“Oh, wow… Well, there’s an amazing Italian place on the other side of town, and I’ve heard great things about the Greek restaurant near the interstate.”
“Kylie.”
“Yes?”
“What suggestions do you have that I can buy from you to feed my family?” he spoke slowly, as if to a very young child.
“Oh! Me!”
“Yes, Kylie. You.”
“Right! Okay…” I thought a moment. “Okay, I could send you home with a whole, large casserole of stuffed shells. Pop it in the oven, let it get hot and bubbly, and you’re done!”
“And a salad? Can you make a family-style bowl of salad?”
“I can.” I said it with so much pride that a person would have thought that I was talking about whether or not I could climb Mt. Everest.
“With some of those wonderful, crisp bacon crumbles on top?”
“Yes,” I said, confirming that I could but with sooo much less confidence than a second before. I did my best to hide my uncertainty.
“And the shells, are they any good?”
I started to open my mouth to say that they were, but decided to let him be the judge instead. “I’ve got a tray due to come out of the oven right now. Let me go get you a sample, and you can decide for yourself.” My confidence was returning. I was positive that those shells were amazing!
“That sounds good.”
I ran to the kitchen, burned my hands rushing to get the wonderfully gooey shells out of the oven, and scooped one into a dish for him. I bounced on my toes with barely contained excitement when I put it in front of him. I felt like a little kid trying to impress my dad.
Jack took a bite. He chewed. He paused. He took another bite. “Mmmm, this is good!”
Rockets and fireworks went off behind my eyes.
“I’ll take a whole tray, the family-style salad, and three dozen cookies to go.”
Yep, this was the café’s best night ever!
Chapter 20
I’m not going to hack into Jack’s bank,” Zoey said under her breath.
It was pretty early in the morning, and I was surprised to see her at the café. She was sporting her oft-worn Cleopatra eyeliner, but this morning it was in a vivid jade.
“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until lunch.” Not even Brad had made it in yet.
“Haven’t been to sleep. I’ll sleep later.” She twisted around in her seat and sent a not-so-surreptitious glare at the couple sitting at one of the small tables next to the windows that ran alongside Main Street. But this wasn’t any couple. This was Agatha and her new beau, Conrad. “What is she doing with him?”
If Agatha and Conrad hadn’t been so goo-goo eyed for each other, I would have been more worried about them being bothered by Zoey’s harsh glances. But as it was, they only had eyes for each other. They were holding hands and looking sigh-worthy sweet together. They made an adorable couple—at least that was my opinion. Zoey obviously had other thoughts.
“Why can’t she see what a user he is? Why’s he even still here? Mike’s funeral was days ago. It’s time for him to go back to Florida already.”
I decided to distract Zoey by bringing her back to the original conversation. “And why can’t you hack into Jack’s bank?”
Zoey turned her attention to me. “I didn’t say I couldn’t—I said I wouldn’t. I hack into his bank and the FBI will be all over me. Once they get the scent of somebody’s stink, you just can’t shake ‘em.”
“Um, you saying this from experience?”
“Maybe.”
I wasn’t going to ask, but if hacking Jack’s bank was out of the question, that had us back to going to the County Clerk’s Office and searching through the property deeds. Even then, that wouldn’t give us any information as to what types of contracts he had with who.
I went to the kitchen and fixed a plate of biscuits and gravy for Zoey, unasked. I hoped that their potential deliciousness would lull her into feeling only a mild dislike of Conrad instead of the rampant hate that seemed to have swallowed her whole.
As for Agatha and Conrad, they’d requested a quiche Lorraine for two, and there was no way that I’d been able to refuse. So, I’d mustered up every memory and every tip Brenda had given me about how to make a frittata Lorraine and made it in a pie shell instead. I baked it until it stopped jiggling in the middle, and hoped that it was cooked through.
I first served Zoey her plate of biscuits and gravy, and then, with her preoccupied, I took Agatha and Conrad their quiche.
“This looks wonderful, dear,” Agatha praised as I set the quiche down between them. They already had plates, utensils and coffee.
I held my breath when Conrad cut into the egg pie, and then let it out when he lifted up the slice and the egg filling proved itself to be solid all the way through.
Agatha noticed and gave me a little wink.
By the time I got back to Zoey, she had half her breakfast plate eaten. “You need to patent this or something. It’s amazing. You could serve it to crack addicts to help them forget about crack.”
“Really?” It might have been the nicest thing anybody had ever said to me.
“Really. But, you know, I think you might have something with this bank hacking stuff. I could hack into Conrad’s bank. I could prove to Agatha once and for all that he’s a swindling, no good crook out to use her for whatever he can get.”
“You’re willing to hack whatever bank Conrad banks with but not Jack’s?”
“This is different. We’re talking about Aggie here. Protecting her would be worth hacking into Conrad’s bank accounts. You can learn a lot about a man from his bank accounts.”
I had no doubt that she was right.
The café’s front door opened, and Brad walked in.
“I saw that, Jin,” he said, calling Zoey by her last name. “I saw that.” He made snake eyes back and forth between them with his index and middle fingers.
“Saw what?” Zoey asked as Brad reached the counter and sat down next to her.
“You said the word bank. I saw it.”
“You saw it?”
“I saw it. Through the front windows. I read your lips.”
“You’re a pervert, you know that, right?”
“And you’re a criminal,” Brad shot back at her.
“Prove it.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Did you guys get along before I moved to town? Is this new?” I hadn’t noticed any animosity between them when I’d arrived. Of course, Zoey had been teary-eyed and overwhelmed with grief when I’d arrived. She hadn’t really been in Brad-banter shape, and maybe Brad had taken pity on her and left her alone because of it.
“What are you talking about?” Brad said. “We get along.”
“Yeah,” Zoey seconded.
I looked between the two of them. They weren’t sounding sarcastic. I believed that they believed that they both got along with each other, even though Brad thought that Zoey was a criminal and Zoey thought that Brad was a nosy cop who should mind his own business.
I gave up and didn’t press it further. “How come you’re late? I had to make the coffee myself.”
“Oh…” Brad said, his eyes cutting away to the full coffee pots. He sounded genuinely disappointed.
“Wanna make it again?” I asked.
His expression brightened. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Naw, I can save what I made and use it to make mocha milkshakes later. I’ve got some ice cream that needs to be used up before it gets ice crystals on it.”
I transferred the coffee I’d made to a large pitcher and stored it in the walk-in cooler, and Brad made his magically superior coffee. I’d tried to make it like him a dozen times over, but somehow his was always better. But mine would be just fine mixed in with chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream.
Zoey had emptied her plate by the time I made it back to the counter. I had a plate of biscuits and gravy for Brad with a side of fluffy scrambl
ed eggs. It had only taken me half a carton of eggs to get them right, but I’d done it.
Brad was finished making the coffee and had returned to his spot next to Zoey.
Zoey tapped her fork on her very clean-looking plate. “Hey, can I get another order to-go? I haven’t been to bed yet. This would be perfect for when I wake up.”
“You sure? I was planning on making steak hoagies again for lunch. Give me a text when you wake up and I can run one over.”
“You’re getting in a lot of practice there with those steaks. When are you going to go all the way and serve up some steak dinners?” Zoey asked.
I scrunched my face. “I’m having trouble getting the cook right. I’ve been watching a bunch of cooking shows on my cell phone, and it seems like steaks are like martinis. Everybody likes them made a very specific way, and they get unhappy when you don’t get it right. I need more practice.”
Brad shrugged. “You can come over. We’ll practice together.” I felt my cheeks heat and knew I was blushing. “You ever grilled over an open flame? We could even do some that way.”
“Grill? Outside? But it’s been so cold.”
“All the better. Easier to deal with standing next to the grill.” He smiled, and I lost myself for a moment in how incredibly handsome he was. I couldn’t believe he wanted to spend time with me. I mean, of course he wanted to spend time with me. He was at the café every morning. But he was wanting to spend time with me outside the café, too. He was wanting to take things to the next level.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach.
The last man I’d had a serious relationship with had lied to me through nine years of marriage. He’d played me like a fool, and for eight and a half years of that marriage, I believed everything he’d said.
Now I had two men—Brad and Joel—who were interested in exploring a relationship. I wasn’t sure I was ready. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.
“Brad—”
“That’s my cue,” Zoey said, getting off her stool and plopping thirty onto the counter. “This is for breakfast and lunch. I’m outta here. Remember to send over that steak hoagie later… And some more biscuits and gravy. I want ‘em both.” How was the girl so skinny? I didn’t know where she put it all. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to, you know…” She made a circular motion with her finger in the air. I knew what she was saying. She was saying that she’d let me know when she was ready to go out to further investigate Mike’s death.
“What? What’s this?” Brad said, duplicating Zoey’s twirling finger. “What are you two up to? I’m not going to like it, am I? I should incarcerate Zoey just to split the two of you up. You’re trouble together.”
“Eat your breakfast, old man,” Zoey said, giving him a friend-pat on the shoulder.
“Old? I’m three years older than you,” Brad complained.
And that made him four years younger than me. Brad and Zoey were young, but I’d never felt older in my life. Dan was nine years older than me. I’d always been the youthful one, the forever-young one.
I glanced over at Agatha and Conrad. I wasn’t sure how many years there were between them, but the age difference was more than mine, Brad’s and Zoey’s age differences combined, and it didn’t faze Agatha or Conrad one bit. They were totally smitten with each other. Everything else was irrelevant, just a number.
That was only one of several life lessons I needed to take from Agatha. Figuring out how to live life in the moment was at the top of my list.
I turned to Brad. “I’d love to make steaks with you. Just name the night.”
Chapter 21
I’d barely gotten done tapping on Zoey’s apartment door with the toe of my sneaker when the door jerked open. I had a bag of biscuits and a container of gravy in one arm and two wrapped plates bearing steak hoagies and coleslaw in the other. It was after three PM, and I’d left Sam in charge of the café with instructions for heating up baked spaghetti and meatballs that I’d prepped that morning. He’d have plenty of food to feed the dinner crowd, not that I expected very many customers. It was Sunday, and we were running out of the magical cookie dough that had lured so many new customers in.
“Those both for me?” Zoey asked, looking at the double hoagies.
“One for me, one for you.”
“Cool. Gimme,” she said, rescuing the plates from where they teetered on my arm and against my stomach.
We sat in our usual spots on her living room floor on top of oversized comfy cushions. I watched as she opened her steak hoagie and scooped the side dish of coleslaw inside of it.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Eating.” She took a huge bite of the now overstuffed hoagie.
“Any good that way?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a thing. People do this.”
“People do that?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know? I thought that was why you made coleslaw.”
“No,” I said, dumbfounded that I’d stumbled onto this new way of eating coleslaw.
“You gotta do it.”
I opened my hoagie, piled in the coleslaw and then did my best to balance the top back in place. I opened my mouth so wide that the hinges of my jaw ached, then I bit down. The bread was soft with a slight buttery crunch from where I’d toasted the inside of each slice. The steak was juicy, tender and flavorful. The sautéed sweet onions were sweet, the green peppers were delicate yet distinct, and the coleslaw was tangy, fresh and crisp. Together, it was amazing!
“Holy cow,” I said with my mouth still stuff full of food.
“See, what’d I tell ya,” Zoey said, smiling.
I hadn’t noticed anyone in the café eating the steak hoagies this way. Of course, today was the first day that I’d made them with a side of coleslaw. This dish was definitely ready to come off the Oops Board, and I would even add the option of preloading the sandwich with the coleslaw.
We ate in silence for a while until Zoey asked, “We got a plan?”
“I say we go back and talk to Clara some more. She’s up to something.”
Zoey narrowed her eyes. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not,” I said with such vehemence that some particles of food actually took flight. I shut my mouth and chewed sullenly.
“No, you are. You’re jealous that her café is going so well.”
I shifted positions, stretching my legs out in front of me. There was no use hiding my feelings from Zoey. She could see right through any bluster. “Did you see how much she charges? It’s insane. But she had all those customers! I don’t get it. I don’t charge half of what she does and until those cookies, I struggled to get anybody in the door.”
“You did almost murder somebody,” Zoey said.
“So did you,” I shot back.
We both knew that wasn’t true. Neither one of us had killed anyone, not that the townspeople necessarily believed that. To some, we were guilty. It didn’t matter that we’d been cleared by the law.
“Helps keep people in line,” Zoey said with a satisfied smirk. “Some jerk started to overcharge me for car maintenance. I gave him one look and he caved. Admitted that there might not be anything wrong with my carburetor.”
“Huh! Wish that had worked on Lou Sizemore, the guy who’s fixing the boiler. He wasn’t intimidated at all.”
“How’s that going?” Zoey asked. “Gonna have it working again soon?”
“I don’t know. I heard that the old one busted when they were moving it out of the building and it flooded everything down there. They couldn’t work in it because of electrocution concerns until they sump pumped it dry. The flooding and cleanup exposed a crack in the building’s foundation, and it’s going to be another five thousand dollars to fix it.” I shook my head. “I’m going to be ruined at this rate.”
“It’ll get better,” Zoey said.
“You’re just saying that,” I groused.
“True.”
We finished our food and headed out. When we arrived a
t The Java Hole, Susie’s shop next door had its lights off and a Closed sign in the door.
Not unusual for a Sunday evening, Kylie thought to herself. But the hair salon of Susie’s arch nemesis, Betty, was open for business and looked as if it had customers inside.
“So, Susie’s shop is struggling but Clara’s and Betty’s isn’t,” I said.
“We don’t know that yet. Clara’s coffee shop could be empty.”
I leaned a little to get an inconspicuous peek through the glass front windows. Her place was half full. Everybody had a drink at their table and most had a small plate that featured some treat or other. Knowing how high Clara’s rates were, I said dourly, “She’s doing fine.”
We headed in. Clara was behind the barista counter wearing a cotton blouse that was loose but gossamer thin. Its free-flowing fabric seemed to want to hug itself to her slender frame all on its own. It was a shirt choice that one could claim was demure and understated, yet when worn it was anything but. And it irked me. Her shirt’s dual identity was just like her personality. She was a person who liked to proclaim to the world that she was a good and gentle soul, but in reality she was a beautiful, graceful snake that would strike without regret if annoyed.
Clara spotted us when we got three quarters of the way to her. “Stop,” she said, holding up her hand. “If you two are here to ask more questions, you can turn yourselves right back around and leave.”
“We only have one question,” I reassured her.
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
Zoey delivered the punch. “We want to know when your affair with Mike Pratt started.”
We’d opted to ask when it started as the safest bet. If Clara had had an affair with Mike, that affair could have been ongoing or it could have ended ages ago. But regardless of the affair’s status and whether or not it had ended prior to Mike’s death, if one existed, there would have been a start date.
In truth, we had no idea if Clara had had an affair with Mike. But given what Susie had told us—that Clara would flirt with Mike and that he’d seemed charmed by her—it was certainly possible that the two had shared more than what either had made public.
A Berry Clever Corpse_A Laugh-Out-Loud Kylie Berry Mystery Page 13
