Final Fondue (A Five-Ingredient Mystery)

by Maya Corrigan

“That’s great.” Sarina’s tone sounded more like sarcasm than enthusiasm. “What happens tomorrow?”

  “Payton said he’d take my car to a mechanic to make sure it’s safe before I drive it back to Washington. I’m so excited about seeing the house. I’ve got to go pack.”

  “Wait a minute, Jennifer. When are you going to tell the police that someone’s stalking you?”

  Val felt a jolt of excitement. If someone was stalking Jennifer, why hadn’t she told the police already?

  “I don’t have a stalker.” Jennifer sounded indignant.

  “Telephone harassment qualifies as stalking. That includes text messages, like the one you got yesterday.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to pack for tonight.”

  A door slammed. Was Sarina wrong or was Jennifer in denial? She’d be crazy not to tell the police about a harassing message, especially after someone who resembled her was strangled. Val had known another woman who’d kept her suspicions of being stalked secret and failed to report vandalism to the police. And that woman had been murdered.

  Val heard footsteps on the stairs and zipped into the hall bathroom. The creaking stairs allowed her to track the progress of the person coming down. She timed her exit from the room so that she’d “run into” whoever was descending to the main floor. It was Sarina.

  “Hey, Sarina. Can I get you a drink? Coffee or tea?” Or better yet, something that would loosen the tongue. “How about a glass of wine?”

  Sarina stood undecided on the bottom step, looking at Val intently as if contemplating painting her portrait. “Yes. A glass of wine sounds good. White or red, I don’t care. Why don’t you join me on the front porch?”

  “Okay.” Val figured Sarina wanted something from her besides a glass of wine. No problem, as long as Sarina gave something in return—preferably her reasons for believing Jennifer had a stalker.

  Val tiptoed past her grandfather snoring in his easy chair, went into the kitchen, and found a cold white wine in the refrigerator. She crept back with two glasses and a bottle of tongue-loosener.

  On the porch, she poured the wine and sat in a wicker chair that matched the one Sarina was in. They clinked glasses.

  “Thank you.” Sarina took a large gulp and stared straight ahead.

  Up to Val to get the conversation ball rolling. “How did you and Jennifer get to know each other?”

  “In college. I started at James Madison University, took a year off, and then transferred to Virginia Commonwealth. Transfer students have a hard time getting into campus life. Jennifer took me under her wing and introduced me to people. We were roommates and, after graduation, we both ended up in the Washington area and shared an apartment for a few years.”

  “But not any more?”

  “She left to live with a man she was seeing, a congressional staffer. By the time she figured out he had a wife and kid back in Kansas, I’d moved into an efficiency. I had no room for her.” Sarina took another large swallow of wine. “This time, she exercised due diligence before committing to a man. Payton’s a straight arrow, honest and scrupulous to a fault.”

  Amazing how Sarina made virtues sound like defects. Val poured her more wine. “So Jennifer has found the perfect man and she’s planning the perfect wedding.”

  “Exactly. That’s why it made no sense to me that she included a klutz like Fawn in the wedding party. You saw how she dropped strawberries in the fondue and onto the tablecloth. She would have tripped on her way down the aisle.”

  Given a choice between Fawn and Sarina as wedding attendants, Val would have chosen the klutz over the crab. Jennifer had put up with both of them. Could Sarina have been jealous of Jennifer’s friendship with Fawn?

  Val gave herself a mental shake to go back on track. She still hadn’t learned anything about the harassing text message. “I’m sorry that Jennifer’s weekend has turned into such a disaster. Hard to believe anything else could go wrong for her.”

  “Something else did. She’s being threatened.” Sarina swirled the wine around the glass. “I can’t convince her to take it seriously and go to the police. Could you try to talk some sense into her? If you can’t, maybe you can go behind her back and speak to your friend, the chief.”

  Val didn’t mind doing that, but she would get more information from Sarina by stalling than by giving in. “How is she threatened? Noah said a clogged tailpipe wasn’t dangerous. A neighborhood kid probably hid his sister’s favorite toys in the tailpipe. My brother did things like that to me.”

  “I’d worry less if Jennifer found teddy bears in the tailpipe. As Noah said, the birds are intimidating because of the Hitchcock thing.” Sarina tossed down more wine.

  Val put on her skeptical face. “With intimidation, the threats usually progress, starting with something minor and ending with a bang. Here, it’s the other way around. The murder came first, and the latest threat, if you can call it that, involves harmless toys. I can understand why Jennifer doesn’t feel she has to go to the police.” Okay, Sarina, that’s your cue.

  Sarina stared into her glass. “There’s another reason she should go to the police. Yesterday morning we were sitting on the window seat upstairs, waiting for Noah. Jennifer got a text message. She turned white when she read it, started heaving, and rushed to the bathroom. She left the phone behind.”

  Val felt confident that Sarina had looked at the phone. “What did the message say?”

  “I remember it word for word. ‘On a day in May, you got your way. Is this the day when you will pay?’”

  Not exactly a threat, but certainly unnerving. “I understand why you’re worried. Do you know who sent it?”

  “I tried replying to the text, but it bounced. An unknown number, probably from a disposable phone. When Jennifer came back from the bathroom, she said breakfast didn’t agree with her. I suggested it was the text message that upset her. She wouldn’t talk about it except to say that it made no sense.” Sarina downed her wine. “I want her to go to the police so they can follow up on it.”

  “Don’t count on them to do anything. I had a friend in New York who reported harassing messages to the police. They told her to contact the phone company.” Val raised her glass to her mouth, but only wet her lips with the wine. She would save wine drinking for when she didn’t need a clear head. “The police would act on a specific threat, like I’m going to kill you tonight. They might be interested in the text Jennifer received if it would help them track down Fawn’s murderer. Do you have any idea what the text meant?”

  Sarina added more wine to her glass. “No.”

  Val struggled to dredge up a memory. Who had mentioned May this weekend? Payton, when he talked about how he’d reconnected with Jennifer. A ripple of excitement ran through Val. “Payton told me about the double date the four of you went on. That was in May.”

  Sarina’s eyes widened. “Really? Of course, the date would stick in Payton’s memory more than mine.”

  “I’m surprised it didn’t stick in your memory. From what I heard, the double date didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to.”

  “It didn’t turn out the way Noah and Payton expected.” Sarina muttered. “When I said the date didn’t stick in my memory, I meant the calendar date, not the event. I thought it was in April, probably because it wasn’t long after Easter and the weather was cool. It could easily have been May.”

  Val paid no attention to the comments on the month and the weather, fixating on Sarina’s first remark. The double date hadn’t turned out as the two men expected, but maybe the women had anticipated the outcome. Was that the day Jennifer got her way, ending up with Payton, the hunky lawyer, instead of Noah, the homely one?

  “I think the verse Jennifer received was about that double date,” Val said. “Noah might have sent it because he was annoyed with Jennifer for dropping him in favor of Payton.”

  Sarina sipped her wine. “It happened five months ago. Why would he wait until now to show his annoyance?�
��

  “Maybe he didn’t wait, but sent similar messages previously. And Jennifer brushed them off, as she did this one, to avoid a confrontation with her fiancé’s best friend.”

  “You’re on the wrong track.” Sarina stood up. “Thanks for the wine. It calmed me down. And forget about convincing Jennifer to talk to the police. I was overreacting to the birds in the tailpipe . . . and the message. Jennifer must have had indigestion like she said.”

  Not from my lemon ricotta pancakes.

  Val would bet Sarina had changed her mind about notifying the police because she suspected Noah of sending that message and thought he was harmless—a man of words, not action. Yet the second line of the verse sounded like a threat. Why should Jennifer pay for getting her way and how would she pay?

  Val followed Sarina into the hall, carrying the wine bottle and her half-filled glass. Sarina deposited her empty glass on the hall table and looked up at the sound of Noah’s voice coming from the hall above.

  “Why would you stay at the Grandsires’ house with people who hate you?”

  “Payton’s parents don’t hate me,” Jennifer said. “They just don’t know me. This is a chance for us to spend some time together and get acquainted.”

  “You’re naïve if you think they’ll ever accept you.”

  And Noah was naïve to think Jennifer would pay any attention to him. Granddad’s words echoed in Val’s mind—The more parents push, the more their children dig in. The Grandsires’ opposition to Jennifer might make Payton all the more determined to marry her.

  “I was supposed to stay at that house this whole weekend.” Jennifer sounded annoyed. “You’re not going talk me out of going there on the last night. Better late than never.”

  She started down the stairs. Noah followed, carrying her massive suitcase.

  “I didn’t realize you were going to pack everything,” Sarina said as Jennifer took the last step down into the hall. “That’s why it took you so long.”

  “This isn’t everything. I left some things in the closet and drawers.” Jennifer turned to Val. “I’ll come back tomorrow to pick them up.”

  “Enjoy your dinner,” Val said as the three of them left.

  Val glanced into the sitting room. Her grandfather was still snoring. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked at the caller ID. Deputy Roy Chesterfeld. Maybe he had news about the murder investigation.

  Chapter 18

  Val went out to the porch to talk on the phone so she wouldn’t wake up Granddad. She leaned against the porch railing and put her cell phone to her ear. “Hey, Roy. Good to hear from you.”

  “Hi, Val. I thought you might be interested in hearing about that rope you found in the maze. It was similar to the one the strangler used, but not an exact match for it.”

  No big surprise. Val was pretty sure the rope coiled under the corn stalks wasn’t intended to strangle anyone but rather to create fear, like the birds in the tailpipe. “Any word on when Fawn died?”

  “The medical examiner gave a two-hour range.”

  He wasn’t going to give her the exact time, but maybe he’d answer a specific question. “Was she alive before the fireworks started, say eight to eight thirty?”

  “That’s at the outer edge of the M.E.’s time estimate. Witnesses saw her at the festival around that time.”

  One of those witnesses was Sarina, who’d reported seeing Fawn at eight near the bandstand. The chief had also mentioned someone who’d seen Fawn talking to a man as the fireworks were starting around eight thirty. Was Fawn recognizable in her crab hat and could those witnesses be trusted? If so, then Fawn had been alive when Jennifer was en route from the house to the festival for the fireworks. “I appreciate the information, Roy.”

  “You and your grandfather planning to act out the crime like you did last time?”

  It hadn’t crossed her mind, but why not? Reenacting the murder this time wouldn’t take as long. “Are you going to help us again?”

  “Count me in, as long as I don’t have to play the victim again.” He laughed.

  “You can be the killer this time. Or the sheriff’s deputy who arrests the killer. Can we do it sometime tomorrow?”

  “My schedule’s too tight tomorrow. Later in the week would work better.”

  By then, the suspects would have left town, and he’d have no chance of arresting the killer. “Let’s hope the case is solved sooner than that. Thanks for calling, Roy.”

  Val tucked her phone away. The members of the wedding group would leave Bayport tomorrow, but they’d remain within reach of the local police if evidence against any of them came up. The same was true of Whitney and Chef Henri, who may have already left town, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t return. He knew where to find the woman he blamed for ruining his life. Yet Henri made an unlikely strangler. He would use voodoo dolls, firecrackers, and words as weapons, but did he have the guts to commit an up-close murder? Probably not. A remote way of killing, like sending his victim a box of poisoned truffles, suited his style better.

  Her mother’s rental car turned into the driveway. Val helped carry the groceries inside. Her grandfather, still in his easy chair, opened his eyes as they passed the sitting room.

  “Perfect timing, Granddad. The smell of red meat woke you up.”

  “I can hardly wait to grill that steak.” He eased his chair into an upright position.

  Mom held up her hand palm out. “Don’t get up yet. We have to postpone dinner. I went by police headquarters and talked to Earl. Fawn’s mother is going to stop by here soon. If she hasn’t had dinner yet, I think we should invite her. She may not want to eat, but we should at least ask her.”

  Granddad nodded. “Poor woman. This is going to be bad enough for her. We don’t want her going hungry. You got enough food?”

  “I bought it before I found out she was coming. There’s enough if we stretch it. I have mushrooms and lots of vegetables.”

  “Vegetables. Hmph.”

  “I could make beef stroganoff, Granddad. You like that, and I have an easy recipe.”

  “Don’t cut that beef into pieces until we know she’s staying for dinner and she eats meat. If she’s a vegetarian, my steak is saved.” He stood up. “How about appetizers since we have to wait for dinner?”

  They adjourned to the kitchen. As they emptied the grocery bags, Val told them that Jennifer planned to spend the night at Payton’s parents’ house.

  “One less mouth to feed in the morning,” Granddad said. “Don’t go giving her a refund on the room like you did on Fawn’s room.”

  “It never crossed my mind.” Val fetched the wine bottle and glasses she’d left in the hall.

  “I’ll have a glass of the red wine I just bought.” Mom set out grapes and cheese on a plate. “You must have had a good nap, Pop. You look more rested than you did earlier today. I can’t say the same for you, Val. You have dark circles under your eyes. It’ll take more than a nap to get rid of those.”

  “I haven’t noticed any dark circles, Mom. Then again, I’ve been too busy with the festival to look in a mirror.” Val popped the cork off the wine. “I wish you’d picked a different time to visit when I didn’t have so much to do.”

  “I’m here now, and I’m going to help. I want you to leave right after dinner so you get a good night’s sleep at Monique’s house. Your grandfather and I will handle breakfast for the guests. In the morning you can drive straight to the café, make the food for the booth, and take the rest of the day off. I’ll stay at the booth and help your assistant.”

  With that offer, her mother redeemed herself, even for her interference with Tony.

  “Thank you, Mom. I can use some downtime.” And free time for a murder reenactment. She handed her mother a glass of the red wine. “With the festival winding down, the booths are closing at two. What time do you have to leave for the airport?”

  “Five at the latest. I have to allow time to return the rental car.” Mom sipped the wine. “B
y the way, Tony called to tell me he talked to you. That didn’t turn out the way he hoped. He’s on his way back to New York.”

  Granddad took a beer from the refrigerator. “Good riddance to him.”

  Mom put her wine glass down and crossed her arms, her lecturing stance. “I hear you’re taking a private investigator course, Pop.”

  Granddad whipped his head toward Val. “You spilled the beans.”

  “No, Val’s not the one who told me.” Mom glared at her. “Though she should have.”

  “It must have been Ned. He never could keep his mouth shut.”

  Val sympathized with her grandfather. This wasn’t the first time his buddy had tattled on him to Mom.

  “Don’t blame him, Pop. I ran into him at the festival. He naturally assumed you’d told me about this online course.”

  “Why should I tell you? If I want to take up a new career, that’s my own business.”

  Her mother put a piece of cheese on a cracker. “I figured the course was a scam, so I asked Earl if an online course could possibly prepare someone to be a private investigator. He said that you can’t be a P.I. in Maryland without five years of investigative experience.”

  Granddad looked thunderstruck. “They should have told me that before I plunked down good money for this course.”

  “Maybe you can get your money back for the rest of the course.”

  Val gave her mother a you-must-be-joking look. “Companies that run online courses would go bankrupt if they gave a refund to every student who doesn’t finish a course.”

  Granddad flicked his wrist. “I’m no quitter. There’s always away around silly laws. I’ll just operate without a license. Call myself a sleuth instead of a P.I. I won’t be able to charge as much as a licensed investigator, but that’s okay. I’ll undercut the competition and give senior discounts.” He popped a grape in his mouth.

  Mom laughed. “Senior discounts go to customers who are seniors. You can’t give your clients senior discounts because you’re a senior.”

  “I expect my clients will be mostly seniors. They’ll trust me because I’m one of them. Ned will talk me up at the retirement village.”