by Linda Reilly
“Yeah, she’s the head cook. Super nice lady. Worked hard to get where she is. She worked at Pine Hollow for years before she started the job at the high school. She really loves supervising the kitchen, and she’s a great cook, too.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lara saw Jill waving at her. “Hey, I have to run. Nice chatting with you, Jason. Sorry about...the circumstances.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for the fill-up. Oh, hey, wait a minute. Can I ask you something?”
Lara paused. She had zero time for small talk. “Sure. What is it?”
“There’s this cat that’s been hanging around the school for almost a week now. I’ve been sneaking her food from the kitchen, but it’s getting way too cold for her to live outside.”
“She doesn’t have a collar?”
“No. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s a stray. I don’t think she’s feral, though. Every time I feed her, she lets me scratch her under the chin. She knows, now, to go to the back door of the kitchen around lunchtime.” He smiled. “She waits for me. She’s fussy, too. Quite the picky eater.”
Lara fumed. Some idiot probably dumped the cat in the woods behind the school.
“I’d like to catch her and get her to a shelter,” Jason went on. “If I could trap her somehow, would you guys take her in?”
“We would,” Lara said without hesitation. “But first I’d take her to our vet and have her checked out. The vet will also see if she’s microchipped. Are you sure it’s a female?”
“Not really. I call her a ‘she’ because she has a feminine looking face, you know? Plus, she’s a tortie, and they’re usually female. My problem is, I don’t have a pet carrier.”
A crash from the kitchen made Lara jump. “Jason, I have to run. Will you call the shelter later and leave me your number? We’re on Facebook, so we’re easy to find.”
“You bet I will,” he said. “And thanks for listening to me.”
She rushed off and slipped behind the counter, setting down the empty coffeepot.
“Everything’s gone haywire,” Jill said frantically. “Will you see if you can help?”
Lara nodded, then scooted through the swinging door and into the kitchen. Sherry stood between the oven and the stainless-steel worktable, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was red, and her raven-black hair looked as if birds were nesting in it.
Pulling in a calming breath, Lara glanced all around. The worktable was splattered with batter of some sort, along with scattered eggshell remains. A generous blob of something oily—melted butter?—graced the front of the oven. Grimy, unscraped dishes sat in a precarious pile next to the commercial dishwasher. If Lara didn’t know better, she’d have thought a horde of kindergartners had been doing the baking and the cooking. Three overcooked eggs were stuck to the grill; they looked about as appealing as concrete. A pan of fresh-baked muffins rested upside down on the floor, sending the scent of warm chocolate wafting through the kitchen.
“I can’t do this anymore!” Sherry cried, stamping one sneakered foot. “I am not a cook!”
Lara quickly went over, snagged a potholder off the worktable, and turned the chocolate-chip muffins right side up on the counter. “What happened?” she said. “Where’s Daisy?”
“She’s in the bathroom,” Sherry groused. “She’s been in there for fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be doing all the baking and cooking around here, and you know how crappy I am at it!”
“You’re not crappy, you’re overwhelmed,” Lara said in a soothing voice. “How did you drop the muffins?”
Sherry sniffled. “I tried taking them out of the oven with a dish towel instead of a potholder—something Mom told me never to do because I could set myself on fire—and of course I burned myself. When I pulled my hand away, the muffins went flying. Oh, Lara, what are we going to do? I can’t cook, I can’t bake, I can’t sew. How can I possibly get mar—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide, her face like a ripe tomato. She whirled around toward the sink so Lara couldn’t see her.
“Sherry, did you say what I think you said?”
Sherry shook her head. “No. Yes. I mean, no, I don’t know. At this point I don’t know anything.”
Lara went over and turned Sherry around by her arm. She gave her friend a fierce hug, then looked her straight in the eye. “Did David ask you to marry him?”
Sherry nodded, her dark lashes wet with tears. “Yeah, he wants to get engaged for Christmas. And I already know what you’re thinking. It’s too soon. We don’t know each other well enough. Blah blah blah.”
Lara smiled. “Sherry, I’m not thinking anything of the sort. I’m not thinking anything, really. I haven’t had time to process it. The main thing is, what do you want to do?”
Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know, but we can’t talk about it now. If I don’t get moving on these orders”—she waved a hand at the line of slips hanging above the grill—“Mom and I will be out of business for good. And who knows where Mom will be living if—”
The swinging door opened with a snap, and Jill stuck her head in. “The locals are getting restless out there. Should I tell them all to go home? Honestly, Sher, there’s no shame in closing up early.”
Sherry stood stock still, then nodded. “You’re right. Tell them all to go home. In fact, for all I care, you can tell them all to taking a flipping—”
“Wait a minute,” Lara said. She made a time-out sign with her hands. “Sher, is Daisy definitely out of commission for today?”
Her friend nodded. “She’s so afraid the police are going to arrest her that she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s even here. I think she’s going to go home and try to get some rest. She didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Lara’s heart ached for Daisy. She didn’t deserve this. Neither did Sherry.
“Listen, Kayla’s coming in today to help with the cats. I can take a day off from the shelter to help out here today. I’m not that much of a cook, but I can handle the basics.”
“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Jill piped in. “We can choose three or four favorites, and I’ll print out a specials menu for the day. Daisy already made tuna salad this morning. She didn’t get to the chicken salad, but that’s okay. We can do grilled cheese, tuna melts, hot dogs, and maybe one other lunch item.”
“But breakfast won’t be over till eleven,” Sherry whined. She ripped a paper towel off the roll above the sink and blotted her eyes. “What’ll we do till then?”
Jill bit down on her lip. “Lara, can you handle scrambled eggs?”
“That I can do,” Lara said.
“Then let’s offer a breakfast special of scrambled eggs, bacon or sausage, and toast,” Jill suggested. “Our customers won’t perish if they have to do without pancakes and waffles for a day.”
“I like the way you think, Jill,” Lara said. “I’ll keep the coffeepots going so we won’t run out.”
“If it’s okay with you, Sher, I’ll lower the price—just for today, of course.”
Sherry threw up her arms. “Go for it. And...you guys, you’re, like, the best,” she said, then broke into a sob.
“If you cry in my scrambled eggs...” Lara threatened, wielding a spatula at her friend.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re real scary,” Sherry quipped. “Come on, let’s get to work.”
For the rest of the morning, they operated in tandem. Jill whipped up a “specials” menu on Daisy’s aging printer and distributed copies to all the tables. A few patrons grumbled about the lack of pancakes, but no one walked out. By quarter to twelve, they’d successfully served eggs, toast, and bacon to half of Whisker Jog. Every chance she got, Lara scraped and rinsed the dirty dishes and plunked them into the dishwasher. Her feet were getting hot inside her winter boots. She’d be grateful once she could head home and kick them off.
A tap at the s
winging door made Lara look up. Jill walked in, her face pale. Chief Jerry Whitley strode in behind her. He looked distinctly uncomfortable when he held up a sheet of paper. “Uh, Sherry, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we have to execute a search warrant.”
Sherry’s face darkened. “A search warrant? What are you talking about? You are not going to search anything in this kitchen!”
Jerry stepped toward Sherry. It was then that Lara noticed another man standing in the doorway. His expression like granite, the man glanced all around as if trying to figure out where to start.
“I’m afraid we are, Ms. Bowker.” The chief held up the warrant. “We’ll be as tidy and as quick as possible, but we do need access. And we need it now.”
“But how are we supposed to serve lunch?” Sherry squeaked at him.
“Chief, how long do you think you’ll be?” Lara said, hardening her jaw. “We’re already up to our elbows. This is a huge imposition.”
Looking mildly amused, Whitley stared at her. “Do you work here now, Lara?”
“Um, well, no. Not exactly. But I’m working here today to help out in a pinch.”
“Well then, you can help out after we complete our search.”
Sherry staggered slightly. “Lara, this is too much. I can’t take much more.”
Lara moved to stand in front of her friend. “Chief, what is it, exactly, that you’re looking for? Sherry has a right to know.”
Whitley nodded and gave Lara the warrant. “She does. We’re looking for anything that could or did contain shellfish.”
Sherry jerked her head up. “Shellfish?”
Lara saw her friend swallow, and something inside her went icy cold.
“That’s right, Ms. Bowker. Miss Plouffe died from a severe allergic reaction to some form of shellfish. Unfortunately, it appears it was on the cookie she was eating when she expired.”
Chapter 7
“I guess we missed the noon church service today,” Aunt Fran said. She stirred her tea absently, her other hand resting on the black cat snoozing in her lap.
Lara squeezed her aunt’s shoulder and sat down at the kitchen table with her own steaming mug. “With everything that’s been going on, I think we’re allowed one transgression.” She’d hoped to elicit a smile from her aunt, but Aunt Fran only frowned and stared into her teacup.
“So, the coffee shop’s closed for the day?”
“Yup. No way we could keep things going with the police there pawing through everything. At least they wore vinyl gloves,” Lara said soberly. “Anyway, Jill made an announcement to the customers that the coffee shop was closing early.”
“I’m sure that went over big,” her aunt said dryly. Dolce looked up from her lap and blinked, as if to second her pronouncement.
“Believe it or not, most of them were pretty understanding. There were a few grumblings, but everyone left peaceably. We didn’t even have to call out the flying monkeys.”
Aunt Fran didn’t smile. “I still don’t understand. Do the police think the shellfish was on Daisy’s cookie?”
“I’m not sure, Aunt Fran. It sounded that way, but the chief didn’t exactly give us much of an explanation. Miss Plouffe must have been allergic to shellfish, but who would’ve known that?”
“Certainly not Daisy. How ridiculous.”
Munster leaped onto the chair next to Lara’s and rested his chin on the table. He looked sideways at her as if to say, I haven’t eaten in years!
Despite her glum mood, Lara couldn’t help grinning at him. “You looking for more Cat Nips? You’ve already had about twelve today.” She hopped off her chair and fetched some treats for Munster. With her supersonic hearing, Teena heard the crinkling of the cellophane and bounded into the kitchen. She pushed ahead of Munster and clambered halfway up Lara’s leg.
“Arggh.” Lara winced. “Claws, Teena, remember? Those sharp things attached to your paws?” She lifted Teena with one hand and gently set her down. Then she fed the cats each two fish-shaped snacks and stuck the bag back in the fridge.
“Hey.” Kayla Ramirez came into the kitchen, Snowball balanced on her shoulder.
“Hi, Kayla,” Lara said, smiling at their shelter assistant. “Thanks so much for taking over today. With everything that’s been happening, Aunt Fran and I are both kind of frazzled.”
“Don’t mention it,” Kayla said. “You know I’m always glad to help.” She slid her gaze sideways. “Kind of a bummer, huh? What’s happening with the Bowkers?”
Lara sat up straighter in her chair. “Yeah, it is. But—you already heard about it? How?”
With her free hand Kayla pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up. “It’s all over Facebook.” She shoved the phone back in her pocket.
Aunt Fran pushed her chair back sharply. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I need to call Daisy again. This time she has to talk to me, whether she wants to or not. Lara, take Dolce.” She scooped up the little cat and handed her over the table to Lara.
Lara tucked Dolce into her arms. “You mean, you tried calling her before and she wouldn’t talk to you?”
“Exactly,” Aunt Fran said. “If she refuses to talk to me this time, I’m marching right over to her house.”
Kayla and Lara exchanged worried glances. Kayla removed Snowball from her shoulder and set her on the floor. “Mrs. Clarkson, if there’s anything I can—”
A buzzer sounded at the door to the back porch, interrupting her. Kayla made a worried face. “Who could that be? It’s not an adoption day.”
Clutching Dolce to her chest, Lara got up and followed Kayla into the shelter’s meet-and-greet room. The buzzer rang again. A woman’s face was peeking through the window pane. When she spotted Kayla and Lara, she tapped on the window and waved.
Lara opened the door to see Alice Gentry standing on the top step. Outside, in the shelter’s small parking area, a black limo idled next to Kayla’s car.
“Oh my gosh, Ms. Gentry,” Lara said with concern. She set Dolce down, and the cat immediately scooted from the room. “I haven’t had a chance to shovel out there yet. Be careful on the steps.”
Clad in the same burgundy cape she’d worn the day before, Alice Gentry stepped into the meet-and-greet room and peeled off her leather gloves. Hatless today, she stamped her black leather boots on the bristled mat to dislodge any excess snow. Seeing her this close, Lara realized how lovely she was. As a young woman, she must have been a knockout.
“Please call me Alice,” she said. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”
“Not at all,” Lara assured her. “We don’t do adoptions on Sundays, but you’re welcome here any time.” She introduced Kayla, who looked entranced by the woman’s fashionable ensemble.
Alice nodded at Kayla, then looked all around, her gaze coming to rest on the cat-themed runner draped across the wooden table Lara had refinished.
“Wow. I’m impressed. I’m not much of a cat person, but this room is quite adorable, isn’t it?” She nodded at one of the chairs. “May I sit for a moment?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you something warm to drink? Some tea or hot cocoa?”
“No, but thank you for the offer. I can’t stay long.” Alice sat on the nearest chair. She unhooked the top button of her cape and reached inside. From an apparent hidden pocket, she pulled out a legal-sized envelope and gave it to Lara. “Todd wanted to be sure you got this. We’re not sure how long we’re staying in town, so he asked me to deliver it this morning.”
Curious, Lara took the envelope from her. It was unsealed, so she opened the flap and peeked. Inside was a check for a whopping amount, payable to the shelter. “Oh...my Lord, Ms. Gentry. This is so generous!”
“Todd was impressed with you, Lara,” she said, a slight edge to her tone. She covered it quickly with a smile. “Your request to add pet cookies to the annual competit
ion really touched him. He knew it would never fly with the directors, but he wanted to reward you for your ingenuity.”
Ingenuity? There was nothing ingenious about making cookies for cats. It was really Lara’s own personal crusade that inspired the idea.
“Well, please thank him for me,” Lara said, “and I’ll thank him as well.” She was dying to show Kayla the check, but she didn’t want to appear too mercenary. “And assure him that every penny will be spent on the cats, in one way or another.”
“I’m sure it will. Todd actually loves cats, you know. He has two furballs of his own.” She wrinkled her perfectly-shaped nose. “He calls them his little Siamese devils.”
A sudden swirl of fur at Alice’s ankles caught Lara’s eye. It was Blue, and she looked extremely agitated. Lara tried to hide her surprise, but Alice Gentry was sharp. “Are you all right, Lara? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Lara saw Kayla staring at her, probably wondering the same thing. Had her face paled that much?
“I’m fine. I thought I saw a spider, but it was only a shadow.”
Liar.
Alice shuddered. “I hate spiders. If you see one, be sure to kill it. The fewer spiders in the world, the better.”
Kayla frowned and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have litter boxes to attend to. Nice meeting you, Ms. Gentry.” She went off without another word.
Blue had already vanished. Why had Alice Gentry’s presence gotten the Ragdoll cat so riled? Had Blue sensed the woman’s disdain for cats?
“So,” Lara said, “how long will you both be staying in town?”
Alice huffed out a breath. “At this point, I’m not sure. The contest, as you know, got sidelined after what happened yesterday. I’m not even sure why Todd insisted on attending the competition this year. In past years, he’s never shown much interest in it. Oh sure, it’s sponsored by The Bakers Thryce. But so are several other baking contests all over the country. He rarely attends any of those.” She stared at the wall, as if trying to recall something.
