And Then There Were Crumbs--A Cookie House Mystery

by Eve Calder

  “He’ll love that,” Maxi said. “With any luck, we might be able to fatten him up a little by the time he gets out. That man is too skinny. Not a good advertisement for a bakery—a scrawny baker.”

  “Sam doesn’t know about the cookies, does he?” Annie asked, smiling.

  “Nope,” Maxi replied, draining her teacup.

  “I wouldn’t tell him just yet,” the pharmacist said in a hushed voice. “Plenty of time for that later.”

  Chapter 24

  That afternoon, Kate and Maxi sat in folding chairs in front of Sam’s cell and watched the baker devour a healthy portion of enchiladas de mariscos—seafood stew. Along with several large wedges of skillet corn bread.

  Life behind bars was giving the man an appetite, Kate noted approvingly.

  Earlier Ben had confessed to Maxi that they were getting Sam out for walks once or twice a day.

  “The backyard of the station house isn’t exactly the beach,” the detective had admitted. “But at least it’s green, and it gives him a little fresh air and exercise.”

  A stack of books and magazines occupied half of Sam’s metal bench. And a crossword puzzle book was open next to him, adjacent to a thick new dictionary. Barb.

  There were a couple of fat pillows and a plush plaid blanket on the second bench. Gifts from other visitors, Kate speculated.

  A navy throw rug carpeted the previously bare tile floor. Kate was guessing that was from the Kims. Or possibly Rosie and Andre.

  Dorm room chic aside, the biggest change was in the baker himself. The hollows and creases in his face were filling out. He had a kiss of sun on his forehead and cheeks. And his attitude was downright upbeat.

  “How’s the bakery?” was the first thing out of his mouth when he saw them. “Open yet?”

  “Not quite,” Kate said. “I gave it a good scrubbing this morning. Now we’re trying to schedule a health inspection. And we have to order supplies.”

  “Gold Coast Supply. Got an account. You call ’em, they’ll come. Ask for Roberta. Had the account since we opened.”

  Kate pulled a small pad from her pocket and dutifully scrawled “Gold Coast Supply” and “Roberta.”

  “Is there an account number or PIN code I need to give her?” she asked.

  “Don’t need that foolishness. Tell her you’re my assistant. Running the place for a bit. She’ll send what you need. Knows the right amounts, too.” To Maxi he asked, “How are the kids?”

  “Well, they miss their Tio Sam,” Maxi said. “We didn’t tell them—”

  “Course not. Too young to understand.”

  “Looks like you’ve had some visitors,” Kate said lightly.

  “Whether I want ’em or not,” Sam said. “Won’t let me out. But they’ll let anybody in. Sunny Eisenberg and some pal of hers in here this morning. Yakkin’ about some consarned TV show. Genuine housekeepers of somewhere or other.”

  He sighed. “But they did bring some of Bridget’s egg-and-cheese biscuits. From the pub,” he said, shaking his head. “Worth it.”

  Maxi looked at Kate, who was straining not to smile.

  From what Kate learned this week, Sam had always helped others when they needed it. Usually on the Q.T.

  Clearly, receiving help in return was sheer torture.

  “Heard anything more about who killed that snake Lord?” he said between bites.

  Kate looked at Maxi, each thinking the same thing: Inside the jail, what had he heard? What should they say?

  “The police are following up on a new lead,” Maxi said. “But it’s too soon to know anything for sure.”

  “We’re looking at a few things, too,” Kate admitted. “Just to be sure the police don’t miss anything.”

  Sam nodded.

  “No one can find any record of Lord before he came to the U.S.,” Kate admitted. “You ever hear anything about his private life? If he had a family, or where he lived?”

  “Didn’t know anything about him. Didn’t want to. Seemed like he knew a lot about me, though. And what he didn’t know he made up.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Samuel Hepplewhite, it very much does matter,” Maxi scolded. “Everyone in this town is trying to figure out who killed Stewart Lord. Because whoever did it made it look like you’re the culprit. So if you know anything, mister, you spill it!”

  Kate stared at her friend in amazement. Sam looked up and blinked, a surprised expression on his face. He was quiet for a long moment.

  “Run a small business, some months are better than others,” he started haltingly. “You know.”

  Maxi nodded encouragingly.

  “The lean times. Lord would show up. Make an offer.”

  “Always a lowball offer?” Kate asked gently.

  Sam nodded. “Don’t know how he knew. But he always did.”

  “If you wanted to sell the bakery, you could have sold it for more than he was offering,” Kate said.

  “Won’t sell. Never.”

  “But why did he think you’d take less?” Kate asked. “I mean, he was wrong about you wanting to sell. But if he hadn’t been, you still could have gone somewhere else and gotten a better deal. Why did he think you’d ever say yes to him?”

  “Fast cash.”

  “Actual cash?” Maxi asked, her eyes wide. “Like greenbacks? Benjamins? Bills in a suitcase?”

  “Yup. And the weasel would show up when … things were bad,” the baker said slowly. “Wave money around. Promise to solve my problems. Or make them worse.”

  “Worse how?” Kate asked.

  Sam shook his head. “Never said. Kept sayin’ that the business was only worth the ground it was sittin’ on. Saying he could make that go down. Then he’d laugh. Some kinda inside joke. Said if I was smart, I’d get out quick. While I could.”

  Kate nodded. It was pretty much a replay of the conversation she’d overheard at the bakery. “Was he going after any other businesses?”

  Sam’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. He returned it to the bowl.

  “Who?” Maxi asked.

  Sam exhaled deeply. “Harp. Heard he talked to Harp.”

  “That makes sense,” Maxi said. “When Caroline gets back, they’re probably going to have to sell the wine store or turn it into something else. If Lord heard about that, he’s the kind who’d swoop in to try to take advantage.”

  Sam nodded. “Don’t know what Harp said. Can’t think he’d be fool enough to take that blowhard seriously.”

  “There could be a few others around town, too,” Maxi said thoughtfully. “When you run a small business, things can go from great to awful like the blink of an eye. Even the time of year, that can make a difference.”

  The baker nodded, picked up his spoon, and resumed eating. “Also get a few things from Sand Dollar Foods,” he said, glancing up between bites. “Ask for Betty. Don’t tell Roberta.”

  “Well, of course not,” Kate said, nonplussed.

  “Cleaning supplies from Casey’s Industrial Supply. Talk to Junior. If you get Eddie, hang up. Too slick for his own good.”

  “We’ve been getting a few things from Amos Tully’s store,” Kate said.

  “OK to start. But you don’t buy retail to sell retail. Won’t work. Not for long.”

  “Truth,” Maxi said as she watched Sam mop up the spicy sauce from his bowl with the corn bread.

  “Moist. Nice crust.”

  “Honey instead of sugar,” Kate said, smiling.

  The baker nodded.

  “Um, I hate to mention it, but we’re going to have to replace your sourdough starter,” she said softly.

  “Not Francine?”

  “Uh, yeah. The police took everything food related. And apparently that included, um, Francine.”

  Sam stopped eating and stared at the floor. Kate could see him working his jaw.

  “Maybe the place you got it originally could give us another bit?” she prompted. “And if y
ou added anything or grew it a certain way, I can try to replicate that same formula.”

  “Didn’t do anything. Just set her aside every day. Francine did the rest.”

  He studied the carpet. But unlike the other day, this wasn’t dejection or depression. Kate could see the wheels turning in Sam’s brain.

  “Marco’s Bakery,” the baker said finally, like he’d made a decision. “In San Francisco. Castro Street. Talk to Marco or Sean. They’ll help. Won’t be exactly the same. But close.”

  “I’ll call them this afternoon,” Kate said. “At this rate, the Cookie House will be reopened for business by the end of the week. Now, if you saved room for dessert, how about a few ginger snaps? I baked a fresh batch.”

  Chapter 25

  As they walked down Main Street, Maxi turned to Kate. “Do you really think we can get the bakery open by the end of the week?”

  Kate nodded, slipping a liver treat to Oliver. “The only thing we’re missing now is the health inspection. And the guy at their office said he could probably get someone out here on Thursday. If they do—and if we pass—I’ll spend all day Friday baking. And we can open on Saturday morning. I might not have all the different kinds of breads that Sam offered, but I can make up a good selection. And some cookies, too. I just want to reach Marco’s today and see if they’re willing to send us another little bit of Francine.”

  “Look out, now he’s got you doing it,” Maxi said.

  “Hey, it makes sense. Sourdough starter is a living thing. It deserves a name.”

  “I’m not poking fun. I do it all the time with my plants. But if you’re not careful, you’re going to join us crazy folks. Giving names to growing things and trying to make a living from a shop. Nutty!”

  “It sounds like Sam had some really rough sledding there for a while. I’m hoping a few sweet treats on the roster might improve his balance sheet.”

  “I knew it was hard for him,” Maxi said barely above a whisper. “But I thought that was because he lost Cookie. I didn’t know the money part of it. And I should have.”

  “Well, we do now, and we’re going to help,” Kate said as Oliver lifted another treat softly from her fingertips. “What I really want to do is talk to Harp. I’m curious what kind of offer Lord made. And why he never mentioned it at the meeting.”

  “That did seem a little strange. But I think his wife is a touchy subject right now. My grandmother used to have a saying: Nunca se sabe lo que realmente está pasando detrás de las cortinas de un vecino. You never know what’s really going on behind a neighbor’s curtains.” Maxi shrugged. “Course, that goes double in Cuba.”

  “Cuba sounds a lot like New York. Hey, there he is! Down in front of Seize the Clay. Navy-blue baseball cap and madras shirt. With the big white shopping bag. That’s the guy who’s been following me!”

  “I’ll call Ben,” Maxi said, grabbing the phone from her purse. “Ay, no signal! Blast it!”

  “He’s crossing the street. Do you think he knows we saw him?”

  “It’s a sidewalk full of people in the daytime—and we have a vicious dog.” Maxi looked down at Oliver, who stared up at her with a searching expression. “I say we walk up to the jerk and ask him what he thinks he’s doing.”

  “First thing you learn in the big city, never present yourself to criminals or crazy people. They might know what they’re going to do next, but you don’t.”

  “Then let’s go into a shop and borrow a phone,” Maxi said.

  “Look! He has to know we’ve seen him. He’s practically fast-walking in the other direction! By the time Ben gets here, he’ll be long gone.”

  “So we go back to the flower shop. Are you sure it was him?”

  “Absolutely. And either I’m becoming more observant or he’s getting sloppy. He changes up hats and shirts. But he’s wearing the same big sunglasses and the same khaki cargo shorts. And the same gray running shoes.”

  “Maybe he wants you to see him. Like one of those scary clowns. Let’s go back to the shop. We can still call Ben. If we tell him what the guy’s wearing now, maybe they can pick him up if they see him later today.”

  “That’s a good idea. Besides, I want to call Marco.”

  “I was thinking,” Maxi said as they continued strolling, albeit more slowly. “It might be time to drop off a cookie box to Harp. I have one left from this morning. We could stop by his shop right before closing.”

  “So we wouldn’t be a couple of nosy busybodies,” Kate said. “Smart.”

  “Nope. We’re excellent neighbors promoting our business. And then we casually ask him about his super secret business dealings with Stewart Lord.”

  Chapter 26

  As they came to the end of the block and spotted the Cookie House, Kate stopped. And pointed.

  Maxi’s mouth dropped open. Five different ladders decorated the front of the Victorian house. Most of them holding workmen in white or denim overalls and caps. Bright blue tarps littered the grass beneath the crew.

  Out on the front lawn, Carl Ivers, decked out in white coveralls, shouted instructions to the ladder brigade like a conductor directing a wayward orchestra.

  “Wally, raise the ladder! Get the top first! Work your way down! Sammy, grab the hand sander! Get rid of those strips of loose paint! Justin, drop that paint can! We’re not ready for that yet. This ain’t some make-believe DIY show! Prep first!”

  “What the…,” Maxi and Kate said in unison, gape mouthed on the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

  Oliver sat up straight and let out three staccato barks. Announcing their presence.

  Carl turned and smiled. “Ladies! We were wondering when you’d show up,” he said, ambling toward them. “Hope you don’t mind, but we started without you. S’posed to be dry through Friday, but that’s a mighty small window for a place this big.”

  “You’re painting the Cookie House?” Maxi asked, astonished.

  “Restoring the old gal to her former glory. High time, too. Heard you girls wanted to get it done at a good price. No price better than free. And no time like the present. Guy who had the hardware store before me had the color chart on file. So here we are.”

  Kate looked at the crew. She recognized Justin from the shop. But the other men—most of them teenagers—were strangers.

  “Who are all these people?” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Friends and neighbors. Well, mostly their kids. On summer break from high school and college. Told ’em we had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to polish up the Cookie House. You know, suit up and get dirty. Most of ’em jumped at it. Or their parents did. But this is just the advance crew. Got the adults coming in later. We’ll paint as late into the evening as the light allows. And that team has some experience. These guys, not so much. But they’re willing and eager to learn.”

  “But I thought you believed Sam was guilty?” Kate said, her voice underscoring the confusion she felt.

  “Nope, I said the case needs more evidence either way. And we also need to let the cops do their jobs. Sam’s a good man. And a good neighbor. And we’re gonna help him.”

  “That’s amazing,” Maxi said, her voice cracking. “Thank you! From the bottom of my heart. Sam will be so happy.”

  “Now, that’s the other part,” Carl said quietly. “We’re gonna keep this under our hats. Let him see the big unveiling when he gets out. Whole crew is sworn to secrecy.” The ex-cop grinned. “We’ll see how long that holds.”

  A loud metallic clank cut the air. Carl whirled around. “Danny! Stabilize that ladder! Now!

  “Can’t turn your back on this bunch of rookies,” he said under his breath, stomping toward the house. “Not even for a minute.”

  “You know what this means?” Kate said as Maxi blotted tears from her face.

  Her friend shook her head, unable to speak.

  “If we’re going to feed this crew, we’re going to need a lot more food.”

  Chapter 27

 
Kate had never seen anything like it.

  As word leaked out that the Cookie House was getting a facelift, people started showing up from all over town. Some signed up for work shifts on Carl’s crew. Others pledged to bring food for the workers throughout the week.

  She and Maxi spent the next few hours standing on the sidewalk in front of the bakery shaking hands and thanking people. It reminded her of the receiving line at a wedding.

  Suddenly Kate remembered the reason she had been hustling back to Flowers Maximus: Marco!

  How could that have slipped her mind? What if she was too late? What if she failed? What if the bakery had to reopen without its signature sourdough? Who was she to be running a business?

  “Uh, I’ll be right back,” she said hurriedly to Maxi, who was mid-conversation with Andy Levy.

  She ducked inside the flower shop, grabbed the orange landline from Maxi’s desk, and called Information. As she dialed the California bakery, her hands were trembling.

  “This is Marco, how can I help you?”

  “Um, my name is Kate McGuire, and I’m a pastry chef at the Cookie House in Coral Cay.”

  “Hey there! How’s old Sam these days? He still making the best sourdough east of the Golden Gate?”

  “He is, and that’s kind of why I’m calling. We had a bit of a mishap and, well, we lost Francine.”

  “Oh no! She’s Sam’s pride and joy. Is Sam OK?”

  “He’s fine,” Kate said, crossing her fingers. “He’s actually … on vacation. Maxi—she owns the flower shop next door—she and I are running the place while he’s away. Anyway, I spoke with Sam and we were wondering, since you guys supplied the original Francine, if maybe you could spare another piece for him? As a replacement? And we’ll pay you for it, of course.”

  She held her breath and prayed Marco was feeling generous.