BREWING DEATH
Auntie Clem’s Bakery
P.D. Workman
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Copyright 2018 P.D. Workman
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For true friends
Chapter 1
Erin was surprised to hear the back door opening. Vic, her partner at the bakery, entered the kitchen. The tall, blond girl surveyed the mess the kitchen was in, cookbooks and boxes of herbs and tea strewing the counters and tables and shook her head in mock dismay.
“I leave you alone for the day and come home to the house looking like it was hit by a tornado!” she drawled.
Erin looked at the clock on the wall. “It can’t be that late already!”
“I suppose this means you didn’t make supper.”
Not that they usually had anything fancy for supper. Even on the rare days when one of them took the afternoon or the day off while Bella covered a shift at Auntie Clem’s Bakery, there was usually so much else to do that the evening meal was a frozen dinner or something at one of Bald Eagle Falls’s fine eating establishments. Erin shook her head ruefully.
“I don’t think I even had lunch.”
Vic walked toward the fridge. In the living room, Erin heard a thump as Orange Blossom jumped off of the couch, and by the time Vic had her hand on the handle of the fridge door, he was into the room, meowing chattily at one of his favorite people. Vic looked over at his food dish.
“It doesn’t look like you forgot to feed Blossom, though.”
“How could I? He’d never let me forget that!”
Vic opened the fridge. Orange Blossom wound around her legs, vocalizing loudly. “Oh, is there something in here you would like?” Vic teased him, looking over the shelves.
He would have been happy to stick his head in the opening and climb right up into the fridge, but Vic blocked him with her leg. She found the roast chicken from a couple of nights before and pulled the container out of the fridge. He followed her as she cleared a little space on the counter to set it down.
“Sorry,” Erin apologized, looking around at the mess, “I’ve been cleaning.”
“I think you’ve got it backward. Cleaning is when you put things away.”
Vic cut a little slice of the chicken and put it in Orange Blossom’s dish, and he attacked it with vigor. Erin’s nostrils flared at the smell of the chicken, and her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she had neglected it since breakfast. Used to bakers’ hours, breakfast had been a long time before.
“I wanted to clear some space in the cupboards,” Erin explained. “These things are taking up so much room, there’s nowhere for me to put my own recipe books.”
Vic nibbled at a piece of chicken. “You’re getting rid of all of these?”
“No, not all of them. They’re sorted into groups…” Erin knew that it looked like chaos, but there really was a method to all of the books strewn around. “I’m keeping most of the handwritten ones,” she indicated the hardcover notebooks full of recipes; the same kind of notebooks that her Aunt Clementine had written her journals in, “and a few other classic ones that look really interesting. “I thought Adele might be interested in some of the ones on herbs and remedies, and maybe take some of the teas.”
Vic nodded. While Erin had spent some time helping Clementine back when she was a little girl and the bakery was a tea room, she hadn’t made a dent in the wide variety of teas and herbs that had stocked Clementine’s cupboard. Adele, who lived in the cottage at the other end of Clementine’s wooded property and acted as Erin’s groundskeeper, would put them to better use.
“And the rest of them?” Vic inquired.
“You can take what you want. What’s left over after that… I’m not sure what I’m going to do with. I don’t know whether there is anyone in town who would be interested in them.”
“Maybe you could put some of them on display at the bakery and see if anyone had any interest in them. Or we could hold an auction and get you a new car!”
“There’s nothing wrong with my Challenger,” Erin protested.
“Nothing that a complete overhaul of the engine, transmission, and exhaust system wouldn’t cure,” Vic agreed with a wry smile.
“Do you want to make some sandwiches?” Erin’s stomach was protesting at the smell and sight of the chicken Vic was nibbling away at. “I’ll clear some space…”
“All of these recipe books, and you just want to make sandwiches? Shouldn’t we be making chicken á la king, or chicken fettuccine alfredo, or something more sophisticated than sandwiches?”
“I can’t wait for anything fancy. Just slap some mayo and mustard on some bread and we can have a quick supper.”
“Do you want them on buttermilk biscuits?” Vic suggested. “We had a few left over.”
“That sounds great.” Erin started to gather the books into piles, so they would take up less room, arranging them by the type of recipes they contained. “I can’t believe how fast the time flew by today. I thought I could have this done in an hour, but it’s stretched out to take all day.”
“Did you get anything else on your list done?” Vic rummaged through the fridge to pull out the condiments and a salad. Orange Blossom was done his chicken and was sniffing around the edges of his bowl like he might have missed some. He wandered over to Vic, making inquiries to see whether she would give him anything else. “That’s enough, Blossom, or you’re going to get fat!”
The cat sat back on his haunches, looking offended. He licked his paw and started to wash his face.
“I did some laundry and some other general cleaning up and tidying. Took three bags out to the garbage bin, so I must have gotten something done today.” Erin stopped and surveyed the kitchen, hands on her hips. “It won’t take that long to put these away, into boxes or back in the cupboard. At least I’ll have gained some cupboard space.” She had her own recipe books that she needed a place for, mostly printed on letter-size paper and inserted in clear plastic sleeves in binders. Running a gluten-free bakery that tried to cater to a variety of dietary restrictions, she was always on the prowl for new recipes and techniques, and she couldn’t store all of them in the kitchen and tiny office at the bakery.
She and Vic worked together for a few minutes, Vic getting supper prepared and Erin sorting the books into boxes and putting a few back into the cupboard.
“You didn’t find any journals mixed in with those?” Vic inquired, nodding to the hardcover notebooks.
“No. I was kind of hoping that that missing journal might be in there. But I’m afraid it must be lost or stolen for good.”
“You think Uncle Davis has it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see how he could have gotten his hands on it, but we didn’t have an alarm system yet around the time of the funeral. So, who knows? Maybe.”
“Officer Piper has already searched his house. It wasn’t there.”
“I don’t think Terry could have missed it,” Erin agreed.
Vic helped get the table cleared and
put out the sandwiches and salad.
“Why don’t you wash off the dust and take a break?”
Erin agreed. She was used to being on her feet all day at the bakery, but for some reason, her day of cleaning and sorting out the kitchen had left her feeling more tired and sore than usual. She was happy to get off her feet to enjoy a light supper with Vic.
Erin’s usual routine of sitting with Vic in the living room and making lists before bed to organize the next day’s activities was comforting to her. She liked to get everything down on paper and have some idea of what the shape of the day would be. Of course, she never got everything on her lists done, but she was pretty productive.
Orange Blossom was curled up on Vic’s lap while she read a book, and the brown and white rabbit, Marshmallow, was lying on Erin’s feet.
The next day was Sunday, which meant the ladies’ tea at the bakery, an old tradition Erin had resurrected from when it was a tea room. Tea, cookies, and gossip. Even though Erin wasn’t part of the church community at Bald Eagle Falls, she had come to enjoy the quiet Sunday ritual and the chance to visit with her friends in a more relaxed environment.
“You could take a few of Clementine’s teas to the ladies’ tea,” Vic suggested. “There might be a few adventurous souls willing to try something new.”
“I might do that.” Erin added it to her list of things to take with her to the bakery in the morning.
“Just make sure they’re labeled. None of those bags of unlabeled herbs.”
“I can tell what most of them are, even if they don’t have labels. I can identify any of the teas Clementine used to serve in the tea room.”
“But some of those… I don’t know. They just look dubious to me.”
“I’ll give them to Adele. She can use them or compost them if she doesn’t know what to do with them. Her herbal knowledge is pretty good.”
“As long as no one expects me to drink anything unidentified.”
Erin laughed. “We’re not going to poison you, Vicky! Has Adele ever given you anything that’s hurt you?”
“So far, I’ve been able to avoid drinking anything she has made.”
Erin was almost expecting her to make the sign of the cross to ward off any evil. Adele was a practicing witch, and despite Vic’s acknowledgment that Wicca was just a pagan religion and Adele was not going to work any magic on them, she avoided eating or drinking anything Adele made. Erin had never suffered any ill effects from Adele’s herbal teas, but Vic just couldn’t bring herself to take the chance.
“I think Charley is going to come by for the ladies’ tea tomorrow,” Erin said, changing the subject.
“Really? I thought she said she wasn’t comfortable around ‘all those church ladies.’”
Erin smiled and nodded. “I know. But I think I’ve persuaded her just to give them a chance. If she wants to make friends in Bald Eagle Falls, she’s going to have to socialize somehow.”
“And if she’s going to open up The Bake Shoppe, she’s going to need to know her clientele,” Vic agreed.
Erin’s stomach clenched into a knot. She took a few deep breaths, waiting for it to subside. She knew she should be happy that her newfound half-sister was willing to consider opening up a legitimate business, putting her criminal activities with the Dyson clan behind her. It was just that Erin wasn’t sure how it would impact her business at Auntie Clem’s Bakery. She’d said from the start that she believed the town could sustain two bakeries but, deep down, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was true.
“She won’t be opening up The Bake Shoppe for a while. She’s still fighting over whether she can open it up on her own while Davis is in prison, when they are each only fifty-percent owners once the probate goes through.”
“She’ll be able to open it. It’s more valuable as an operating bakery than sitting there closed up. Uncle Davis really can’t win that argument.”
“I suppose.”
Thinking about Charley and Davis made Erin uneasy. She was happy to have her sister in Bald Eagle Falls so that she could get to know her. But Charley had some pretty rough edges and wasn’t the kind of person that Erin would have associated with normally. And she was determined to prove Davis’s involvement in Trenton’s death and get his half of the inheritance.
Erin added a couple more items to her list, and wiggled her toes, making Marshmallow shift and look up at her. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
Vic lifted Orange Blossom from her lap to cuddle him and kiss the top of his head. “Yeah, me too,” she agreed. “Even though we can sleep in on a Sunday, my body just doesn’t get the message.”
Erin nodded. “See you tomorrow, then. Where’s Willie these days? Working out of town again?”
Vic stood up and put Orange Blossom down. “I don’t know. We decided to take a break for a while.”
Erin stared at her, mouth open. “You decided to take a break? From each other? What happened?”
But even as she said it, Erin knew. Things had not been the same since they had returned to Bald Eagle Falls after rescuing Charley and solving the murder she’d been wrongly accused of.
Vic sighed. Her mouth twisted into a grimace that she tried to hide. “I told him who I was. I didn’t keep that from him. But he didn’t tell me who he was. He knew our families were enemies, and he didn’t tell me.”
Willie had initially had a hard time with Vic being a transgender woman, but had eventually been able to get past it. But he hadn’t told her that he was a Dyson, the clan that had been feuding against Vic’s family, the Jacksons, for generations.
“You told me once that you knew Willie had secrets, but you were willing to wait until he was ready to share them with you.”
“Yeah.” Vic considered. “I guess that’s one that I would have liked to have known up front. Other stuff from his past I could wait for, but he should have told me that. At least given me the chance to decide if I wanted to get involved with someone who’d fought against my family.”
It wasn’t just that Willie had been born a Dyson. Vic probably could have handled that. But he had been a soldier for them for five years, and that wasn’t so easy for her take.
“I’m sorry,” Erin said softly, shaking her head. “You should have told me. I just thought he was off working. I didn’t know the two of you were having trouble.”
“I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’m still not ready. But you’re a friend. You should at least know.”
“Okay.” Erin looked down at her lists instead of staring at Vic and trying to analyze her. “I won’t ask about it. You just let me know when you’re ready.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Vic bent down to give Orange Blossom one last scratch. Marshmallow got up and hopped over to her for a share of the attention, and Vic scratched the base of his long ear.
“All right, babies, time for bed. You guys be quiet for Erin and let her sleep.”
Orange Blossom followed Vic into the kitchen, yowling at her about how hungry he was, but she wasn’t fooled. She went out the back door and across the yard to her apartment over the garage. Erin heard her pause on her way out to arm the burglar alarm. Erin wasn’t sure she felt any more secure with the alarm set, since the last intruder had managed to disable it on entering. But it was just a precaution. There was no one after Erin. Not anymore, thanks to Orange Blossom and Vic’s marksmanship skills. It was a good thing she’d had so much practice shooting gophers and other critters when she was younger.
Erin had expected that Charley would jam out at the last minute and not show up for the ladies’ tea when church let out. She wasn’t an atheist, like Erin. She’d been raised Christian, but had obviously left those beliefs behind when she had left home to work with the Dyson clan, whose views were distinctly opposed to any of the teachings Erin knew of the Christian faith. Even if they went to funerals and to Easter and Christmas services, they really didn’t follow the teachings of Christ as Erin knew them.
But Char
ley showed up. She wasn’t in a dress like most of the church ladies would be, but she wasn’t in blue jeans either. She’d taken the time to find something appropriate, to put her hair, dark like Erin’s, back in a knot behind her neck, and to keep to a natural look with her makeup, just accenting her brown eyes and small mouth.
“I made it,” Charley declared. “I actually got myself out of bed early and got myself all dolled up for your friends.”
Erin couldn’t help looking at the clock on the wall. Early?
“Considering I’m usually going to bed when you’re getting up, that’s early for me,” Charley asserted.
“Yes, it is,” Erin agreed. “You’re here just in time, the others should be arriving soon.”
Mary Lou was the first to arrive. As usual, her short gray hair was perfectly coiffed and her neatly tailored skirt suit looked like it had been made just for her. She smiled and nodded at Charley. “I’m so glad you could make it, Miss Campbell.”
“Oh, no! Just call me Charley. No one calls me Miss Campbell.”
“Have a seat, Mary Lou,” Erin invited, gesturing toward the tables, all ready for the group of women. “How were your services today?”
“Very nice,” Mary Lou said. She chose her usual chair and sat down. She closed her eyes for an instant, looking tired. “Yes, it was a beautiful spring service. I always enjoy a talk that centers around renewal and new life.”
“Good.” Erin waited for Mary Lou to pick out her usual English Breakfast, and then poured the water from the waiting teapot for her.
Mary Lou nodded her thanks and stared off, distant.
“What kind of tea do you like?” Erin asked Charley.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty easy. Just tea. Black, green, I don’t really care.”
Erin considered, mentally cataloging the kinds of tea in the baskets at the middles of the tables. “How about… Earl Grey?” she suggested, pulling one of the yellow packets out.
Charley shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.” She sat down, not right next to Mary Lou, but not off on her own, either. Erin put the teabag in Charley’s cup and poured the water for her.
Brewing Death Page 1
