The Case of the Abandoned Aussie

by B R Snow

  Chef Claire stared at me dumbfounded.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, embarrassed. “Please continue.”

  “Smooth,” Josie whispered.

  “This is a bit hard to say,” Chef Claire said, wringing her hands in her lap. “But I think Marge found out that Carl and I had been…well, you know.” She fell silent and again stared down at the floor.

  “Why would she care if you and Carl saw each other?” I said, then the lightbulb went off. “Really? Marge and Carl?”

  “Apparently,” Chef Claire said.

  “Man, he’s a busy guy,” Josie whispered. “I’m surprised the lawn looks as good as it does.”

  “Did you know about him and Marge?”

  “No, not until the other night.”

  “When you were…” I said. I recoiled when Josie kicked me under the chair.

  Take a breath, Suzy. Good things and good information come to those who wait. Get it together.

  “When I was what?” Chef Claire said.

  “When you were simply devastated to find out about the two of them,” I said, pleased with my recovery.

  I heard Josie suppress a snort but ignored her.

  “I was at Carl’s house the other night. I cooked dinner for him.”

  “What did you make?” Now it was Josie’s turn to be embarrassed. “Just curious. I’m always on the lookout for new recipes.”

  “It was a chicken penne in a brandy cream sauce.”

  “I knew I smelled cognac,” Josie whispered.

  “And that was when Carl told you about him and Marge?” I said.

  Chef Claire laughed.

  “No, Carl would never be the bearer of bad news on an empty stomach. He waited until we ate and…well, you know.”

  “Why do you think he told you?” Josie said.

  “Because I caught him in a lie,” Chef Claire said.

  “About Marge?” I said.

  “No, about the others.”

  “The others?” I said.

  “Sure. Rosaline, Roxanne, a local real estate agent, a couple of waitresses. I could go on, but you get the idea.”

  “How did you learn about Rosaline and Roxanne?” I said, seizing the opportunity to move the conversation back to the main question of who killed who.

  Chef Claire smiled.

  “That’s the beauty of being part of the house staff. I was always there, but at the same time, it was like I was never there. You hear things.”

  “And it bothered you?” Josie said.

  “What? The fact that Carl was seeing other women? Not in the least. I just hate being lied to.”

  “So you and Carl weren’t in a committed relationship?” I said.

  For some reason, my question cracked her up. I waited until she stopped laughing and composed herself.

  “Relationship?” Chef Claire said. “With Carl? Have you spent any time talking to him? After a half hour of listening to him drone on about the appropriate nitrogen levels for dirt and the blooming patterns of Azaleas, I always wanted to poke my eardrums out with a fork. Fortunately, Carl has other talents. And being stuck on that island all summer, my options were somewhat limited.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “So after Marge fired you, what happened next?” Josie said.

  “I did what she told me to do. I packed my stuff and left the island.”

  “Did Carl take you in the boat?” I said.

  “No, I haven’t spoken to him since the other night,” Chef Claire said. “In fact, I didn’t even see him around the island before I left.”

  “But all the boat slips were full,” I said slowly, hoping I hadn’t just caught her in a lie. I really wanted her to be innocent.

  “Yeah, they were,” she said, nodding. “I took my boat.”

  “Your boat?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, when I got here at the start of the summer, I thought it would be fun to have a boat of my own to tool around in on my day off. I’ve never lived near a body of water like this and I wanted to learn how to drive a boat,” she said, staring off and apparently recalling some fond memories. “It’s a little sixteen-foot aluminum boat with a thirty-five horsepower outboard. It’s a lot of fun. But when I showed up for work on my first day, Mr. Crawford took one look at it and said it was an embarrassment to the watercraft industry and made me keep it in the boathouse out of sight.”

  “But where was it?” I said, trying to picture the layout of the boathouse.

  “It was up,” Chef Claire said. “Above the slips, there’s extra storage space. They have an automated hoist system for getting boats in and out of the water. Every time I wanted to use it, I had to lower the boat into the water. And when I returned I had to take it out of the water and get it out of sight. If you never looked up at the ceiling of the boathouse, you wouldn’t know it was even there.”

  “I never noticed,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Me neither,” Josie said.

  “Exactly,” Chef Claire said. “And that was just the way Mr. Crawford wanted it.”

  “I guess we can cross that one off the list,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “I’m just talking to myself.”

  “I do it all the time,” Chef Claire said. “It’s a nice break in the day.”

  I knew I liked this woman for a reason.

  “After I left the island, I decided to check into the Island Towers for a couple of days until I got my last check. And I needed a few days to figure out what I’m going to do next. I was taking a nap when the cops showed up and brought me in. Two hours later, they put me in here. And I hear that tomorrow I’m going to be moved to a more secure location.”

  “They found your prints on the knife,” I said.

  “So they tell me,” Chef Claire said.

  “How do you explain that?” I said, leaning forward in my chair. Finally, I was doing some real detective work.

  “I’m a chef. They’re my work knives,” she said. “How do you think they got there?”

  Wow. I touched a sore spot with that one. Either she was on the defensive, or she thought it was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. Actually, when I replayed it in my head, it was kind of a dumb question.

  “So you didn’t kill her?” I said.

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “I just told you I left the island, and when I left she was still in the kitchen stuffing chocolate croissants down her gullet.”

  “You made chocolate croissants, too?” Josie said.

  I looked at Josie, and for a moment I thought I noticed a trace of drool on her lips.

  “Yeah, I put a piece of dark chocolate and a dollop of fresh whipped cream in each one before I bake them off. They’re incredible.”

  “Guys, please,” I said. “Enough with the food. Can we stick with what’s important?”

  “In what world aren’t chocolate croissants important?” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah,” Josie said, glaring back at me. “What she said.”

  Despite the fact that the woman on the other side of the bars was facing murder charges, all three of us laughed.

  “It’s obvious I’m being set up here,” Chef Claire said.

  “But by who?” I said.

  “I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s anyone with a vendetta against me. I think I’m being set up because whoever killed Marge figured out a way to make me an easy target and keep the focus off of them.”

  “Your prints on the knife are going to a major problem,” I said.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “Think about it,” Chef Claire said. “It doesn’t add up.”

  Before she could continue, the door opened, and Jackson stepped inside the cell area.

  “Don’t mean to interrupt, but we need to wrap this up,” he said. “I’ve already pushed the envelope just by letting you in here.”

  �
�Just a few more minutes, Jackson,” I said.

  “No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “You’re done.”

  “Please,” Josie said.

  “No, not even for a dinner date,” he said, ending the conversation.

  We both stood, and I looked at Chef Claire who was sitting back down with the same confused look she’d had when we first came in.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I said. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “My lawyer will have to take it from here.”

  Out of words that might offer condolences or encouragement, I waved goodbye and followed Josie and Jackson back into the main area of the jail.

  “She didn’t do it, Jackson,” I said.

  “Suzy, I hate to say this, but I’ve got a motive, opportunity, and a set of prints that say otherwise.”

  “You’re wrong, Jackson.” I felt my throat constrict, and my voice went up an octave as the severity of Chef Claire’s situation finally hit home with me. Up until that moment, I’d been selfish; caught up in the events and the thrill of trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Now, the consequences of the two murders were unfolding. Unfortunately, when they had opened up, they’d landed right in Chef Claire’s lap.

  “She’s not a killer, Jackson,” Josie said, patting my arm.

  That’s the thing about my best friend. Josie always comes through when I need her. I recovered a bit of my composure and felt somewhat chuffed with pride that I’d guided the conversation to the point where Josie had seen and heard enough to be convinced that Chef Claire was innocent.

  Of course, it could have been the blueberry French toast and chocolate croissants that changed her mind.

  Chapter 24

  I scanned the menu, decided on a cheeseburger with a side of onion rings, and closed the menu. I sipped my coffee and looked across the table at Josie who was carefully studying her options. She flipped to the next page of the menu and took a sip of coffee without looking up. Impressed by her focus and attention to detail I wondered if I’d missed something so I changed my mind for the third time and opened my menu and started over.

  “I’m worried,” I said, scanning the appetizers.

  “That I’ll never be able to make a decision, and you’ll end up starving to death right at this table?”

  “Well, yeah, there is that,” I said, changing my mind to the chicken pot pie with a side of stuffed mushrooms. “But I was referring to Chef Claire.”

  The mention of her name caused Josie to close her menu and look up. She nodded and took another sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, it’s not good,” she said. “A high-powered CEO and island owner, along with his socialite ex-wife get killed on the River. Jackson must be under a lot of pressure to get this thing resolved. I’m sure there are a lot of people worried about the impact a couple of murders could have on tourism.”

  “Given the way the world is going these days, tourism will probably go up.”

  Josie laughed, then waved at our waitress. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  The waitress, a young college student, named Mandy, arrived brandishing an iPad. The days of the traditional diner were rapidly disappearing but the Last Stop of the Night was doing its best to hold on against the chains and fast food franchises. But they had made the concession to technology, and since they’d gone electronic with their ordering system, I had to admit that the service had gotten faster and more accurate.

  “Hi, folks,” Mandy said. “Isn’t it a little late for you two to be out?”

  “Hey, we’re not that old,” Josie said. “We can hang with the young crowd when we want to.”

  “Yeah,” I said, playing along. “Just last week I stayed up until almost midnight two nights in a row.”

  “I’ll call TMZ to be on the lookout,” Mandy said. “What can I get you?”

  “Now that I think about it, can I get breakfast?” I said. “I have a sudden urge for French Toast.”

  “Oh, that sounds good,” Josie said.

  “Normally, I’d say yes,” Mandy said. “But Johnny’s in a really bad mood tonight, and he said no breakfast orders. Apparently, he went to Saratoga yesterday and lost big at the track and then had a fight with his wife.” She shrugged her condolences. “Sorry.”

  “Dang,” I said. “Okay, I’ll have the pot pie with a side of the stuffed mushrooms.”

  “I’ll have an order of the stuffed mushrooms as well. And fried chicken, onion rings, and a slice of blueberry pie with a scoop of vanilla for dessert.”

  Mandy, well-versed in Josie’s prodigious eating abilities, didn’t bat an eye. She typed in our orders, refilled our coffees, and headed off. I looked around the diner that was busy with late night revelers looking to end their evening with a full stomach to help minimize tomorrow morning’s hangover.

  “You know, Clay Bay could use another year round place to eat,” I said.

  “Yeah, it could. I’ve got this menu memorized. I don’t know why I even bother to look at it when we come in.”

  “We need to get a look at that knife,” I whispered as I leaned forward.

  “Geez, Suzy. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Josie said, shaking her head. “You heard Jackson. Jackson’s already nervous about us sticking our nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Hey, if it hadn’t been for us, they might not have even found the bodies,” I snapped.

  Josie glared at me with a puzzled expression on her face.

  “Why are you yelling at me?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But the whole situation is so unfair. And I have a pretty good feeling that the knife will tell us something.”

  “We need to be careful, Suzy. This isn’t like the time we were trying to figure out who was setting fire to the neighbor’s vegetable garden. This is serious stuff. And an obstruction of justice charge is not something we want to be dealing with.”

  “Let me ask you this, if Chef Claire is convicted, do you think that justice will have been served?”

  “No, I don’t,” Josie said, patting my hand. “Okay, I’ll talk with Freddie and see if he’s willing to let us take a look at the knife.”

  “Good,” I said. “Freddie won’t say no to you.”

  “Can I at least eat first?” Josie said, watching Mandy approach carrying stuffed mushrooms piled high on both plates.

  “Sure. We need to keep our strength up. We’re in this thing for the long haul.”

  Mandy set the plates down, checked to see if we needed anything else, then left the table. We spent the next few minutes in silence as we began our attack on the mushrooms. They didn’t stand a chance. I came up for air first and took a long sip of water and wiped my mouth. A couple in a booth at the back of the diner caught my eye.

  “Oh, that’s interesting,” I said. “I can’t believe I didn’t see them sitting there earlier.”

  “Who is it?” Josie said, more out of politeness than interest.

  “Jerry the Lawyer and his girlfriend.”

  “Rosaline?” she said, craning her neck towards the back of the diner.

  “The very one,” I said. “I’m going to go have a word with them.”

  “Suzy, nothing good can come from that conversation,” Josie said, returning to her rapidly dwindling stack of mushrooms.

  “You’re probably right.” I slid my way out of the booth and stood up. “But I can’t help myself.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Josie said through a mouthful of mushroom.

  As I approached their booth, Rosaline saw me first. Judging by her expression, I don’t think she was delighted to see me. Jerry had his back to me, and he noticed the look on Rosaline’s face then turned around. He wasn’t happy to see me.

  “Hi, folks,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “Hi,” Rosaline said. Her voice was flat, and it looked like she’d been crying.

  “Suzy,” Jerry said, his face flushed. “It’s nice to see you.”

&nbs
p; “Oh, I doubt that,” I said, widening my smile.

  “Would you care to join us?” he said, sliding over in the booth.

  Rosaline blanched. “I don’t think that’s a good-”

  “Thanks,” I said, sliding into the booth. “I’d be delighted.”

  Rosaline set her fork down and pushed her plate away, then sat back in the booth and folded her arms. She glared at me. I assumed that Jerry had divulged the fact that we’d been out one and a half times.

  “Crazy day, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah, it sure was,” Jerry said to his plate.

  “What do you want?” Rosaline said.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to confirm the rumor about you two before the next time Jerry calls and asks me out.”

  “What rumor?” Rosaline said.

  “The rumor that you two spent the afternoon at the Twin Pines Motel. The manager said you made quite a racket.”

  “So we get loud from time to time,” Rosaline said. “The last time I checked, that wasn’t against the law.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s not,” I said, now wondering why I’d decided to sit down in the first place.

  Note to self. When in doubt, listen to Josie.

  “Uh, look, Suzy,” Jerry said. “I probably should have said something to you about Rosaline.”

  “Why?” I said. “It was just dinner.”

  Rosaline snorted. I couldn’t tell if it was directed at Jerry or me. Regardless, judging from the look on her face and his reaction, he was fully expecting to bear the brunt. I decided on a new topic of conversation.

  “So, what are you going to do now, Rosaline?” I said.

  “Actually, we were just talking about that,” Jerry said.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Rosaline said. “But I’m probably going to have to go into hiding until the police figure out who Chef Claire is working for.”

  Startled by the response, I sat back in the booth and stared at Rosaline.

  “What do you mean who she’s working for?” I said, glancing at Jerry who continued to pick half-heartedly at his mac and cheese.

  “This is obviously an attempt to destabilize the Crawford Candy Company. And now that Mr. Crawford and the potential heir to the operation are dead, as Jackson Operating Officer, it’s only logical to assume that I’m the next target on their list.”