Christine.
Christine continued. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t want to crash your party.”
Quinton waved off her concern. “Not at all. The more the merrier!”
“Cooper and Nathan thought this would be a good time to talk about what happened . . . about Sinclair.”
“Oh?” Jake asked, a curious eyebrow raised. “What do we need to talk about?”
“About that . . .” Cooper drew in a deep breath. She’d told Quinton the plan when she’d called about adding another person to the class, but no one else was expecting tonight to consist of French cuisine with a side of homicide. “Looks like McNamara doesn’t believe the suicide theory, and it seems Christine is his number-one suspect. So Christine is going to tell us everything she can about Sinclair and that day at the park, so we can help her out, should the inspector choose to launch a full-scale murder investigation.”
“We do have quite a bit of experience in that area,” Jake quipped. “Not that I’d brag about that.”
“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Savannah said. “Christine’s a lovely girl. She shouldn’t have to face this alone. We’ll do what we can to make the process as painless as possible for her.”
Christine’s face relaxed. “Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that. I could use all the help I can get. I’m honestly terrified of an investigation.”
“There’s no reason for you to be afraid,” Quinton replied. “Unless you’re guilty, of course.”
Christine shook her head. “That’s not my worry. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I don’t want to be accused of murder. I don’t want to be investigated by the police. No one would ever look at me the same again. I’m not sure I’d look at myself in the mirror the same way again after that. How could anyone think that I’m a killer?”
Suddenly, Bryant was at the table with them. Cooper hadn’t even seen him come in. Trish was on his heels.
“What did I miss?” Bryant asked.
Nathan repeated their plan for the evening, and both Bryant and Trish nodded approvingly. Trish put her arm around Christine’s shoulders. “We’ll help you through it. No worries. I can’t promise the same about the cooking class, though.”
A pudgy middle-aged woman strode to the front of the class. She wore a bright white apron and a tall chef’s hat, and she struck a metal pot with a wooden spoon, the resulting sound being very gong-like. The room fell silent.
“Welcome to French Cuisine for Beginners,” she said. Her broad smile was exaggerated by cherry red cheeks. “I’m Chef Vera, your instructor and guide on this culinary adventure. I see some new faces today, along with our regulars. Welcome, everyone. Tonight we’ll be making that famous, scrumptious French cookie, the madeleine.”
She went on to demonstrate how to measure and mix the ingredients, spoon the mixture into a madeleine pan—specially molded to form flawlessly shaped cookies—and bake to perfection. Then she directed the class to make their own cookies.
As the Bible study group began to measure their ingredients, Cooper turned to Christine. “How about you start by telling us what you told McNamara about that day at the park.”
Christine closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, then cracked an egg into her mixing bowl and began. “We met in the morning in the parking lot. It was around nine. By the time I arrived at five till, Sinclair and Kenneth were there. Mandy came next. Dave and Nala arrived together after that with breakfast sandwiches. They said they were late because they had to wait on the sandwiches, but we could all tell they’d been fighting.”
“Do they fight a lot?” Jake asked, a little flour cloud rising from his bowl.
“All the time. About everything. I don’t know the whole story, but I guess their marriage has been on the rocks for a while. According to Mandy, Dave moved into his own apartment, and they just carpool to keep up appearances.”
“Is that true?”
“Who knows? Mandy’s pretty self-involved, so she doesn’t pay attention out of concern. Mandy just listens so she can spread rumors.”
Nathan stared at the utensils in the middle of the island. “Which of those is a zester?” Quinton handed him the proper tool, and he began to zest a bright fresh lemon. “So sis, what exactly did you do at the park? When we saw you on the trail, you gave the impression the day was booked pretty solid.”
Christine nodded, absentmindedly beating her eggs. “Sinclair had activities planned the whole day. He wanted it to be more than just a fun outing. He really wanted a mini work retreat. Emphasis on work. He wanted us to come together as coworkers and really bond. Plus, we’re all involved in an office fitness challenge, so all of us were on board with the physical activity. We hiked a couple trails. We swam and did team-building games out by the lake. Sinclair even planned a scavenger hunt for us.”
Quinton measured sugar and added it to his bowl. “Doesn’t sound like a man about to kill himself.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Christine replied. Her voice cracked. “I never saw any signs. But back to that day. After lunch, we played touch football out on the lawn. Then we talked a little about work, about our goals for the office. Sinclair’s was to move us to a larger space, so we can hire more employees. He had some group ice breakers planned, and we broke off into pairs with ‘getting to know you’ questionnaires.”
Cooper’s heart broke for poor Christine. Even talking about Sinclair was difficult for her, and it wasn’t any wonder. The whole situation was terrible.
Bryant accidentally smashed an egg on the island and wiped his hands on his apron. “What’s a ‘getting to know you’ questionnaire, anyway?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve done those silly question-and-answer games to learn interesting things about people. Like . . . Dave’s really into techno thriller novels. Nala wants to travel Europe
by rail. Mandy used to do floral arrangements. Kenneth was engaged in college, but it fell through. That sort of thing. Anyway, around four, Sinclair let us split up for a little while. Some of us really wanted to see the artisan booths, and some wanted to check out another trail. We got back together for dinner.”
Trish raised a buttery hand before interrupting Christine’s story. “Are there any other employees, other than the ones who were at the park?”
Christine shook her head. “It’s really small. We’re looking for a receptionist, but as it stands, it’s just the six of us. Well, five now.”
Trish scratched her nose, leaving a streak of butter on her face. “Then why did you need all those team-building exercises? I’ve been in a small workplace, and everyone knew everyone.”
“I know what everyone does at work,” Christine said. “I don’t know them personally, though. Lately Sinclair had been making offhand comments about not knowing people. He sounded kind of sad about it.”
Nathan watched her while he mixed his ingredients together. “What kind of comments was he making?”
“I heard him say things like . . . ‘You never know what’s going on in somebody’s head.’ And, ‘Sometimes I feel like I don’t really know anybody.’ Borderline cynical comments like that. I didn’t think it meant he was suicidal. When he planned all those team-building exercises at the park, I figured he wanted us to know each other better, so we’d have a more efficient workplace. I tend to like being around people, so I didn’t mind it.”
She stuck a tasting spoon in her melted butter and then in the sugar and licked the spoon clean before continuing. “When we met for supper, Sinclair was nowhere to be found. Dave said it might be Sinclair’s way of getting us together without the ‘boss-man,’ because that changes the group dynamic. And then Kenneth said that sounded like Sinclair. So we ate, but Sinclair still didn’t show. Finally, Kenneth tried calling him. When that didn’t work, we split up to try and find him.”
“Where did everyone go?” Savannah asked. She wore flour and butter on her face in the same way she wore her paints when creating artwork. Her cookies were almost ready for the pan.
“Nala went to the medical tent to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself,” Christine answered. “Kenneth wandered off into the crowd in front of the stage. Dave took off toward the food trucks. Mandy went out to the lake. I decided to try the trail. That’s when I found him.”
Cooper patted Christine kindly on the shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”
“If this turns into a murder investigation, I’ll have to talk about it a lot. Might as well share the details now, since you’re all trying to help me, not accuse me.” She paused, closed her eyes, and concentrated. “The light was fading fast, but it’s always kind of dark on the trails. I came around the bend in the path, calling his name. I just caught a glimpse of something in the shadows, and I could tell it wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. It hadn’t been there earlier in the day. At first I thought it was an animal carcass—like maybe there was a mountain lion loose and it had killed a deer or something. I took a few steps closer and realized it was Sinclair. I checked his neck for a pulse, but I didn’t feel one. That’s when I saw the blood around his head and the gun in his hand. I ran.”
“Did anyone know that he had a gun with him?” Bryant asked, spooning dollops of dough into his madeleine pan.
“I knew he carried one. A few times when I was working late, he walked me to my car, and he mentioned the gun so I’d feel safe. I hadn’t realized he brought it to the park.”
“Earlier you mentioned he sounded sad,” Savannah said. “How sad do you think he was?”
“I don’t know. He was stressed, but we all were, and we all had ways of dealing with it. Sinclair liked to do puzzles, and he volunteered at the animal shelter a few times a month.”
“But how sad was he?” Cooper asked, her thoughts momentarily turning to Grammy at the mention of an animal shelter. Grammy would probably love to volunteer at a shelter. She’d have to mention it to her later.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Cooper explained. “Was Sinclair really sad? Depressed?”
“You mean, you want to know if he was sad enough to kill himself.” Christine hesitated. “I wish I could say no. The truth is, I’m not sure. Before he died, I’d have said that he was completely fine, but now I’m not sure what to think. I don’t know how sad you have to be to do that. I’m not sure I want to.”
“That’s fair,” Jake commented, looking down at his mess of a work area. “Can’t say I’ve ever felt that low, and I don’t want to know what it feels like. What about your coworkers, then? Did any of them seem especially upset or different during supper?”
“No more than usual.”
“You mean they’re usually upset? Or they weren’t upset, and that’s usual?”
A small smile curled Christine’s lips. “I guess that does need clarification. Kenneth is usually a little stressed and he was stressed as usual. Mandy is usually self-involved and nosy, and she was her normal self at the park. Dave and Nala seemed to be angry with each other, and that’s usual for them. If you’re trying to figure out who might be a killer, I’m not going to be any help at all. I never looked at them like that before. I’m not sure how to.”
The conversation lulled as everyone worked on their cookies. Quinton took his madeleine tray to one of the preheated ovens, and a few minutes later Cooper followed. When she returned to the island, Nathan and Trish were cleaning their work areas. Bryant was preparing to deliver his cookies to the ovens, and Savannah was almost ready. Jake and Christine had both given up entirely—Jake because he didn’t care for cooking, and Christine because she was too focused on Sinclair and the prospect of a murder investigation.
Jake pushed his mixing bowl aside, having created some kind of inedible sludge. “You said you can’t think of your coworkers as killers. What if we could get a fresh perspective?”
Christine considered. “You might be able to see something I don’t. But I’m not sure how you could get that fresh perspective. If you all just drop by the office, everyone will act differently. There’s no way for you to observe them without tipping your hand.”
“Actually, there might be. We just need to be invisible.”
At this Bryant laughed. “You been working on your superpowers again?”
“Bryant, you’re a big-time meteorologist, right?”
Bryant puffed out his chest. “I don’t know about big-time, but I’m a proud employee of channel six.”
“You probably have a lot of lightbulbs in that office place.”
“Huh?”
“Just answer.”
Bryant thought for a moment. “Yeah. We have lots of lightbulbs.”
“Who changes those lightbulbs?”
“Um . . .” Bryant hesitated. “I don’t know. They just . . . stay on.”
“You don’t know who changes them, because the person who does it is invisible. It’s a quality that’s very difficult to achieve. I’ve worked a lot of years to perfect it.”
“Perfect it?” Christine asked. “Why do you want to perfect it?”
“I’m a plumber,” Jake replied. “When I go into an office or a home to do repairs, I have a way of disappearing until the job is done. I don’t get in the way. I don’t draw attention to myself. Nobody notices me. I’m invisible. The same goes for the fellow who changes lightbulbs at Bryant’s office.”
A smile spread across Cooper’s face. “The same goes for office machine repairmen . . . and repairwomen.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Christine, I don’t suppose you have need of a plumber and an office machine repairperson.”
“Come to think of it, we do need someone to look at our black-and-white printer,” Christine replied. “For the past month it keeps saying there’s a paper jam when there isn’t. We have to restart the whole thing to print off a page, and five minutes later it claims
it’s jammed again. As for a plumber . . .” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I’m sure I can make it so we need you to drop in. I’m the office manager, so no one will think anything of it if I bring in repair people.”
“You’re office manager, too?” Nathan asked. “Along with your other responsibilities?”
“It’s a small office. We all wear multiple hats. Sinclair and Kenneth didn’t want to bother with office management, so I took on the job.”
“Wait. This won’t work.” Cooper shook her head. “We met your coworkers. They’ll recognize us.”
“You only met Sinclair.”
“I met Mandy, too.”
Christine rolled her eyes. “If it didn’t involve drama or gossip, she won’t remember. Mandy’s got to be the most prolific rumor mill I’ve ever met. Most of her brain power is dedicated to finding the next piece of juicy gossip. Plus, unless it’s rumor-related, she doesn’t remember faces very well.”
“I thought she said she’s in customer service,” Nathan said. “She can’t be very good at it if she doesn’t remember clients.”
“She’s more in sales than customer relations. She makes a terrific first impression. On the other hand, Kenneth doesn’t tend to make a great first impression, but he grows on you. Sinclair did, too. He worked with Mandy a lot, because she could reel in the clients, and he could deal with them afterward.”
Trish leaned on the island. “You mentioned that Sinclair wanted to move you into a bigger office space. That means you need a real estate agent.”
Christine nodded. “Do you know one?”
In the blink of an eye, Trish had a business card in hand and her business smile on her face. “Trish Tyler of Trish Tyler Realty. I’m afraid I don’t know how to be invisible, but I’m very good at my job. If you let me come by to check out the space you’re in now, I’ll have a better idea of the space you need.”
“That’s terrific, but I don’t really have the authority to start looking for a new office space.”
“Then I’ll just tell Kenneth I’m going door to door, trying to bring in new clients. Once I start my sales pitch, he won’t be able to turn me away.”
