The Long Quiche Goodbye

by Avery Aames

  “We paid the bill,” Delilah added.

  “And took the liberty of eating your mushrooms.” Freckles chuckled.

  Plates, empty of appetizers, sat in the center of the table. What did I care? I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  “Are you okay, really?” Rebecca’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “You’re not mad at me or something.”

  I told them what happened in the restroom.

  “I’ll wait for Chief Urso,” Rebecca announced. “You go ahead. No way are you going to miss your grandmother’s moment in the sun.”

  Before I could object, the front door burst open. Urso marched in, looking steamed.

  “Uh-oh. That’s our cue,” Delilah said. She and Felicia slipped from the booth and whispered that they would see us at Grandmère’s.

  Urso’s warning for my grandmother to cease and desist public displays resounded in my head. Was that why he was here? With town gossip, he probably suspected what Grandmère was up to.

  He trundled across the room while removing his hat with one hand and running his other hand over the top of his thick hair.

  When he reached our table, I said, “Are you okay? What’s got you miffed?”

  He remained standing. “I’ve been walking the hills all day with Gretel Hildegard and a group of church ladies. They just about preached me to death.” He slapped his hat against his thigh. “I must have memorized twelve Bible verses just to keep them searching.” Urso was a staunch churchgoer. I’d bet he had memorized the Bible in its entirety by the age of twelve and was just mollifying them.

  I offered a supportive smile. “Did you learn anything?” “Besides my favorite, ‘The truth shall set you free’? No.” He grimaced. “Not a scrap of clothing. No freshly-dug holes. Nothing. It would take days and crews of people, not to mention a few search dogs with trained noses, to scour the entire area. Needless to say, Mrs. Hildegard was not as specific as she could have been. That woman is a saint and she means well, but she’s a little in the clouds, know what I mean? Always sees the best in people. Always hopeful.”

  Two traits I used to treasure in myself prior to my grandmother’s arrest. Could I become that way again?

  “Before my adventure on the hill, I did meet with Ed’s divorce attorney,” Urso went on. “Although he can’t divulge the specific details of his confidential meeting, he confirmed that Ed was planning to divorce Kristine.”

  Rebecca smacked the table with her palm. “So there you have it. Kristine had motive and opportunity. That’s like a double whammy, according to Jessica Fletcher. You know, she’s the character on—”

  “Murder, She Wrote.” Urso sighed. “Yes, Miss Zook, it’s motive, but not necessarily opportunity. Don’t look so smug.”

  “It’s Rebecca, remember? R-e-b-e-c-c-a. Rebecca.”

  Urso refocused on me. “What’s got you looking like the cat that swallowed the canary?”

  I told him what Tyanne Taylor had confessed. “Kristine’s guilty, U-ey. She lied about her alibi. Please free my grandmother.”

  “Please,” Rebecca echoed.

  “Talk to Tyanne.”

  “Confirm her story.”

  Urso nodded. “I’ll do that.” He ran his fingers along the brim of his hat. “Look, Charlotte. When all this is over . . .”

  I got the distinct feeling he was preparing to ask me for a date. Panicked, I stood up from the table and clapped him on the arm. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

  He jerked his chin as a gesture of goodbye, donned his hat, and left the pub.

  As Rebecca and I strolled into the waning sunlight, I felt a heavy weight lift off my heart. Soon, Kristine Woodhouse would be behind bars and my grandmother would be free.

  When Rebecca and I arrived at my grandparents’ house, a modest number of Grandmère’s supporters waited in line on the sidewalk as if anticipating a standing-room-only Broadway show. More crowded the yard and had formed a semicircle inside a dozen rented lights that Pépère and Matthew were setting on the front yard grass. A picnic table stood in front of the throng—Grandmère’s mock-stage, I assumed. Amy and Clair snaked through the crowd handing out red, white, and blue pom-poms, rally signs, and party horns. The chatter was deafening, the cool evening air stimulating.

  Rebecca and I ran to the front of the line, and with Mr. Nakamura’s blessing, we pressed through the gate into the yard ahead of him.

  My grandmother, looking like a human flag in her red ruffled skirt and blue T-shirt with white stars, climbed on top of the picnic table. Through a microphone, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? We’ll start in five.” She spotted me and Rebecca and scrambled off her mock-pedestal. She set the microphone on the table and embraced Rebecca. “Dear child, I am so sorry to hear about your grandmother. I want you to know that we welcome you as part of our growing family.”

  Tears sprang to Rebecca’s eyes. She gripped Grandmère in a bear hug and wept for a long minute, her shoulders shuddering. When she came up for air, she looked sheepishly at me. “I’m not crying about . . . I’m not . . . It’s just . . . your grandmother is going to be set free, and I’m so excited.”

  “I’m what?” Grandmère said.

  Words spilled out of Rebecca.

  “It’s true, chérie?” Grandmère looked so excited she could pop.

  I nodded.

  “Magnifique!” She grabbed my hands and twirled me in a circle. “Oh, this is a red-letter day.”

  “I need a tissue,” Rebecca said.

  Grandmère petted Rebecca’s back. “Go get one. I won’t be speaking for a few minutes.”

  Rebecca tore up the porch steps and inside the house.

  “You have been blessed with that girl, Charlotte,” Grandmère said.

  “Don’t I know it!”

  She clapped her hands. “Urso believes I am innocent now. It is incredible, no?”

  I nodded. “He’s tracking down Tyanne. With her statement, Kristine will be forced to tell the truth.”

  Grandmère shook a gnarled finger at me. “You did not have faith. But I—” She jabbed her chest. “I never faltered. The American system works.” She pecked me on the cheek, then grabbed the microphone and climbed to her post on top of the picnic table. “Ladies and gentlemen. Three minutes. At the stroke of seven, we will begin.”

  A huge roar from the crowd echoed through the night. I hoped if Urso was anywhere near, that the noise wouldn’t make him divert from his mission to talk to Tyanne and nab Kristine.

  At the fringe of the crowd I caught sight of Swoozie Swenten, wearing what seemed to be her uniform of jeans, tight T-shirt and strands of silver jewelry. She was chatting with Vivian. I approached her and said, “Did you hear?”

  Swoozie looked bemused. “Hear what?”

  “Ed was planning on getting divorced.”

  Swoozie blanched. “Not for me. I—”

  “No one said it was for you,” Vivian cut in.

  “But you don’t look surprised,” I said.

  Swoozie shrugged. “Ed wasn’t happy with Kristine. I knew it. I’m sure she and her pals knew it, too. Ask her.” She pointed.

  I spun around, expecting to see Kristine, and spotted Tyanne marching toward me, her eyes haunted and red-lined. Her linen jacket was jammed into her bulky purse. The tails of her blouse hung free of her skirt’s waistband. If I didn’t know her, I would have sworn she was destitute.

  I approached cautiously, Vivian at my heels. “Tyanne, are you okay?”

  “I can’t talk to Chief Urso. I can’t.” She shook her head erratically.

  I reached for her.

  “No. Don’t touch me! You can’t make me. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.” She scurried off, bucking her head against anybody that got in her way. Why had she come to the rally? Why join the others in the yard if not to support Grandmère? She was clutching her purse like a life preserver. Did she have something tucked beneath the wadded up jacket? A gun? A bomb?

  Fear peppering my bloodstr
eam, I ran to her and grasped her purse.

  “Let go!” she screeched.

  “What do you have in there?”

  “Nothing. Let go. Let—”

  I yanked and stumbled backward with her purse in my hands. Though I despised myself for being such a bully, I rifled through the contents. I found nothing other than personal items. Perplexed, I handed back her purse and said, “Why did you come here? Why are you acting so strangely?”

  “I can’t tell . . . Tommy . . . I have to get home to my son.” She started shivering and hiccupping, and she dropped to her knees.

  “Tyanne!” I crouched beside her and clutched her in a bear hug. “Vivian, find Pastor Hildegard.” I scanned the crowd for Gretel and her husband. “Over there. Hurry!”

  In seconds Vivian returned with them.

  “Out of the way, everyone. Give her some room to breathe.” Pastor Hildegard knelt beside Tyanne, his chiseled face radiating warmth and concern. Prior to becoming a minister, he had worked in a mental hospital. He clutched Tyanne’s hand, told her to focus on his eyes, and whispered words of encouragement. She calmed down, her body stilled.

  “I think she might be having a breakdown,” I said. Who knew what keeping a lie about murder had done to her, not to mention the scars a tragedy like Hurricane Katrina had left on her delicate soul? “Can you take her home and make sure her husband is there?”

  “Of course, poor dear,” Gretel said.

  “Tyanne, let’s stand up, darlin’.” The pastor hoisted Tyanne to her feet and he and his wife wrapped their arms around her. Flanking her, they escorted her through the crowd and out the gate, where an even larger crowd had gathered and spilled off the sidewalk and onto the street.

  Vivian brushed grass off the back of my blouse and whistled. “What in heck was that about?”

  I told her about Tyanne’s confession and she whistled again.

  “Then it’s done,” she said. “Urso will arrest Kristine.”

  I nodded.

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “Charlotte!” Octavia scuttled toward us, the briefcase slung over her shoulder banging her broad hip. “The deal went through.”

  “What?” I said, delight burbling inside me. I’d had enough bad news for one day. “We got the building?”

  “No, just the opposite. You have a new owner.”

  “But what about our higher bid?” I stammered.

  “I’m so sorry. Somehow, Kristine found out you were Q. Lorraine Inc. She turned us down flat.”

  “How did she find out?” I said. “Only Bozz, you, and I knew.”

  “And me,” Vivian said. “But I didn’t blab. What about Matthew?”

  He wouldn’t have said a word. I wracked my brain. Had I told someone else the name, or was Kristine just clever? Speaking of clever, had Kristine learned that Tyanne had spilled the beans to me? Had she threatened Tyanne? That could have been what had sent Tyanne into hysterics.

  The rented lights snapped on, the glare blinding me for a moment. The crowd oohed. Then a spotlight illuminated the stage. Leave it to Grandmère, with her flair for the dramatic, to make a spectacle of the evening. The crowd of onlookers applauded. Their conversation swelled.

  I leaned closer to Octavia and shouted to be heard over the din. “Who’s the new owner?”

  “Providence Creative Arts, or something like that. It, too, is a corporation. I believe it bought the building Vivian is in, as well, and has plans for renovating it.”

  Vivian moaned. “Well, there you have it. He’ll close me down.”

  “He?” I asked. “You know who it is?”

  “The generic he,” Vivian conceded. “Whoever the new owner is will close me down.”

  Delilah joined us, her curly hair framing her face with wild abandon. “Who will close you down?”

  I said, “Some corporation has bought my building as well as Vivian’s.”

  Vivian said, “He’ll boot me out. Rental space in Providence is hard to come by. The new owner probably has an antique store of his own or some scrapbooking shop. Providence Creative Arts. Sounds snooty, doesn’t it?” She looked truly devastated. “Where will I move?”

  “How about that space above Luigi’s restaurant?” I said, “It’s empty.”

  Vivian sneered at the idea. “I warned Ed that this would happen.”

  A niggling suspicion gnawed at the edges of my mind. Pépère had seen Vivian and Ed arguing. Was it about this very thing? Could Vivian have been so worried about losing her lease that she would have killed Ed to stop the sale? No, Bozz told me that the sale of her building happened before Ed died.

  I pinched myself to keep from suspecting everyone. My friends were not guilty. Kristine was. With or without Tyanne’s testimony, Urso would be able to put the pieces of the puzzle together now. He had to.

  “Did Urso find out anything about the woman roaming the hills?” Delilah asked.

  I told them about his adventure with the Bible-quoting volunteers.

  Delilah roared. “Too funny. He was toying with them. He knows those verses backward and forward.” Delilah knew more about Urso than I did. She and he had dated when she first returned to town. I always wondered why they hadn’t gelled but didn’t have the guts to ask her. “So that means they didn’t find out who was roaming the hills the night Ed died, huh? What if it wasn’t Kristine? What if it was Felicia? Remember Kristine saw her digging? She’s about the same size as Kristine. What if Felicia had dirt from the hills on her shovel and, to hide the evidence, dug in her backyard to mix up the dirt?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like Rebecca.”

  “It had to be Kristine,” Vivian said. “Charlotte heard Tyanne’s statement. Kristine didn’t pick up her child. Kristine killed Ed, then went to the hills to bury the evidence.”

  “What evidence?” Octavia said. “What statement?”

  For the moment, I felt like we were playing the old game Telephone. I filled Octavia in.

  “That should be enough for a jury,” Vivian said.

  “Should be.” Octavia glanced at her watch. “Charlotte, I’m going to scoot. I just remembered there’s a colleague of mine who might know how to find out who the principals of the corporation are.” She hoisted her briefcase strap higher on her shoulder and dashed off.

  As she disappeared into the crowd, Meredith joined the group, her face and clothes a dusty mess, her hair, tied in a ponytail, covered with cobwebs.

  “Don’t you look lovely,” I teased.

  “I didn’t have time to change after cleaning the storage room. You don’t think your grandmother will mind do you, Charlotte?”

  “Not if you vote for her.”

  Amy and Clair, rid of all their rally doodads, ran up to Meredith and each grabbed a hand. “You’re here!”

  “Hey, you two,” Meredith said. “If you don’t promise to stay out of trouble at school, I’m going to make you help me in the storage room.” She plucked a cobweb from her hair and dangled it in front of them.

  The twins screeched, “We promise,” then ran in circles around her, their giggles filling me with hope for their happiness.

  Meredith said to me, “I heard you talking about Kristine. Can we trap her?”

  Amy and Clair yelled, “Let’s trap her.”

  My good vibes vanished in an instant. The twins did not need to be part of this conversation. “Girls, go tell Pépère it’s time to start. Put Grandmère on the podium. Chant for her like you practiced.”

  Once they were out of earshot, I drew Meredith, Delilah, and Vivian into a huddle and said, “Trap her how?”

  Meredith whispered, “Get her to confess.”

  “She won’t,” Vivian cut in. “But a personal sighting by Gretel should be enough.”

  “True,” Delilah said. “Add in Tyanne’s lie and—”

  “Tyanne didn’t lie.” A hunched-back woman in a black veil and dress pushed her way into the huddle between Meredith and me.

&nb
sp; I peered through the veil. Kristine stared back at me with a malicious leer.

  A firecracker exploded and crackled red and blue in the sky. And then another popped. And another. Seven o’clock. Time for Grandmère’s speech.

  Frizzles of electricity ran up my arms. “What do you mean, she didn’t lie? And why are you dressed incognito?”

  “She’s spying,” Vivian said.

  “Looking for political pointers,” Delilah suggested.

  “I hardly need pointers.” Kristine’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Then why?” I demanded. First Tyanne showed up with her bulging bag, and now Kristine, acting shifty. My nerves couldn’t take much more. “If you’re planning on sabotaging the rally—”

  “Oh, please. I wouldn’t have made it inside the gate if I had looked like me.” Kristine stood to her full height and pushed back the veil. “I will win tomorrow’s election on my own merit.”

  “You will not.” Vivian charged at Kristine and stood nose-to-nose with her, her hands balled into fists. “Bernadette will win.” I thought for a moment she was going to punch Kristine, but then her fingers relaxed, and she backed up a step. “You’ll see. The town wants Bernadette.”

  “What do you mean, Tyanne didn’t lie?” I said returning to my initial question.

  “She told the truth,” Kristine said.

  “You didn’t pick up Willamina that night?”

  “That’s correct.”

  My mouth dropped open. We had her. She confessed.

  “I didn’t pick up my daughter because I, too, was meeting with a divorce attorney.”

  “Who?” I asked. It wasn’t like Providence was overflowing with attorneys.

  Kristine pointed. “Him!”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Mr. Nakamura is your lawyer?” I blurted. I glanced at the man and his petite wife who were standing amongst the throng nearest Pépère by the picnic table. All of them were cheering and hooting for Grandmère to take the stage.

  “But he’s the hardware store owner,” Delilah said.

  “Not an attorney,” Meredith chimed in.

  “He can barely write up a contract of sale,” Vivian said, sounding a tad snarky.