by Jenny Kales
Callie nodded. Fleetingly she thought how funny it was that she called her new beau by his last name, even in her private thoughts. His first name was Ian, a perfectly nice name, but for some reason “Sands” suited him better. After all, that was how she had first gotten to know him, as Detective Sands.
“Right, time to focus,” Sands cut into her reverie. “Tell me everything you saw, heard, felt. Let’s start at the beginning.”
Callie wiped her eyes once more and steadied her voice. She told Sands about her morning, including the fact that Natalie had seemed stressed but overall, perfectly fine. She hesitated. She’d promised not to betray Natalie’s thoughts about the Dayton family but at this point, did it matter?
“What is it? You must tell me everything if we’re to find out who did this.”
“I know. It’s just so surreal. Natalie asked me not to betray a confidence, not two hours ago, and now she’s dead.”
“I understand, but any confidence she relayed to you is null and void at this point,” Sands said gently but firmly. “Out with it.”
Callie looked him straight in the eye. “Natalie didn’t like the Daytons. Or rather, the Daytons didn’t like her.” She explained the story of Lexy’s first doomed bridal shower and Natalie’s nerves about dealing with the Dayton’s in the same context once more.
Sands just shook his head. “My, my. Well, that does put the Dayton family in an interesting light. Any sign of Mr. Dayton, the bride’s father?”
“No, I think he’s deceased. I seem to remember reading that in the paper quite a few years ago. The shower was women only, although Nick was in attendance. That’s the way a lot of showers are these days – the groom makes an appearance, but usually not any other men.”
Sands gazed thoughtfully at her for a moment. “Right. Well, I’m sorry you had to go through this. Again.” He was referring to the bizarre way that they had met months before – at the murder scene of Callie’s former boyfriend, Drew Staven, a successful bistro owner.
Callie nodded at Sands. Natalie’s murder was calling up far too many bad memories of her recent ordeal with Drew. She didn’t want to admit that to Sands, but from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, she knew that he was aware of her feelings. He often seemed to know what she felt without her having to say it. It was a little bit disconcerting.
Suddenly Sands adopted a business-like tone. “It’s time for my next victim, so you’re free to go. Can you send in Melody Cartwright?”
He softened his tone with his next question. “I’m sorry but for obvious reasons I have to cancel our date at The Elkhorn tonight.” He was referring to their dinner plans later that evening at The Elkhorn Supper Club, a popular spot just outside of Crystal Bay. “The best thing you can do tonight is stay inside, doors locked.”
The thought of hiding inside of her home from a killer was simultaneously tempting – and stifling. She waved off his apology. “Please – no need to worry about that. It’s been a terrible day.” She sighed, a wave of exhaustion making her blink her eyes. “Samantha is probably going to be there. She dates Bix Buckman and his jazz band is playing tonight. I wonder if he’ll cancel, especially after what happened today.” Samantha, her tough-talking but elegant best friend, was a criminal attorney with a hectic work schedule and sporadic dating life.
“Samantha is dating a musician?” Sands raised one eyebrow.
“No judging, now. You know he’s also the groundskeeper here. He’s a good guy – tried to give Natalie CPR. Still, not her usual type, I admit.” Sam was attractive and smart, but many of the guys she met were minor felons, since she was a criminal attorney.
“What kind of a name is ‘Bix’?” Sands asked. “I never did get the chance to find that out when I was questioning him today.”
“Bix Beiderbecke was a famous jazz musician. I think Bix’s parents are music buffs and they decided to give him a musical name. Sam said he used to get teased about it a fair amount, but I think it suits him.” Who was Callie to question a person’s name? Her full name was the seldom-heard “Calliope” and most of her Greek relative’s lengthy names weren’t exactly common in their neck of the woods.
“You see. There is something musical about you after all. You know some music history, at least,” Sands said, smiling at Callie. Unlike most people she met, Sands knew that she was named “Calliope” after the Greek muse of music. The irony of it was that she didn’t play any instruments and only sang in the shower.
“We can talk more later, but in the meantime, I want you to be careful. I don’t like that you were the one to find Natalie. It makes you a potential target until we get this thing cleared up.”
“I know,” Callie said, standing up. “I may just collapse on the sofa the second I’m able to.” Still, part of her wished that Sands could offer her a shoulder to cry on tonight, of all nights, but his job made that scenario an impossible one. Too bad. Dismayed at her own selfishness, Callie squashed down that thought. She wasn’t the clingy type and she wasn’t going to start now.
She patted Sands on the shoulder as she passed him on the way to the door, wanting to give him a kiss but wondering if that was unprofessional since he was officially working. He solved the dilemma by standing up abruptly and giving her a very proper peck on the cheek.
“I’ll call you later,” he said close to her ear and sat back down, already scribbling notes.
* * *
Melody Cartwright and Kayla Hall were conversing in heated whispers as Callie entered the hallway. The both looked up sharply and stopped talking when they registered her presence.
“Melody, the detective said to send you in next.”
Kayla and Melody exchanged a look before Melody entered the room briskly, closing the door with a sharp “click.”
“I don’t know anything about what happened today,” Kayla whined. “I want to go home. I didn’t see anything – I was checking coats! Anyway, it’s creepy thinking about a dead body at the inn.”
“It certainly is creepy,” Callie answered, “but the police have to question everyone.” She also wanted to go straight home but instead, she had a full day booked at Callie’s Kitchen.
Kayla sighed, then pulled a compact out of her purse and looked at herself in the tiny mirror. “At least the detective is kind of cute,” she said. “And that accent.”
“Yes, isn’t he,” Callie said wryly. Oh boy. She said goodbye to Kayla and headed towards the dining room once more, her curiosity getting the better of her need to go to work and cook. As she reached the hostess stand, her cell phone rang.
“Callie!” boomed the hearty voice of Hugh, her ex-husband.
“Hugh, now is really not a good time.” That was putting it mildly. “Can I call you back?”
“I guess so.” Hugh sounded hurt. “I just wanted to share some news with you.”
News? Callie remembered a previous conversation she’d had with Hugh’s new wife, Raine, who had disclosed that the happy couple was looking to procreate. Wincing, she braced herself for the inevitable. Could this day get any worse?
“Fine, but can you make it quick?” Suddenly, Callie wanted nothing more than to escape.
“Sure, sure. I just wanted you to know that Raine and I are looking for a home in Crystal Bay! We really want to be closer to Olivia.”
Callie was well and truly stunned. She’d thought an hour away from Hugh was too close. Now he was moving to Crystal Bay – her own turf?
And then there was this latest murder. Crystal Bay might not be such a good choice, buddy. Callie decided it would take too long to explain about the murder to Hugh – he’d find out soon enough – so she asked the next question that came to mind. “What about your job? Raine’s job?” she spluttered.
“The commute isn’t that bad. Anyway, we’re hoping to find jobs closer to Crystal Bay. I’ve got a few leads already. Raine does too.”
“I see.” If it were possible, Callie felt even more drained. “I really can’t talk right now,
I’m sorry.” She hung up before he could argue with her.
Callie slowly placed her cell phone back into her purse and shuddered. Thinking of Hugh and Raine in Crystal Bay was too much to take in right now.
Taking a moment to collect herself, Callie scanned the dining room curiously. Most of the guests were seated at their appointed tables, eating lunch and talking. Practicality wins, Callie thought. Probably, the Daytons had decided to serve the food as long as they had already paid for it. In any case, it would take hours to question everyone so perhaps the police decided to at least let them fill their bellies. A couple of uniformed police officers held watch, making sure, no doubt, that every guest stayed until they had given a statement.
The food smelled tantalizing but the stunning view provided by the floor-to-ceiling windows had taken on a sinister air with the recent removal of Natalie Underwood’s body from the icy water. Despite their earlier obnoxious behavior, Callie’s heart went out to the Dayton family. Two disastrous bridal showers weren’t something she would wish on anyone.
She felt badly for Nick Hawkins, too, who was seated glumly at a table in the center of the room with Mrs. Dayton and Lexy. The two women spooned what looked like the inn’s signature French onion soup into their mouths, but Nick only sat there, his back to the window, staring into space. Outside the window, Callie could see a bundled-up Bix Buckman standing in the falling snow and waving his arms toward the water’s edge, most likely explaining his intervention to the small group of law enforcement officers assembled around the crime scene.
The sound of someone clearing their throat startled Callie.
“I’m sorry. Callie, isn’t it? I can’t find Melody Cartwright or Natalie Underwood. Do you know where they are?” The man smiled as he spoke so rapidly, revealing perfect, white, even teeth.
Callie took in the man’s dapper appearance with a puzzled look before his identity dawned. Jack Myers, one of the main suppliers for The English Country Inn.
“I’m so sorry, I’m a little flustered,” Callie stammered. “I didn’t recognize you at first.” Jack was normally dressed in the Crystal Bay winter uniform: heavy puffer jacket, pants and sturdy boots. Today, he had on a sleek sports coat and dress pants with a white shirt – no tie, of course, being Jack, who was more likely to be chopping wood and ice fishing than “dolling up” as Grandma Viv, Callie’s Irish maternal grandmother, would say.
“The room looks beautiful, but why does everyone seem so, I don’t know, subdued? The groom didn’t run out this time, did he?” Jack cleared his throat and attempted to stifle a small smirk. Clearly he was aware of the Dayton’s previous bridal shower troubles.
“Wait a minute,” Jack said, peering closely at Callie’s face. His large, dark eyes widened. “You’re eyes are all red and puffy. Have you been crying? Or is it just allergies to evergreens and holly?”
“You must not have heard about Natalie,” Callie said, stifling a groan. Apparently, she was going to be the one to break the news to Jack that his colleague had been murdered.
“Heard what? And what are all these police doing around here?”
“Natalie Underwood is dead. I’m sorry to tell you this, but it looks like she was murdered.”
Jack blanched. “Murdered?”
“I’m so sorry,” Callie said gently. “The police are here right now and all of these guests are waiting to be questioned.”
“How horrible,” Jack murmured, clearly trying to regain his composure. “Natalie is…was…. What I mean to say, it was a pleasure to work with her.” Callie nodded, thinking of a way out. She didn’t want to be rude to another mourner, but she had to get to work.
“Jack, Melody is talking to a police officer. Why don’t you wait in the lobby for her? Hopefully, she won’t be long.”
“Thank you. What a rotten situation. I’m sorry to intrude.” Jack looked around the dining room. “I’d better check with the staff first and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“That’s a nice idea. I’d offer to join you, but I have to get going.” Callie said goodbye to a pale and shaken Jack and retreated through the back doors of the dining room. She hesitated, and then headed back out to the patio once more. She couldn’t help but glance at the spot where she’d found Natalie. Police and crime scene officers were still swarming the patio but Bix Buckman was gone.
A policeman near the back door walked up to Callie as she stood there, contemplating what had been a tranquil winter scene just a few hours before. “No one is allowed out here,” he informed her. “If you’re a guest, you need to be questioned before you can leave.”
“It’s all right, I’ve already been questioned. You can check with Detective Sands. I’m Callie Costas. He told me I could go.”
“Okay, then. I’d do what he said. Now.”
“You bet,” Callie muttered under her breath. It was going to be a long time before she could enjoy the beauty of the water without thinking of Natalie’s fate.
Three
The snow came down thickly as Callie maneuvered her small car back to Garden Street and Callie’s Kitchen. The alley behind her shop was as yet unplowed, so Callie carefully drove through the slippery coating of fluffy snow until she found a parking space. She was not looking forward to sharing the news of yet another murder with her employee Max, she thought as she locked the car. She flipped up the hood of her coat against the swirling white flakes and strode quickly to the back entrance, hoping to avoid any inquisitive customers who no doubt, already had their cell phones buzzing with Crystal Bay’s latest tragedy.
Stepping inside her shop, which felt positively steamy after the being out in the freezing air, Callie stomped snow off of her heavy duck boots, hung up her coat and washed her hands. The clean white walls and sparkling stainless steel workspace were a balm to her spirit after her frightening brush with death. The sweet scents of cinnamon, sugar and ginger permeated the air: Max must be baking the gingerbread cakes she’d prepped before leaving for the inn. This spicy essence of the Christmas season lifted Callie’s spirits just a tiny bit above dismal. The ugliness and shock of Natalie’s icy death had chilled her from head to toe.
She heard Max’s voice through the half-door that separated her workspace from the main customer space. It sounded like a normal business transaction and Callie let out a sigh of relief. If it had been a reporter, Max would have put on his not entirely unwelcome pit bull act. Max, her twenty-something assistant with a spiky haircut and an array of colorful tattoos, was an excellent worker, but he was proud of his muscles and he didn’t mind using them. Or at least threatening to use them. Still, he was no loose cannon, just protective.
Callie had begun peeling potatoes and slicing lemons for a Greek chicken dish, when Max banged noisily through the door, carrying several large stainless steel trays used to display baked goods.
“Oh, great, you’re back. Business is picking up again,” he asserted. “I think our new Facebook page and website are really helping get the word out. These trays were full of loukoumades this morning. Check it out: empty!” He held up the trays for Callie’s inspection before setting them down in the industrial-sized sink, where they made a terrific clatter. He turned on the hot water faucet full blast. “This cold weather has been great for us. People are stuffing their faces more than ever!”
“I hope so,” Callie answered, pleased that her Greek doughnuts were still a crowd pleaser. “Piper did a terrific job with the social networking and web site. I’m so happy you connected us.”
Max blushed a little as he heard his girlfriend praised by his employer. “Yeah, she’s something else, isn’t she?”
“She is indeed,” was Callie’s reply. Piper was Max’s girlfriend. She was a bit quirky – for example, she dressed in vintage attire whenever she could – but she was a whiz on the computers. She also had a nice touch in the front of the house where she pitched in serving and ringing up customers. Callie enjoyed the young woman’s intelligence and willingness to work free
for college credit, but she could be a bit flighty and intrusive, truth be told.
Max added soap and scrubbed vigorously at the empty trays. “Hey, how did it go this morning? Should have been a piece of cake – sorry, cookies,” Max laughed at his own joke.
“Things didn’t go exactly as planned,” Callie replied. No kidding. In her mind’s eye, Natalie’s lifeless face was once more gazing up at her. Callie started shivering so hard that she dropped her knife right in the middle of prepping potatoes.
“Oh no. What is it?” In an instant, Max was by her side. “What happened?” His brow was furrowed, eyebrow ring and all and he looked at her with friendly concern. Not for the first time, Callie was thankful to have such a kind co-worker.
Callie hesitated before looking Max straight in the eye. “You’re not going to believe this, so I’m just going to come right out and tell you. There was a murder at The English Country Inn this morning.”
“No. Not again. You’re kidding, right? Playing a practical joke? Well, it’s not funny.” Max slowly went back to the large pans he’d been washing and started running water again.
“Natalie Underwood was killed,” Callie said gently. “And it gets even worse. I was the one who found her.”
“What?” Max dropped the pans into the hot, soapy water, saturating the front of his blue Callie’s Kitchen apron. He whirled to face Callie. “No! Not Natalie!!” Max slapped a dishtowel against the counter and Callie saw tears in his eyes. “Natalie was a good kid. She had the prettiest red hair. Everybody teased her about it, but she didn’t mind.” He gave a shuddering breath and stopped speaking as he blinked back tears.
“Yes, it was beautiful,” Callie said slowly, remembering Nick Hawkins’ similarly stricken reaction to Natalie’s death. Natalie, it would appear, had been something of a heartbreaker.
Max was shaking his head now. “This is just…really terrible news. Natalie was a few years ahead of me in school, but I remember her well. She was always just really nice and funny. Everybody knew her, because of her hair.”
