Out of the Dying Pan

by Linda Reilly

  “What do you mean, believe it was the murder weapon?”

  “ME’s report still isn’t in,” Prescott said. “And you know what they say about assuming.” Her nutmeg-colored eyes twinkled.

  Talia forced a smile, but she was sure it came out like a grimace. “I’ll check with my mom about the scarf. If I learn anything useful, I’ll let you know right away.”

  Prescott pulled out a business card and dropped it on the counter. “There’s all my contact info. I check my cell messages nearly twenty-four/seven, so feel free to call anytime.”

  Talia took the card, wondering if the detective ever slept. Detective Patti Prescott, the card read, along with the Wrensdale Police Department number, her cell number, and two e-mail addresses. Talia smiled. “I take it you don’t like the name Patricia.”

  Prescott flashed a sharklike grin. “You’re right. I don’t. Fortunately it’s not my name.”

  Oh, boy. Open mouth. Insert runaway brain.

  “Have a good evening, Ms. Marby.” Prescott turned to leave.

  “Detective,” Talia said quickly. “Since it’s your break time, I’d be happy to stay a few minutes and whip up a meal for you. It wouldn’t take long.” She hoped it didn’t sound like a bribe. She truly did enjoy preparing meals for people.

  Prescott hesitated, but only for a moment. “Thanks. I have a sandwich and a root beer in my car. Maybe another time.”

  Moments later, the detective was gone. Talia grabbed her cell from her purse and called her mother.

  “Mom,” she said urgently when she heard her mother’s voice. Talia’s own words caught in her throat. “What did you do with Nana’s scarf?”

  7

  Talia dreaded calling Detective Prescott to tell her what she’d learned. Not that it was bad—it wasn’t. It simply wouldn’t do anything to further the investigation.

  After Nana’s death, Talia’s mom and the twins—Talia’s aunts Jennie and Josie—had spent an entire day sorting through Nana’s belongings. Some things they couldn’t bear to part with, like the tattered sewing box Nana’s mother had brought with her from Italy. Other items, including the blue scarf, they’d donated to Goodwill.

  “Aunt Josie feels terrible about it,” Natalie Marby said when she called Talia back. “It was the end of the day, and we were all so tired and so sad. We had two piles—a “throw-out” pile and a “keep” pile. Your aunt apparently tossed the scarf in the wrong pile. She really had meant to keep it.”

  Talia choked back a sob. “It’s no one’s fault,” she said. “I should have been there to help you.”

  At the time, Talia had still been working as a commercial real estate broker in Boston. It was a grueling job, one she’d never really enjoyed. Using her heavy workload as an excuse, she’d begged off the task of helping them go through Nana’s things. The real truth was that she couldn’t bear the thought of tossing out any of Nana’s belongings. She’d have made them keep everything.

  She opted for e-mailing Detective Prescott instead of calling her, but she’d do it once she got home. She begged another ride from her mom, who happily picked her up and delivered her to her charming bungalow.

  After a quick shower and a bowl of Cheerios and bananas, she snuggled on the old green sofa with Bo and her laptop. Curled in Talia’s lap, the little calico touched one mottled paw to the keyboard. “Would you like to write the e-mail?” Talia asked her. She kissed the cat’s silky head.

  Bo curled her paw beneath her. She looked up at Talia with big gold eyes as if to say, No, that’s really your job, isn’t it? Mine is to be a furry ball of lap candy, and I’m doing quite well at it.

  “All right, if you insist. You know what I think about Detective Patti Prescott? I think she puts on a tough act, but inside she’s a big ole marshmallow.”

  Talia shot off a quick e-mail to the detective, explaining how the scarf had ended up at Goodwill. Then she shut her laptop down, watched a few inane sitcoms, and texted with Ryan for a while.

  After that, she tumbled into bed, too exhausted to read even one page of her romance novel.

  *

  By Tuesday morning the state police had released the crime scene. Talia was free to reclaim her vehicle.

  Talia’s mom gave her a ride to her car, begging her to be careful when she dropped her off. Talia thought she spied a news van heading toward the community center. She popped into her Fiat as quickly as she could and zipped out of the parking lot.

  Lucas had taken the day off to study for exams, so she and Martha would be on their own. Right before opening time, Talia left Martha in charge and dashed next door to Sage & Seaweed.

  As always, the specialty bath and body shop smelled like a fragrant slice of heaven. The scent of peppermint filled the air, blended with a hint of pine. Talia got a sudden craving for a heaping bowl of candy cane ice cream.

  The owner, Suzy Sato, was busy at the checkout area, searching the shelves behind the counter for a particular brand of lotion. “Is that Talia?” she warbled, swinging around.

  Talia laughed. “In the flesh. You obviously have ESP.”

  Suzy scooted around the counter and greeted her with a squishy hug, her tummy protruding a bit. “How are you doing?” she said, her springy red curls bobbing around her face. She rubbed Talia’s arms. “I can’t believe you stumbled over another body!”

  Suzy had a bent for the dramatic, but she was a kind soul. Five months pregnant with her first child, she wore a glittery red tunic over black stretch slacks. Her sky blue eyes hadn’t stopped glowing since the day she found out she was having a girl.

  “I’m fine, Suzy. How are you feeling?”

  “Great. Better than ever. Morning sickness gone. On to the next stage.” She laughed, and her face beamed.

  Talia glanced around. Two women browsed at one of the shelves of scented bath oils. Another poked at a rotating display of lip glosses near the counter.

  “We had almost no business at the eatery yesterday,” Talia confessed to Suzy. “Has it been slow here?”

  “Lordy, no,” Suzy said. “This is my busiest season. I did over a thousand dollars of business on Saturday alone. Yesterday was pretty decent, too. Especially for a Monday.”

  “I’m glad your shop is doing so well,” Talia said, a bit wistfully. “When I have a free minute or two, I’m coming in here to load up on Christmas gifts.”

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Oh! I’m raffling off a gift basket once a week until Christmas. Only fifty cents a ticket, and each prize is gorgeous. I’m giving the proceeds to the women’s shelter in Pittsfield.” Her blue eyes filled.

  Talia hugged her. “That’s such a sweet thing to do. Save me a bunch of tickets and I’ll run over to pay you later!”

  She left, feeling happy for Suzy’s success. During her college days, Suzy had gotten involved in a sorority prank that resulted in the death of a young pledge. Talia knew she was still tormented by guilt and was trying hard to make up for it.

  By noon, four takeout orders had been called in, all from local businesses. Martha was really getting the hang of preparing fried food quickly and efficiently. Talia wondered if she’d been a short-order chef in a past life.

  Around twelve thirty, a harried-looking woman with two kindergartners in tow plopped onto a chair in the dining room. Plunking an oversized red shopping bag onto the floor, she instructed the kids to each take a chair and sit quietly.

  Talia greeted her with a big smile, a coffeepot, and a mug. “You look like you could use a coffee.”

  “I could use a martini, but I’ll settle for coffee.” She ran her fingers through her frizzy brunette curls. “It’s crazy out there with all the shoppers! Wyatt, please do not poke your sister. Amelia, please stop putting gummy worms in your brother’s hair. Thank you.” Her gaze tender, she plucked one off his head and caressed his cheek.

  Wyatt giggled softly, and another gummy worm rolled off his head.

  The kids were adorable—a pair of lookalike teddy bears wit
h huge brown eyes and plump, pink cheeks. Dressed in lined jackets and red rubber boots, they reminded Talia of two little elves from the North Pole.

  “The kids won’t eat fish,” the woman said with a sigh. “But I’ll have an order of fish and chips with slaw. What’s on the menu that the kids might like?”

  “Hmmm. Do you like meatballs?” Talia asked the pair.

  Wyatt made a face. Amelia looked into her lap and nodded eagerly.

  “Wyatt, I’m figuring you for a hot dog man.” Talia winked at him. “How about a deep-fried meatball for Amelia, and a deep-fried mini hot dog for Wyatt? With a side of mushy peas and a glass of milk.”

  Both children nodded. For kids, they were awfully silent.

  “Bless you,” the woman said, lowering her gaze at her charges. “This will be such a treat for them.”

  “I’ll start the order,” Martha said when Talia returned to the kitchen. She’d obviously been listening to the conversation. She stared hard at the kids for a moment, then turned and began prepping the fish.

  Talia removed a mini hot dog and one meatball from the fridge. She swirled each of them in batter and lowered them into the fryer reserved for the meats. Expanding her menu had meant adding an extra fryer in the kitchen, as well as a convection oven. Space was getting tight, but so far they’d managed.

  When Martha had everything ready, Talia stared in awe at the children’s plates. Using the eatery’s tangy mustard sauce, Martha had drawn eyes, floppy ears, and a nose above the hot dog to make it look like a grinning pup. On Amelia’s plate, she’d turned the meatball into the face of a cat and used marinara sauce to form the ears, eyes, and whiskers. A mound of mushy peas graced each plate.

  “Martha, that’s … really clever,” Talia said, wondering what had gotten into her employee. The one who couldn’t stand to be around kids.

  Martha shrugged. “Don’t forget the milk.”

  Talia delivered the plates, along with two glasses of milk, to the table. “I’ll bring yours right along,” she said to the mom.

  Amelia’s face brightened when she saw the faux cat on her plate. “Look, Mommy,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “Oh, honey, that’s darling,” the woman said, her eyes welling up.

  Wyatt stared at his plate. He said nothing, but a sweet smile lit up his face.

  When Talia returned with the woman’s fish and chips, Wyatt and Amelia were slowly digging into their meals.

  The woman clasped her hands in delight when Talia set her order on the table. A chunk of crispy fried haddock, along with a slew of fries, was tucked into a lined cone forged from swirls of black stainless steel. “Oh, what a charming way to serve the fish,” the woman crooned. “The liner’s supposed to look like newsprint, right?”

  Talia grinned. “Yes, just like the old days. Only a lot more sanitary.”

  A few more diners trickled in. Talia hoped it was a good sign. Lucas had successfully deleted Ria’s vicious post from the eatery’s Facebook page. Another customer had posted a glowing review, which gave Talia a breath of relief.

  The mom and kids finished up and Talia delivered the bill to their table. Both kids had polished off their lunches, right down to the last drop of mushy peas. “The kids’ meals are my treat,” Talia said quietly. She smiled at Wyatt and Amelia. “Please visit again, okay?”

  The mom’s eyes grew misty again. “You bet we will. Are you getting a sign for the front? I’m not sure people realize you’re open.”

  “It’s coming, hopefully by the weekend,” Talia said. “There was a glitch with the paint color.”

  The woman rose. She cupped Talia’s elbow and nudged her slightly to one side. “Thank you so much for your kindness,” she murmured. “My husband and I are in the process of adopting Wyatt and Amelia. We took them in as foster kids a little over a year ago. They came from a very ugly home life. It was a rough adjustment, but they’re doing wonderfully now.”

  Talia hugged her. “It’s obvious you adore them both. Good luck.”

  “We’ll be back, I promise,” the woman said.

  After they left, Talia ducked back into the kitchen to answer the phone.

  “That was a big takeout order from the fire station. They’re becoming one of our best customers!” Talia stuck the order on a metal clip in front of the work area.

  Martha squinted at the slip. “Cripes—they want six large orders of fried pickles.”

  “Yup, and they asked for delivery again. I felt bad having to say no.” Talia grabbed eight chunky dill pickles from the fridge and began slicing away.

  “Delivery might be something to think about,” Martha pointed out. She squeezed past Talia with an exaggerated oomph sound. “Lucas is young and strong. He could do some deliveries during the busy patches. Like, say, from eleven thirty to one thirty. You and I could handle the orders, easy.” She extracted five slabs of haddock from the box in the fridge.

  Talia had to admit, when she and Martha got into a rhythm, they worked together very efficiently. If only the woman could smile a bit more, maybe complain a bit less.

  “He doesn’t have his own car,” Talia said. “He uses his mom’s when he has to go to his classes. Plus, I’d have to look into the insurance. It would probably be more trouble than it’s worth.”

  Martha scowled. “Yeah, I forgot about the insurance.”

  Together they whipped up five orders of fish and chips—three with mushy peas and two with slaw. Added to that were the six large orders of fried pickles, two double orders of deep-fried meatballs, and an order of the mini hot dogs.

  The door flew open. In rushed a red-faced young fireman with spiky blond hair and the body of weight lifter. “Man, I hope our food is ready,” he said. “We’re, like, starving over at the firehouse.”

  Grinning, Talia set two large brown bags on the counter. “You’re all set. But I always thought fireman made their own meals!” she teased.

  The young fireman laughed. He dredged a handful of currency from his pocket and shoved it across the counter. “Yeah, back in the day they did. Problem is, old Walt Angley retired last month, and the rest of us can’t boil water.” He hoisted the bags off the counter and called out, “Keep the change!”

  After he left, Talia thought about her new sign. The space where the Lambert’s sign used to be sure did look bare. Did customers think she hadn’t opened yet?

  She didn’t have long to mull it over. A fresh wave of customers came in, keeping her and Martha hopping for the next hour and a half. A gaggle of twenty-somethings had no sooner left when Vivian Lavoie stepped inside. Cheeks rosy, her arms laden with shopping bags, she toddled into the dining area. “I’ve been shopping all day, and I am ready for lunch!”

  Talia greeted her warmly and gave her a menu. “It’s good to see you again, Vivian.”

  “Oh, I’m glad to be here. It’s a zoo out there! I spotted one of those tour buses from the outlet shops headed this way. Don’t be surprised if you get a new flock of customers pretty soon!” She asked for a table close to the restroom, just in case she had to “make a run for it.”

  Twenty minutes later, Vivian was finishing up her deep-fried meatballs and wiping her mouth with a napkin. It was after two, and the dining area had emptied out. Talia ambled over and offered her a coffee warm-up.

  “Yes, please,” Vivian said. She leaned across the table. “Terrible about that poor woman being killed, wasn’t it?”

  Talia nodded, but said nothing. Did Vivian know she was the one who’d found Ria? Was she fishing for information?

  Vivian’s eyes sparked with a touch of glee. “I suppose the police will be checking out that poor Andy Nash fellow,” she said, lowering her voice. “You know, what with his background and all.”

  Talia didn’t know, and normally she disliked a gossipy type. But with Ria’s murder so fresh, and the police breathing down her neck, she decided to hear what Vivian had to say.

  “What do you mean?” Talia said, sliding into a chair opposite her.
>
  “Well, there was an incident a while back with a young girl who worked at the town clerk’s office. She accused Andy of stalking her. The girl’s father was furious. Positively livid! The girl finally ended up getting a restraining order.” Vivian tsked and took a loud slurp of her coffee. “If you ask me, it was all a big to-do about nothing.”

  Okay, now Talia’s curiosity was piqued. “What do you mean by stalking? Did he follow her?”

  “Yes, once or twice, but he didn’t mean any real harm. The silly girl had fits over him sending her a dozen roses! She told him to leave her alone, but poor Andy had already been struck by Cupid’s arrow. He doesn’t seem to have much luck with the ladies, if you get my meaning.” She gave Talia a bland smile. “Anyway, a few days after the roses incident he tucked a love poem under her windshield wiper. Wrote it himself, poor devil. The girl went nuts and called the cops. Can you believe it? Why, if a man did that to me, I’d be flattered!”

  Talia couldn’t believe her ears. Was Vivian that naïve about the dangers of stalking?

  “Vivian, unwanted attention can be very scary,” Talia pointed out. “I don’t blame her for being so upset. I would’ve been creeped out!”

  Vivian sighed. “Yes, well, that’s what everyone said. Anyway, it was humiliating for the poor fellow. He truly never meant her any harm.”

  Oh, wow, she really didn’t get it. “Did he ever do that to anyone else?”

  “Oh, no. Not that I know of anyway. Like I said, it was only that one girl he fancied. Plus, it was about ten years ago. No one really holds it against him anymore. Everyone’s pretty much forgotten about it.”

  Talia thought about Andy, how furious he’d seemed when Ria canceled their so-called date. Had he been angry enough to kill her?

  Vivian looked around, and then leaned closer to Talia. “I’ll tell you someone who’s not the sweet fairy princess she pretends to be. It’s that Kelsey Dakoulas girl.” She gave a sharp little nod to emphasize her point.