by Jenny Kales
Not that Callie wanted to admit it, but her shoulder felt warm and tingly where he had touched it for about 10 minutes afterwards.
* * *
When George and Koukla returned from their walk, George wanted a full rundown of the conversation.
“Why did I have to leave? You know, I almost didn’t. I’m your father. I have a right to stay and hear what this detective is saying to you.”
“Dad, don’t worry. He just wanted to clarify a few things and take a statement about my attack.”
“I know this incident might seem like a simple robbery to the police, but you could have died when you hit your head on the pavement.” Callie shuddered, as she’d been trying very hard not to think about that.
George put his arm around his daughter and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but there it is. But now, it’s a beautiful day and you’re just fine. Let’s eat breakfast.” She couldn’t argue with that. George made a mean feta cheese omelet.
“Coffee?” Callie asked hopefully.
“Of course!” George sounded gruff. “Greeks don’t drink tea in the morning. I just served that to make the detective feel at ease.” He bustled back to the kitchen to fire up the coffee pot with Koukla hot on his heels. She’d perked up as soon as she’d heard the word “breakfast.”
Even as Callie laughed at her father’s comment, she wondered about Max. Why hadn’t he reported the attack and theft?
Nineteen
The September sky looked slate blue against the golden leaves of the oak tree in her front yard and the breeze coming through the window was cool. Usually, autumn was a time that Callie enjoyed. The kaleidoscope of colors provided by the leaves’ changing hues invigorated her and gave her that first-day-of-school feeling, a fresh slate when anything could happen.
Or it would have, if not for the constant presence of her father. He’d called his restaurant, The Olympia and told them he was taking some time off. It looked like he intended to spend all of it with Callie.
“Do you feel up to helping me make a spanakopita?” George materialized in the door of the living room, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. Callie was touched by his question. He knew that spanakopita was her favorite comfort food. Paper-thin phyllo generously brushed with melted butter, wrapped around a salty, savory mixture of spinach and feta cheese – it never failed to help her forget her troubles, at least briefly.
“If I can sit down,” Callie offered, struggling out of her position on the couch. George extended his strong hand and helped her up, leading her into the kitchen where he settled her into a chair near the stove. The warmth from the oven made Callie feel drowsy and content. Already, the spanakopita was working its magic.
Callie watched as George squeezed the moisture from his thawed frozen spinach and started chopping a brick of feta cheese that was nearly the size of a text book. How many spinach cheese pies was George planning on making?
“We need to talk,” George said, dropping several sticks of butter into a pan on the stove.
“I’ll watch the butter,” Callie offered, scooting her chair closer to the range, where it began to melt in a golden, fragrant pool. Nothing smelled as good as melting butter. “What is it, Dad?”
“Why do you think Drew was killed?” George said facing her, his thick brows furrowed. “How could you have gotten involved with such a person? I’m trying to understand how this happened to you. You have always been such a sensible girl, even though you’ve done things I don’t agree with.”
Callie’s cheeks burned and her head started throbbing again on cue. “Dad, I’m not sure I have any answers for you. Drew isn’t what he seemed, that much I do know. It feels like I only knew the very public side of him, but he obviously had enemies. I’m trying to piece things together, but it’s not easy.” She paused. “You know I’m an official suspect, right?”
George narrowed his eyes. “Yes. That detective told me, even though you didn’t. When will you learn – you can’t hide anything from your father?” George grunted at Callie’s expression and continued. “I tell him – I didn’t raise my daughter that way. And I raised you on my own, without your poor mother. I am insulted that this man is questioning you. You are not the criminal and I tell him, he is wasting time.”
Callie smiled, despite herself. “That must have gone over well.”
George gave the spinach a vicious whack with his kitchen knife. “I tell him – why do you not find the real killer? My daughter is the one in danger. And he only says: That’s what I’m trying to do. Find the real killer.” George gave the spinach a final chop and dumped it into a huge mixing bowl. He crumbled the book-sized brick of feta cheese and started sprinkling it on top.
“He’s just doing his job, Dad,” Callie said with a sigh. “I want to help him find the real killer, too. The sooner that happens, the sooner I can get back to a normal life.”
“That may be. But you’re not the one. Are you?”
Callie’s head swiveled to George. His eyes were shut tight and he was trembling. Callie smelled the butter starting to scorch and she turned off the flame and removed the pan, struggling with her emotions. He couldn’t possibly think…but he had asked. Slowly, she got up and put her arms around her father. “No Dad. I didn’t kill Drew. I promise you. You are a wonderful father. I would never do anything like that. You taught me right from wrong – you and Grandma Viv. So don’t worry.”
George returned her embrace, then drew back and busied himself by cracking several large eggs over the top of the spinach-cheese mixture. “I didn’t think so,” he said, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring the contents of the bowl, a small smile on his lips. “But I had to ask. I was thinking. Maybe you are afraid of this Drew. Maybe he threatened you and something went wrong? So now I know.” He turned to her. “You go and rest. I’m baking this pita and then I have to go to The Olympia for a bit. One of the cooks is out sick and I said I’d fill in if you were doing better. I’m just a phone call away, though.” He kissed Callie on the cheek and helped her back to the sofa.
* * *
Callie shifted position and Koukla gave a grumpy little grunt before nestling her small body back onto her owner’s lap.
“You don’t know how easy you have it,” she told the pint-sized Yorkie, who pricked up her comically oversized ears, no doubt hoping that a beef-flavored treat would suddenly materialize. When none did, she put her head back down. Callie petted the dog in consolation, for the dog or for herself, she didn’t know.
She couldn’t believe George had even entertained the thought that she had it in her to stick a knife in someone. However, in George’s defense, he had thrown out the idea that she could have done it in self-defense. Still! Did George really believe she’d gone that far astray?
Life was spiraling out of control and Callie couldn’t stand to think about her troubles another minute. She glanced at the side table and languidly picked up the Julia Child book that Viv had lent to her. As long as she was in an enforced rest period, she may as well read. Flipping through to where she had left off, Callie was soon engrossed in the lively writing about Julia’s time in France. Nothing seemed to get her down, not even her first lame attempts at cooking or her freezing cold Paris apartment where everything seemed too small for her tall frame. Just as she finished a section about Julia’s equally height-endowed sister joining her in Paris for a lively visit, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
What seemed like hours later but what was probably only several minutes, she woke up with a start and rubbed her eyes. Callie shook herself like Koukla and considered her next steps. First: She’d call the shop and find out how things were going. Max was on the schedule this morning and she needed to find out why he’d never called the police.
“Hello?” Max’s husky voice crackled through the line.
“Hi, it’s me. How’s it going?”
“Callie! It’s good to hear your voice. You must be doing better.” When Callie murmured her assent, Max continued. “Wel
l, it’s pretty quiet. You know. Not so many customers. But don’t worry about that right now.” Max’s despondent voice took on new urgency. “You could have been hurt much worse.”
“That’s what people keep telling me but it looks like I’ll be fine.” Now, now, she told herself. Don’t take it out on Max. She sighed and started over. “I appreciate your concern, truly I do. But I have to ask you about something.”
Callie fidgeted. “Can I ask you something? Why you didn’t report the assault and theft like you said you were going to? I spoke to a detective this morning and the hospital called it in, not you.”
Max gave an anguished cry. “I completely forgot!” he wailed in an uncharacteristically dramatic fashion. “Piper had to go to work at Bodies by the Bay and she said she had a lot of homework to do. And, I’m not gonna lie.” Max sounded worried and hesitated before plowing ahead with his story. “We got into kind of a fight. I don’t know if she’s going to work for you after all.”
“A fight?” Callie said. “Oh no. What about?”
“I’d rather not say,” Max said sheepishly. She could almost see him blushing to the ends of his spiky hair.
“Okay, fine. So you were distracted.”
“Yes. I’m sorry to be so irresponsible. By the time I remembered I had promised to make the call for you, it was late. I figured by then you or your Dad had reported the crime. I admit it: I dropped the ball.”
“Max, I” – Callie began, but he cut her off.
“Are you going to fire me? I’m sorry I let you down but I love this job and I need this job. Especially now…Oh, never mind. I just really need this job. Give me another chance?”
“Max, settle down. Nobody is firing you. I just wondered what happened. You know, the police have been questioning me again and I thought I’d check with you. And honestly, I’m still really upset about getting hit on the head behind my place of business.”
“Sorry I flew off the handle. I’m just worried. If we don’t get more customers in here, then…” he trailed off.
“I know. It’s not going to be good. Listen, I appreciate everything you’re doing. I’m going to rest up today and come to work tomorrow.”
“Really? That would be great. I know we’ll think of some way to get people back in here. Anyway, Piper probably will help you. She seemed pretty interested. The least I can do is smooth things over with her, if that would help.”
Callie felt a warm glow of gratitude. “Thanks. It would help.”
“Oh, and before I let you go, I almost forgot. Foot traffic hasn’t been good, but we just got another decent-sized order for The First Bank of Crystal Bay. Lucille is coming back to work and her boss wants to welcome her with our mini coffee cakes.”
Lucille. Now there was someone Callie would like to see. It was just after visiting Lucille that she had received her own whack on the head.
“Max, let me deliver those tomorrow. What time do they need to be there?”
“Let me check.” Callie heard the comforting noises of her shop as he referred to his notes: the clink of ceramic plates, the ding of the oven timer. Max must be working while he talked to her on the phone. Even though business was slow, she wanted to be back in the heart and hearth of her business. She could almost inhale the lemony, rich scent of avgolemono soup and the warm aroma of cookies baking. It made her feel homesick.
“10 a.m.,” Max said returning to the phone. Then, hesitantly: “You’re sure you can drive?”
“I think so. If not, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. And hey, please…”
This time Callie cut him off. “I know, Max. I’ll be careful.” See you soon.” She hung up.
Feeling a little unsettled from her interchange with Max, Callie decided she had a few more calls to make. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she grabbed the phone and cancelled all of her credit cards. She’d figure out her driver’s license later. But what if she got pulled over? Well, she’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen. Sooner or later her luck was going to have to get better. Wasn’t it? Of course, Drew had thought his luck was changing too. And now he was dead.
Twenty
Speaking of luck, Callie still had her checkbook and she would be able to use it for cash. She could do that tomorrow at the First Bank of Crystal Bay when delivering the cakes. Tired of phone calls, Callie sank back into a kitchen chair and groaned when the phone rang again. She was tempted to ignore it, but what if it was one of her creditors? Reluctantly, she answered it.
“Are you kidding me?” Samantha said loudly into the phone. “I have to find out about my best friend getting attacked from a colleague at work? Not from my best friend – or shall we say, the attackee?”
“Please,” Callie protested. “My head hurts. You were my next call, I promise.”
Sam softened her tone, but not much. “I don’t know what the heck is going on, but something is. Have you been snooping around even though I asked you to stay put?”
“Not really. At this point, I just want to get on with running my business. I’ve missed so much time due to Drew’s death, that I don’t even have the luxury of sitting out the rest of the week. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“I know.” Sam of all people knew what was at stake. “What you need is a police escort to follow you around town, to make sure you’re not endangered by anyone. I know just the guy!” Sam said suggestively with a low chortle.
“Don’t. Even.” Callie protested. “He was already here again this morning. Sands, that is, if that’s who you’re referring to.”
“Oh, I bet he was. And I hope he told you to be careful.”
“He did. How did you know? That’s all anyone says to me these days. He also told me, and I quote: ‘Don’t go playing Nancy Drew.’”
“He didn’t!” Sam’s chortle turned into a full-blown laugh. “I’ll bet you loved that.”
“Not exactly. In fact, he inspired me to do just the opposite.”
“Hmmm,” Samantha said. “Seriously, Callie you’ve got me worried. A killer is still out there. You and Lucille – and anyone else even slightly involved – need to watch your back.”
“Funny you should mention Lucille. I’m delivering coffee cakes to her at work tomorrow.”
“Look at you two. You can’t keep good women down. Still, watch your step. Somebody out there took a risk and hurt both you and Lucille. Put you the two of you together and I don’t like your chances.”
“Not to worry,” Callie answered, more glibly than she felt. Lucille might be less of a victim and more of a participant, but she’d save that theory for later. If everyone had their way, she’d be bedridden until further notice.
Placing the phone back in its cradle, Callie considered what to do next. She desperately wanted to speak to Jane Willoughby. It seemed to her that Jane had to know more than she was saying. For example, in his moody rant, Chef Johan said that Jane had been at the bistro frequently, a fact that Drew had never shared with her.
Sands hadn’t said anything about Jane beyond his initial questioning the night of the murder. As someone involved in the Taste of Crystal Bay, Callie reasoned that Jane had to have talked to the police at least once. And then there was the whole syrup of ipecac debacle. Like it or not, Callie was going to have to visit Jane again and find a way to get her to talk. Unfortunately, a cookie bribe probably wouldn’t do the trick.
She picked up the phone and dialed Bodies by the Bay. “Hello, can you put me through to Jane Willoughby’s office?” Callie asked the receptionist. Koukla just looked at her, impatient with anyone who wasn’t prepared to offer their lap as a cushion.
Jane answered, somewhat breathlessly, on the second ring. Callie’s heart started to pound. “Jane, it’s me. Callie Costas.”
“Hello, Callie. What’s up? I heard you were attacked the other day. Sorry about that. Trouble seems to be following you around.” Jane spoke evenly.
“Yes, it does. I’m doing bet
ter, though. I wondered if we could meet up and chat. You knew Drew for a long time. I just have a few things I’d like to chat with you about.” Like how syrup of ipecac got into the romantic gourmet meal Drew was preparing for me.
Jane sighed in exasperation. “Like what? I’m not sure I understand what you think I know.”
Impatience gave Callie confidence. “You and Drew conducted a lot of Chamber business together. You may just have details that you observed and they might be relevant – but you might not even know that they’re relevant. I’ve been suspected of his murder and I’m trying to gain perspective on why I may have been attacked.”
“I’m sure I don’t know why you were attacked,” Jane replied hotly. “And I don’t really like what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying anything.” Callie decided to try a different tack. “We’re both businesswomen. I’m struggling to keep my business afloat and take care of my daughter. You’re great at what you do. But now my business is in danger – like a lot others in town. I just want to have a friendly chat, nothing more. It would be nice to talk to someone who understands what it means to run a business.” It was an obvious attempt at flattery, but it just might work.
Jane didn’t sound all that mollified. “Callie, I’m sorry. I’d like to help you but things are really busy for me. Mrs. DeWitt and I are trying to figure out what to do with the contest money now that Drew is…gone. Plus, work is really hectic and we have our hands full here trying to reassure our clients that they won’t be attacked like Lucille was.”
Jane let out an exasperated sigh. “So, as you can see, I don’t have a lot of time right now. Anyway, I’m glad you feel better. We’ll talk soon, when things aren’t so crazy.” Jane rang off.
Callie was dejected but not surprised. The way things were going, when were they not going to be “crazy” as Jane put it? Obviously, Jane didn’t want to talk to her. Fine. She’d just have to work around her. But how?
