by Avery Aames
I wouldn’t succumb easily. I would fight. But I needed a weapon. The computer was too unwieldy to hurl. Same with the chair. The blotter and pen set were useless. So was the cheeseburger in its to-go box.
Think, Charlotte. You’ve taken defense classes. What’s your move? I’m nimble. If Ryan came at me, I could duck past him. Open the door. Pick up Rags . . .
Not a chance. Ryan would nail me from behind.
I said, “You blamed your father for destroying your family, didn’t you, Ryan?”
“Darned right I did. He left us. Mom and six girls.”
“And you with no future, no Olympics.”
Ryan sneered. “If only he had manned up. But he couldn’t. Mom was all-forgiving.”
“You took your mother’s name.”
“It was her family that started the farm. She let my dad rename it as her fifteenth wedding gift to him.”
“And then Lara Berry came calling.”
“Lara.” He snarled her name.
“Did your father do something to incur her wrath?”
“Dad had a mouth. He spouted off sometimes. He talked to reporters. He—” Ryan rubbed his forehead hard, like he was suffering a severe migraine. “I. Don’t. Know.”
“What did Lara do?”
“She took a tour of the farm. Told Dad and Mom she loved the place, the lying phony. Then she wrote a bad review. She said our product was inferior. She sent out notices to cheese shops and suppliers. Dad fought her. He got the newspaper involved. He hired an attorney.”
“That doesn’t sound like he was weak.”
“He waited six months to start the process. Too late. By then, our business had soured.”
Rags scratched the door. Ryan swung around and hissed. During the distraction, I glanced left: notepads, pens, a digital calculator about three ounces in weight. Nothing hefty.
“Your mother advised you to ‘take it in stride,’ Ryan. Did she mean your father’s death?”
“Everything: death, life, success, loss.”
“She also said, ‘Let bygones be.’ She didn’t want you dwelling on the past.”
Ryan’s face twisted with pain. “Good old Mom. All she ever dreamed about was making cheese. Our cheese. The family cheese. History, she said, mattered.”
History. I looked to my right. The antique wrought iron cheese grater that Lois had repaired was still sitting in the director’s chair where I’d left it. Grandmère hadn’t picked it up yet. Would it work as a weapon? It was about sixteen inches long and as heavy as a mallet. If I swung with both hands and caught Ryan on the arm or shoulder, maybe that would give me time to run. Get Rags. Flee.
I inched from behind the desk. Toward the enemy. I had to risk it. “You hated Lara Berry for destroying your family. No matter how angry you were at your father, she—”
“Was the devil!” Spittle flew from Ryan’s mouth.
“You followed her career. You patterned yours after hers. Except you tried to use your power for good.”
“I wanted people to have faith. To grow their businesses. To thrive.”
“What about your kids, Ryan? What will they do when they find out their father is a murderer?”
Ryan halted. His gaze flickered. Hadn’t he considered the repercussion of his actions? “Cut it out! Don’t mind-game me.” He massaged his neck again.
“Tell me about the violin, Ryan,” I asked. Anything to keep him from attacking me.
“The violin?”
“I figure Erin told you about it while you were jamming at the Street Scene. You didn’t know it was valuable, of course, because she didn’t have a clue, but when you saw it in Lara’s room, you realized its worth.”
“How could Erin not know?” he whispered.
“It enraged you when you realized Lara intended to hurt Erin, someone you loved.”
“Liked.”
Semantics, I noted. I flashed on the crime scene; the bed; Lara’s robe. The belt had been missing. “You tied the violin to your body using the belt from Lara’s robe. You accidentally plucked the instrument as you exited.”
His eyelids blinked rapidly.
“You escaped through the skylight and scaled the building to Erin’s room. You climbed in her window. It isn’t sealed shut. Andrew heard you. Her room is right next to his.” Down, down, down. “You replaced the violin in Erin’s armoire. How did you know about the key?”
“Child’s play. One of my kids tapes her diary key to the back of her dresser.”
“You didn’t consider that when the police found the violin in its rightful place, it would implicate Erin in Lara’s murder.”
Ryan moaned. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’re one of the good guys, Ryan.” I inched toward the director’s chair. “You know what confuses me, though? Why did you put the skylight remote control in Victor’s room? Why not toss it?”
Ryan’s mouth drew up on one side, forming into a malicious grin.
“Aha,” I whispered. “You meant to finger him. You didn’t like Victor because—” I pictured Ryan playing chess with Victor in the living room. It had been a heated game. Later, Erin revealed that Ryan’s youngest sister had dated Victor for a nanosecond. “Because Victor jerked your sister around.”
“He’s a sleaze. But enough about that. We’re done chatting.” He charged me.
I lunged for the cheese grater. Wielding it like a mace, I swung upward. I missed his bicep. He swiped at me with a massive arm. I ducked.
“You have nothing!” he bellowed. “No evidence.”
“Yes, I do.” I recalled two conversations with Rebecca. The first, when she said her hair was multicolored, not just one shade; Ryan’s silver could contain some white strands. “White hairs were found on Lara’s bed,” I rasped and swung the cheese grater again. Toward his torso. Missed.
“Big deal.”
The second conversation involved Ryan specifically. “The hair will be hard to explain away if any matches your DNA. Yours will reveal the vitamin B-12 deficiency.”
“Why would the police think to compare hair?”
“Because I’ll tell them to do so.”
I swung a third time. Ryan seized the head of the cheese grater. Twisted. In defense class, I’d been taught to give up my purse if an attacker came at me. Release and run.
I let go of the cheese grater. Ryan careened backward. He stumbled against the director’s chair. I swooped at him and kicked the foot of the chair. The chair crashed to the ground. Ryan went with it.
Heaving with exertion, I dashed out of the office and scooped up Rags while pulling my cell phone from my pocket. I dialed 911 and hustled for the exit. “Pick up, pick up,” I chanted.
At the same time, Urso rushed into the shop through the front door. Ryan must have left it open. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Charlotte, what’s going on?”
“Ryan Harris.” I gulped in air. “In my office.”
Urso drew his revolver and barreled headlong down the hall.
CHAPTER
33
On Saturday night, we convened at my grandparents’ house.
“Charlotte,” my grandmother said. “You and Jordan tend to the roast.” She had called the family together to celebrate the end of the Cheese Festival. She jiggled a finger. “Matthew, uncork the wine. Etienne, Clair, and Amy, come with me.” She clasped Pépère’s arm and whisked him out of the kitchen into the dining room. The twins, each carrying a condiment, trotted behind them.
The entire family, other than Meredith, was at the house. Urso, Delilah, Rebecca, and Devon were joining us as well.
The cheese competition had gone off without a hitch. The finalists had included Two Plug Nickels Farm and the maker of the cute Cheddar from Wisconsin. As much as I had liked the cute one, I had to admit Urso’s parents h
ad done a bang-up job with their new clothbound Cheddar. It was nutty and savory with a hint of honey. Heavenly. The grand prize was a trip to England to see how original Cheddar cheese was made. The Ursos hadn’t traveled anywhere, ever. They were over the moon.
Jordan fetched the carving knife and faced the roast that had been sitting on the cutting board for nearly fifteen minutes. He twisted the board until the roast was at the proper angle, and then he made his first cut. “How are you holding up?”
“Me? Great. Never better.”
Okay, yes, all day yesterday and most of today, I got a case of the shivers whenever I replayed the encounter with Ryan Harris. Urso took him into custody, and before leaving Fromagerie Bessette, read me the riot act. I argued that I hadn’t baited Ryan; I had no idea he was the killer until I researched him online. Urso, the big mean bear, grumbled and roared, but in the end, he forgave me. He, more than almost anyone other than Jordan, understands my dedication to friends and family. Within hours, Urso informed Kandice, Victor, and Shayna that they were free to go. The three of them couldn’t get out of town fast enough.
“I feel badly for Ryan’s family,” I murmured.
Jordan nodded. “Like the families of all murderers, they will have to cope.”
I shot him a wry look. “Pragmatism doesn’t suit you.”
“Sure it does. Always has.” He pecked me on the cheek. “Any worries about my decision?”
“To hire Elizabeth Lattimore? I’m thrilled.” Heather Hemming had decided to keep her job at La Bella Ristorante. At some point, she hoped Luigi would retire and she could buy the place. Her daddy was a rich man. Elizabeth had been so eager to get going that she had shadowed Jordan all day yesterday and today at The White Horse and offered to take on the place tonight so he could be with family.
While I tended to the salad and side dishes, Jordan set slices of the roast on a serving dish preset with parsley and orange wedges.
He said, “I heard Quigley Pressman got the exclusive with Ryan.”
“Yep. He’ll be hard to live with.” I grinned. “By the way, did you hear about Erin?” Friday morning, she had left me a message. She was tearful—she had truly hoped Ryan was the man for her—but she was thankful that the nightmare had come to an end. “Some of the townspeople, folks who went to high school with her, have come together to help her raise money to update the farm. They don’t want her to sell the Amati violin.”
“You’re kidding.”
“There are good people in this world, my love. As for other news, her brother stopped chanting up and down the moment Urso told Erin about Ryan. Erin thinks Andrew sensed Ryan was the killer, but he couldn’t get the words out.”
The door to the kitchen opened. Matthew poked his head in. “Almost ready?”
“Yes.” I handed him a dish filled with Dauphinoise potatoes, one of my all-time favorite recipes, a luscious mixture of Gruyère cheese, crème fraîche, and onions. “Take this to the table. Send the girls in for the salad.” I had shredded Emerald Pastures Cheddar on top of chopped fresh vegetables, which we had gathered from my grandmother’s garden.
Grandmère said Grace before we started the meal, we all said Amen, and then she addressed Matthew. “How is Meredith holding up?”
His mouth quirked up one side. “She’s still grumpy, but she’s happier now that the baby is kicking.”
“What?” Delilah and I said in unison. “Isn’t it too soon?”
“Nope, right on target,” Matthew said. “The doctor set the conception date as the end of January when Meredith and I went on that two-day—”
“Too much information!” Amy and Clair chimed, both forming their hands in a capital T.
Everyone at the table laughed.
Grandmère held up a hand. “Umberto and Delilah, do you have an official date?”
Urso slung an arm over the top of Delilah’s chair. “You tell them.”
“I love a man who defers to me.”
“Only on occasion.” He winked.
“The first Saturday in September,” she said. “And there will be no red butterflies.” She batted her eyelashes at her intended. “Who says I’m not flexible?”
“Not I,” Urso replied.
She elbowed him.
I glanced at Rebecca, who hadn’t eaten a bite of food. “How are you holding up? How are the travel plans?”
“Good. My father wrote back and said it was okay to come home.” She gulped. “I’m so nervous.” She clutched her sweet deputy’s hand. “Devon is driving me up. He said he would stay in his car until midnight, just in case I need a ride back. But I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl now. A grown-up.”
“Says who?” Devon teased.
Rebecca thumped him on the arm. “I do, and when I get back to town, you and I are setting a date!” She eyed me and said, “Since we’re all on the hot seat, how about you?”
“Huh?”
“You look sort of . . . colorful.” She fluttered her fingertips next to her cheeks. “Got news to share?”
“News?”
“Are you and Jordan, you know . . .” She pointed at my belly.
I gawped and turned to Jordan. His face flushed with happiness.
“Are we?” he asked.
I grinned. “Yes.” I had visited the doctor yesterday for a check-up. Just as we arrived at my grandparents’ house, I noticed a voicemail from him. Surprise! I was going to tell Jordan the news later, in private. “We’re having twins, which means now, more than ever, I have to find a few more people to help out at Fromagerie Bessette. I am going to take some time off!”
RECIPES
Zucchini with Cheddar Kebab Appetizer
À la Emerald Pastures Inn
(SERVES 4)
1 pound medium or small zucchini
1 lime or lemon
Salt and pepper to taste, about 1/2 teaspoon each
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons dried bouquet garni or basil
4 ounces white Cheddar cheese
Slice the zucchini squash lengthwise, about ½-inch thick, and then slice into bite-sized pieces, about ¾-inch wide.
Mix together the juice of one lime (or lemon), salt and pepper, olive oil, and seasonings. Toss with the zucchini bites. Cover and refrigerate for four to six hours.
Remove from the refrigerator.
On a cutting board, cube the Cheddar cheese. Pin a cube of Cheddar onto a piece of zucchini using a toothpick.
Serve as an appetizer or put 5–6 on a plate to serve as a salad.
[Note from Erin: These morsels are so easy to make. When my brother, Andrew, was little, he liked to help my mother and me in the kitchen. He couldn’t concentrate for long periods of time. A more complicated recipe would have stymied him, but he liked to chop things, and he liked to poke the toothpicks into the cheese. He prefers white cheeses, which is why we went with the white Cheddar.]
***
BLT Salad
À la Emerald Pastures Inn
(SERVES 2)
1 head iceberg lettuce
2 tomatoes, diced
4 green onions, diced
2 stalks of celery, diced
4 strips of center-cut bacon, cooked and crumbled
1/2 pound turkey breast, cubed
1/4 cup blue cheese dressing, *recipe below
2 ounces of blue cheese, crumbled
To assemble the salad, set out two plates. Chop the lettuce into 1"–2" pieces. Split the lettuce between two plates and arrange, mounding slightly in the center.
Dice the tomatoes; set aside. Dice the green onions; set aside. Dice the celery; set aside. Note: if your celery seems limp, you can refresh it in a bowl of ice water.
Cook the bacon until really crisp, let cool, then crumble and set aside. You can cook it either of two ways. Tra
ditionally, you can sauté it in a pan on medium high for 8–10 minutes until crisp, then drain off the fat and place the bacon on paper towels to cool, OR you can place a large paper towel on a dinner-sized plate, set the slices of bacon on the paper towel, cover with another paper towel, and cook in the microwave on high for 3–4 minutes until crisp. Let cool, then remove the paper towels, crumble the bacon, and set aside.
Cube the turkey breast. I use fresh-cooked turkey, which has been cooled overnight in the refrigerator, but you can use a deli turkey that is low in sodium and gluten-free. Your choice. Note: To cook a small turkey breast, wrap the breast in foil and cook in the oven at 300 degrees Fahrenheit for 40 minutes. Remove from the oven, and remove the foil. Let the turkey breast cool on a cutting board. Wrap in fresh foil or in a resealable plastic bag and keep in the refrigerator until needed.
Now, to arrange all the items on top of the lettuce. Pick a pattern. I like to imagine wedges of a pizza. Set out a wedge of turkey, then tomatoes, then green onions, then turkey, celery, and bacon.
In the center, place 2 tablespoons of blue cheese dressing (recipe below), and top with a few pieces of crumbled blue cheese.
Serve cold.
***
Blue Cheese Dressing
1/4 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup olive oil
4 ounces sour cream
2–3 ounces blue cheese
1–2 shakes Tabasco
5 grinds of a peppermill
Put all the ingredients into a blender. Whir. Serve over a crisp salad of your choice.
[Note from Erin: This salad was one of my parents’ favorite salads. We often use vegetables grown in the garden on the farm. My mother always said to use a cow’s milk Roquefort for the best “kick.” I like to use Cowgirl Creamery Point Reyes blue cheese. It’s without a doubt one of the best around.]
