Death is Semisweet

by Lou Jane Temple

  “But she isn’t exactly involved,” Stephanie said defensively.

  Heaven was practically jumping up and down in her seat. “Well, she’s a member of the family and she obviously has problems about eating and chocolate and has a love-hate relationship with the product and her employers that must make her job difficult. Steph, maybe she’s the one who’s responsible for all this.”

  “You mean the blimp and Oliver Bodden and the bugs in the candy and all that?”

  “And maybe after she left your family she came over to the café and broke the windows and wrote that stuff. Before I knew she was your cousin I saw her eating a Foster’s candy bar at that body building show I went to at Woodside. She was very guilty looking. Put that together with her former eating disorders and all the family feuding over the company. She could have fixated on destroying Foster’s.”

  Stephanie looked sad. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get to this supply house before they close. Will you please call Bonnie?”

  “Of course.” She considered telling Stephanie about her conversation with the brothers’ secretary but decided it could wait. Stephanie was overwhelmed right now with all this family stuff and running her own business. “What are you thinking?”

  Stephanie put the car in reverse, her foot still on the brake. “I hope Janie is all right. If she’s the one who did all this, and I hope you’re wrong about it, but it does make sense, then she could have hurt herself, maybe commited suicide in a fit of Christmas guilt.”

  Heaven got out of the car and leaned her head back in to try to reassure her friend. “Maybe she just went to a cheap motel to gorge on her candy bars. She’ll probably call soon,” she said with a cheery wave as her friend backed down the alley.

  She was never going to get her prep work done. The kitchen would be cross with her.

  “Heaven, isn’t it time for you to go back to the kitchen,” Murray said, glancing at his watch for effect.

  “It’s only six,” Heaven said as she stared at the door of the restaurant. “Did I describe her? Sixties, under five foot five, dark hair …”

  “I know, supremely competent.” Murray was able to finish the list. “Don’t you think this Marie Whitmer will ask to see you if she shows, which I’m not convinced she will?”

  “Yes, I guess. I didn’t even actually talk to her. I just left a message on her machine at work, asked her to come in, said it was very important. Stephanie hasn’t called, has she?”

  “Not since she called at five,” Murray answered, trying to sound patient. “I’m sorry about her cousin.”

  “And her uncles and her whole family. I’m sorry for them all especially now that it looks like Janie was behind all this and framed her own uncle for one of the murders. Or maybe it’s the secretary or dear Uncle David.”

  “What does Bonnie say about all this?” Murray asked.

  “She said to butt out, that I’d already made somone mad enough to vandalize the café. Sometimes she’s such a cop. She did lean on the missing persons unit to go by Janie’s house and knock on the door, peer in the windows and ask a few questions of the neighbors, not that it did any good. People aren’t real alert about comings and goings around the neighborhood on Christmas Day.”

  “I thought you asked Bonnie to be here, so she could swoop in on the secretary if she showed.”

  Heaven shrugged. “She had a homicide department Christmas party tonight and she chose that instead. Can you imagine? I’m sure she knows we can handle this.”

  Murray couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure that’s just what Bonnie said.”

  “Heaven?” a voice called. She turned and saw Kathy Hager standing there. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you for inviting me to your Christmas party. It meant a great deal to me, and I’m sorry I was out of town. The holidays have been tough for me since Courtney died, so your gesture was really sweet.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry you were out of town too. I understand how tough the holidays can be after losing someone.” At that Kathy’s face crumbled. Her lip quivered. She sank onto a barstool near Heaven as if she was unable to hold herself up anymore.

  Heaven looked around. Murray had moved away from them and was seating a four top. “Kathy, are you all right? Can I get you a glass of water?”

  “I’ll be fine. Sometimes it just hits me again, her death, being alone. And it all happened so unnecessarily.” Her voice had turned angry.

  Unnecessarily? Heaven didn’t get that. “What do you mean, unnecessarily? Breast cancer is tragic, but what could anyone have done?”

  “Well, it’s complicated, but it didn’t have to happen. I know it could’ve been avoided. You see, the company Courtney worked for was bought out by another company. The next day, the very next day, mind you, the company closed the facility she worked at and laid off everyone.”

  Heaven shook her head. She’d asked, now she had to listen, although she still didn’t see how a layoff caused a death. “Companies can be so cold. That’s why I’ve tried to never work for big companies. How did this happen?”

  “You know how a company is supposed to give you a chance to keep your health insurance? Well, Courtney’s extension fell between the cracks. The policy was dropped and she didn’t know it until they found a lump in her breast. When she went to work here in Kansas City, that breast wasn’t covered in her new insurance because …”

  “It was a preexisting condition,” Heaven said. What a sad story. She looked around the room. Had Marie, the secretary, snuck in when she wasn’t looking? “I guess without insurance you don’t get a lot of options in your treatment.”

  Kathy smiled bitterly. “And because we were in a same-sex relationship I couldn’t have her on my insurance at the university. She was screwed every way you look at it.”

  Heaven had to get to the kitchen. The room was filling up. She changed the subject. “Joe told me you went pheasant hunting. How’d you do?”

  “Yeah, up in Nebraska with my son-in-law. I enjoy the heck out of it. We bagged ten pheasants and about thirty quail. It was relaxing to me.”

  Heaven thought about her father and brother going hunting at Thanksgiving and Christmas. It tugged at her. Familiar activities make you miss the people that used to do them, especially around the holidays. “Relaxing sounds good. I hope I get to do it again before I’m too old to enjoy myself.”

  Kathy jerked her head toward 39th Street. “I just happened to drive by here early this morning on my way back in town and all your windows were boarded up and the place was a mess. You sure did get it back together fast.”

  Heaven motioned to the bartender to come over. “It was just surface stuff that could be fixed. Talking about your partner really puts windows and graffiti in perspective. Kathy, I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. Let me buy you a drink. Tony, get Kathy whatever she wants,” she said and made a quick exit, looking at the door one last time, hoping Marie Whitmer would show up soon.

  · · ·

  Janie opened her eyes. She must have fallen asleep again and now she was stiff, cold. She wore a cotton blouse and jeans and the place that she’d been taken didn’t seem to be heated. She tried to move her hands, which were tied behind her back. The skin on her fingers was cracked, her knees were skinned, her lips were pulled tight and parched by the duct tape. She hadn’t had any water in days, or was it just a few hours? She rolled over on her face and tried to get up on her knees. Her ankles were also tied together but she had wiggled a little play in the rope. She curved her toes to push against the floor slightly and rose up to her knees, trying to get a better sense of where she was. It was dark but nothing could wipe out the smell. There was paper all over the floor. It crackled as she moved. Even before her captor had turned on the light she knew what was around her. When had that been? The light? The feeding?

  The thought of that, the forced feeding, turned Janie’s stomach. She gagged and sank back down on the floor, rolling over on her back and her raw, skinned hands, gaspin
g for air. She could hear someone walking above her. Had that walking been going on all the time, or was it a new sound?

  She felt hope and dread in about equal proportions. Where was she and how could she escape?

  Chocolate Martini

  2 parts vodka

  1 part Godiva chocolate liqueur

  1 splash cold espresso coffee

  1 chocolate-covered coffee bean

  Mix all the ingredients together over ice, shake and strain into martini glasses. Garnish with a chocolate-covered coffee bean.

  Twelve

  I’m a failure,” Heaven stated dramatically. She took another bite of a chocolate-covered cherry she’d found in a box of chocolates on Sal’s counter. Sal’s regular customers gave him holiday gifts.

  “You don’t do that right,” Sal proclaimed.

  “What right?”

  “Eat the chocolate-covered cherry. You have to put the whole thing in your mouth and then bite into it. Everybody knows that.”

  Heaven flourished her half-eaten cherry around, getting some of the filling on her hand in the process. “I like to live dangerously, Sal, everybody knows that,” she said, putting the rest of the candy in her mouth, licking the sticky spot on her hand quickly, hoping Sal wouldn’t catch her.

  “Stop that and wash your hands in the next sink,” Sal ordered without looking around.

  Sal had two hair-cutting stations in his shop complete with barber chairs and running water and those sinks with indentations for the neck. Sometimes he went back and forth between two customers. Right now he just had the bartender from the biker bar down 39th Street in his main chair, trimming his beard.

  Heaven did as she was told and washed her hands.

  “Now, what’s this I’m-a-failure bull,” Sal said gruffly.

  “I haven’t helped. Janie, who I’m sure is the culprit, has disappeared. But there is no actual proof that she did anything more than go a little off at Christmas dinner. So maybe it isn’t her and maybe it’s Uncle David, who I’m sure has been harboring a grudge all these years. And then yesterday the secretary at Foster’s called to tell me there wasn’t going to be a New Year’s Eve party and she started talking about how she’d never forgive herself if Claude was found guilty. I was pretty sure if I could get her to the restaurant she’d confess to something, but she didn’t show up. No one has come forward to say they saw her, Janie, David, or anyone else for that matter, breaking the windows across the street at my café or painting stuff on the building. And this is a busy street. Claude is still indicted for manslaughter but I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it. I can’t make any of the pieces fit together.”

  “I’m just glad they canceled the damn chocolate party. That would’ve been asking for it.”

  “Me too. Did I tell you we’re going to be open tomorrow?”

  “Murray told me. How’d that happen?”

  “Since New Year’s Eve is on a Sunday I let the staff decide. Did they want to open and make money or stay closed and spend money? They decided they wanted to work and that’s all right with me. We’ll need the bucks for sales tax in January.”

  “Where’s Iris?”

  “Picking up her boyfriend at the airport. They’re going off to Bali next week,” Heaven said, letting Sal know by her tone of voice she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Let it go, H.” Sal brushed loose hairs off the neck of the bartender. “She’s a good kid. It could be a lot worse. He could be an old druggie musician and not be rich as a lord. I guess he’s both, rich and a lord.”

  Heaven was staring out the window, not really listening to Sal, although she knew what he was saying. Suddenly she jumped up, pointing her finger toward the west. “That’s her. That’s Marie Whitmer,” she shouted and ran out the door.

  Marie was walking purposefully down 39th Street, her handbag held tightly in front of her with both hands. She was looking at the address numbers on the businesses, as if she had no idea where Café Heaven was.

  Heaven ran across the street to intercept her. “Marie, where have you been?”

  Marie was startled but she stopped and nodded to Heaven. “I have been battling with this. I told my husband not to answer the phone. There were several calls from that woman detective. What did you tell her?”

  Heaven glanced over at Sal’s. He was watching her through the window intently, as if this little sixty-year-old lady was going to jump on Heaven. She waved at Sal, then smiled at Marie. “Let’s go in my restaurant and have a cup of coffee. We don’t have to talk out here on the street,” she said, and started to walk toward the café. Marie followed, still clutching her purse.

  As soon as they entered the café, Heaven sat Marie down, ran in the kitchen and grabbed some chocolate cake, poured two cups of coffee, went back in the kitchen and grabbed some half-and-half and came back in the dining room.

  “I couldn’t eat that,” Marie said, her eyes filling up with tears. “It’s chocolate. It reminds me of the mess Claude is in because of me.”

  Heaven took the offending cake back in the kitchen without a word. “Quick, what else do we have sweet that’s not chocolate?” she whispered to Pauline Kramer.

  “Pumpkin cheesecake,” Pauline said and reached in her pastry cooler. She expertly cut two slices and handed them to Heaven who took them and tried Marie again.

  This time Marie sniffed and took a small bite with her fork, nodding her head in appreciation. “I know you think you can help me but we might as well just call up that Bonnie Weber person and have her take my statement.”

  Heaven was excited. So the secretary did it. “Marie, I think you should have a lawyer present. I’m sure Bonnie, Sergeant Weber, would tell you the same thing.”

  Marie looked at Heaven with a puzzled expression. “I can’t imagine why. I was just trying to be helpful.”

  Heaven thought she’d heard wrong. “Well, it’s hard to imagine how downing an airship and killing Oliver Bodden would be exactly helpful, but I’m sure you had your reasons. Did the brothers take you for granted?”

  Marie Whitmer stood up, looking at Heaven strangely, and picked up her purse. “I think I need to talk to my son. He’s an attorney. I will call you later today.”

  “No, Marie. Don’t go,” Heaven practically wailed. ’You can tell me everything.”

  Marie was already opening the door to 39th Street. She never looked back.

  It was too quiet.

  Heaven had come home to change clothes and say hi to Iris. As she fretted about Marie, she’d spilled an entire two-pound sour cream container full of raspberry dressing on her chef’s coat, her tights and her shoes and socks. Even with the extra chef’s coat she had at the restaurant, the rest of her outfit was sticky. She started up the stairs and peeled off the outer layer of clothing, calling out as she went. “Iris? Stuart?”

  When she got to the top of the stairs, she knew she’d made a mistake. The door to Iris’s room was open and she could see her daughter lying in bed, naked and asleep in a tangle of covers. She and Stuart must have come back to the house and made love. Heaven was embarrassed. She should have called before she came home in the middle of the day. She walked softly toward her own room when she heard a cough come from the bathroom.

  When Heaven had redone the living quarters of the bakery, she’d put a rather glamourous bathroom in her suite, and redone the existing bathroom between the two rooms in the hall for Iris. Each woman had a studio or office space, a giant bedroom and their own bathroom. Iris’s just happened to be down the hall a little bit from her bedroom.

  Heaven stopped in front of the door to this bathroom. Something wasn’t quite right. She supposed Stuart was in there and it was certainly none of her business but there it was, smoke coming out from under the door. She tried the door and it opened.

  The scene surprised her. “You asshole,” she hissed.

  Stuart Watts was leaning against the shower, smoking a huge joint. He turned around and smiled at Heaven. “Hello, love. As I remember, you lik
e to toke a bit. Want some?”

  Heaven closed the door to the bathroom behind her and slid down on the floor next to the wall. Her legs were shaking. She breathed in the sweet smell of expensive marijuana. “Please don’t tell me you put my daughter in danger by flying across the ocean with this shit. Please don’t tell me that.”

  “Of course not, love. I got it from my son when I was on the coast. Calm down,” he said and took a big toke.

  Heaven could almost feel the way it was relaxing his muscles, his brain sending signals of well-being to the rest of his body.

  He turned and held out the joint to her. “Come on, love, I know you want to.”

  Heaven got to her feet and opened the bathroom door. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said tiredly.

  She put on clean clothes and left the house as fast as possible. She wouldn’t chance changing her mind.

  “Heaven, that woman finally showed,” Joe said at the pass-through window. “Marie something. Murray said to tell you.” He grabbed three Blu Heaven salads from the window and disappeared.

  Heaven looked around helplessly. It was eight-thirty on a Saturday night and she was on the saute station, along with the lunch chef who was working nights this week. “Brian, I swear to God I will only be gone five minutes or you can come out and pull me back by my hair.”

  “Go,” Brian said and took one of her saute pans full of scallops and moved it nearer to him.

  Heaven, usually happy to see what was going on in the dining room, tried not to look to the left or the right, tried not to make eye contact with customers or employees. Marie Whitmer was standing next to a nice-looking lyoung man in his thirties, short brown hair, sport jacket, serious demeanor. This must be the lawyer son, Heaven thought. She didn’t wait for introductions. “Marie, I’m glad you came back but this is a really bad time. I actually cook in my own restaurant so do you want to eat something at the bar and wait until I can talk or what? Did Bonnie talk to you? I told her about our conversation earlier.” She turned to the son and held out her hand. “Hi, there. I’m Heaven Lee.”