‘Yeah, got a few in my car, why?’
‘Because I’m going to go out this afternoon and spread a little Cookin’-the-Books goodwill.’
FIVE
Before any will – good, bad, or otherwise – could actually be spread, Tish needed to keep her appointment with Sheriff Clemson Reade.
With the clean-up at the Masonic Lodge nearly complete, Tish excused herself and zipped home. After transferring the leftover Finnegan’s Cakes to the café refrigerator, she headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Leaving her hair to dry naturally, she applied a bit of gel and some make-up and then slipped into a cool, sleeveless floral summer dress and a pair of deep-pink gladiator sandals and jumped back into her bright-red 2015 Toyota Matrix. With the car windows down, she then drove to the outskirts of town to the Hanover County Police outpost that served both Hobson Glen and the neighboring town of Piper’s Ridge.
There, after giving the uniformed police officer at the front desk her name, Tish was waved into Sheriff Reade’s office.
‘Ms Tarragon,’ Clemson Reade greeted as he rose halfway from his chair. Having traded in last night’s straw boater, striped blazer, and fake handlebar mustache for a mane of spiky, dark hair, a light-blue T-shirt, and a face of heavy stubble, Reade was more apt to be mistaken for the bass player in a grunge band than a member of small-town law enforcement.
‘Sheriff,’ Tish replied and took the seat opposite his desk.
‘Thanks for coming in this afternoon.’
‘No problem.’ Tish flashed a brilliant smile with the hope that it might help compensate for any perceived impoliteness on her part the previous evening. After all, if Tish had any chance of salvaging her business, she needed to be on the good side of the local constabulary. ‘I appreciate you letting me and my staff into the lodge so quickly.’
‘Just happened to work out that way,’ Reade shrugged. ‘Some cases, the forensics team works faster than others.’
Tish frowned. Ingratiating herself with the taciturn law official was not going to be easy. ‘Well, I appreciate being able to get in there and clean just the same.’
The sheriff made no comment.
Strike one. ‘I also wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed your band and its music.’
‘Really?’ Reade arched a dark, quizzical eyebrow.
‘Yes, I’ve not listened to a lot of Dixieland music, but I found myself really getting into your performance last night. It was the perfect soundtrack for my cooking.’
‘Are you trying to tell me we had you dancing in the kitchen?’ Reade smirked.
‘Not dancing, no, but flipping fish,’ she said with a broad smile.
The sheriff’s smirk quickly turned into a frown. ‘Flipping fish?’
Tish soon regretted her hasty reply. ‘Yes, in time with the, um, the beat of the music. It was … energizing.’
‘Awesome. If we ever put out an album, I’ll make sure we work fish flipping into the title,’ Reade quipped and went back to reviewing the contents of the folder before him.
Strike two. ‘Er, well, one thing’s for sure, your sousaphone playing is fantastic. I thought for sure someone had a bass guitar out there.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Reade stared at her through narrowed, deep-set gray eyes. ‘And incredibly astute considering last night you couldn’t tell that sousaphone from a tuba.’
Tish cringed as she flushed a bright crimson. Strike three. ‘Um, actually, I studied music theory and played some tunes by ear on my recorder in elementary school and joined the choir in high—’
‘And probably still can’t tell the difference.’ Reade brushed Tish’s commentary aside before adding, ‘By the way, before you cause yourself an aneurism trying to flatter me, I didn’t call you in because I suspect you of murder.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Tish sighed. ‘I mean, I always keep a clean kitchen and I passed my food safety classes with flying colors, but I confess that I’ve never catered an event this large before. So if I somehow managed to give Binnie Broderick food poisoning, it certainly wasn’t intentional.’
‘Although I appreciate your honesty, Ms Tarragon, unless arsenic has suddenly been classified as a food-borne pathogen, I’m pretty sure your cooking is in the clear.’
‘Arsenic?’ Tish repeated before drawing a deep breath and leaning back in her chair.
‘Relieved it wasn’t food poisoning?’ Reade flashed an ironic smile.
‘Up to a point. I simply can’t believe someone killed Mrs Broderick. I mean, she was a difficult woman, to be certain, but murder?’ Tish shook her head in disbelief. ‘You don’t think someone poisoned her food or drink last night, do you?’
‘We’re not yet sure how the arsenic was administered. We’re still waiting for the lab results, but it’s a distinct possibility, yes.’
‘But why? Why would someone do such a thing?’
‘That’s what we’re going to find out,’ Reade announced. ‘Am I correct in assuming that you met with Binnie Broderick a few times prior to the event?’
‘Yes,’ Tish replied, ‘we met about a week and a half ago for a food tasting and then late last week to review the schedule for the party.’
‘Did you meet yesterday at all?’
‘No. Mrs Broderick arrived at the lodge just before the fundraiser was about to get off the ground. She popped into the kitchen to see that everything was under control and then went out into the reception room. It was less of a meeting than a check-in.’
‘During this check-in, as you call it, or any of your previous meetings, did Mrs Broderick mention any personal troubles she may have had? Maybe a guest at the party she didn’t look forward to seeing? Was there anything about the party that might have been worrying her?’
‘Personal troubles? No, my interactions with Mrs Broderick were always of a professional nature. Conversation always focused on the business at hand. Mrs Broderick had a clear vision of what she wanted for the fundraiser and that’s all we ever discussed. She wanted the event to be a success and the only thing she ever expressed any concern about was my ability to meet her expectations.’
‘You said your meetings with Mrs Broderick were professional. Would you use that term to describe Mrs Broderick’s behavior as well?’
‘What a leading question, Sheriff.’ Tish smiled. ‘I think you already know the answer to that question – otherwise you wouldn’t have asked it.’
Reade returned the smile. ‘Humor me.’
‘No, Mrs Broderick was not what I would describe as professional; she was what I would describe as difficult.’
‘So difficult that you might wish her out of the way?’
It was Tish’s turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘I thought you didn’t suspect me.’
‘I don’t, but seeing as I’m not always correct in my assumptions, I thought it best to cover my bases.’
‘Then, to answer your question, I worked in banking for twenty years before giving it up to become a caterer. In both professions, killing difficult clients would hardly be considered a viable career plan.’
‘Did you ever witness Mrs Broderick being “difficult” with other people?’
‘Not until last night. Mind you, I’d heard stories from townsfolk. But it wasn’t until I stepped out of the kitchen to check in on Mrs Broderick and the other guests that I actually got to see her “in action,” so to speak.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well, after disparaging my food by calling it bland, Mrs Broderick went on to criticize her daughter’s evening gown as too low-cut and then comment upon her son-in-law’s drinking. Oh, she also passed some snide remark about her daughter being “easy to please.”’
‘How did her daughter and son-in-law react to her comments?’
‘They didn’t have a chance to react. Much to everyone’s relief, Mrs Wilson, the president of the library board, quickly changed the topic of conversation. Binnie Broderick began choking only a minute or so afterward.’
‘
And the incident with Mr and Mrs Ballantyne – you’re sure that was the only time you witnessed Binnie Broderick being “antagonistic” toward someone?’
‘Yes. As I said earlier, I’ve heard stories and have one or two of my own, but I never actually saw Mrs Broderick behave that way toward anyone else until last night.’
Reade nodded and typed some notes on to a small computerized tablet device. ‘Did you notice anything else last night? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘Out of the ordinary?’ Tish snickered. ‘I’m sorry, Sheriff Reade, but I’ve been in town just under a month and I’ve already learned of a library scandal and witnessed a murder, so forgive me if I’m not quite sure what passes as “ordinary” here in Hobson Glen.’
Tish expected Reade to explain why Hobson Glen was a wonderful place to put down roots, but instead he leaned back in his chair and pulled a face. ‘It’s been a strange few months, for sure. I’ve been sheriff for ten years and during that time the bulk of my job has entailed traffic accidents and infringements, acting as referee during the occasional domestic or alcohol-fueled dispute, and assisting the State Police when necessary. But this …’ Reade straightened in his chair. ‘The last suspicious death we had in Hobson Glen occurred back in 1948. And that was eventually ruled a suicide.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tish expressed. ‘Having lived in Richmond for so long, I’ve sadly grown somewhat immune to daily reports of shootings and robberies, but for you and the other residents of Hobson Glen, this must be quite a shock.’
‘Yeah, well, given the world we live in, I should probably be thankful we’ve been tragedy-free for so long,’ Reade replied wistfully. ‘So, going back to my previous question: did you notice anything or anyone unusual last night?’
‘Come to think of it, yes.’ Tish described how she saw Enid Kemper outside the kitchen window.
‘And to the best of your knowledge, Miss Kemper wasn’t a guest.’
‘I doubt it. Not only wasn’t she dressed for the event, but if she had a ticket, she would have come right into the lodge rather than lurking outside. Also, Enid had stopped by earlier in the day to try to track down Mrs Broderick.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘Yes. Enid was quite angry to learn that she wasn’t allowed to bring her pet parrot into the library.’
‘Conure,’ Reade corrected.
‘What?’ The reply caught Tish off guard.
‘Langhorne, Enid’s pet bird, isn’t a parrot. He’s a conure.’
Tish’s eyes grew wide. Good heavens, the people of Hobson Glen were awfully particular about terminology. ‘Oh, yes, that’s right. Sorry …’
Reade burst out laughing. ‘I’m joking. After the sousaphone thing, I couldn’t resist.’
‘Funny,’ Tish remarked with a frosty smile. Inwardly, however, she acknowledged that the sheriff had earned the right to have a laugh at her expense. ‘I don’t think Enid Kemper would be laughing, though. She seems to be exceptionally devoted to that bird of hers.’
Reade’s demeanor grew somber. ‘Langhorne is the only companion Enid Kemper has in the world. She never married or had children, and her family’s all gone now. That bird is a beloved pet, best friend, and a longed-for child all rolled into one.’
‘No wonder she was so livid about Mrs Broderick banning him from the library.’
‘Well, she and Binnie never did get on well,’ Reade explained.
‘This was more than two people not getting along. Enid Kemper was downright furious. She vowed to make Binnie Broderick pay.’
‘Those were the exact words she used? That she’d make Mrs Broderick pay?’
‘Yes. Celestine Rufus was there with me. We both heard it.’
‘And you weren’t overly concerned by those words?’ Reade prodded.
‘No,’ Tish stated flatly. ‘There’s a world of difference between wishing to make someone pay and actually doing so. Also, Celestine made it clear that Enid was something of the town eccentric, so it seems even more unlikely that she’d actually do anything.’
Reade typed some notes into his tablet. ‘Did you notice anything else unusual last night? Anyone apart from Enid who shouldn’t have been at the lodge but was?’
‘No.’ Tish shook her head. ‘Not that I can recall, but then again I was in the kitchen all evening.’
‘Yes, about your kitchen staff,’ Reade segued into the next question. ‘Did I get the names of everyone who helped out last night?’
‘I believe you did, yes.’
‘So no one left early or stopped in during the day to act as a pinch hitter or anything like that?’
Tish was reluctant to reply, but she knew if she didn’t tell the sheriff about Schuyler Thompson’s presence in the kitchen, someone else would. ‘Actually, yes. Schuyler Thompson came in to help us plate the first course.’
Reade grunted and poked at his tablet keypad. ‘Was this prearranged between the two of you?’
‘Prearranged? No. Schuyler simply stopped into the kitchen to see if we needed help.’
‘And you did?’
‘Well, we were dragging a bit with plating; there were several components to each dish, and it took some time and care to guard against spills, splashes, and overall sloppiness. We probably would have finished in time, but Schuyler’s help bought us a bit of breathing room. Because of him, we were able to start plating the main course while the first was still being served.’
‘And did Thompson assist with the plating of that as well?’
‘No, he went back to his table to enjoy his first course and to listen to Binnie Broderick’s speech.’
‘Did you find Mr Thompson’s offer of help at all suspicious?’
‘Suspicious? No. Not only is Schuyler Thompson my landlord, but he was the person who referred my services to Mrs Broderick. It seemed only natural for him to want to ensure a successful evening. Oh, and he also wanted me to join him for a drink once the serving had been done.’
‘However, Mr Thompson did, in fact, have access to all the food served that evening,’ Reade persisted.
‘Not all the food, no. Only the first course; the cakes were in the refrigerator and he never went near the back of the kitchen where the entrée was being prepared,’ Tish explained.
‘Mmm,’ Reade murmured as he typed more notes into his tablet.
‘Besides, Schuyler Thompson had no idea which plate would be served to Binnie Broderick. Poisoning anything in that kitchen would have been absolutely pointless,’ Tish blurted out as the temperature in the room seemed to rise considerably. Why she should feel the need to defend a man she had only met a few weeks ago was beyond comprehension.
Reade stopped typing.
‘I mean, unless Mr Thompson was simply out to murder some random individual,’ Tish amended, feeling more than a bit self-conscious.
‘You have a very valid point there, Ms Tarragon,’ Reade allowed. ‘Could you describe the serving process for me?’
‘Sure. After being plated, the first course and entrée were placed on a table with a heat lamp or, for the cold appetizer, on a rolling rack which was then placed into the walk-in refrigerator. When we were ready to serve, Mary Jo Okensholt, my friend and volunteer for the evening, loaded the trays using a detailed seating chart. Our wait staff then took the trays out into the reception hall where they commenced with serving.’
‘Did your wait staff ever leave the trays unattended?’
‘Um, I don’t know. They might have left them on a tray stand while they served, but I still don’t see how it matters. The murderer still wouldn’t have known which plate was going to be served to Binnie Broderick.’
‘So her plate was no different from anyone else’s?’
‘It shouldn’t have been, no. Unless she ordered her prime rib exceptionally well done or exceptionally rare, but I don’t recall that being the case when I filled out the chart for Mary Jo.’
‘And no double potato, extra butter, or an additional garnish?’
> ‘No. I was quite pleasantly surprised to find not a single write-in request included among the three hundred plus menu cards returned.’
Reade sighed. ‘The bottom line being that Binnie Broderick didn’t eat anything outside what was on the menu that evening.’
Tish nodded in agreement and then recalled otherwise. ‘Wait a minute. I almost forgot the hot sauce.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Shortly after being served her main course, Mrs Broderick asked for hot sauce.’
Reade leaned forward in his seat. ‘Whom did she ask?’
‘Her server, Melissa Rufus, Celestine’s granddaughter.’
‘And Melissa brought Mrs Broderick’s plate to the kitchen for the hot sauce?’
‘No, no, we brought out the whole bottle.’
‘Melissa Rufus …’ Reade dictated as he typed into his tablet.
‘Melissa Rufus didn’t bring the hot sauce to Mrs Broderick,’ Tish hastened to mention.
‘Oh, who did? Another server?’ Reade asked, still focused on his note-taking.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘Melissa’s grandmother, Celestine.’
SIX
Tish pulled into the Cookin’ the Books parking lot to find Jules and Mary Jo drinking lemonade on the front porch. ‘Hey,’ she greeted as she stepped out of the car.
‘Hey,’ Mary Jo called from her spot on the swing. ‘How’d it go?’
Tish shook her head. ‘Where are the kids?’ she asked, reluctant to discuss details of the investigation in front of them.
‘Glen came by and took them home. Jules and I stuck around in case you needed anything else.’
‘I do need something else.’ Tish sighed. ‘I need to save my café.’
‘What happened?’ Jules asked from his seat on the steps, as he poured her a glass of lemonade from a nearby glass pitcher.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered absently, taking the glass in her right hand and flinging her purse on to the swing beside Mary Jo with her left. ‘Binnie Broderick was definitely murdered. Arsenic poisoning.’
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