Book Retreat Mystery 07 - Murder in the Cookbook Nook

by Ellery Adams

  The sheriff stepped away to call the station. Jane heard him mention a latent fingerprint kit and, in a lower voice, something like “those damn reporters.” Jane would have liked to continue listening in, but Mrs. Pratt was heading for the door.

  Her eyes were on Roger as she said, “I’m going to walk around the festival. There’s nothing I can do here, but I can put my Sherlockian powers of observation to work out there.” As she reached for the handle, she glanced back at Jane. “You coming?”

  Jane started forward. “Of course.”

  Before she made it to the door, her phone rang.

  “Eugenia,” she called. “Give me a second to tell Edwin what’s going on. I ran off without a word.”

  Mrs. Pratt unlocked the deadbolt and whipped the door open. “I’m not waiting. Every minute I waste gives the thief more time to escape.”

  “I’ll catch up,” Jane promised.

  But after reading Edwin’s text, Jane knew she wouldn’t be keeping her promise. Instead, she swung around and shouted, “Sheriff Evans!”

  The sheriff, who’d been taking photos of the display case housing the pillboxes, lowered his phone and asked, “What’s happened?”

  “The chefs and the judges—they’re all here, at the festival. They’re having another competition.”

  Sheriff Evans growled, “What?”

  Jane raised her phone and pointed at the screen. “Edwin’s watching it right now. Lots of people are. Including a dozen journalists. And Sheriff, Ty Scott is there too. It looks like he’s now in charge of the show.”

  * * *

  Even if Edwin hadn’t told Jane where the competition was taking place, she would have known where to go.

  The festival’s biggest tent had always been the hub for the Berry Bake-Off. Three long tables were arranged in a U, and each table featured entries in either the Cake, Pie, or Cookie category. The festival committee judged the entries throughout the morning, and awarded red, white, and blue ribbons in the afternoon with the help of Dew Drop, the Berry Jubilee mascot.

  As Jane pushed her way into the tent, she didn’t see any cakes, pies, or cookies. Two of the tables held camp stoves and the third was heaped with pantry items. The camp stoves divided the table into four cooking stations, all of which were covered with soiled mixing bowls, cutting boards, and utensils.

  “And that’s time! Put your hands up, please!” Mia exclaimed from a raised platform at the front of the tent. “What do you think, everyone? Was that exciting, or what?”

  The crowd responded with boisterous cheers.

  “Let’s start with Chef August, who told us that his Berry Bake-Off dessert was inspired by The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Chef? What did you make?”

  Chef August let out a whistle. “I swear, I’ve never made a dessert that fast!” He smiled and wiped his brow. “I’m a Southern boy, so when I saw those buttermilk biscuits in the pantry, I knew I had to make a huckleberry biscuit cobbler. I balanced the sweetness by adding lime juice to the cobbler and lime zest to the crème fraiche. I know my mama would love this dish, which means I did something right.”

  “Berry yummy.” Mia winked at the camera and stepped over to Chef Alondra’s station. “Chef Alondra picked Blueberries for Sal as the inspiration for her bookish berry dessert. How’d it go?”

  Chef Alondra looked unhappy. “I’m disappointed with my plating. I made a blueberry dump cake, but there wasn’t enough time for the cake to cool before I cut it, so it’s not very neat. I literally had to dump it on the plate.”

  Jane couldn’t see Chef Alondra’s dish because she was still working her way to the front of the tent. She assumed Sheriff Evans was right behind her, so when someone grabbed her arm, she stopped and turned around.

  It wasn’t the sheriff but one of Mia’s assistants—the young man in the fedora.

  “Mia wants you to know that she didn’t plan this,” he said. “But puh-lease let it play out. Pretty please with a cherry on top. It’s the fastest challenge we’ve ever filmed, and she’s almost done talking to Chef Lindsay. That only leaves Chef Michel and the judging, which will take like sixty seconds, I swear.”

  Despite herself, Jane asked, “Where’s Chef Saffron?”

  “She was going to be voted out at the end of the Secret Garden challenge, but the judges were busy running from a fireball, so they had to tell her at the beginning of today’s challenge. She cried a little, but she’s chill now. She’s sitting near the judges. But listen!” The urgency returned to his voice. “Levi and Coco have been tasting the dishes the whole time Mia’s been talking to the chefs. She’ll announce the winner as soon as Chef Michel finishes presenting his dish, so let her finish, okay?”

  At the front of the tent, Mia was pointing to where the judges sat at a table near the podium.

  “Lois Lenski’s Strawberry Girl won the Newbery Medal in 1946,” Mia said. “It was one of the first chapter books Coco Kennedy read. Chef Michel, how did the berries in this book inspire your dessert?”

  “My wife’s favorite dessert is fresh strawberries and cream, which is why I made Strawberries Romanoff. The cream sauce is a blend of brown sugar, sour cream, and lemon juice and I topped the cream and strawberry slices with a toasted pistachio crumble.”

  Mia smiled at Chef Michel. “Sounds like a berry perfect pairing for a hot summer’s day.”

  “Are we cool?” Mia’s assistant released Jane’s arm.

  Jane saw no point in causing a scene. Mia had already walked over to the judges’ table and there was no sign of the sheriff.

  Scanning the crowd, Jane finally spotted him standing next to Ty Scott.

  Ty made a hurry-up gesture at Mia, and she responded by shoving the mic into Levi’s hand.

  “If Mia didn’t plan this, then who did?” Jane hissed at the young man.

  Adopting a blank expression that didn’t fool Jane for a second, he said, “Honey, I do hair and makeup. That intel is way above my pay grade.”

  Distracted by a burst of applause, Jane glanced back at the chefs just as Chef Lindsay’s face broke into a delighted smile. A moment later, Coco Kennedy mournfully announced that it was the end of the line for Chef Alondra.

  “Despite the bright flavors of your dump cake, we couldn’t get past the mushy consistency,” Levi said. “But you’re an incredible chef, and we know you’ll continue to make incredible food.”

  After thanking Mia and the judges for the opportunity to compete, Chef Alondra exchanged hugs with the other chefs. Chef Lindsay and Chef August started crying when Chef Alondra removed her apron.

  Mia thanked the audience and the festival committee. She held the mic while the lights and cameras were switched off and then said, “And now, it’s time to announce the Berry Jubilee Bake-Off winners. I’m going to turn things over to your festival chairwoman, Kathy Holmes, but before I go, I want to congratulate all the home bakers. It takes courage to let other people judge your creations, and even if you don’t win today, keep making food from the heart. You’ll always be a blue-ribbon winner to your family and friends.”

  The audience gave Mia another round of applause, and she passed the microphone to Kathy.

  “Wow!” Kathy’s booming voice reverberated through the tent. “Just think! We’ll be able to experience this amazing event again when the next season of Posh Palate with Mia Mallett airs. And who knows? One day, a cook from Storyton might compete on the show!”

  The crowd shouted in approval. A man whistled right in Jane’s ear as she worked her way over to where Sheriff Evans stood glaring at Ty Scott.

  Ty said something Jane didn’t catch, but she definitely heard the sheriff’s reply.

  “I will cuff you and escort you from this tent in front of all these people. I told you to report to the station this morning. That was an order, not a request, and you ignored it.” The sheriff’s eyes were hard and unyielding, and when he took a step closer to Ty, the director took a step back.

  “Come on, Sheriff. It’s all goo
d. We showed your town a great time. How about a little gratitude?”

  Sheriff Evans signaled to someone and Deputy Phelps began heading their way.

  Ty raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll come with you. Hey, Randy! Watch my camera. Hurry up, man!”

  When Ty turned to gesture at a crewmember, he saw Jane. Believing he’d found an ally, he said, “Jane. I’m so glad you’re here. You need to convince Johnny Law to let us finish what we came here to do. What’s one more episode? Everything’s cool. The bad streak’s broken, so just let us finish and we’ll get out of your hair. You get paid. A chef’s dreams come true. It’ll be a happy ending. Don’t you book people love happy endings?”

  Deputy Phelps pushed past Jane. “Excuse me, Ms. Steward,” he said before clamping a hand on Ty’s arm.

  The sheriff took hold of Ty’s other arm. “Start walking, Mr. Scott.”

  As she watched Ty being led out of the tent, Jane considered what to do next. She wanted to find Edwin. She wanted to check on the twins. And she also wanted to help Mrs. Pratt search for the woman in the white blouse.

  At the front, Kathy was still speaking. Jane heard her say, “So without further ado, Dew Drop, our Berry Jubilee mascot, will bring in the blue ribbons!”

  The mascot skipped into the tent, his strawberry-shaped head bobbing as he moved. His cartoonish face with its wide smile, blush cheeks, and round, sky-blue eyes, seemed to take in the whole crowd. Dew Drop waved a green, leaf-shaped hand as he made his way to the microphone. He stopped a few feet away from Jane to exchange high-fives with a little girl in a raspberry print dress, giving Jane a good look at the back of his T-shirt.

  Unlike the front of his shirt, which spelled out his name in a curly font, the words on the back had been written in black marker. They were sloppy and uneven as if done in haste.

  Perplexed, Jane muttered the message aloud, “‘Cook’s Pride Supports Slave Labor.’”

  Dew Drop danced to the front, unaware of the murmurs of shock rippling through the crowd. People pointed at the mascot and took photos of his shirt.

  And then, a voice cut through the noise. “You! Strawberry head! Stop right there!”

  Everyone turned toward a man in a business suit. He stood with two other men and a woman. All three wore power suits and carried briefcases.

  Suddenly, a hand closed around Jane’s wrist.

  “Time to go,” said Edwin. “There’s nothing more terrifying than a quarrel of lawyers.”

  Right before Jane slipped out through the exit reserved for festival committee members, she glanced back at the CEO and his attorneys. All four radiated hostility. Their clenched jaws, disapproving scowls, and stiff bearing made it clear that they’d come to Storyton to pick a fight.

  But whoever had written that message on Dew Drop’s shirt had already landed a blow, and it was a real sucker punch.

  Chapter 14

  “Are the boys still at the booth?” Jane asked after they emerged into the open air.

  “Yes,” said Edwin. “They sold all their jam and are now peddling bath salts and soap. I’ve never seen such natural-born salesmen.”

  Jane squeezed Edwin’s hand. “I want to take them home. Reporters are one thing, but a combative CEO, his lawyers, and a vandalized mascot have been added to the mix. On top of that, Mrs. Pratt’s running around the festival in search of a thief.”

  “Was something taken from Roger’s shop?”

  Jane told Edwin about the robbery as they made their way to the Storyton Hall booth.

  “Mrs. Pratt is wasting her time. As an expert thief, I can tell you that our lady shoplifter has either changed her clothes or is miles from Storyton by now.”

  Jane smirked. It had been weeks since she’d thought about Edwin’s secret life as a Templar and a book thief. She’d been too happy to have him around to dwell on his previous absences. For the last two months, he hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night to fulfill a mission for his order. There were no trips abroad. No postcards from exotic locales. Instead, he’d been trying out new dishes for Daily Bread and spending all of his free time with Jane and the boys. It had been bliss.

  Despite Edwin’s insistence that he was a modern-day Robin Hood, Jane could never quite come to terms with the Templar practice of stealing rare books, manuscripts, or documents from an individual with the aim of returning them to their original owner. Even if the original owner was often a university, library, or museum, Jane didn’t believe the Templars were truly motivated by altruism. She suspected that huge sums of money or political favors were exchanged each time a precious artifact was recovered.

  Edwin wasn’t motivated by money or power. It was the books he cared about, and he believed that he was reclaiming them for the good of mankind. He’d been a young man when he became a Templar and having sworn an oath to the order, he’d never break it.

  As the Guardian of Storyton Hall, Jane understood the gravity of such an oath. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d fall in love with a book thief pretending to be a travel writer and restaurateur, but she had. And though Edwin’s secret life made their relationship more complicated, Jane could handle complicated.

  “If the boys hear about Mrs. Pratt’s quest, they’ll never leave,” she said.

  There was no sign of the twins at the Storyton Hall booth.

  The spa employees were nearly out of inventory. One of the young women thanked a customer for his purchase and turned to Jane. “Fitz and Hem went off with your friend. She seemed upset, and the twins said that it was okay for them to help her because she’s in your book club. That was about five minutes ago.”

  “Thank you, Ainsley. Did you see which way they went?”

  The young woman pointed, and Jane and Edwin hurried off.

  They maneuvered through the crowd, skirting booths of merchandise and food, while the summer sun beat down on their heads. By the time they reached the Old Curiosity Shop, beads of sweat were glistening on Jane’s forehead and her shirt was sticking to her back.

  Mrs. Pratt was sprawled on the bench in the front garden. Eloise was sitting next to her, fanning her face with a paperback. Fitz and Hem had retreated to the stoop where they sat with their hands on their knees, watching the two women with worried eyes.

  “Eugenia!” Jane cried, alarmed by Mrs. Pratt’s wilted appearance.

  “She’s overheated,” said Eloise.

  Edwin told Jane he’d be right back and ran toward Daily Bread.

  Jane pointed at the closed door. “We need to get her inside.”

  “We can’t go in because the deputies are dusting for prints.” Eloise put a hand on Mrs. Pratt’s shoulder. “Can you make it to the bookstore, Eugenia?”

  Mrs. Pratt nodded weakly and tried to stand, but she clearly needed assistance. Jane and Eloise each took hold of one of Mrs. Pratt’s arms and heaved her to her feet. Slowly, the three women proceeded to the garden gate.

  Edwin intercepted them before they reached the sidewalk. After handing Eloise a bag filled with water bottles, he scooped Mrs. Pratt into his arms.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured.

  The twins took Eloise’s keys and ran ahead to unlock the bookstore, so when the hot and sweaty assemblage finally made it to Run for Cover, the door was thrown open wide.

  Edwin gently deposited Mrs. Pratt in a reading chair. He pressed a bottle of water in her hands and cajoled her in taking small sips while he removed her shoes. He raised her feet on a stool and told Eloise that he was going to run a dishcloth under cold water in the kitchen.

  Mrs. Pratt watched him leave the room. “Jane, you’re a lucky woman. Why not be Jane to Eloise’s Elizabeth Bennet? You and Eloise are like sisters, and a double wedding would be doubly romantic.”

  Jane touched Mrs. Pratt’s cheek with the back of her hand. The skin was still too warm, but the air-conditioning would help Mrs. Pratt cool down.

  “Hydrate, Eugenia. We can talk about weddings later.”

  “An
Austenian double wedding,” Mrs. Pratt said dreamily. “You could be modern Bingleys and Darcys. Two handsome men. Two beautiful brides.”

  Jane tapped the water bottle. “Take a sip.” When Mrs. Pratt finally obeyed, Jane smiled and said, “There were no double weddings in Jane Eyre. I don’t think we should try to convert Eloise from a diehard Brontë fan to a diehard Austen fan two months before her wedding, do you?”

  “I love Austen,” Eloise objected.

  Mrs. Pratt drank more water. “But Jane Eyre’s wedding was interrupted by Mr. Rochester’s first wife. She tore Jane’s wedding veil. Does Eloise really want to model her big day on that ceremony?”

  Eloise and Jane exchanged grins. There was nothing Mrs. Pratt liked more than romance, and since she was well enough to wax on about weddings, she was clearly feeling better.

  Unaware of Mrs. Pratt’s improved state, Edwin returned from the kitchen and pressed the cold cloth against her forehead.

  “I was just telling Jane that you two should join Landon and Eloise at the altar.”

  Edwin shot a questioning look at Eloise who responded with a shrug.

  “I think my lovely sister deserves her own wedding day,” said Edwin. “As does my Jane. I know they’re thick as thieves, but—”

  “The thief!” Mrs. Pratt exclaimed. “I didn’t find her. Oh, what will I tell Roger?”

  “That you gave chase until you couldn’t anymore. A king would trade his crown for such a faithful partner as you.” Taking Mrs. Pratt’s hand, Edwin used it to hold the damp cloth in place. “You should rest now. Eloise? Can we help ourselves to glasses of ice? Those water bottles aren’t very cold.”

  “Of course. Jane. Boys. Come through to the kitchen. You close your eyes, Eugenia. I won’t be a minute.”

  In the kitchen, Eloise filled glasses with ice and distributed them while Jane described the items stolen from Roger’s shop.

  “A pillbox shaped like a fish and a chocolate pot embossed with flowers? I guess the thief chose them for a reason,” Eloise said.

  A fish, Jane thought. Why do I feel like that matters?