But first I called my pal Willow, wanting to run my idea by her. I hoped she wouldn’t be busy teaching a class. Fortunately, she answered right away.
“Hi, Kate,” she greeted me cheerfully, no doubt having seen my name pop up on her screen. “I’m about to go into a class, so I have about two minutes.”
“That’s all I need,” I assured her. “It occurred to me that maybe I should join the Chamber of Commerce and I wanted to know what you think. I figured it might be helpful with getting Lickety Splits off the ground.”
I was tempted to tell her the real reason I wanted to join: to get to know Ashley’s boyfriend, Tad, better. But that would require too much explaining. And frankly, I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to the idea that her best friend of twenty-five years had taken up a new hobby that wasn’t exactly compatible with a serene and centered life.
“That’s a great idea,” Willow said. “I should have suggested it sooner. I’ve been involved with the C of C for ages. I’ve gotten quite a few new clients for Heart, Mind and Soul through the contacts I’ve made. I’ve gotten some local businesspeople who are also members, but also their family members, their friends . . . the whole word of mouth thing works really well.
“In fact, our monthly meeting is next week,” she went on. “It’s always held on the second Monday of the month. And different businesses take turns hosting it. I don’t think we have a place picked out yet, but you can get in touch with Brian Whitman, who’s the current president.... But I really have to go, Kate. Catch you later!”
We’d just ended our call and I was about to put my phone away when it buzzed. Probably Willow, I figured, hitting redial by accident.
But then I saw the name on the screen. “Jake.” Just “Jake.”
I was already flustered.
Part of me wondered if Jake was calling because he’d learned something new about the case. But I knew perfectly well that the reason I was already in a tizzy had very little to do with Ashley’s murder.
“Hi, Jake,” I answered, somehow managing to hide the tightness in my throat. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” he replied, “which is probably a good thing. I wondered if you wanted to get together to talk about what’s going on with the investigation. I’ve found out a few things you might find interesting.”
You can handle that, I told myself. It’s for the good of the investigation.
“Sure,” I said, by this point sounding positively nonchalant. “I’m looking for all the information I can get.”
“I’m free for lunch. Want to meet at Molly McGuire’s Pub in a few minutes—say, at noon? I have a thing for their Reuben.”
I hadn’t realized food would be involved.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s just lunch, a voice inside my head scolded me. You can handle lunch.
“Molly’s it is,” I said.
Once I hung up, I tried to ignore the knot in my stomach and forget all about the plan Jake and I had just made. I tried to convince myself that the strange, heady feeling I was experiencing was the result of too much caffeine and/or not enough sleep.
What you need, I told myself, is a distraction.
So I forced myself to plunk down with Emma’s laptop at one of Lickety Splits’ ridiculously cute round marble tables so I could join the Chamber of Commerce. Doing it took all of five minutes. I just went to the Web site, filled out the application, and put in my credit card information.
It was that simple. The Lickety Splits Ice Cream Shoppe was now a member of the Wolfert’s Roost Chamber of Commerce.
It wasn’t difficult to join and I knew it could be helpful to my shop’s success. And the main reason I even did it in the first place was so I’d have an excuse to talk to Ashley’s boyfriend and local restauranteur, Tad.
Still, it seemed to make my ice cream shop more official, somehow. As if it was a real business. Which it was, of course. It was just that sometimes I had to remind myself that it wasn’t all a dream; I really was living out a fantasy of mine.
I wasn’t just playing ice cream store. This was who I was now. An ice cream entrepreneur.
I decided to celebrate with a big dish of Chocolate Marshmallow and Melty Chocolate Malt, which happened to go amazingly well together. I only hoped that, somehow, my dad was looking down and seeing all this, celebrating the creation of Lickety Splits right along with me.
* * *
A couple of hours later, as I walked along Hudson Street toward the restaurant, I found myself yanking out my ponytail band and combing my hair with my fingers. Not exactly pulling out the stops in the primping department, but enough of an effort that I got irritated with myself.
Stop that! I scolded myself. This is not a date. This is not even a pre-date. It’s a business meeting, a chance for me to find out what Jake has learned about Ashley Winthrop.
I was tempted to put my hair back in a ponytail. A messy one, even. But in the end, vanity won. At least, I told myself that all it was was vanity.
As I strode into the pub, I tried to look as businesslike as I could, which to me meant standing up straight and wearing a stern expression. I spotted Jake right away, sitting at a corner booth, checking his phone.
I wondered how any of us managed not to look bored or lonely or even uncomfortable in public places before we all had cell phones. Maybe that was why books had been invented.
“You made it,” Jake greeted me, politely turning off his phone and dropping it into his shirt pocket.
“I never turn down a chance to eat,” I said glibly as I slid into the booth. As if Jake were deliberately trying to annoy me, he was wearing a robin’s-egg-blue T-shirt that made his eyes look even bluer than they really were, if that were possible.
Glancing around the dimly lit pub, taking in the dark green walls and the wood paneling, I added, “Gee, I haven’t been to this place since—in ages.”
I’d stopped myself just in time. Bringing up our high school years, after all, probably wasn’t a good idea. We were here to discuss a murder investigation, not giggle over yearbook photos.
As a way to avoid making eye contact with the man sitting about two feet in front of me, I grabbed a menu. My eyes immediately gravitated toward the fish and chips. I knew a salad would be a much more reasonable choice, especially given my unorthodox appetizer of two different varieties of chocolate ice cream. But something about being this close to Jake Pratt made an infusion of greasy fried fish and French fries, the ultimate comfort food, mandatory.
Once we’d ordered, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “So tell me: what have you learned?”
“Quite a bit, actually,” Jake replied. “The police have found a couple of guys they’re interested in talking to. One is Ashley’s ex-husband, a guy named Billy, who still lives nearby—”
“Billy Duffy,” I said. “He lives in Fishkill.”
Jake looked surprised. “Right. So you’ve heard about the ex-husband. But maybe you didn’t hear that she also had a boyfriend. Kind of a new guy in town. Tad Patrick, who opened an upscale restaurant called Greenleaf about a year ago—”
“Nine months ago,” I interjected. “Last September, just as leaf-peeping season was getting under way. Good time to launch a new place.”
“How do you know all this?” Jake asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“I’ve been doing a little snooping around,” I admitted, not quite looking him in the eye. “Trying to see if I can find out anything about who killed Ashley.”
I took a peek at his face and was relieved to see that he didn’t look shocked.
A little surprised, maybe, but not shocked.
“What exactly have you been doing?” he asked, peering at me in a strange way.
“Just talking to a few people.” I was suddenly feeling foolish about this whole thing.
But I was encouraged when he said, “That’s pretty brave of you. Dangerous, maybe, foolhardy, certainly, but definitely brave. Do you mind if I ask who you’ve talked to?”
“So far, just a couple of women who worked for Ashley. She ran Sweet Things as a co-op, selling baked goods that these women made at home. Which is illegal, by the way, because of health laws. She kept it quiet, for obvious reasons.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “Just that the two women I spoke to had no reason I could see to want Ashley dead. They both really needed the income they got from supplying her with their homemade cakes and pastries. Actually, I feel really bad for them.”
“How far are you planning to take this?” Jake asked. “Are there other people you plan to question?”
“As a matter of fact, there are,” I said. “I figured I’d see if I could find out anything from the other women who worked for her. Then there’s that ex-husband of hers. And her current boyfriend.”
Jake nodded. “Definitely worth considering, especially since the cops always see the men who were in a woman’s life as prime suspects. But do you think it’s a good idea, Kate? To go poking around in her life like this, especially when you might actually find out something incriminating? Seriously, it really could get dangerous. Or haven’t you ever read any mystery novels?”
“Trust me, I’m not going to do anything dangerous,” I assured him indignantly. I could feel my defenses locking into place like the archers in a Lord of the Rings movie. “I know what I’m doing, Jake. I’m just talking to a few people, that’s all.”
He thought for a few seconds, then nodded his head in that way that means “whatever.”
We were silent for a few uncomfortable seconds. And then he leaned back in his seat, fixed his gaze in mine, and said, “Kate McKay, leading a high-powered life in high-powered Manhattan. What was that like?”
“It was great,” I replied, already more than a little defensive. “I had a job I really enjoyed. And I loved living in New York. I had a great apartment—small, of course, but with a fabulous location. And nice friends. And there was always something exciting to do. I loved going to the theater and the ballet, seeing whatever new exhibit was at one of the museums, the Met or MOMA or the Whitney. . . .”
“Wow,” Jake interjected. “Sounds pretty glamorous.”
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or if there was an edge to his tone.
“I guess parts of it were,” I said, responding to his comment honestly. “But a lot of it wasn’t as great as it sounds. There was a lot of pressure, for one thing. It may sound cool to run an event for two hundred fifty people at a fancy restaurant, but there are a million details to see to, a million things that can go wrong . . . and so many personality quirks that things you never even dreamed could be a problem can end up creating a disaster.”
“And what about your . . . social life?” Jake had lowered his eyes, suddenly acting as if the fork on the table in front of him was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
I could feel my cheeks burning. “Not much to tell in that department,” I replied, trying to sound lighthearted. “The usual college romances. Then a couple of almosts. One that lasted three years, actually. But I never found anyone I could imagine spending the rest of my life with.”
He raised his eyes to mine for a fraction of a second. “Sounds kind of lonely. Although I guess I’m not one to talk.”
“I did notice that there’s no ring on your finger, either,” I said, once again trying to sound as if I were joking.
We were both silent for a few seconds.
“It’s funny,” Jake finally said. “That job you had in New York doesn’t sound like what I would have imagined for you. Back when we were in high school, I mean.”
I shrugged. “Me either. The problem was, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. When I was finishing up my senior year at New Paltz, a friend told me she could get me an interview at a big PR firm.... Believe it or not, the first question I asked her was, ‘What’s PR?’
“But overall it worked out pretty well,” I went on. “It wasn’t perfect, and sometimes the hours and the demands were overwhelming, but it was rewarding, you know? Never dull, either. Always something new, different people, different places . . .”
“And what did you do for fun?” Jake asked. “I mean, when you weren’t juggling personalities and, I don’t know, goodie bags?”
My first thought was, Sleep. My second thought was, Go to the dry cleaner, buy basics like bread and ice cream and toilet paper, get my hair cut and my nails done so I’d always look the part I was playing.
But I said, “I traveled as much as I could.”
“Ah. Now that’s something I’d like to do,” Jake said. This time, I could hear the envy in his voice. “Where did you go?”
“Wherever I could,” I replied. “All of Europe, of course. London and Paris and Amsterdam and Italy. But one winter I took a two-week cruise in South America, starting in Buenos Aires and going around Cape Horn and ending up in Chile. That was a really amazing trip. And another time I went to Hong Kong. . . .
“But what about you?” I said, switching gears so I wouldn’t sound so obnoxious that he’d stand up and run away. “What have you been doing for the last fifteen years?”
“Law school, then lawyering,” he replied, like it was all barely worth mentioning. “Then my mother’s brother passed away, and my family was suddenly facing a decision point. I guess I was facing one, too. A once-in-a-life opportunity just fell in my lap, a chance to take over a successful business in a part of the country I loved. The problem was, I was pretty happy where I was. At least, I thought I was. But once I started imagining myself back in the beautiful Hudson Valley, spending my days communing with cows . . .”
I laughed. “I can see how that would be hard to turn down.”
“It required some soul searching,” he admitted. “I knew it was an either-or situation. I couldn’t continue to practice law and run a two-hundred-fifty-acre dairy at the same time. So I had to make a choice and, well, you know how it turned out.”
“But there must be a ton of stuff to know about running something like that,” I said. “How did you learn it all?”
“I didn’t, at least not at first. My uncle left enough money that I was able to hire the right people, just to get things started.” He shrugged. “I kept learning, and eventually I was able to pretty much handle things by myself. I still have employees, of course, but when it comes to running the place, now I know what I’m doing.” With a grin, he added, “Most of the time anyway.
“And I did change things around a bit. For one thing, I changed the name. It used to be called Hudson Dairy, if you recall. I wanted something that reflected the other big change I made: turning it into an organic dairy.”
“Was that hard to do?”
“It took some work. I had to switch things around so my cows can graze, and they’re only fed fodder that’s organically certified. They’re not treated with growth hormones or any of the other drugs that are commonly used in traditional dairies.
“Another aspect of running an organic operation like mine is treating the cows humanely,” he continued. “I have almost a hundred cows, and I think of them as family. Well, sort of. It’s not like I invite them all over for Thanksgiving or anything.”
I laughed. “I love the image of all those cows crammed inside a dining room.”
“Eating turkey, no less,” he added with a grin.
“Remind me never to go to your house for Thanksgiving,” I joked.
He didn’t respond. In fact, we were both silent for what felt like a long time. And then I said, “And how has it turned out for you, Jake? Was it the right choice?”
“I think it was,” he replied thoughtfully. “Like you, I don’t miss the pressure. Or the long hours. Although come to think of it, there’s still plenty of pressure—and those cows sure wake up early every morning. But it’s different. And I really like it.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I’m glad it worked out so well.” And I meant it.
Another silence fell
over us.
“Hey, Jake?” I said softly. “Can we talk about what happened that night?”
The crease in his forehead deepened. “I know I owe you an explanation, Kate. I’ve owed you one for, what is it, fifteen years?”
I held my breath, afraid to say anything. I had a feeling that explanation was finally about to come.
Jake took a deep breath. “It’s amazing; I still remember that night like it was yesterday. It’s one of those moments that’s stuck in time, you know?” He was staring off into the distance, as if he had left the time and space we were really in and was going back to that evening. “All day I’d felt like I was in a dream. Going to prom with you—it was like some crazy teenage fantasy. A night that’s supposed to be one of the highlights of your entire life . . . and I was convinced it would be.
“I remember putting on the rented tux, feeling like . . . well, like a man. Like I was finally a grown-up. It seemed so symbolic, somehow. I was going to this big, fancy party, all dressed up like somebody I didn’t feel like I’d ever be. I had a car, I had money in my pocket.... How much better could it possibly be?
“And the fact that I was going with you . . .” He glanced up at me for a fraction of a second, then lowered his eyes. “I was so crazy in love with you, Kate. The feelings I had for you were so strong that sometimes they scared me.”
I was still holding my breath. But by now, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to breathe. It was because I couldn’t.
“I was supposed to swing by and pick you up at seven. I remember that that was the time we’d planned. So by six-thirty, I was dressed and ready.” He grinned. “Hair slicked back, smelling like a flower garden from my brother’s cologne, which I’d snitched without asking him. . . .
“And then the phone rang.”
I started breathing again. But my breaths were short and ragged.
If there was one thing I’d learned in life, it was that hardly anything good ever begins with the words, “And then the phone rang.”
“I figured it was you, calling to check up on me,” Jake went on. “To make sure I was running on time or to remind me not to forget the prom tickets. But then, as soon as I picked up the phone, I heard this background noise that made me feel sick. Voices in the background. Walkie-talkie sounds.”
Murder with a Cherry on Top Page 13
