by Krista Davis
“Sophie, I don’t mean to put you down, but are you sure this isn’t some kind of cooking lingo?”
“I am the first person to admit there’s a lot I don’t know in this world, but I’ve never seen anything like this on a recipe. I would guess that it might mean something as to the order of the recipes, but there doesn’t seem to be a logical pattern that I can discern.”
“Plus, it would be easier to just number the pages, or write out the name of the section, like appetizers and desserts,” she observed.
“Nina! A and D!” I shuffled back through the pages. “Maybe you’re onto something. That would make sense.” I scanned the pages for a D reference. “So much for that. There isn’t a D. I’ll have to call Tilly and ask her.”
I took the bubbling macaroni and cheese out of the oven and placed it on a trivet to cool a bit. Nina eyed it, and I knew it would only be a matter of minutes until she dipped a spoon into it for a taste.
I phoned Tilly, who answered the phone a bit breathless.
“It’s Sophie. Is everything okay?”
For a long moment, Tilly didn’t speak. I was certain that only seconds had passed, but it was long enough for me to wonder what was going on.
Nina waved at me. She held a large serving spoon and doled the mac and cheese into a pretty blue casserole dish. “We could bring some to Tilly,” she said in a loud voice.
I made a face at Nina. She would do anything to get to meet Old Town’s newest famous resident.
“Everything’s fine. I just walked in. What are you going to bring me?”
“Your macaroni and cheese.”
She gasped. “You already cooked it? That’s fabulous. I haven’t started anything for our dinner yet, so that would be perfect.”
“We’ll drop over in a few minutes. There’s something I wanted to ask you about the recipes.”
When I hung up, Nina was frowning at the casserole. “Aluminum foil?” she asked.
“Let’s cover it with a few layers of paper towels first since it’s so hot. I don’t want the crunchy crust to get soggy.”
We packed a generous portion into an insulated carrier and pulled on our jackets. I dressed Daisy in her halter, folded two recipe pages, stuck them in my pocket, and we set off for Tilly’s house.
Evening was setting on Old Town, and the lights in windows were starting to illuminate. There was something magical about Old Town when the lights came on. It was as though the historic houses came to life and we lived in a quaint village of another time.
As we approached Tilly’s block, Daisy carefully sniffed the unfamiliar territory. I didn’t know how Tilly felt about dogs, but it wasn’t like we were planning to stay long. We walked up the short sidewalk to the front stoop.
“So this is Tilly’s house? I drive by all the time but had no idea a TV star was living here.” Nina gazed up at the three stories while I clanked the door knocker.
Tilly opened the door, her hair flying out of place even more than it had earlier. Her face was flushed, with cheeks so red I wondered if she was sick. “Mac and cheese delivery,” I said lightly.
“This is perfect timing. The girls are ravenous.” Tilly smiled at Daisy and patted her.
I introduced Nina to her and pulled the recipe pages from my pocket. “I was wondering if you know what this means.” I pointed to the letter and number combination.
“I haven’t a clue,” said Tilly. “Don’t you know?”
“Not all the recipes have a notation like this. They’re not any standard cooking instruction as far as I can tell.”
Tilly stared at the pages. “I’m clueless. Can we just leave them out?”
I certainly didn’t think it advisable to leave anything in if we didn’t know what it meant. “I don’t see why not.”
A man’s voice inside Tilly’s house said something that I didn’t hear clearly.
Tilly handed the pages back to me with a smile. “Thank you so much for bringing this by. I know we’ll enjoy it. Nice meeting you, Nina.” She backed up and quickly closed the door.
Chapter 5
Dear Sophie,
I have a limited budget for herbs and spices. Which ones do you recommend for a starter kitchen?
Spice Girl in London, Kentucky
Dear Spice Girl,
Thyme, sage, rosemary, oregano, and cinnamon would be a great way to begin. Of course, don’t forget salt and black pepper. You can pick up others as you need them.
Sophie
“Is it just me, or was that weird?” asked Nina. “She seemed in a hurry to get rid of us, didn’t she?” “What does her husband do?”
“Wesley Winthrop is one of the new congressmen. From Texas, I think.”
“Oh, that’s right. Do you suppose she’s scared of him?”
“I hope not. How would you feel about taking a walk?”
“To enjoy the night air?” asked Nina.
“To pay the previous ghostwriter a visit.”
“Okay. But if you’re going to get rid of the weird letters and numbers, then why are we going?”
“Abby must have written them on the recipes for a reason. Maybe it’s her personal code for something. Maybe it means to exclude a recipe or . . . Oh!” I pulled the two recipes out of my pocket and looked at them. “Could it be a date? Maybe she marked them to indicate that she had tested them? Maybe she assigns a ranking?” I studied the two pages. “Or maybe not.”
“Are we going to ask her about Mr. Tilly?”
“You mean Wesley? Let’s see what happens to come up in conversation.”
We turned left. I spied the elegant lemon wreath right away.
“That’s very clever. I might have to copy that wreath,” said Nina.
“Since when do you make wreaths?”
“Perhaps I misspoke. By copy I meant buy.”
I looked up at the dark house. No lights were visible through the front windows. “Doesn’t look like anyone is home.”
Nina banged the door knocker, which was in the shape of a woodpecker. “This woman has got a great sense of humor.”
We waited, listening for the sound of footsteps.
“She’s not home,” I repeated.
Nina tried again, rapping on the door with her knuckles.
The front door to the house on our immediate left opened. The television inside the house blared. The porch light illuminated an elderly woman with a cane. “If you’re looking for Abby, she hasn’t been home for a few days.”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar. I walked toward her to see who she was.
“Is that you, Sophie?” she asked.
“Eunice Crenshaw?” I ran up her front steps and held out my arms for an embrace. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Eunice, whom I guessed to be in her late eighties, was dressed in a purple velour sweat suit. She wore her gleaming silver hair in a short bob and didn’t bother with makeup. “Aw, I don’t have any interest in going to all those parties anymore. Don’t know anybody. They’re all strangers to me.”
It made me sad to hear that. Eunice had been born to money. Her father, an extremely successful builder, had left everything to his only child. For years she had been a fixture on the social scene in Old Town, generous to a fault when it came to charitable donations. But now she had reached an age at which she faded into the background.
My neighbor, Francie Vanderhoosen, was only a bit younger than Eunice. “There’s always Francie. I bet she would love to hear from you.”
“She hasn’t passed yet, has she? I should give her a call. So many of my friends have been buried that I can’t remember who’s still around and kickin’. If you’re looking for Abby, I haven’t seen her since Thursday.”
“Thank you. Maybe she left town. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“Not at all. I’ve been worried about Abby, so I’m glad to see somebody checking up on her. Her cat, Oscar, is an indoor fellow, but Friday night he came and hung around in back of my house. Must have jumped the fe
nce. I took him in, of course, but I’m concerned about Abby. Oscar is her baby. She’d never let him run around by himself. I thought she’d surely show up looking for him. I called the police for a welfare check. When the officer came, nobody answered the door, but the sliding door in the back of the house was unlocked. He went in and looked around, but nothing was amiss.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. She abruptly stopped going to work. Her indoor cat was outside of her house, and her back door was unlocked? I tried to rationalize. Maybe Abby had been searching for Oscar and didn’t know Eunice had him. Or maybe he escaped when a cat sitter came to take care of him. I didn’t know many people who would leave their back doors unlocked while they were away, though. Surely that meant she was nearby and planned to return soon.
“Sophie!” called Nina. “I can see a light on in the back of the house.”
A few minutes earlier, I might have scolded Nina for snooping, but now I feared something was amiss.
Eunice patted my shoulder. “You better check on Abby. If she’s home, tell her that I have Oscar.”
I nodded and joined Nina, who had opened the gate to a small alley between Abby’s and Eunice’s houses.
Daisy sniffed the air and pulled on her leash, something she rarely did. She all but propelled me through the passage along the side of the house. A light shone through a window far in the back.
Nina flicked on the flashlight in her phone so we could see our way to the rear of the house. The small, fenced backyard was quiet and calm.
“Abby?” I called.
No one answered.
Daisy pulled me toward the sliding glass door. I flicked on the light in my phone and shone it on the back of the house.
Nina and I approached the door slowly, calling Abby’s name.
Still, no one responded.
Between our phone lights and the dim light inside, we were able to see a tidy living room. A cat carrier sat in the middle of the floor.
Nina shrieked.
Chapter 6
Dear Natasha,
You were so right about gray being the trending color. I’m painting my living room and I’d love to know what color you see trending next.
Pinkie in Blue Ash, Ohio
Dear Pinkie,
You are wise to think ahead so your living room won’t be outdated. I’m predicting a return to bold 1960s orange, which will coordinate beautifully with all our grays.
Natasha
“What? Do you see Abby?”
“Turn around.”
She had aimed her light toward bushes near the gate to the alley. A blue cat collar decorated with rhinestones hung on a branch of a holly tree. “There’s no way a cat could shed its collar that high off the ground.”
Cats were fairly crafty. I wouldn’t put it past one to have somehow managed to leave its collar hanging from a branch five feet in the air. On the other hand, maybe Nina had a point. Had Abby taken off her cat’s collar and flung it? If she doted on her cat like Eunice had said, then surely she wouldn’t have done that.
“Sophie,” said Nina softly. “The door is unlocked. . . .” She pulled the sliding glass door open about four inches.
I grabbed Nina’s arm. I was thoroughly confused about the right thing to do. Part of me wanted to yank the door open and go running through Abby’s house flicking on lights. But part of me knew that wasn’t right. If, heaven forbid, her house was a crime scene, we would be contaminating it. And worse, if Abby came home and found two strangers in her house, she would have every right to call the police and report us. For all we knew, Abby had been coming and going as usual.
“That cat collar hanging on the tree isn’t normal.”
“We can’t just go inside,” I protested.
“You have to be kidding me,” said Nina. “What if she’s upstairs dying in a closet?”
“Honestly, Nina, I think we’d better not go in.”
“I hope using the light on my phone hasn’t drained the battery.” Nina turned off the light and dialed 911.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling for a wellness check,” said Nina.
“Eunice already did that.”
“Hmm.” She gave me a wicked look. “What if it were you? What if Mochie were wandering around the neighborhood without his collar and I didn’t see you for a week? What if you didn’t show up for one of your events? Wouldn’t you want someone check on you?”
“I would. I would most certainly want that.”
“Why is that cat collar in the tree? It won’t hurt to do a second wellness check.”
While we waited, I filled Nina in on what Eunice had said.
Wong arrived in ten minutes. She was African American but continued to use the surname of her ex-husband, a marriage that she claimed had been a huge mistake. Wong loved to eat, and her uniform strained against the buttons. I was delighted to see her because she was smart. She was brilliantly logical, and she didn’t put up with nonsense from anyone.
Nina explained the situation to her, ending with, “And Sophie won’t let me go in to look around.”
“You should listen to Sophie,” grumbled Wong. “Did you touch the door handle?”
“Yes. There isn’t another way to open the door.”
“When’s the last time you heard from her?” asked Wong.
Nina sighed so loud that Wong flicked her flashlight in Nina’s direction.
“We don’t actually know her.” Nina launched into an explanation of the ghostwriting situation.
“Her neighbor Eunice hasn’t seen Abby recently, and Abby’s indoor cat showed up at Eunice’s house,” I added.
“I’ll go inside and check on her. You two stay out here, but don’t touch anything. Did you hear me, Nina?”
I tried to hide my smile. Wong knew Nina would be nosy.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I thought we could go inside with you.” said Nina.
“Sometimes you can for a welfare check. Usually it’s family members who are worried, and they would know if something was out of place or unusual for the person. Most of the time the person is fine, but once in a while we find that someone fell down stairs and broke a leg or something. But I have to clear the house first. It’s my job to make sure no one is hiding and that it’s not a crime scene. You two stay out here.”
Wong knocked and shouted, “Ms. Bergeron? Police, Ms. Bergeron!” She slid on a glove, opened the door, and slowly walked into Abby’s house while Nina and I waited on the back patio. Wong continued to call out Abby’s name.
Nina started to talk, but I shushed her. “Listen! If she’s weak or tied up she might not be able to scream.”
I didn’t hear a thing. So much for that theory.
We watched Wong’s flashlight as she walked through the first floor. There must not have been any sign of Abby in the kitchen or dining room.
Nina sidled through the open door and into the living room. She flashed around the light on her phone.
“Nina!” I hissed. “Get back here.”
“Sophie, the cat bowls are gone,” she pointed out.
I squinted. “The cat carrier is sitting out in the living room. Maybe she was planning to take him someplace.”
Wong returned in short order. “Everything was neat as a pin. The beds were made, and there weren’t any clothes lying around. The shower is dry as a bone. Ladies, I believe Abby Bergeron has left town.”
“And let her cat run outside?” I asked.
“Maybe he escaped, and she had to catch a flight,” said Wong. “I’ve seen people leave their pets at home without food or water. It happens.”
Nina gasped.
I was horrified by the thought. But I didn’t think that was the case here. If that had been Abby’s plan, the cat carrier wouldn’t have been in the middle of her living room. And the cat’s collar wouldn’t be hanging in a bush.
“So can we come in now?” asked Nina.
“You don’t even know her. You wouldn’t know what was out
of place. I don’t see the point. Besides, I still have to clear the basement.”
She opened a door and disappeared.
Nina sneaked back inside.
I hissed at her again. “Get out of there!”
Wong came running up the stairs, each footstep pounding. She breathed heavily. “Nina Reid Norwood, leave the premises now. It’s officially a crime scene. Go, go, go!” She pointed to the door. “And don’t touch anything on your way out.”
“Abby is in the basement?” I asked.
Wong nodded. “Somebody is. I popped open the freezer and found toes.”
“Toes? Like . . .” I swallowed hard “Chopped off?”
“Eww, no. They appear to be attached to a foot. I didn’t move anything. It’s in one of those chest freezers. I expect the entire body is inside.”
“It must be Abby,” breathed Nina.
I nodded. “I would think so.”
Wong sighed and shook her head. “What is wrong with people?” She looked at us, and her mouth pulled into a straight line. “Now that this has changed from a wellness check to a crime scene, I’m afraid you two have to depart. I’ve called it in. The place will be swarming with cops in a couple of minutes.”
“Poor Abby,” I whispered.
It was totally dark behind Abby’s house. Especially now that our phone batteries had run down and our phone flashlights had died. We were relying on the moon and ambient city light to make our way out to the street. Someone walked around the corner, which caused Nina and me to scream.
A strong flashlight beam caught us. Thankfully, we recognized the male voice that said, “Not you two.”
Daisy whined, and her wagging tail smacked my legs as she greeted Wolf Fleishman of the Criminal Investigations Division of the Alexandria Police. Wolf patted Daisy, whom he knew well because we had dated.
I gave him a break about his sarcastic comment. After all, Nina and I had been involved in solving several murders.
The silver in Wolf’s brown hair gleamed as the light from Wong’s flashlight briefly hit it. It appeared that he had lost some weight. Like me, Wolf was fond of good food. One year, determined to lose weight, we had grown a vegetable garden together in my backyard.
