Crime Chowder

by Hillary Avis

  So Robin was telling the truth—the society had planned to purchase the church. Bethany smiled politely. “What a wonderful legacy for the town.”

  “It’s lucky the development didn’t happen.” Fancy smiled back at her and then flipped through a box of photographs sealed in plastic sleeves. She held up a picture of the church bell tower. “Look! I printed some of the film I took at the gala.”

  Bethany’s stomach turned. Todd was probably laying dead inside the tower when the photo was taken. “Lucky? Someone died.”

  Fancy shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. I meant lucky we were able to work something out. Don Hefferman has lost enthusiasm for the development now that Todd is no longer spearheading the project. He was happy to honor the sale agreement we’d already drawn up.”

  I bet he was. He needed his cash back so he could invest it elsewhere—like in Alex’s restaurant franchise. Could Don have killed Todd to get out of the investment deal?

  “How much for the map?” Bethany asked.

  “Seven-fifty. But I’ll give you the society discount if you think you might join. So five even.”

  Bethany dug five bucks from her purse and handed it over.

  “Did you want the church photo, too? It’s only ten with the discount.”

  She didn’t really want it—in fact, a souvenir of that night was pretty much the last thing she wanted—but Fancy looked so eager that she didn’t have the heart to turn her down. She found two more fives and paid Fancy, intending to toss it in the trash on the way out of the train station.

  “The society meets on Tuesdays!” Fancy called as Bethany left the kiosk, headed for the trash can by the bakery. “At the library! Hope to see you there.”

  Bethany nodded and waved, and then stood by the garbage can waiting for Fancy to turn around so she could get rid of the photo—that terrible photo. But just as she was about to shove it in the trash, she noticed a sign taped in the bakery window: Help Wanted.

  Well, why not—I’m already here. She tucked the map and the photograph under her arm and pushed through the door. She was hit immediately with a wave of cinnamon. Then luscious vanilla lapped on its heels, and the scent of orange was not far behind. This wouldn’t be such a bad place to spend the day. Being a pastry chef had never been her goal, but baking wasn’t a terrible thing for a chef to add to her resume, either. It was certainly better than pickle packing.

  She cleared her throat as she approached the counter, where a silver-haired woman with a pleasant expression on her face was icing cinnamon rolls. “Excuse me, I—”

  “Yes dear, one second. I just want to get the last of these finished before they cool off too much. There, now. Done. I’m Olive Underwood. What can I help you with?”

  “I just wondered—do you get the newspaper here?”

  Olive’s face fell. “We used to, but we just canceled our subscription. Things are a little tight. I’m sorry. There’s a tea shop up the street that might have a copy.”

  Bethany’s heart soared. Maybe she hadn’t heard about what happened at the gala! “That’s fine. I saw your help-wanted sign on the window and wondered if I could apply. I’m a trained chef, and I’d love to learn how to bake.”

  “Would you, now?” Olive’s eyes twinkled. “That’s wonderful. I’m afraid our position is only a few hours per day, though, and it’s just running the register. I could show you a few baking techniques in your off hours, if you wanted. I’ll be honest—I’d pictured giving the job to a high school student, not a trained chef. It’s just a summer job.”

  Bethany sighed. “Thanks anyway. I probably need something closer to full-time. Although at this point, I should probably take whatever I can get, so Kimmy doesn’t get stuck paying my share of the rent.”

  “Are you talking about Kimmy Caldwell?”

  Bethany nodded. “She’s mentioned you before—she works across the street at Café Sabine and sometimes she brings home desserts from here.”

  Olive clasped her hands together and beamed. “She’s a former student of mine! I was a social studies teacher for twenty-five years before I opened the Honor Roll, and Kimmy was a favorite. You two are friends?”

  “We met in culinary school, actually. Now we’re roommates.”

  “Well, isn’t that lovely? That’s certainly a point in your favor if you decide you want the counter job.”

  “Thanks—I’ll keep it in mind.” Bethany sighed internally. Low wages, no cooking, just a few hours—a dream job it was not. Plus, Olive was likely to find out about Todd and the gala in the next few days, which was sure to change her opinion about who she’d want standing behind the counter at her bakery.

  “Here, hon.” Olive held a bakery box out toward her. “This is for you girls.”

  Bethany took it automatically. “What is it?”

  “My famous strawberry cream cake. It’s Kimmy’s favorite, and the strawberries are from just down the road. Picked this morning.”

  “What do I owe you?” Bethany balanced the box in one hand and reached for her purse with the other.

  Olive waved her question away. “Not a penny. Just enjoy.”

  “Thank you.” Bethany got a lump in her throat as she said goodbye and left the bakery. Olive’s kindness was touching after a long day of rejection and disappointment. She knew Kimmy would appreciate a bit of sweetness when she got home from work, too—she was likely sick with worry over Amara’s sudden disappearance.

  Should I tell her that Amara is the prime suspect in the police investigation? Bethany gnawed on her lip as she strapped the cake box to the cargo rack on her bike. If Kimmy knew, she might try to hide her aunt from the police, which would make Amara look even more guilty. But maybe Amara was the killer. She had every reason to want him dead if he destroyed her home.

  If he destroyed her home. The only evidence the police had that Amara was involved was their belief that Todd had committed the arson. They probably weren’t even investigating that crime anymore! She paused, hand on her bike lock. Maybe I should kill two birds with one stone and see if I can find anything in Todd’s office—evidence of either crime. She might be able to clear Todd’s name and her own, if she found the right piece of paper.

  She locked the bike up again, unfastened the cake from the rack, and strode confidently toward Todd’s office.

  Chapter 20

  Thursday

  SHIRLEY BARELY LOOKED up from her desk when Bethany entered the lobby. “How can I help you?” she asked icily.

  Bethany proffered the cake box. “I brought this for the office. You know, for all of you, because of Todd—” she broke off and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her eyes to moisten. It wasn’t hard to manage, given the last couple of days’ events. “I know how much he loved you all. Like family.”

  Shirley softened like a cookie in milk. “Now, now. Have a tissue.” She took the cake box from Bethany and set it on the desk, swapping it for a Kleenex box. “We’re all broken up about it.”

  Bethany dabbed her eyes with it, carefully gauging Shirley’s reaction. She seemed to be buying the grieving girlfriend act—not that Bethany wasn’t sad about Todd’s death. She was. But a ball of emotions—anger, confusion, fear—surrounded the core of grief, and that made mourning difficult until the murderer was caught.

  She blew her nose into the tissue and then raised her head. “Do you think maybe I could peek in Todd’s office?”

  Shirley frowned, and Bethany was reminded of the time Todd called her a pitbull.

  “I just wanted to get the”—she forced a hiccup—“pictures of us together. That’s all.”

  Shirley sighed. “Don’t you have copies? Anyway I thought you broke up. I heard you fighting that day. Plus”—she slid a copy of the newspaper across the reception desk toward Bethany—“there’s this.”

  Crap, that stupid article again. Bethany hid her face in the tissue, snuffling noisily, while she thought of a reply. She decided to go with the truth. “I don’t know why
they printed such horrible things. I didn’t even know Todd had been murdered until after he’d already been taken away in the ambulance. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye!”

  This time real tears came out and leaked down her face, and she didn’t hide them in the Kleenex. “He didn’t even have a chance to reimburse me for the catering expenses.”

  Shirley’s frown turned into a sympathetic grimace. “You poor thing. Maybe he left a check for you on his desk. I’ll let you in so you can get your pictures and have a look.” She looked over her shoulder to see if any of the staff were watching, and then led Bethany down the hall. “I’m the only one with a key,” she said.

  “He trusted you.” Bethany smiled weakly at her, and Shirley looked pleased as she unlocked and opened the door.

  “Take your time,” she said. “I’ll be right out front if you need me.”

  Bethany slipped inside. Todd’s office was exactly as it always was, sleek and tidy. But somehow the modern gray interior seemed sad and spare now, rather than chic as it usually did. At least it won’t be too hard to find things in here.

  She quickly rifled through the files in his desk. There was no catering check in sight, of course. There were blueprints, project plans, and marketing mockups. Nothing too interesting.

  She went to the bookshelves, where a photo of the two of them at a gallery opening stared back at her. Our first date. Of course that would be the photo Todd would choose, when they were both dressed up and picture-perfect. She picked it up and carried it with her—Shirley would be suspicious if she returned without it. She replaced it with the photo of the bell tower she’d bought from Fancy Peters.

  Nothing else on the shelves jumped out at her, so she tucked the photo under her arm and opened the cupboards underneath. These were less tidy, full of outdated brochures and old notebooks. She picked up the one on top and flipped through the first few pages. Bingo.

  The notebook was full of names and addresses on Hosanna Street, many with little stars by them. Some of the starred addresses also had dollar amounts. Bethany scanned the list for Amara’s name and found it—it had both a star and a dollar figure. The amounts of money must indicate what Todd had paid homeowners for property improvements. But what were the stars? Maybe which ones he’d approached?

  She noticed George Washington’s name below Amara’s—his also had a star and a dollar amount. But he didn’t take money from the developers, did he? George was always solidly against the development in the neighborhood. Did he lie about that to keep his neighbors happy and then secretly work for Todd? Suddenly the story about Todd helping George with this lawnmower made sense, if they were in cahoots.

  She ripped the page out of the notebook and shoved it in her purse. Now what about the sale agreement with the historical society? She glanced around the room, but there didn’t seem to be any other places that Todd could have stored paperwork, unless it was on his computer...or unless it had already been removed and was in someone else’s office now.

  Like Don Hefferman’s.

  She stuck her head out the door to see if anyone was in the hallway. All clear. Don’s office was just a couple of doors down. She closed the door to Todd’s office behind her and walked quickly to the door marked “Hefferman.” It was open and no one was inside. She’d have to be quick—Don was likely to return any minute.

  Unlike Todd’s pristine desk, Don’s was a jumble of paperwork, action figures, crumpled snack packages, and dirty coffee cups. Bethany picked delicately through the pile. Underneath a Doritos bag and one of the coffee cups, she spied it—the church sale agreement. She picked it up and flicked through the pages. All signed, sold well below assessed value.

  Wow, he really wanted to get that property off his hands. She snapped a photo of each page with her phone. She reached to set the agreement back down where she found it, when she spied another set of official-looking papers underneath. She edged it out from under the pile and almost choked on her tongue when she read the first page.

  Alex got his way, after all. The Seafood Grotto had just signed a franchise deal for twenty new restaurants, courtesy of Don Hefferman Investments. The signatures were dated that day; they must have signed the papers this morning. So that’s why Don wanted to unload the church property so quickly.

  She started taking pictures of each page with her phone. Charley would be interested to see evidence that a couple more people had a strong motive to get Todd out of the way. This franchise deal was big money! Before she could capture the last few pages on her phone, she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Hurriedly, she tossed the paperwork back on the desk and scooped trash on top of it.

  “What are you doing in here?” Shirley asked sharply, rounding into the office.

  Bethany smiled sheepishly and waved the framed photograph to distract Shirley as she tucked her phone back into her purse. “I was so emotional that I got turned around. I was just leaving.”

  Shirley pursed her lips. “Likely story. I’ll see you out to make sure you don’t get lost this time.” She took Bethany by the elbow and ushered her toward the lobby exit. On the way past the reception desk, Bethany swiped the cake box. Shirley noticed and gaped like a fish, but Bethany just shrugged at her.

  “I guess I’m over him,” she said and grinned as she pushed through the door.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday

  KIMMY LAUGHED UPROARIOUSLY. “I cannot believe you took the cake back!”

  Bethany giggled and took another bite of strawberry cream cake. “Aren’t you glad I did, though?”

  “Definitely. I needed this. Olive was a sweetheart to send it home with you.”

  Bethany nodded. “I’m seriously thinking about taking the counter job there—although she’ll probably change her mind about it once she reads all the scandal and stuff in the paper.”

  “You don’t think Robin Ricketts is going to correct those impressions now that you’ve gone to talk to her?”

  Bethany munched a strawberry and thought about it for a minute. “She said she would. But I’m not sure I trust her completely.”

  “Then you should think about taking all those pictures from Don’s office to the police station tomorrow.” Kimmy swiped her finger around her plate and licked the whipped cream she’d collected.

  “I don’t think they’ll be too happy to hear I’ve been breaking into people’s offices.” Bethany paused with the last bite of her cake balanced on her fork. “Maybe I will, though, if you come with me and update them on what you heard from Amara. If she didn’t do anything wrong, she won’t be in trouble.”

  Kimmy face fell. “She’ll be back when she can, but I don’t want them to make her come home if she’s not ready.”

  “So you’re going to pretend you didn’t hear from her?” Bethany wrinkled her nose. Kimmy was usually so principled—it was a little shocking to see her consider hiding something from the police.

  “Her sister Pearl is really sick. This could be the last time they’ll be able to see each other. I don’t want to take that away from her.”

  “And you don’t want her to go to jail.”

  Kimmy nodded slowly. “That, too.”

  “I don’t want that either.”

  Kimmy grabbed her arm and looked her in the eyes worriedly. “So you don’t think she did it? You’re not angry with her?”

  “I don’t see how she could have.”

  Kimmy sighed with relief. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Why are you so sure? Honestly, I started thinking maybe she had something to do with it myself.”

  “I’ve been going over the night again and again in my head, trying to figure out her movements. Amara definitely helped me during the demo. She handed me vegetable skewers—I remember that—and she helped me serve soup when it was done. Then the church bells rang to announce the beginning of the gala, so Todd was still alive then. And Amara didn’t leave the table until she got the phone call from her sister and left. Nobody saw Todd during the ent
ire night, so he must have been killed right after he rang the bells.”

  Kimmy gasped. “Maybe that’s how the killer knew where he was!”

  “We have to tell Charley and Coop about all this stuff tomorrow.” Bethany cleared the plates and rinsed them in the sink. “Maybe we should bring them some doughnuts. I made some pretty great ones during my interview at Hole Foods.”

  Kimmy giggled and pushed back her chair. “That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think? They might be offended.”

  “We’ll call them beignets, since you’re a French chef.” Bethany grinned mischievously. “We can mix up the dough tonight.”

  Kimmy nodded, but she hardly seemed to be paying attention. She got up and peered behind the couch in the living room. “Hey, did you put Sharky out on the patio when you came home?”

  Bethany shook her head. “No, I totally forgot about him!”

  “Uh oh.” Kimmy slowly turned to look at her. “Then where is he?”

  A crash echoed from the back of the cottage, and both women dashed toward the noise. “The bathroom!”

  When she entered the tiny bathroom, Bethany immediately spotted Sharky cowering in the tub. Normally the shower curtain would have concealed him, but the curtain had been shredded from the floor to about three feet up—as high as Sharky could reach when he stood on the edge of the tub, she imagined.

  “Oh holy heck,” Kimmy breathed behind her. “How did that tiny little dog do all of this?”

  Bethany looked around. Not only was half the shower curtain in tiny pieces all over the floor, but the roll of toilet paper was mangled beyond recognition and all the towels were missing corners. To top things off, both their toothbrushes were on the floor and bore distinct tiny teeth-marks.

  Bethany started to giggle, and then she couldn’t stop. Sharky wagged his tail hopefully as he stared at the two of them, and that set Kimmy off, too. They laughed and laughed until Bethany’s stomach hurt.