A Spoonful of Murder

by Connie Archer

  Chapter 31

  ELIAS HELD THE door open as they entered the church. High above the heavy bells jangled, announcing the start of the concert. Small sprays of flowers and evergreens tied with ribbon were fastened to the ends of each pew. The musicians had arranged their instruments—a harp, cello and violin—in front of the steps that led to the altar. Lucky watched in fascination as they tuned and prepared for the concert. Elias led her to a pew toward the front on the right side. She scooted in and slipped her coat from her shoulders.

  Elias handed her a program. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Barring the day earlier that week when Abigail had surprised her in the side chapel, it had been a few years since Lucky had seen the interior of St. Genesius. The nave was well lit. Exposed beams crossed above their heads from either side, meeting in the middle. The windows were all stained glass set in Gothic arches. The noise level increased as people wandered in, found seating and conversed with their neighbors in adjoining pews. Most of the attendees were friends and relatives of the singers, but the choral group had gained in popularity, and Elias had mentioned that much of their audience traveled from other towns to hear their programs.

  Finally the lights dimmed as in a theatre. The singers entered from the side of the altar in single file and stood in prearranged sections on the steps above the musicians. Their conductor stood in the aisle and raised his baton, and the first notes swelled through the church. Lucky referred to her program. There were four numbers, an intermission and then four more songs. One was a Bellini piece, another a Mendelssohn selection in German. Lucky regretted knowing so little of classical music. As she listened, she noticed the different voices were scattered, not isolated in sections, lending a depth and resonance to the sound.

  Lucky saw Abigail standing in the second row between two women. After the third piece, Abigail moved to the front carrying her sheet music. She placed the pages on a stand and sang a solo accompanied only by the harpist. The words were French. The notes were haunting. Lucky glanced down at her program. It was a Fauré piece called “Après un rêve.” Her schoolgirl French was rusty, but she could still decipher some of the phrases. You called me and I left the earth to run away to the light.

  Abigail’s voice was lovely. The notes swelled and lingered, weaving an achingly lovely story. Lucky imagined how much her mother would have enjoyed this. She closed her eyes and let sound wash over her, memories of her mother flashing before her eyes. She felt, like the song, as if she could leave her body behind and rise to the rafters transported by this music. The end of the program came all too soon. Lucky turned to Elias and whispered, “They’re fantastic.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Aren’t they? Some are retired professionals, some are amateurs, but they’re all highly trained.” He stood and helped her slip her coat on. “There are refreshments in the lobby. Let’s get something hot to drink.”

  They navigated the aisle as people gathered their things and left their seats. Lucky was instantly alert when she saw Tom Reed and his wife on the far side of the church. She hoped he hadn’t seen her, or that if he had, he wouldn’t say anything unpleasant. She cringed when she remembered how blunt she had been in his office. She hadn’t really wanted to take that tack, but reviewing it in her mind, what other choice had she had, other than to come right out and ask her questions? He had a right to take offense at her prying, but all the same, his reaction was extreme.

  Elias looked at her. “Anything wrong?”

  She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to him, smiling. “No. Not at all. Sorry, just lost in thought.”

  The front entry area was cold, chilled by blasts as many left or lingered in the doorway. The noise level rose as friends greeted one another. A group of people were gathered around a table where CDs from earlier performances were being sold. A few of the singers had joined friends and were chatting by the pastry tray.

  “Elias! Glad you could make it.” Jon Starkfield exited from the church and placed a hand on Elias’s shoulder.

  Elias smiled and turned to Lucky. “Jon—you remember Lucky Jamieson.”

  “Yes, of course I do. Did you enjoy the performance?”

  “Very much,” she responded. “I was impressed. Your wife has an amazing voice.”

  “Yes, she does. She works very hard for these performances—they all do. But I know she’ll appreciate your compliment. Would you excuse me? I see some friends across the room.” Smiling, he moved quickly around a group and joined two men who were preparing to leave.

  Elias maneuvered her toward the coffee urn and filled two cups with coffee. “Sugar and cream?”

  “A little cream, please.”

  He passed her a paper cup with a napkin wrapped around it. “Careful. It’s hot.”

  Lucky scanned the crowd, but other than the Reeds, still on the other side of the room, she didn’t see anyone she recognized. “Do you come to these concerts often?”

  “I have only been one other time.” He took a sip of coffee. “But I was so impressed with their work. You can imagine how many hours of rehearsal this takes. They do maybe four or five performances a year, and I thought you’d like to hear them.”

  “Well worth it. Thank you.”

  “Elias!” a woman’s voice called out. Lucky spotted Abigail Starkfield moving through the crowd, still dressed in her black velvet gown and jacket. “So glad you could make it.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Elias on the cheek.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Elias responded with a wide smile. “Abigail, I don’t think you’ve met…”

  “Oh, but I have.” Abigail offered her hand. “Hello, Lucky. Did you enjoy our program?” Abigail smiled brightly. Once again Lucky found something reminiscent of her mother in Abigail’s face.

  “I most certainly did. It was amazing. I particularly loved your solo.”

  “Oh, you’re too kind, but thank you anyway. I’ve never turned professional, like some members of our group, but I do my best to keep up.” She turned to Elias. “You and Lucky will have to stop by for dinner soon. We have one more program to do here at the end of next week and then I’m free for a while.”

  One of the other singers, a dark-haired woman with wire rim glasses, moved closer to Abigail. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to check with someone—do we really have two more rehearsals, one tomorrow and one next week?”

  Abigail nodded. “Yes, sorry, dear. Two more, then we’re done.” The woman nodded to Lucky and Elias and scooted away.

  Abigail turned back to them. “Our rehearsal schedule’s been so tight. We worked as long as we could the night of the blizzard and then rescheduled rehearsals till everyone could travel, so we’re trying to make up for lost time. But when I’m done with the next program, I’ll give you a call.”

  Elias answered, “I’d love to come for dinner soon.”

  Abigail smiled at Lucky. “And please bring this lovely young woman. You can let me know what night would be convenient.” Lucky wasn’t sure what impression Abigail had of their relationship. She spoke as if she assumed they were a couple, but Lucky herself wasn’t exactly certain what form the relationship was taking. Maybe Abigail was simply being cordial. She was obviously very fond of Elias—perhaps she thought of him as a younger version of her husband, or even as a son.

  Elias turned to her. “Hope you didn’t feel as if you were being put on the spot. But, whenever this dinner materializes, maybe you would like to come with me.”

  Lucky decided not to try to second-guess what others thought of her and Elias. “I’d love to. It was very kind of her to offer.”

  “That’s Abigail. A heart of gold. They’re both very lucky people to have each other. And I think she’s as happy here as he is.”

  Lucky cringed at Elias’s comment. Hopefully he was correct, but nonetheless, she still intended to broach the subject of Starkfield’s possible involvement in the murder.

  They tossed their paper cups in a wastebasket behind the temporary ser
ving counter and headed for the exit. She saw Tom Reed’s head lift up over the crowd. He had spotted her. She looked directly at him, and he glared at her in return but made no move to approach. They stepped outside and Lucky breathed a sigh of relief. Reed had certainly remembered her, but she was sure he wouldn’t want to discuss his financial situation in such a setting. And he certainly wouldn’t want any hint of involvement with Patricia Honeywell to create gossip. No, probably the last thing Tom Reed would do would be to approach her.

  “I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t drive. It’s colder than I thought it would be tonight. I guess our warming trend is over.”

  Lucky wrapped her scarf more closely around her neck and slipped on her gloves. “Not at all. I love to walk at night.” Their boots crunched in unison as they headed along Chestnut Street toward the center of town. “Actually, it’s funny. I stopped here a few days ago.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I had just come from seeing Sage at the jail and I needed a place to…I just needed a quiet spot for a while before I went back to the Spoonful. I met Abigail that day. She was a little brusque at first, but I guess she was busy and they were preparing for a baptism.”

  “Really? That doesn’t sound like her at all. I know she’s very involved with this church. She heads up the Ladies’ Auxiliary or something like that, so she does a lot of volunteer work here. Maybe she was just pressured.”

  “I guess you’re right. I wasn’t dressed very well, just jeans, so maybe that turned her off.”

  Elias chuckled. “She can be a bit of a stickler for propriety.” They had reached the corner of Broadway. “How ’bout a drink? It’s not very late. We could stop at the Pub if it’s quiet, or we could pick up my car and drive up to one of the places at the Resort?”

  Lucky was enjoying the intimacy of their walk. She was afraid the Pub might be noisy this time of night, but she didn’t particularly relish the idea of going to the Resort either. For a second, she considered inviting him back to her apartment, but it was still full of boxes and she hadn’t much to offer him. Would it sound too much like an invitation to spend the night? She was sure he was attracted to her, but she still didn’t feel she had a clear signal from him.

  “The Pub sounds fine. I’d like that.”

  The Snowflake Pub was casual, with round tables and booths and seating around a fireplace. It was warm and comfortable, although occasionally a rowdy bunch would arrive and spoil the ambience.

  Elias held the door open for her and they entered to find very few patrons. Two people were at stools at the long bar, a couple sat across from each other in a booth and no one was by the fire. Lucky headed straight for two empty chairs near the hearth. The waitress arrived a moment later to take their orders. She smiled suggestively at Elias as if she knew him. Lucky asked for a hot mulled wine and Elias ordered an ale. The waitress jotted down their orders and smiled at Elias again. Lucky felt a frisson of jealousy, wondering if he had taken other women here. She couldn’t resist. “Do you come here often?”

  He turned to her in surprise. “Me? Not at all. I think I’ve been here twice, if that. Both times, it was for someone’s birthday at the Clinic.” He chuckled. “I’m a very boring guy. I’m either working, studying the latest research papers or fixing up my house. No time to play. A dull boy.” He grinned.

  Lucky didn’t think he was a dull boy at all. She was taken aback by the jolt of jealousy she had felt and was secretly relieved he didn’t know the waitress.

  “Hey, speaking of a change of pace, if you’re free next weekend, may I take you to dinner? I promise not to inflict my cooking upon you.”

  “I was not afflicted by your cooking.” She laughed. “And yes, that would be wonderful.”

  “I promise you a real restaurant—five-star this time.”

  The waitress returned with their drinks, and Elias slipped some bills onto her tray, telling her to keep the change.

  Lucky took a sip of her wine, fragrant with cloves and cinnamon.

  “You mentioned visiting Sage at the jail.” He looked at her questioningly.

  “We’ve been taking care of his meals until his arraignment on Monday morning.”

  “And the Spoonful? Has business picked up any?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Other than a few regulars and some tourists who hadn’t been here long enough to hear the gossip—nothing. This woman…this thing…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how long we can hang on and still pay the bills.”

  Elias put a warm hand on her arm. “If you need a loan to keep going, please let me know. The Spoonful’s an institution. I’d hate to see it fold. And my feeling is that winter tourists will have very short memories. It’s only locals that will keep the gossip alive.”

  “Oh, Elias, I really appreciate that. But I couldn’t possibly take money from you. I just wouldn’t feel right about that. What needs to happen is for Sage’s name to be cleared. Frankly, I don’t think she was murdered at the restaurant at all.”

  “You’re still convinced Sage is innocent?”

  “I am. And this woman…well, from what I’ve learned, she was carrying on with a few people, but I think—no, I know—she must have been a real threat, otherwise she’d still be alive. And I’d be willing to bet her pregnancy had something to do with it.”

  Elias grimaced. “Lucky, whatever you do, please don’t mention that to anyone. It will come out eventually, but I really shouldn’t have let that slip.”

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t and I won’t.” She remembered that she had slipped and told Elizabeth, but she could completely trust that Elizabeth wouldn’t tell a soul. “But if Honeywell was using the pregnancy to blow up someone’s marriage, then that’s a pretty good motive.”

  Elias shrugged. “Hopefully Nate will figure it all out. And I hope for your sake you’re right about Sage.”

  Lucky swished the dark liquid around in her glass. “Elias, how well do you know your partner?”

  “Jon? He’s a great guy. I’ve known him for several years and watched him practice. He’s a very good doctor, and well loved at the Clinic.” Elias’s face became more serious. “You’re not asking me about him because you’re suspicious of him, are you?”

  “Not particularly of him. I’m just asking.” Lucky told him about speaking to Chance at the Ski Shop and his remark that Honeywell had free medical treatment.

  Elias stared at the fire and took a sip of his beer. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you don’t know this guy from Adam. How did you meet him?”

  “Sophie—you might know her—we grew up together here, in Snowflake. Sophie’s been seeing Sage and she’s completely broken up about his arrest.”

  “But couldn’t she just trot anyone out to say just about anything? If her feelings are as you say, she’d do anything to undermine Nate’s case against Sage.”

  “That may be true, but I don’t see what reason this guy had to lie. He spoke to me only because Sophie asked him to. Otherwise, I never could have gotten any information out of him.”

  “I don’t know…” Elias looked doubtful. He was quiet for several minutes. Finally, he turned to her. “I know you believe Sage is innocent, but you can’t really know for sure. I know you want him back at the Spoonful and everything to return to normal, but you should let the police do their job, and stay out of it.”

  Lucky bristled. “I don’t agree, Elias. I think Nate jumped the gun arresting Sage and I don’t think he’s guilty. I really don’t. Yes, I have selfish reasons for wanting him out of jail, but mostly I just want the guilty person to be where Sage is. Because if he isn’t guilty, then a murderer is among us.” She was immediately regretful that her tone had been so vehement.

  Elias sat back in his chair. “And you’re thinking that Jon might have been involved with this woman?”

  “It’s possible, isn’t it?”

  Elias’s face took on a stony expression. “No, it’s not. I can’t believe that. I know him pre
tty well and I can’t imagine his getting involved in something like that. Particularly with a woman like that.”

  “A woman like what?” If Elias’s life was as cloistered as he said, how would he know anything about Patricia Honeywell?

  “I hear the gossip around town. It’s pretty hard to avoid. But Lucky, you’re asking a lot of questions. Questions that could hurt a man that I have the greatest respect for, and I consider Abigail a friend as well. You know how rumors get started, and rumors can kill someone’s reputation in a town this size.”

  Lucky felt chastised. Elias was right. “I’m not meaning to hurt anyone. I just want the guilty person arrested and I want the reputation of the Spoonful restored. I don’t know why you find that so hard to understand—my parents worked their whole life to create that goodwill and that reputation.”

  Elias’s face softened. “I know they did. And I sympathize with what you and Jack are going through. Just please be careful who you talk to. If you’re right and there is a murderer at large, you could be his next target.”

  Chapter 32

  LUCKY WAS STILL reviewing her—what should she call it—her “argument” with Elias of the night before. It wasn’t really an argument, but somehow things had not turned out well. He was silent walking back to her apartment. He was a perfect gentleman, but she suspected he was upset with her. She blushed when she remembered how accusatory she must have sounded, how obnoxious it was to ask Elias about his partner. But when she remembered how he had responded, she felt the anger rising again.

  She swiped at the counter and arranged forks and spoons and knives in their holders for the third time. She felt like a child who had been chastised, like a woman who wasn’t entitled to her thoughts and opinions. As if she had no right to be asking questions—just pat the little woman on the head and she’ll be quiet. His reaction had infuriated her. It made her all the more angry when she remembered how she had fantasized the night might end—with a passionate kiss or something that made it obvious to her where Elias stood. He kept asking her out, but their time together was always very chaste—almost ambivalent. She wasn’t sure she was ready to go any further, but she did want to know if he had feelings for her or if he was just being friendly and passing time because he had nothing else to do.