The Missing Ingredient

by Diane Noble

  Sybil took a deep breath. “No comment.”

  Kate blinked, trying to take everything in. Why hadn’t Sybil told her that Newt Keller was booked in room 213, especially since Kate had mentioned that the master key wouldn’t open the door? Not to mention that supposedly, no one else was even staying in that wing?

  The reporter thrust the mike closer to Sybil. “Surely you have something to say about this...”

  Sensing Sybil’s extreme discomfort, Kate stepped forward to let her off the hook. “Until the authorities have conducted their investigation, it isn’t appropriate for anyone but the police to comment. Out of respect for that process—”

  She was interrupted by a commotion across the foyer. Before she could finish her statement, the perky reporter and her cameraman scampered toward a swarm of other reporters and camerapeople. Standing on a makeshift dais were two of the three stars of Taste Network—Nicolette Pascal and Birdie Birge. Daryl Gallagher stood between them.

  All three looked and sounded appropriately somber, though Kate suspected if she stepped closer, she might detect a glad-to-be-in-the-limelight glint in their eyes. In front of them stood a mix of media and studio audience members, who were waiting for the taping to begin.

  Copper Mill residents were scattered around the foyer. Renee and Caroline were seated on a sofa near the fireplace, and LuAnne and Millie were standing with Joe Tucker near the entrance to the kitchen set. LuAnne had arranged for another waitress to cover her shift at the diner, and Millie said she could stay only a half day because she had some filing to do at the church. Eli, Willy, and Sam couldn’t make it because of work. Livvy had called Kate earlier saying she needed to finalize details about the Joel St. Nicklaus book signing and would join Kate later.

  All around her, Kate could hear snatches of conversation, and the word that cropped up the most was abduction. She shivered. Surely such a thing hadn’t happened to Newt. He might be abrasive but why would someone want to hurt him? What would be the gain?

  Her gaze traveled to Susannah, who stood off to one side, away from the crowd. Though she was dressed in her chef’s uniform, she looked anything but ready for the morning’s taping. Her hair was disheveled, her face lined with worry, her shoulders slumped as if they carried the weight of the universe.

  Kate’s heart went out to her. She put aside all thoughts that Susannah might be involved in Newt Keller’s disappearance and headed toward her. Reporters were firing questions at the three women on the dais, who were obviously pros at handling such things. They were poised, engaging, and appropriately grave. Their body language said they had long been waiting for this moment in the media spotlight.

  As soon as Kate reached Susannah, she wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You look like you could use a friend.”

  Susannah nodded, her eyes filling.

  Just then, Sheriff Alan Roberts swept through the door, glowering when he spotted the swarm of reporters. Deputy Skip Spencer followed on his heels.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Sheriff Roberts and Skip strode toward the dais.

  The sheriff looked out at the crowd. His tone was no-nonsense when he spoke. “The Q and A is over for now, folks. A briefing will be scheduled for later in the day to apprise you of any developments. In the meantime, I’d appreciate some breathing room to interview the network cast and crew.” A couple of news reporters tried to shoot off a few more questions, but Skip herded them through the exit and into the parking lot.

  Kate smiled. It wasn’t often that Skip could carry out a command and not bungle it in the sheriff’s presence.

  “As you know,” Sheriff Roberts was saying to those who remained, “Newt Keller was last seen at the Country Diner on Wednesday, having lunch alone. His vehicle was found yesterday morning about four miles from town, abandoned. Blood was discovered on the upholstery, which leads us to believe that foul play may be involved. Because of the circumstances, I need to speak with everyone Newt Keller was in contact with since his arrival Tuesday evening.”

  He paused, frowning. “It’s been reported that several threats were made against Mr. Keller before he disappeared. I’m speaking to the cast and crew of the network here, but if anyone else has anything to say, you need to tell us now. As my deputy and I conduct the interviews, I encourage you to be forthcoming. Names have been turned in to our office, but it will go easier for you if you tell us what you know. If you don’t tell us here, maybe a trip to the Sheriff’s Office will help jog your memory.”

  After a few more instructions about how the interviews would be conducted, Sheriff Roberts stepped down from the dais and headed toward two long tables that had been set up in the foyer. He took a seat at the nearest table, and Skip took a seat at the other. Kate hesitated, agonizing as she thought through her options. Should she tell the sheriff about the mud on Susannah’s Miata? She blinked back the threat of tears. She couldn’t turn her friend in without further investigation.

  Susannah squeezed Kate’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I couldn’t get through all this without you.”

  Kate let out a pent-up sigh. She could always call the sheriff later. For now, her friend needed her support.

  Susannah squeezed Kate’s hand again, then walked toward the sheriff. Kate watched as Susannah spoke with him. She kept her demeanor lighthearted, almost as if she were bantering with an audience member. The sheriff looked anything but lighthearted. As the conversation proceeded, his scowl deepened. And as he took notes, his tight-lipped expression made Kate’s heart skip a beat.

  Susannah’s expression changed too. By the time the interview was over, she looked pale and drawn.

  KATE SPENT THE REST of the morning at the library, doing research on the Hamilton Springs Hotel. Near the end of her two hours online, Kate glanced up and spotted Livvy coming her way. Kate smiled as her friend sat down in the swivel chair next to her.

  “How about lunch?” Livvy offered.

  “I’d love it. Diner?”

  Livvy nodded. “I’ve got a hankering for a bowl of chicken-and-dumpling soup. It’s that kind of day.” She glanced at the computer screen. “Did you find anything?”

  Kate sat back. “I had no idea there was any truth to all this ghost business.”

  Livvy raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You mean that the ghost is real after all?”

  Kate chuckled with her. “Not quite. I meant there’s a historical basis for the ghost stories. This morning, a reporter asked Sybil if she had purposely put Newt Keller in room 213, the same room where someone was killed in 1929.”

  “And...?”

  “A person did die in that room. Strangely, Joel St. Nicklaus didn’t include that little tidbit in his book, the room number I mean. He also took a bit of literary license when he said that someone was killed in that wing of the hotel, implying it was murder. In the information I’ve found, it wasn’t murder at all.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Livvy said. “But at least he’s up front about it. I’ve seen him interviewed. He admits that he fictionalized most of the original stories to make them more interesting.” Livvy shook her head. “What some authors will do to sell books...”

  Kate chuckled. “The problem with fictionalized nonfiction is that you’ve got to sleuth your way through the material to figure out what’s true and what’s not.”

  Livvy grinned. “If anybody can do that, it’s you. I would think you’ve gone through Famous Haunts with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “It’s more like sifting flour—sifting out the untruths and innuendos until you can see the facts,” Kate said with a sigh. “What I can figure so far to be true is that Precious McFie was jilted just days before her wedding. She came from Nashville high society, a debutante, and her wedding was to be the event of the year. When her fiancé ran off with another woman, Precious was scandalized. There wasn’t even enough time for her parents to notify guests that the wedding was canceled. She came here from Nashville and booked room 213 at the hotel. Of course,
it was called the Copper Creek Hotel back then.

  “Later, it was reported that she walked up and down the path by the creek from midnight to dawn for several nights, in her wedding gown. Winter had arrived in full force that year, and the air turned bitter cold, with sleet and hail and terrible winds. She caught pneumonia and died in her room a few days later. A doctor was called, but it was too late.”

  The two women stood. Kate gathered her pen and notebook and dropped them into her handbag. As they walked down the stairs to the first floor, Kate continued. “A big deal was made over the fact that she died in room 213 on November thirteenth. Legend has it that every year around that time, a ghost dressed as a bride haunts the room where she died, the second-floor wing where we’ve seen the flickering lights, the parking lot, and the path along the creek.”

  They reached the exit door downstairs, and Livvy pushed it open.

  “There’s something unsettling about the hotel assigning Newt Keller that same room,” Kate said as she stepped outside.

  “Could it have been just a coincidence, or an oversight?” Livvy fell in beside Kate as they crossed Main Street on foot, heading toward the diner.

  “That wing isn’t usually available for guests. Maybe for overflow, if need be. But from what I gather, no one goes up there except the housekeepers. It doesn’t make sense that a guest would be assigned to that room. I don’t think it’s an accident.”

  They reached the diner and were seated. Because LuAnne had taken the week off for the Taste tapings, her stand-in took their orders. With her fair skin and multitude of freckles, she looked all of sixteen, but she was friendly and efficient. They ordered two bowls of soup and a basket of cornbread.

  “How are the plans for the book signing coming along?”

  Livvy sighed. “Not well. During the last planning meeting, the Caspers lined up in front of the library, trying to keep the Ghostbusters from picketing.”

  “Who in the world are the Ghostbusters?”

  Livvy gave her a wan smile. “Caspers believe in ghosts and, for some reason, want everyone else to believe too. The Ghostbusters are convinced that ghosts do not exist, and both sides have picked this up as some sort of cause.”

  Kate slumped back in the booth. “What will this do to your signing? Do you think people will stay away?”

  “I hope not. I got an e-mail from Joel St. Nicklaus this morning. He’s bringing a professional storyteller with him. Someone with Southern roots who can tell a famous ghost story with theatrical flair.”

  “And the Ghostbusters are trying to get you to cancel, I suppose.”

  Livvy nodded. “You’ve got it.” She leaned forward. “Kate, what do you think I should do? I already said yes to Joel St. Nicklaus. It’s a rare occasion when a professional storyteller comes to Copper Mill, and I’m excited about it. But if the Caspers and Ghostbusters picket the event...” She shrugged. “It’ll become a circus. Laughable. I can’t have that.”

  “We need to figure out a way to stop them,” Kate said, frowning in thought.

  Livvy shrugged. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what any of us can do to stop it.”

  “What about getting both sides together—?”

  Before Kate could answer, the waitress brought two steaming bowls of soup and a basket of cornbread, then asked if there would be anything else. After they said no, the young woman hesitated as if uncertain of something. Then she said, “What you were talking about just now...”

  Livvy and Kate looked up, spoons poised above their bowls.

  “Well, my grandma’s a Casper.”

  “Oh?” said Livvy.

  The two women put down their spoons.

  “She swears a ghost lives in her house and roams around at night while she and Grandpa are sleeping. Grandpa says it’s utter foolishness, but Grandma insists her ghost is real. She says Sophronia is a friendly ghost who wouldn’t hurt a flea. Just roams around, room to room, floorboards creaking. Sometimes Sophronia rearranges furniture or puts dishes in different cupboards during the night. That’s the only thing Grandma doesn’t like about her ghost.”

  “How does she know the ghost’s name is Sophronia?” Kate asked.

  “That was the name of Grandma’s granny, who was born in that same house. Died there too. Grandma says the ghost never told her its name, but she says she feels the kinship in her bones.”

  “And your grandpa is a Ghostbuster?” Livvy asked, then lifted her spoon to her mouth.

  The young woman nodded. “He says Grandma sleepwalks—gets out of her wheelchair by herself and everything. He swears she does all those things herself, and just doesn’t remember.”

  “Has he stayed up to watch so he knows for sure?” Kate stirred her soup to cool it, then slid her spoon into its fragrant depths.

  The young waitress laughed and tucked her pencil over one ear. “The one night Grandpa tried to stay awake, nothing happened. He fell asleep in his recliner just before dawn. When he woke up a couple hours later, he was covered by an old quilt that Grandma had on display in the parlor with her Granny’s treadle sewing machine. Grandma was still asleep upstairs in their bedroom and swore she hadn’t been up during the night.”

  Someone called for a coffee refill, and the girl hollered she’d be right there.

  “What about you?” Kate asked. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  The waitress looked down at her nametag and patted it gently. “Have to. I’m named after my great-great grandma Sophronia.” She looked up and grinned. “But I go by Sophie.” Then she winked. “Sometimes I do a little ghosting myself when I sleep over at my grandparents’ place.”

  She started to head across the room for the coffeepot, then she paused and looked back. “Grandma and I will be at the library when that author comes to town.”

  “How about your grandfather?” Livvy asked, looking worried.

  “Yep, he’ll be there too. But as a protestor.”

  “With a sign?” Kate asked.

  “Of course. All their signs have little ghosts with red circles around ’em. You’ve seen those before, right?”

  Kate and Livvy nodded.

  “And that’s not all. Some of the Caspers plan to come in costume, hoping it will give their cause some publicity.”

  “You’re kidding!” Livvy gaped, and Kate knew what was going through her mind. The event was turning into a big top right before her eyes.

  “But Grandma said they’re going to update the look a bit. Instead of white sheets, she and her Casper friends are planning to wear patterns—stripes, plaids, and florals.”

  As Sophie headed for the coffeepot, Kate and Livvy looked at each other. “I know this is serious, and you’re very concerned, Livvy, but”—the corner of her mouth twitched—“if they actually do this...”

  “I can picture it now,” Livvy said, biting her lips to keep from laughing. Then a giggle erupted, followed by another. They looked at each other again and cracked up.

  After a moment of nearly breathless laughter, Livvy’s expression softened. “We can’t let this happen, Kate. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to stop it.”

  Kate reached for Livvy’s hand. “Seriously, Livvy. We’ll think of something. The floral sheets might strike us as funny, but the repercussions for the library—and for you—aren’t. We’ll find a way to stop it.”

  “I know we will,” Livvy said, and dipped her spoon into her soup. But her expression didn’t match her words.

  The women had just finished their meal when Kate’s cell phone buzzed.

  She checked the caller ID before lifting the phone to her ear. Susannah Applebaum.

  “Hi, Suse—” she began, but Susannah cut her off.

  “Kate,” her friend whispered. Her voice trembled as if she’d been crying. “I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

  Chapter Ten

  Saturday morning, Kate rose early, and headed into the living room for her devotions. Her heart was heavy as she thought about Susannah. To
day of all days, she needed more bolstering than a strong cup of early morning coffee could provide.

  She opened her Bible to Psalm 37 and read through the entire chapter, then she returned to the verses that seemed to speak to her heart: Trust in the Lord and do good...delight yourself in the Lord and he shall give you the desires of your heart...commit your way to the Lord...Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for him...do not fret...

  Her eyes opened wide as she focused on the words trust, delight, commit, rest...and especially, do not fret.

  She smiled, realizing that these verses were sent straight from God’s heart to hers for this day. If ever she needed to trust God in the circumstances around her, it was now.

  She wasn’t very good at waiting patiently, and she was terrible at trying not to fret. But the one thing she could do, perhaps above all the others on the list, was to delight in Him, no matter the seriousness of the circumstances around her, no matter her concerns about Susannah, Livvy and the library, or about the mystery she was trying to solve.

  After spending time in prayer, she stood to go into the kitchen to put on the coffee. A gentle peace settled into her soul, and she leaned against the counter and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Because Paul was still asleep, Kate decided to try out Susannah’s recipe for brownies—and to think over the new wrinkle in the mystery surrounding Newt Keller’s disappearance.

  She pulled out the ingredients: four squares of unsweetened chocolate, unsalted butter, eggs, sugar, flour, and cream cheese.

  As the chocolate squares and butter melted on the stove, she pondered Susannah’s dilemma. Kate had immediately invited her over when she called the day before, even letting her know she was welcome to stay with them until all the trouble blew over.

  But Susannah didn’t want to appear afraid, so she opted to stay at the hotel. But she did join Kate and Paul for dinner and seemed heartened by Paul’s prayer for her during grace, as well as their conversation later over coffee and cookies at the table.