A Clue in the Stew

by Connie Archer

  A few groans and grumbles were heard around the room. Someone called out, “What if we can’t get to the top of the line by then?”

  “I’m very sorry. Ms. Stone will do the best she can. When it’s your turn, please step forward quickly. The faster the line moves, the more people will be able to get their books signed.”

  Sage paused the music and the room fell silent. The author spoke briefly about her protagonist and the research she had done. Many people questioned her about the sequel to her current book. She assured her fans that a sequel was in the works, although she couldn’t reveal very much. She said she was still working hard at the moment and wasn’t quite sure when the second book would be released.

  Derek Stone, at a signal from his mother, stepped forward. “All right, everyone. If you haven’t purchased Murder Comes Calling, please step over here,” he said, indicating a side table where Phoebe, the author’s personal assistant, sat. “You may make your purchase right there and Ms. Stone will now begin to sign.” He glanced around the packed room and smiled. “Of course, if you already own a copy of Murder Comes Calling, Ms. Stone will be happy to sign that as well. Thank you.”

  There was a general rush to the side table. Meg had placed herself close to the front table and managed to be the first in line. Lucky noticed she held two books in her hand. Meg’s face was flushed and Lucky could see her speaking excitedly to Hilary Stone. The signing continued as the line shuffled forward. Fortunately, everyone was polite and patient. Lucky stood on tiptoes to get a better look at the author. Hilary Stone seemed completely free of stress and took her time chatting with each book buyer. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry at all.

  Sophie had slipped in through the back entrance and worked her way toward the coffee urn. She put an arm around Lucky’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. I wanted to get here earlier. I’ll give you guys a hand.” She kissed Sage on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Sophie. It’s been a very interesting evening, to say the least.”

  Sophie glanced around the room. “Where did all these people come from? Oh, look, there’s Susanna Edgerton. And I see Miriam too. I wonder if Nate will be here?”

  “I doubt that,” Sage answered. “He’s investigating a real murder.”

  “Right,” Sophie agreed. “Best not to talk about that tonight.”

  The three continued to man the coffee and tea urns. Each person approached for a cup of coffee or tea and a pastry once their books were signed, then searched for a seat. A steady buzz of conversation filled the room as fans lined up to reach the front table. Derek Stone stood guard behind his mother. At one point, he slipped around the room and reached Sage.

  “Could you please fix a cup of tea with lemon for my mother?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Sage replied, deftly preparing the tea.

  Derek waited, then returned to the front table and placed the teacup next to his mother. She smiled gratefully at him and took a sip in between signing books.

  Sage moved closer to Lucky. “How long is this going to go on?”

  Lucky shrugged. “Till nine.”

  He groaned. “What time is it now?”

  Lucky checked her watch. “Close. It’s eight thirty.”

  “They’re racking up the sales, aren’t they? How much are they charging for this book?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I heard twenty-eight ninety-nine.”

  Sage whistled. “And they’ve sold hundreds so far.”

  Meg, her face flushed, pushed her way through the crowd. She held two copies of Murder Comes Calling. “This is for you, Lucky. It’s autographed.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. You have to read it! I know you won’t be able to put it down.”

  “Oh, Meg, you shouldn’t have spent your money. I’ll pay you back,” Lucky replied.

  “Oh, no. This is a present . . . from me. Kind of an apology. I know I’ve been a brat all week and I feel so bad I forced you to hire Nanette. I know she really annoys you.”

  “Well, thank you.” Lucky reached over and hugged Meg. “You’re a doll. That was so sweet and thoughtful of you.”

  Meg smiled. “It’ll keep you awake at night, I warn you.” She ducked back into the crowd.

  Lucky glanced at the table where Phoebe sat. Hilary Stone’s assistant seemed anxious. There were dark circles under her eyes. One of the workmen who had hung the banner outside the restaurant had been helping, lugging in cartons of books to be sold.

  Lucky turned to Sage, “They’ve certainly compensated us generously for the use of our space, so I can’t complain. This’ll be over soon. All I want to do is go home and climb into a nice hot bubble bath. For some reason, this evening feels like ten times more work than one of our normal nights.”

  Sage nodded his agreement. “It’s the energy in the room. All these weird personalities.”

  Lucky felt a presence near her and turned to see Audra Klemack. “Amazing,” she remarked to the publicist. “Her book must be fascinating.”

  Audra shrugged. “Well, darling, it helps if you’re married to the publisher.”

  “Oh?”

  Audra laughed mirthlessly. “Married to the publisher and bags of money to pay people like me.”

  Sylvia Stone, overdressed for the occasion in a slinky cocktail outfit and looking completely bored, waved across the room at her husband. Derek ignored her. Sylvia reached under her chair and retrieved a large black purse. She pulled a thin silver flask out of her purse and poured a generous amount of a dark brown liquid into her teacup.

  Audra nodded her head, indicating Sylvia Stone. “My job would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have to contend with that emasculated doting excuse for a son and his tipsy wife.”

  Lucky, unsure how to respond to these revelations, decided to say nothing.

  “Oh, well. It could always be worse,” Audra sighed. “I suppose I could be someplace even farther away from Manhattan.”

  Chapter 17

  DEREK STONE PULLED his sleeve back and checked his watch. “Sorry, folks. The evening is over.” The line still stretched out to the sidewalk and down the block. A general groan went up from the crowd. “But if you would still like your book signed, please take a business card and our publicist will be happy to help you, won’t you, Audra?” He smiled at Audra, the smile not reaching his eyes, and several heads turned to her.

  Lucky heard Audra mutter under her breath but she smiled quickly and stepped forward. “That’s right, folks. Please take a card. You can mail your copies of Murder Comes Calling to me, with a stamped self-addressed envelope, of course, and I’ll see that they are autographed and returned to you.

  There were general grumbles around the room but Derek stepped into the breach. “Please be considerate. Ms. Stone has been signing for almost three hours now and she is very tired. I’m sure you can all understand.”

  “That’s a tough order, isn’t it?” Lucky remarked to Audra. “Signing all those books that people mail to her.”

  “Oh, please,” Audra sneered. “Phoebe can do her signature perfectly. They’ll be none the wiser.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “I better wake Sylvia up and drag her back to the B and B. Derek certainly won’t and I’m sure you won’t want to find her here in the morning.”

  No, Lucky thought, I certainly wouldn’t.

  The line broke up and people milled around the room for several more minutes, but once Derek had escorted his mother out of the room and down the corridor to the back door, everyone started drifting away. The two workmen who had arrived with the entourage took down the banner from the front of the restaurant and then came inside. They carried the few remaining cartons of books down the corridor and into a waiting van at the rear of the restaurant. When the last person had gone, Lucky locked the front door. Sophie and Sage rearranged the tables and chairs for th
e morning and Lucky loaded the dishwasher with all the cups and small dishes. The pastries had evaporated an hour before.

  “What should we do with these flowers, Lucky?” Sage asked.

  Lucky plopped into a chair. “I have no idea. Let’s just move them around into the corners where they’ll be out of the way. If they want their flowers, they’ll have to send someone over to get them.”

  The phone in the kitchen began to ring. “I’ll get it,” Sage said. He hurried into the kitchen and grabbed it on the third ring. Lucky heard him exchange a few words with the caller. Then he returned to the front room.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “That,” Sage replied, “was Audra Klemack. Hilary Stone would like some soups delivered to her room.”

  “What? You’re kidding! Can’t the Drake House fix her something?”

  “Apparently not. She’s heard that we have the best soups in town.”

  “Well, we do. But still. Why couldn’t she have said something when she was here?”

  Sage shrugged. “Why don’t I fix something and run it over?”

  “No, that’s all right. I’ll bring it down there. You two go home. I’m sure Sophie’s tired too.”

  “Okay, thanks, Lucky. I won’t ask twice.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for being here tonight. But I mean it. Go home. I’ll take care of it.”

  Chapter 18

  LUCKY PACKED A plastic container with two different half sandwiches and two different soups—the cream of asparagus and the carrot ginger soup, two of Sage’s specials of the week along with two bowls marked with the Spoonful logo. Those choices would offer a variety. Barbara Drake had promised to cover the expenses, whatever it took to keep her celebrity guests happy.

  Once the bin was securely packed, she tucked Meg’s present into her purse and checked the locks on the front door. She carried the bin to the trunk of her car, emptied the trash bags in the Dumpster and locked the back door of the Spoonful. As tired as she was, she didn’t regret sending Sage home. He had been through enough for the week, especially dealing with Meg’s outbursts and Nanette’s meddling, not to mention the attitude he had experienced at the hands of the Stone entourage.

  She drove the few blocks to the edge of town and pulled into the drive of the Drake House, a yellow two-story colonial with white shutters, each shutter decorated with the cutout of a candlestick. This bed-and-breakfast was the only form of overnight accommodation in the village. Barbara Drake had inherited the house from her grandparents and, instead of promptly selling it to the highest bidder, had lovingly restored the charming home and created a business.

  The front door swung open as she approached. Barbara, her hair pinned up in ringlets, looked exhausted, but she smiled and welcomed her in.

  “Thanks so much, Lucky! I really appreciate this.”

  “No worries. It’ll keep your famous guest happy.”

  Barbara shook her head. “What a bunch they are too! Demanding, arrogant. Hilary Stone, as prickly as she is, is the best of the lot.”

  “Really? Well, that’s good to hear. They were all at the Spoonful tonight and there were mobs of people, but I didn’t really have a chance to talk to her. She’s well protected by her son and assistant and all.”

  “Come on in the kitchen and we’ll put all this on a tray. I was hoping to get there tonight but I was just too busy,” Barbara said, leading the way to the rear of the home. “And keep track of all this so I can compensate you.”

  Lucky pulled a stool up to the island and watched Barbara unpack the bin. “I packed two different half sandwiches and two soups. The soups should still be warm.”

  “I’ll give ’em a blast in the microwave and have Ginny bring them up to her room. Oh!” Barbara exclaimed. “Wait. She’s clearing the dining room.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lucky said. “I’ll take the tray up to her. I can explain what I’m bringing her better anyway.”

  “You don’t mind?” Barbara asked.

  “No. Not at all. And then I’m heading home and soaking in a nice hot tub full of bubbles. It’s been a day and a half.”

  Barbara laughed ruefully. “Same here. Most of our guests are no trouble at all, but I’ll tell you, running a bed-and-breakfast is more work than even I could have imagined. I’d be lost without Ginny though. I don’t know what I did before she came.”

  Lucky wondered what Barbara was leaving unsaid. “And your second-floor lot?”

  Barbara took a deep breath. She placed two piping hot bowls of soup on a large tray and laid the sandwiches in a cloth-covered wicker basket. Barbara shrugged her shoulders. “Well, the assistant, Phoebe, is the only one who’s within normal limits, but that publicist from New York . . .” Barbara leaned over the island. “And the daughter-in-law . . .”

  “Sylvia?”

  “That’s the one. What a nightmare she is. Frankly, I don’t know how her husband puts up with her. And him . . . the poor thing, I think his mother had his you-know-whats removed at birth.”

  Lucky laughed in spite of herself. “That’s rather the impression I had as well.”

  “Here you go,” Barbara said, passing the tray to Lucky. “The Queen Bee is in the second room on the left.”

  Lucky nodded and climbed the stairs, carefully balancing the heavy tray. She placed it on a hallway table and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” a voice said.

  Lucky turned the knob. The door swung open as she picked up the tray. “Good evening,” she said as she entered. “I’ve brought you two different soups and half sandwiches. I hope you like them. We have a fabulous chef at the By the Spoonful.”

  “Oh.” The handsome silver-haired woman looked up from her dressing table. Without makeup, her age was more apparent and the lines around her eyes were obvious. Her sparkling necklace and earrings were strewn across the mirrored top of the vanity. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to bring it over to me. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the book signing was over.”

  Lucky thought her a very courteous woman, but something just under the surface promised a psyche of steel. A very strong-willed woman, Lucky mused, in spite of her gracious manner.

  A gentle tap came on the slightly open door. Derek Stone peeked into his mother’s bedroom. “Mother? Are you all right?” He stepped into the room and froze when he saw Lucky. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Lucky opened her mouth to respond, but before she could reply, Hilary Stone cut in, “Don’t be an idiot, Derek. I asked for her. Now go back to your room and keep that wife of yours under control . . . if you can,” she replied icily.

  Derek’s soft face blushed a bright red and he turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  “Please excuse my son. He tries to control every aspect of my life. I’d never travel with him, but I do need his help occasionally, as unpleasant as the whole experience is,” Hilary said dismissively.

  Lucky could think of no appropriate response to make. It always amazed her when strangers aired their dirty family linen. “Well, enjoy the soups. They really are wonderful. Barbara or Ginny will be back to pick up your tray in a short while.”

  Ms. Stone nodded dismissively. Lucky left the room without another word. When she reached the top of the stairway, she breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath.

  Chapter 19

  LUCKY CLIMBED OUT of the bathtub and pulled the plug from the drain. The sudsy water gurgled and swirled as the tub emptied. Wrapping a large bath towel around herself, she padded to the bedroom, leaving damp footprints on the wood floor. She slipped on a nightie and a terry cloth robe, so grateful to be in her small apartment and away from the annoyances and crowds of the day. She had a new appreciation for popular writers after watching Hilary Stone sign her name for hours and smile at every fan. Wh
at stamina the woman had!

  Meg’s gift sat on the kitchen table. Curiosity got the better of her. She picked it up and carried it to the living room. Snuggling on the sofa near the floor lamp, she cracked it open. The dedication page read, “To Lucky . . . Hilary Stone.” Lucky appreciated the thought behind the gift but felt guilty that Meg had spent her hard-earned money. She turned the page and began to read:

  Rebecca Mayfield was lost in thought as she sat on the subway bench waiting for her train to arrive. The murderer had targeted women alone at night, in dark alleys and city streets. Each victim had complained of mysterious phone calls for three consecutive days before their deaths. All young women in the prime of their lives. What sort of monster would violate the innocent? she thought. She knew she was onto something, but her editor had threatened to pull the story unless she came up with something solid, something the police hadn’t yet discovered.

  The bench began to vibrate beneath her. She heard the roar of the incoming train. Gathering her purse, she stood and approached the edge of the platform. She glanced down. Her heart almost stopped. On the tracks below lay another victim of the killer, a thin plastic cord wrapped around her neck. Rebecca’s screams were drowned by the roaring sound. She couldn’t possibly halt the train in time. She covered her eyes as the brakes began to squeal.

  Lucky heard a firm knock at her door and nearly jumped out of her skin. She took a deep breath and hurried down the hall. “Who is it?” she called out. Only Sophie or Elias would ever come to her door unannounced this late in the evening.

  “House call,” Elias replied.

  Lucky laughed and opened the door. “I didn’t expect you.”

  “What have you been up to?”

  “Oh, I was just starting to read Murder Comes Calling. Meg bought me a copy.”

  “Not you too! Are you turning into a crazed fan?”