by J. R. Ripley
‘I’m sure I will,’ said Moonflower.
I hurried up the sidewalk to the bank and pulled on the door. The door rattled and held. I pulled harder. Nothing. I took a step back and looked at the sign staring me in the face. CLOSED.
I peered through the window. I could see a couple of folks in the back. I banged on the glass and pressed the letter against it. They threw up their hands as if to say they were sorry.
Yeah, they were sorry. Today was Friday and I could see by the sign that the bank was closed on weekends. That meant I’d have to wait until Monday to get this whole mess with the check straightened out. I couldn’t afford to wait until Monday – from the tone of Wilbur Realty’s letter my café could be padlocked before then! Too bad Rick Wilbur was dead – he really had seemed to like me. I could try pleading my case with his widow, but I got the feeling she wasn’t my biggest fan.
A loud car horn began hooting maniacally and I turned, fearing I was about to be run over by an out-of-control truck or maybe a stagecoach and a team of horses.
But it was only Mom in her metallic green Beetle. She waved with her left hand. Her right hand was still pressing down on the klaxon.
She’d had the Beetle a good ten years. This was the last car she and Dad had bought together. I knew she’d never part with it for that reason alone. She’d had a pair of eyelashes placed over the headlights but, other than that, it looked the same as it had when it had rolled off the showroom floor. The only thing that’s changed on it is that since moving to Table Rock she added an Aliens Onboard bumper sticker. I guess she wanted to fit in.
‘Mom!’ I screamed. ‘Stop blowing the horn!’
‘What?’ she screamed back. ‘I can’t hear you!’
I cursed and ran to the open window. I lifted her hand from the horn and shook my head, hoping to make the ugly ringing stop. I stuck a pinkie in my ear like a dipstick checking for blood, because I was pretty sure my eardrums had been burst.
‘Mom,’ I said, ‘what do you want? I’m kind of in the middle of something.’ I waved the letter in her face, not that she knew what it contained.
‘You’ve got to get to the café. Get in, Maggie!’ She motioned to the passenger-side door.
‘I’ve got my bike, Mom,’ I pointed to my Schwinn, settled on its kickstand outside the realty. ‘I can’t just leave it here on the street.’
‘Then meet me there,’ she hollered, throwing the car in gear and lifting her foot from the brake. ‘And make it quick!’
Holy cow! What on earth was going on? Mom was acting crazier than usual and it somehow involved my business! Had the place burned to the ground?
I stuffed the letter in my front pocket, grabbed my bike and hopped on, my knees shaking, my brain running a thousand miles per hour while I pedaled away at about five miles per hour in a mad rush to face my next crisis.
Though I was beginning to wonder, as I pedaled hard and fast, already nearly out of breath, why I was bothering to pedal so fast.
Did I want to know what was going on? Could I really handle another crisis?
Wouldn’t it simply make more sense to turn around, pedal my bike off into the horizon and maybe go someplace where I could start over starting over? Someplace more simple, more remote? Someplace without aliens and mothers and dead bodies in boxes? Could the Schwinn make it to Alaska?
Could I?
Did Alaskans like beignets?
SIXTEEN
‘What the devil is going on?’ I leapt from the Schwinn and leaned it against the mailbox beside the streetlamp post that sat between my café and The Hitching Post. Mom, Donna and Andy stood huddled outside my door.
‘We’re here to help you get ready, dum-dum,’ quipped Donna. ‘What do you think?’ She was in a ratty old pair of jeans and a baggy green scoop-neck T-shirt. She jiggled the door handle. ‘So unlock the door already.’
‘Yeah, check out the sign.’ Andy pointed at the café window. A professional-looking paper banner announcing Grand Opening Tomorrow in foot-tall red and blue letters was draped along the top from side to side.
My mouth fell open and, flies or no flies, I was leaving it open this time. I leaned over, placing my hands on my knees and sucking in breath. I bent my neck upwards and looked at Mom.
‘You mean to tell me,’ I huffed, ‘I raced all the way over here,’ I huffed a couple more times, then straightened, ‘just because you wanted me to come unlock the door?’ A drop of sweat landed in my left eye and I blinked hard.
Mom nodded.
I huffed. ‘So you could—’
‘Help you clean up,’ finished Andy.
Mom smiled and nodded. ‘Yes. Help you get ready.’
I steadied myself. My legs felt rubbery. That’s the fastest I’d biked in ages, if ever. I pulled Mom into my arms. ‘Thanks, Mom.’ I laid a kiss on her cheek.
Mom beamed. ‘You’re welcome, dear.’ She held a small tray filled with cleaning supplies and brushes. ‘Now, open up. We’ve got so much to do if you want to be ready to open tomorrow.’
I fished the café keys from my purse. Sometimes family wasn’t so bad, after all. ‘Where are the boys?’
‘Baseball practice,’ answered Donna. ‘A friend’s parents picked them up and are bringing them home.’
‘I’m gonna grab the banner and rehang it on the inside glass so nothing happens to it overnight,’ Andy said. ‘We just wanted to surprise you first.’
‘Good idea.’ And boy did they surprise me. I flipped on the lights.
‘And tomorrow,’ Donna added, ‘all you’ve got to do is cut off the word “tomorrow” and attach this.’ She showed me a roll of paper she’d been clutching in her hand.
I pulled off the rubber band and unfurled the roll. More red and blue letters. ‘Today!’ I read. I smiled. ‘Thanks, guys.’
‘No problem,’ Donna said. ‘Now, tell us what to do.’
‘Yes, where would you like us to start?’ asked Mom.
I tapped a finger against my chin. ‘Andy, how about if you finish up unboxing all the chairs and get them set up out front? Aubrey started on it but had to go.’ I’d been saving them for Aubrey, but couldn’t pass up the offer of all this free help. Besides, there’d be plenty more for Aubrey and me to do tomorrow morning.
‘Aubrey?’ said Donna, her brows pinched together. ‘Who’s Aubrey?’
‘I hired her today,’ I said, my voice carrying a bit of pride. ‘She’s my first employee.’
‘Good for you, Maggie.’ Mom squeezed my shoulder.
‘Yeah, good for you, Mag,’ Andy said. ‘I’ll get busy on those chairs.’
‘Once you break down the boxes, can you take them out back to the dumpster?’
‘No problem,’ he called, passing through the swinging shutter doors.
‘How about me?’ Donna asked, pushing back her hair and pulling it all into a lavender scrunchie.
‘How about making sure all the supplies out here are filled and ready to go? You know, dry goods like paper cups, plates, napkins. And things like flour, sugar, coffee.’
Donna got to it.
‘I guess that leaves me on cleanup patrol,’ Mom said. She hoisted her little blue tray of cleaning supplies. ‘Good thing I came prepared. I think I’ll start out back and work my way to the front.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ I replied. While Mom and the others got busy with their assigned chores, I checked out all the equipment. I still had time to practice my beignet-making skills. ‘I’ll whip us up a batch of beignets!’ I called.
‘Don’t bother on our account,’ replied Donna as she swept in with a pack of paper napkins. She’d locked the swinging louver doors to the storeroom in the open position for easier access back and forth.
‘No bother at all,’ I quipped. ‘I could use the practice. You guys will make great guinea pigs!’
Andy stuck his head out, box cutter in hand. ‘You can bother on my account,’ he said. ‘You know I’ve got a weakness for sweets.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Besides,
I’m starved.’
‘You got it.’ I aimed my big wooden spoon at him.
Andy stood in the doorway looking like he wanted to say something more.
‘What is it?’
Andy’s eyes flew to his wife. Weird signals that only married couples could master passed like lightning between them. Mom disappeared. Donna flew in her wake.
‘I repeat: what is it, Andy?’ I struggled to keep my voice even. My nerves steady.
‘Nothing, really. I mean, it’s just a little thing. Standard procedure.’ He rested a hand on the edge of my shoulder. ‘I don’t want you getting upset about this, Maggie.’
I quaked. ‘Geez, Andy, you’re already upsetting me. So spit it out!’
He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. ‘The Table Rock police got a warrant to search your apartment—’
‘What?’
Andy held both my shoulders now like he was afraid I’d go ballistic and bust right through the ceiling. Truth be told, I probably would have. ‘Relax, Maggie. Like I said, it’s normal police procedure.’
‘I won’t let them do it. You’re a lawyer – can’t you stop them?’
He bit his lip. ‘I’m afraid not. Besides, they’re at the apartment right now.’ He twisted his watch around and studied its face. ‘They should be about done, assuming they don’t find anything.’
‘Of course they won’t find anything!’ I screamed. ‘Why would they find anything?’
‘Relax, relax,’ said Andy, pulling at my hands. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He pulled me to a chair and urged me to sit. ‘Listen, Maggie, as your attorney I would never let any legal harm come to you.’ He forced me to look in his eyes. ‘And as your brother-in-law, I’ve got your back. So let’s all relax. Focus on the future.’
The way my heart was racing and my head was steaming I was beginning to think there’d be no future for me. I felt my mother’s hands massaging my neck and shut my eyes. ‘You OK, honey?’
I nodded. Focus on the future. That was precisely what I needed to be doing. Let the police look – they wouldn’t find anything. Well, I wasn’t the world’s neatest housekeeper and I did have a pair or two of undies that I wasn’t too proud of, but nothing that was going to link me to the murder of Rick Wilbur.
I forced a smile and stood. ‘Fine, let them look. If they want to waste their time, let them.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Donna said.
‘Besides, if they clean up when they’re done, they’ll be doing me a favor.’ I clapped my hands. ‘OK, back to work, everybody. We’ve got a business to run.’
I turned the fryer up to three hundred and seventy degrees, then warmed up a bowl of water to get the yeast going. Next, I started pouring ingredients into the mixer on the front counter: shortening, sugar, salt. One day, if business got good, I was going to buy one of those big Hobart floor mixers – those things hold a ton. They cost a fortune, too, but I figured once the volume of business grew sufficiently I could pick up a pre-owned one for a reasonable price. In fact, I had been drooling over several available reconditioned units I’d spotted at an online restaurant supply site.
I attached the bread hook and began mixing – all the while imagining a shrunken-down copy of Table Rock’s lone detective scurrying madly around in circles inside the bowl, one step away from being creamed.
Next, I poured the warm water over the shortening mixture. I grabbed the evaporated milk and added that, then pulled a couple of eggs from the carton in the undercounter fridge and beat them. I stirred everything together, adding the additional water and yeast, till the consistency was just right.
‘Hey, Mom!’ I shouted. ‘Can you bring me the wooden rolling pin?’ Since my marble one was now evidence and I hadn’t had time to shop for a new one, I’d have to go with my old standby – the old wood roller I’d had since my married days. ‘I think it’s in the drawer next to the sink!’
While I waited for Mom, I grabbed the dough cutter. It’s an adjustable five-wheel stainless steel pastry cutter and dough divider that I used to slice the dough a uniform size. I’d been hoping to buy a countertop model, but again, too pricey for the time being.
The salesman had shown me this stainless-steel puppy. It looked more like an instrument of torture that any Spanish Inquisitor would have been proud to own, but it worked great and cost me less than twenty bucks.
‘Here you go, dear!’ Mom held out the marble rolling pin. The one I’d discovered on my back counter with the note beneath it.
‘Not that one!’ I shouted.
Mom jumped and the rolling pin fell from her hand. I snatched it before it hit the floor.
‘Why?’ gasped Mom. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ She ran her eyes up and down its length.
‘This could be evidence,’ I clucked. I held it in front of me, my hands no doubt smearing a possible killer’s possible fingerprints.
Her brow creased. ‘Evidence of what? I washed it. It’s perfectly clean.’
‘What’s all the commotion?’ Andy stuck his head out.
Donna’s head stuck out from beneath his arm. ‘Yeah, what is it, Sis?’
I groaned. ‘The killer might have left fingerprints on this.’ I stared at the marble roller. Was it my imagination or was the thing mocking me? ‘I was going to take it to the police tomorrow and ask them to check it.’ All three of them were looking at me like I was crazy.
‘You do know that the police have got the rolling pin that probably killed Mr Wilbur under lock and key at the police station, don’t you?’ Andy gave me a funny look.
I placed the rolling pin on the counter. ‘Yes, I know that.’ I dumped the dough out of the mixer and onto the prep counter and wiped my hands on my shorts. ‘I found this rolling pin, the very twin of my own killer rolling pin, I might add, on my back counter this afternoon,’ I pointed toward the storeroom.
I tossed some extra flour down on the counter and slapped the ball of dough down on top. ‘With a note warning me that I could be next.’
‘Oh, dear!’ cried Mom.
‘Oh, no!’ wept Donna.
‘Oh, brother,’ said Andy, shaking his head. His eyes narrowed. ‘Why would anybody be threatening you, Maggie?’ He oozed skepticism like a maple oozes sap in February, slowly but surely.
I shrugged one shoulder and beat down on the ball of dough with my fist. ‘Beats me.’ I turned to face my brother-in-law. ‘Why would Rick Wilbur’s killer leave his body in my storeroom?’
‘You really need to be careful,’ said my mother. ‘Maybe you’d better stay with me tonight. I’ll make up the guest room.’
‘That’s not necessary, Mom.’ I repressed a shiver.
She sidled up beside me. ‘Maybe the police will offer you police protection.’
I twisted my lips in a lopsided grin. ‘I doubt that, Mom. Table Rock’s only got one detective on the whole force. I doubt they have the manpower for around-the-clock protection.’ And I sure didn’t want Highsmith watching over me twenty-four-seven. He got on my nerves enough already. What would be left of my sanity if he shadowed me day and night?
‘Mom’s right,’ Donna said. ‘I hadn’t thought about it before, but you could be next. The killer could be after you.’ Her face froze and her hands came to her cheeks. ‘Oh, Maggie!’ she said with horror in her voice. ‘I just realized – the killer might have been after you in the first place!’
Mom took up the tale. ‘You’re right. The killer came looking for Maggie. Poor Mr Wilbur might have seen them from the street, came inside to confront them and—’ She slammed her hands together, her attempt at mimicking the sound of rolling pin hitting bone, no doubt.
Gee, Mom, thanks for the horrid sound effects.
‘What? Why?’ I snatched the marble rolling pin and began rolling out the dough to a consistent quarter-inch thickness. Hey, she’d already scrubbed it clean. I figured I might as well get some use out of it before whoever this killer was turned around and used it on me. Besides, I needed to busy mysel
f; Mom and Sis were beginning to freak me out.
It was my sister’s turn to shrug. ‘Who knows? Crazed serial killer?’
‘In Table Rock?’ I said rather skeptically. I mean, I got the crazy part but not the serial killer part.
‘Your ex-husband, Brian?’ She raised a meaningful eyebrow.
I shooed the idea away with a wave of my hand. ‘He’s down in Phoenix.’ I set the rolling pin down heavily. ‘Besides, why would Brian want to kill me? He’s got a new wife, new family, new dog.’ Big as Mom’s Volkswagen, too.
It couldn’t be for money. I wasn’t collecting any alimony. I had refused it. Apparently I could still go to court and Brian would have to shell out, but I’d rather starve first. Besides, Brian and I had an understanding. And unless I’d misread the small print, that agreement did not include murdering one another.
Andy stepped forward. ‘Can I see this note?’
I reached into my pocket and handed the wad of paper over. It hadn’t started out a wad but it sure was one now. Apparently paper jammed in pockets doesn’t travel all that well. Perhaps I should have preserved the evidence between a couple of stiff pieces of cardboard and sealed it in a plastic baggie, like something the police might do.
Andy studied it carefully. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally.
‘Don’t know what?’ I asked.
‘That this is a threat.’ He handed me back the paper.
‘What does it say?’ asked Donna.
Andy replied, ‘It says “Maggie, this is for you. Take care.”’
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ said Mom.
‘Do you recognize the handwriting?’ my sister asked.
I shook my head no.
‘How do you know Laura didn’t leave you this note?’ said Andy. ‘You said she was here.’
I hadn’t considered that. ‘Why would she leave me a note? I was right here. If she was bringing me a rolling pin she could have handed it to me in person.’
‘Maggie’s got a point,’ agreed Donna. ‘I think you should show the note and the rolling pin to the police. Don’t you, Andy?’
