The girl at the front desk looked up. Liv, according to her name tag. “Hi, Dixie. Your aunt’s not here.”
“Where is she?” Dixie demanded.
“I have no idea.” Liv shook her ponytail. “She left a note that said she had to go out of town and I should stay until Ilene gets here.”
“Where’s the note?”
“What?” Liv snapped her gum and looked puzzled.
“The note.” Dixie gestured. “Where is it?”
“Oh, the note from Bertie.” She smiled showing braces. I was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be chewing gum with that metal work. “I gave it to that cute sheriff.”
“He’s—” Dixie stopped herself and looked at me and sighed.
I shrugged. “Maybe when this Ilene comes, she’ll know where your Aunt Bertie went.”
“Ilene is Aunt Bertie’s new business manager,” Dixie explained to me and then turned back to Liv, her patience wearing thin. “What time does Ilene come?”
“She comes at different times. It depends. Did you want me to give her a message?”
“What’s her phone number?” Dixie demanded drumming her fingers impatiently on the counter.
I heard a cough behind me and turned. A young couple with suitcases stood behind us, obviously waiting to check in. “Does your aunt have an office? Maybe it’s in there.” I nudged Dixie and tilted my head toward the hall.
“Oh, sure.” She caught on right away. “We’ll just get Ilene’s number there.”
“Welcome to the Jefferson Street B & B.” I could hear Liv greet the couple as we moved away.
Dixie and I hurried through the kitchen where a young man appeared to be in the middle of lunch prep. The owner’s absence didn’t seem to have any effect on the operations, and the smells were divine. Some sort of sauce simmered on the big commercial stove and he was just taking warm scones from the big oven.
I inhaled the butter and cinnamon warmth. They looked delicious, but I’ll admit it would be a while before I’d look at scones in the same way.
We slipped through the door to Bertie’s office. I wasn’t sure if the untidiness was the usual state of things or if the piles of receipts and papers were perhaps due to the fact that Bertie had left in a hurry. Dixie sat down at the desk and dropped her face into her hands.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked.
She pushed a Rolodex my way. “See if you can find Ilene’s phone number.”
“Wow, I haven’t seen one of these in years.” I flipped through the cards. Clearly Aunt Bertie was not into managing her contacts (or her receipts for that matter) on her computer. “Do we know Ilene’s last name?”
“What?” Dixie looked up from a receipt she was looking at. “Oh, uhm, I think it’s Jorkins. Try that.”
I turned the circular file card holder to J but no Ilene Jorkins was listed.
“No luck.”
“Try the I’s” Dixie looked up from the pile of papers she was sorting. “My aunt often is creative in her filing. I used to work for her part-time when I was in high school. It was always a challenge to try to figure how her mind worked.”
I flipped to the I section and sure enough there was an Ilene Jorkins listed. “Here we go.” I pulled the card out and handed it to Dixie.
“Super.” She grabbed it. “Let’s see what she knows.” She punched in the numbers, held the phone to her ear, and waited. “No answer.”
She handed the card back to me, and I put it back in its place. “Maybe she’s already on her way here.”
“I’ve got to help Bertie get better organized. This desk is a mess.” She picked up one of the receipts she’d been sorting. “Wait, what’s—”
Suddenly the door burst open and Sheriff Griffin and one of the deputies I’d met at Elsie’s place, strode in. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to figure out where my aunt is, and if she’s okay.” Dixie stood and as she did I could see her slip the receipt she’d been holding into the pocket of her jeans. “Did you ever think that maybe she didn’t do anything wrong? And maybe she’s in danger?”
“I’ve issued a BOLO.” Sheriff Griffin, aka The Cute Sheriff according to Liv at the front desk, held the door open. A clear hint we should use it to exit.
“I don’t even know what that is.” Dixie stood arms crossed.
“It’s a ‘be on the lookout’ alert, ma’am,” the young deputy explained.
“Well, you should be out there looking for her.” Dixie stepped forward a little closer to the two of them. “And by the way, this is private property. My aunt’s property. So, I don’t have to leave just because you think I should.”
“Jeeze, Dix, give me a break. Of course, we have people out looking for your Aunt Bertie.” The handsome sheriff rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re not helping things by going all ballistic on me.”
“You’ve searched the B & B?” she asked.
“No, we haven’t.” He paced back and forth. “She left a note.”
“What’s going on?” A thirty-something woman, dressed in shorts and a bright pink Jefferson Street B & B polo shirt, looked in.
“Hi, Ilene,” Dixie greeted her. “My aunt is missing. She’s just up and disappeared, which is not like her at all.”
“Hmmm, I wouldn’t worry.” Ilene’s expression was neutral. “She’s been talking about taking some time off. I understand she left a note with Liv.”
“She’s a person of interest in a murder investigation,” Dixie said evenly. “At least according to these two.” Her tone of voice implied these two bozos, but at least she didn’t say it out loud. I thought we were making progress.
“You left your shop full of people with no one there to keep an eye on things at all,” Terrance noted. “So, I’m not sure you should be lecturing me on thinking through things.”
It probably wasn’t the best idea to walk away from your place of business when it’s full of people. Still, we knew all those people and probably our biggest problem was that perhaps Disco had eaten today’s taste test.
“They’re all good people.” Dixie took a deep breath. “I’m sure it was fine.”
I couldn’t tell if she was reassuring the sheriff or me.
“I asked Max Windsor to call your brother, Hirsh.”
“Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t sure Dixie could bring herself to do it. “We’ll be going now.” I tugged at Dixie’s arm.
“Are you here to search the premises? Do you have a search warrant?” she challenged Sheriff Griffin.
“I don’t have one, but I can get one if I need to.” He stood at full height, apparently done being nice. “Right now, I’d just like to talk to your aunt. If you know where she is, you’d better tell me.”
“You’d better watch yourself.” And with that Dixie slammed out.
I nodded to the sheriff and deputy and followed her.
* * * *
Well, that didn’t get us anywhere. I hopped in the truck, and we pulled out onto the street and headed back to the town square.
“So, what did you put in your pocket.”
Dixie’s expression was grim. She pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to me.
I looked at what appeared to be a receipt from a hardware store in Des Moines. A store a good thirty some miles from St. Ignatius. It was for a case of rat poison.
Oh, boy.
“This doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Dixie shook her head. “I know my aunt is not a killer. But what was she doing buying rat poison out of town?”
She pulled into the lot behind our building and jammed the truck into park. She laid her head on the steering wheel. “I’ve got to find her before the police do and figure out what’s going on.”
“We’ll find her.” I patted her arm. “She couldn�
�t have disappeared into thin air. Someone knows where she is.”
“I hope you’re right.” Dixie raised her head. “I hope nothing bad has happened to her.”
We entered Sugar and Spice Publishing from the back door not sure what we’d find, but all was quiet. Then I heard a slight sound from my office.
“Hello,” I called.
“Hello,” a voice answered. Max Windsor sat behind my desk, his long legs propped on one corner. One finger marked his place in Jimmie LeBlanc’s tome on the history of St. Ignatius. He had read quite a way into it.
“Oh, my word. Thanks for staying.” The man looked pretty darn comfortable. “You sure didn’t need to.”
“No problem.” He dropped his legs from the desk and stood placing the pages back on my desk. “I called your brother, Hirsh,” he addressed Dixie, “but he was busy at the farm. I said I could stay until you got back.”
“Thanks.”
“He wants you to call him.”
“Sure thing.” Dixie was already pulling out her cell phone. She walked into the kitchen area, and I could hear her telling him about going to the B and B. I wondered if she’d tell him about the rat poison.
“Thanks again.” I thought it said something really nice about Max that he’d waited around. “Dixie was hell bent on talking to the staff at the bed and breakfast, and I thought it best she not interrogate on her own.”
“Well, I’ve got some photos to do before I lose the light.” He gave a little salute and then headed out the back door.
I wandered out front where Dixie was cleaning up the remains of the refreshments. The cups and plates had been gathered up already and placed in the large trash can by the door. Which meant either we also owed Max an additional thank you for cleaning up, or our uninvited guests had been thoughtful and cleaned up after themselves. Dixie carried the last of the cookies back to the kitchen, and I followed.
Someone had rinsed out the coffee carafe and placed it in the sink. I ran some water and squirted dish soap. Dixie stacked napkins neatly in the supply cupboard.
“So what now?” I asked.
“I’m going to call Ilene and find out what she knows.” Dixie shut the cupboard with a click. “She didn’t seem very concerned about Aunt Bertie being gone. I think she knows more than she’s saying.”
“I wondered about that.” I’d finished the coffee carafe and other dishes in short order and began drying and putting away.
Dixie pulled out her cell phone and punched a number. She settled onto one of the stools and waited for an answer.
“Ilene, it’s Dixie Spicer.” The call must have gone to voicemail. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about my aunt. Please call me as soon as possible.” She gave her phone number.
“Now what?”
“I don’t know.” Dixie shrugged her shoulders.
“Someone has to know where she’s gone.” I pondered the possibilities. “If she left this morning, she may not even know that something has happened to Elsie.”
Dixie looked up.
“Do you know if there are other B & B owners she keeps in touch with? Or suppliers?”
“I know she belongs to some association.”
“Bingo.” I stood. “Let’s go back for that address card thingy, and I can begin making calls. Who in your family might know something? You could start by calling family members.”
“You are brilliant.” Dixie jumped up and hugged me. “I didn’t even think about calling my cousins or my other aunts.”
“Sounds like we have a plan.”
Dixie grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the back door. “Be right back,” she called over her shoulder.
I sat for a few minutes thinking about how fast things change. One day your biggest problem is which scone recipe to put in a cookbook, and two days later you’re dealing with a possible murder and a missing person. While I waited for Dixie to return, I’d might as well do some work. We still had a cookbook to get done. I picked up the pages Max Windsor had been reading. I still had to get through them myself.
I was knee deep in early St. Ignatius when my phone rang. I looked at the time. It seemed like it was taking Dixie an inordinate amount of time to grab the address thing and get back. Maybe Ilene hadn’t wanted to give it up.
I glanced at the display. It wasn’t Dixie, it was Greer. I pushed the button to answer.
“Hello.”
“Hello, hon. Are you busy?” She got right to the point.
“Just reading through Mr. LeBlanc’s tome on the history of St. Ignatius.”
“I’m sorry.” Greer chuckled.
“Some of it is really interesting. It’s a shame we can only use a small amount for the cookbook.”
“You’ll just have to give it to him straight,” she advised.
“I guess so.” I sighed. No one seemed to think that anyone other than me would be the one breaking the news to Mr. LeBlanc.
“Say, I know you’re really busy what with the Founders’ Day Cookbook and investigating Elsie’s murder and all, but do you think you could come by this evening? I have something for you.”
Sad to say, I had no plans for the evening, and so I promised to stop by on my way home.
I had hung up and started to call Dixie and make sure everything was okay when she came in the backdoor. She was carrying a box and on top of the box was the Rolodex from Bertie’s office.
“Wow. I had begun to worry about you.” I jumped up to hold the door for her. “That looks like a little more than just grabbing the addresses.”
“I realized I needed to go through her papers, and so I just packed them up and brought them here.”
I knew Sheriff Griffin was not going to like the idea, and I wondered what Ilene thought of it. Hopefully she didn’t need any of the paperwork that Dixie had packed up.
“I called my father while I was there. Though he wasn’t much help.” Dixie rolled her eyes. “Mostly my dad talks in ‘uh-huh’ or ‘huh-uh’ so I didn’t get much out of him.”
“Did he have any idea where Bertie might be?” I lifted the Rolodex off the top of the box and set it down on the table.
“No, and he was not very concerned about her.” Dixie sighed. “Said he’d been trying to get her to take time off for a while.”
“But wouldn’t she let him or someone know where they could reach her in an emergency?” I couldn’t imagine that Bertie had just up and left town. Though I didn’t want to alarm Dixie, I was worried something awful had happened to her aunt.
“Yes, if not my dad, at least Ilene.” Dixie placed the box on the floor and slid it under the table and out of sight. “I pressed for family members and he did mention a couple of cousins that live in Nebraska. He’s going to try to find phone numbers for me.”
“Well, that’s worth checking out.” I flipped through the cards in the address keeper. There were a lot of vendors and other contacts in the listing. We’d have to think about how we wanted to tackle this.
“I know we’ve got to get back to working on the cookbook.” Dixie looked around at the disarray caused by our sudden exit. The recipes she’d been working with were laid out on the counter where she’d been in the midst of making a list of supplies. Her face was pale and her shoulders drooped.
“We do, but right now the most important thing is to make sure your aunt is okay.”
“Thanks, Sugar.” She crossed the room and gave me a hug. “I wish our inept law enforcement felt the same way.”
“All right, what’s the deal with you and Sheriff Griffin?”
“Nothing.” She walked away.
“Okay, I get it.” I followed her. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t,” she agreed. “Ever.”
Okay then, this went deeper than I’d realized.
The place was soon set
to rights and Dixie’s list was made. I started making a list of potential friends and business acquaintances to call from Bertie’s contacts. We wanted to be careful not to cause any problems for the business.
“You know some of these are people who are also part of the cookbook, so I can use that to make the contact and then see if I can draw out any other information they might have.”
“See. You’re good at this.” Dixie smiled. “Besides people are always telling you things. You’ll probably get way more information out of them than me.”
“Yeah, sometimes things I don’t even want to know.” I cringed as I thought about my conversation with Tina at the committee meeting.
“I am starving. How about you?”
“I am too.” It had been a long while since the cold cereal and juice earlier. “What do you say we lunch at the Red Hen? There’s bound to be all kinds of chatter there. Maybe we’ll pick something up.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” Dixie grabbed her purse and headed toward the front.
I followed.
As we stepped outside, Disco approached from his shop two doors down. My guess was he was on the lookout for lunch too, but had been hoping for a free lunch courtesy of the Sugar and Spice test kitchen.
“Hi, Disco,” I greeted him.
“Any news from your aunt?” He addressed Dixie.
“None so far.” Dixie kept walking.
“See you later.” I waved to Disco and then hurried to catch up with Dixie who had continued down the sidewalk. “That was nice of him to ask,” I commented once I’d caught up with her.
The short walk to the diner would be good for me; I’d been hunched over reading at my desk for too long. We stopped at the corner and were almost mowed down by Tina Martin who sported fuchsia spandex, a blond ponytail, and a sheen of sweat from her workout. We’d apparently gotten in the path of her power walk.
“Oh, sorry.” She stopped, breathless, and took a swig of her ever present red energy drink. “This is my last lap. Can’t chat.” She waved as she walked off, arms pumping and ponytail swinging.
Now I felt completely wimpy about calling my walk from the shop to the diner exercise.
At least if she was on a mission to complete her walk, she hadn’t had time to ask us about attending a Looking Pretty party.
Game of Scones Page 6
