by Hillary Avis
Bethany giggled in spite of herself as she pictured Todd being taken down by dog the size of a turnip. But Kimmy clearly didn’t find it so funny. Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip.
“I think we should call the cop who gave me the business card. You know the one I mean?”
“Officer Perez, right? Charley. Why?” Bethany’s stomach knotted. Even though Todd had lied through his teeth about everything, she still had a hard time believing he’d light someone’s house on fire.
“She should know about this. We told her about George and the weirdo historical society lady, but we didn’t say anything about Todd because we didn’t know he had a motive. But you heard Auntie—he was there at her house that night, and he was probably angry and humiliated after he got chased off!”
Bethany nodded thoughtfully. “Plus afraid that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted at the city council meeting the next day without Amara’s support.”
“You call that police woman, Kimmy.” Amara shook her finger, her voice quavering. “If you don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do when I see him again. Dirty, low-life user—”
Fear pierced Bethany’s chest. What if Amara attacked Todd at the gala? My career as a caterer will be over before it even gets started.
She had to find a way to defuse the situation. In her most soothing voice, she said, “We don’t know if he had anything to do with it. He said the house wasn’t on fire when he left.”
“He might have come back later,” Kimmy said darkly. She wiped her hands dry on her apron, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and then stopped with her finger on the screen. “Shoot, I left the card at home.”
“I have one in my purse.” Bethany motioned for Kimmy to follow and led her out to the hall where she’d hung her purse on a hook. She quickly found the cop’s card and handed it to her. “Before you call, you should know that she asked me about you. Or rather, about us.”
“What do you mean?”
“She wanted to know if we were a couple.” Bethany waggled her eyebrows and grinned. “I think she might be into you.”
Kimmy rolled her eyes. “She was probably just investigating the arson. Newsflash: not all female cops are lesbians, Bethany.”
“Not all white dudes who want to build developments in historic black neighborhoods are evil, either, but here we are.” Bethany twisted her mouth wryly. “Call Charley.”
Chapter 13
Wednesday
“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT,” Charley said, her pen poised over her notebook. “Now that this guy dumped you, you’re reporting him as a suspect?”
“I’m not reporting Todd because he dumped me; we broke up because I—” Bethany began, but Amara interrupted her.
“That boy was at my house that night. He wanted me to do this and that for him, and I told him fat chance.” Amara shook the white tablecloth out over the food service table like she was cracking a whip.
“Because I caught him lying about it,” Bethany finished. She glanced at the clock on the bell tower of the old Hosanna Street church. Guests would be arriving in less than thirty minutes, and they still had so much to do. Hastily, she assembled the burners that would keep the food warm.
“I see. Can anyone corroborate any of this?”
Amara banged a handful of cutlery down on the table. “I corroborate it! My dog Sharky chased him off the dang porch!”
Charley bit her lip, and Bethany could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Ma’am, unless your dog can come down to the station and give a statement, I’d prefer to talk to a human being.”
“Todd said he helped a neighbor with his lawnmower after he spoke to Amara. George Washington. He’ll probably be here tonight—you can interview him then!” Bethany hefted the huge pot of corn chowder from the cart onto the warmer.
“I remember that guy. He’s a real character. Coop and I are working the gala, so we’ll be sure to keep an eye out for him.” Charley tucked the notebook in her chest pocket. “Appreciate your help. If you have anything else to report, don’t hesitate. Tell Ms. Caldwell the same.”
“I’m right here!” Amara snapped over her shoulder as she tended to the skewers on the grill.
“Right. I meant your niece, ma’am.” Charley grinned at Bethany. “I’ll have a chat with this Todd guy, too.”
Amara clanged the lid of the grill shut and pointed her finger at the cop. “You better get to that boy before I do. He may not be able to speak after I’m done with him.”
Bethany cringed internally. “She doesn’t mean that.”
“Oh, yes I do!” Amara’s face was cold and queenly. “He’ll rue the day he set foot on my porch.”
Any amusement remaining in Charley’s expression faded as she leaned across the food service table toward them. “Listen to me. Do not make a fuss or get in the way tonight. We’re fairly certain the arsonist will be at the gala, and she may flee if she gets wind of our investigation. Just play it cool, serve some food, and leave the detective work to us.”
“She?” Bethany asked. “You think the arsonist is a woman?”
A smile quirked the corner of Charley’s mouth. “No, I don’t. Arsonists are usually male. I just try to keep it equal opportunity until I know for sure.”
Over Charley’s shoulder, Bethany spied the mayor and two city council members entering the church courtyard. “I don’t mean to rush you off, but we’re about to have some customers!”
Charley looked behind her. “Party’s starting. Have a good evening, ladies. If you see anything suspicious, let me know.”
Bethany nodded and slid the trays of ice and opened clams onto the long table and stepped back to survey the scene. The creamy corn chowder was hot and a towering stack of espresso mugs teetered beside the pot, ready to be filled. She placed the bottle of fragrant basil oil next to the warmer so it would easy to dot on the top of each tiny serving.
“Skewers almost done?”
Amara nodded and picked up her tongs, swiftly moving the colorful vegetable skewers from the grill to some large silver platters. “They’re as perfect as a baby’s laugh.”
The clams were gorgeous and fresh—Bethany would have to call and thank Jim in the morning. That just left—
“The cucumber-lemon water!” She snapped her fingers and dashed back to the car with the cart. As she returned, lugging the cart behind her, she saw Todd approaching the food service table. He had changed for the party and now wore a crisp, seersucker suit with blue and white stripes.
“Hey!” he called to her. “Looks great! I’m headed to ring the church bell to get this party started, but I just wanted to check and makes sure—”
At the sound of Todd’s voice, Amara whirled around, sending an entire try of grilled vegetables flying into his face and across the entire food service table. Bethany stopped short, dismayed. Pieces of zucchini and tomato were strewn across the clams and dotted the surface of the corn chowder. There was no way she could serve any of it!
“Look at my suit,” Todd moaned, holding his shirt away from his body. “It’s ruined!”
Amara slammed down the now-empty tray. “Ruined? You want to talk about ruined? My house is ruined, that’s what’s ruined! You burned it to the ground!”
“What am I going to do?” Todd mumbled, still staring at his clothes. Then his eyes lit on the table, and his voice went up an octave. “We can’t serve this mess! The mayor is here!”
Bethany rushed over and grabbed a napkin to dab his lapel. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. We can order pizza!”
“Pizza? We can’t serve pizza to the mayor!” Todd pushed her hands away.
“OK, no pizza. Um...how about a taco truck?” She kneeled to pick up pieces of grilled squash off the ground in front of the table. “I have an extra tablecloth to replace this one. It will be fine, Todd, I swear.”
“This is not a taco truck event,” he yelled, his face turning as red as the tomatoes that stained his shirtfront. “This is a gala—and you’re destroy
ing it!”
“Like you’re destroying our neighborhood,” Amara said loudly, motioning to the small crowd that had gathered. “You tricked all of us just so you could make a quick buck!”
The people around them gasped, and Todd froze. Bethany realized that she was the only one who could defuse the situation. Amara was too angry, and Todd was clearly too anxious about what people thought of him to recover gracefully. She murmured in his ear, “Why don’t you head to the bathroom and clean up? I’ll take care of the mess out here. Ring the church bell once you’re ready to mingle with guests.”
He nodded gratefully and walked as quickly as he could toward the church. Bethany turned to the stunned crowd. They were beginning to murmur, wondering what had happened, and that meant rumors were about to swirl. She decided to do the only thing she knew how—cook.
“Well! Thank you for coming! You’re just in time for the demo.” She stepped behind the table and smiled widely. She motioned to Amara. “My assistant grilled some beautiful tomatoes and zucchini, and we have cherrystone clams straight out of Black Bear Bay. I’m going to show you how to assemble a delicious summer chowder!”
The crowd clapped politely. Bethany noticed Charley and Coop standing in the back of the group, along with the mayor and Don Hefferman. She recognized a few other people too, including Alex Vadecki. He glowered at her, and she quickly averted her gaze. “I have a pot of chowder base here beside me. Shh, don’t tell anyone—it’s mostly just chicken stock and cream! I slipped a few diced potatoes and some corn in there, and some sautéed mirepoix. Doesn’t have to be fancy, folks!”
“What’s ‘meer-pwah’?” a lady in front asked. “I don’t think we have that here.”
“Just a little onion, carrots, and celery,” Bethany explained. “I’m going to chop up the rest of these grilled veggies and pop them in the soup. They’re going to add some color and some smoky flavor.”
Thank goodness I brought my knife kit. That kit had seen her through the ups and downs of culinary school, and she still didn’t feel right if it was more than an arm’s length away.
She gestured to Amara to bring the tray of skewers over, and began deftly sliding the vegetables from the sticks. “Of course, you can roast these in the oven, too, if you’re not in the mood to fire up the grill. Keeps the boyfriend busy for a while, though. Or girlfriend—we’re equal opportunity around here,” she added.
A polite chuckle rippled through the crowd, and Bethany saw Charley give her at thumb’s up from the back row.
Maybe not all female cops are lesbians, Kimmy, but that one sure is. Equal opportunity until you know for sure, right? Bethany smiled to herself and scooped the pile of chopped veggies into the pot.
“Now for the star of the show—these little babies!” She gestured to the clams. “Now, you can throw these on the grill and they’ll open right up for you, but here’s a trade secret: those guys down at the fish market will shuck them, too. Don’t bother doing it yourself.”
“Aren’t you going to cook them?” the same lady from the front row asked.
“These clams are pretty small, so they’ll cook in the hot broth. But if you grill them, they’ll be fully cooked by the time they open.” Bethany felt a surge of satisfaction as she slipped the clams one-by-one from their shells into the soup and tossed their empty shells into a tub under the table. It was more than a little ironic that she had to reconstruct her deconstructed chowder, but she had to admit that the soup looked pretty amazing.
“While the chowder simmers for a few minutes, let me enchant you with my genie in a bottle, also known as basil-infused olive oil!” She grabbed the bottle of bright-green oil and presented it to the crowd with a flourish. The crowd, which grew larger by the minute as more guests arrived, oohed and aahed appreciatively. “It will in fact grant your every wish—if your wish is to make an impressive summer soup.”
Several people chuckled at the joke, and Bethany could tell that most of them had already forgotten the scene between Amara and Todd. A huge weight lifted from her shoulders. This chowder might not snag her a restaurant investor, but it would feed the crowd and maybe, just maybe, lead to another catering gig.
Bells pealed out from the church tower, ringing loudly to announce that the gala had begun. Everyone stopped to listen to their chime. When the sound died away, Bethany smiled widely.
“If you’d like a taste, just form a line right here. You’ll see that servers are passing glasses of champagne; please take one while you wait to help celebrate a new chapter for Hosanna Street!”
The people in the crowd chatted eagerly as they migrated into a semblance of a line at the food service table. Bethany took a deep breath, let it out, and took her place behind the table next to Amara.
“Can you dot the basil oil after I serve? Two or three drops per little cup, then put the cup on the tray. Hopefully we can keep up with demand!”
Amara nodded and they settled into the rhythm of service, although Bethany tried to keep her head up to greet each guest as they took a cup of soup from the tray.
The woman who had asked so many questions during the demo smiled a little too brightly when she reached the front of the line. Her red lipstick perfectly matched her sharply tailored skirt suit. She held her hand out across the table for Bethany to shake. “Robin Ricketts, Newbridge Community Observer.”
Bethany shrugged apologetically and nodded at her gloved hands as she ladled chowder as fast as she could. “Nice to meet you. You’re a reporter?”
“I cover crime, mostly. I was hoping to have a word with Ms. Caldwell about her house fire.” She extended her hand to Amara, who put down the bottle of basil oil and shook it dubiously. “Robin Ricketts.”
“I heard you before.” Amara frowned. “Are you the one who wrote the article on Tuesday that said I claimed my life was in danger?”
Bethany looked anxiously at the line piling up behind the reporter. “Can this wait?”
Robin glared at her and swiped two cups of soup from the tray. “Fine. I’ll come back later.”
“Great.” Bethany smiled at her and elbowed Amara so she’d get back to service. Amara quickly caught up with the few cups that were waiting for her, and the line once again moved smoothly.
“Wonderful, just wonderful!” Don Hefferman stepped out of line to stand beside Bethany as she pulled ladle after ladle of soup from the pot. “I saw the whole demo. Really impressive the way you handled the crowd.”
Bethany felt a rush of pride. “Thanks, Don! I hope it tastes just as good.”
He patted her on the back, and she cringed a little. Too friendly. He must not know that Todd and I broke up.
“I’m sure it’s great,” he said. “A little bit rustic for me, though. Probably not what I’m looking for as an investment, but good job—great job. Love your attitude. Don’t work too hard, now. Make sure you get a glass of that bubbly before it’s gone!”
Nothing like someone telling you that they like your attitude to ruin your attitude. No time for this fool. Bethany focused on her ladling and ignored Don until he drifted away.
As soon as Don left, Alex Vadecki loomed beside her. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
She didn’t turn to look at him, but she could see his purple-red complexion out of the corner of her eye. “I’m catering the party, Alex, like I told you I would.”
“That demo was such an attention grab. Are you trying to snipe Hefferman to invest in your amateur hour?”
Bethany glanced worriedly at the line. Were people paying attention to Alex’s blustering? She didn’t want anyone to get the impression that she wasn’t a professional. But they all seemed more interested in the soup than in their conversation, and she relaxed a little.
“For your information, Don passed on my concept. How’d your meeting with him go?”
Alex’s shoulders slumped and he ran his hand through his hair. “He’s still interested. I mean, he delayed again—for the fourth time—but he said if I develop more
training programs for franchisees, he’ll be ready to sign on the dotted line.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean? Is that some kind of dig at the Grotto?” Alex looked ready to explode again.
The short fuse on this guy! Bethany rolled her eyes. “No, it’s more of a dig at Don. I heard that he’s stretched pretty thin. I’m not sure he even has money to invest in a restaurant. All his money is tied up in this condo development project. He didn’t expect it to pass muster with the city council, so he overcommitted, and now he has to pay the piper.”
Alex purpled again. “Who’d you hear that from?!”
“Todd. Ask him yourself. Last time I saw him, he was headed inside the church.”
Alex stormed off, and Bethany heaved a sigh of relief. The guy was like an angry mountain troll, and that couldn’t be good for business. She looked up into the lens of an enormous antique camera.
“Smile!”
Bethany obeyed and the flash nearly blinded her. Fancy Peters popped out from under the camera drape, and Amara nearly snarled.
“Just documenting the event,” Fancy said coolly. “I’m trying to take photographs of all the people celebrating, so future generations know who to blame.” She picked up a cup of chowder, holding out her pinky delicately like she was taking tea with the queen.
“Get out of my face, Ms. Fancy Pantsy,” Amara warned.
Bethany gaped for a second and then realized the line was backing up again. “Can you move your gear to the side, please? Just so others can be served.”
Fancy scooted the tripod away from Amara, who looked ready to smash the camera, and pointed it at a low brick wall behind the service table. She put her cup down on the table near Bethany and ducked back under the drape.
“Do you take pictures of everything?” Bethany asked.
“I’m documenting the property for posterity. Every detail, if I can. This is all going to be gone when they take a wrecking ball to this beautiful building.” Fancy’s voice was muffled by the drape.
