by Laura Quinn
“Sorry, mam, lunch service is over. If you’re really hungry, we still have some lime gelatin left.”
“What? Oh, no, I used to be a student here; my name is Claire Noble. I stopped by to talk about Ruth Fischer.”
“What for?” a truculent woman demanded from the back of the kitchen.
“I thought maybe I would make a version of Ruth’s favorite recipe for dogs. I own the dog bakery in town and…”
“I know who you are,” the older woman said. “My little Poopsie loves your treats.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Claire said. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
“I send my son to get them; can’t stand that snooty town. Don’t know how Ruthie could live there.”
“I wish I could have pets,” the younger lunch lady said. “I’m deathly allergic to them.”
“You’re allergic to everything, Lisa” the other snapped. “If I had a nickel for every time you said you couldn’t make something due to allergies, I’d be rich enough to take my own around-the-world trip like Ruth, God rest her soul.”
“Was she planning to travel?” Claire asked.
“Yes,” Lisa began to answer before being cut off by the other.
“What’s it to you?” the voice growled.
“Just interested,” Claire said. “I knew Ms. Fischer from when I was a student here. I interviewed her for the school paper when she started. In fact, that’s why I’m here today. I offered the article to Principal Blummer, in case he wanted to use it for a memorial.”
The older woman laughed. “That will be the day! It just about killed him to put on that retirement hoopla.”
“Ruth would have been so touched by that ceremony. If only she hadn’t, hadn’t…” Lisa began sobbing, unable to finish her sentence.
“Yes, I’m sure she would have,” Claire said, placing a comforting arm around the young woman’s trembling shoulders.
“Oh, horse-puckey! Ruthie only went along with the charade because she knew how much grief it caused Bummer. She was never what you’d call a fan of the establishment. In fact, I’m surprised she agreed to appear in the school paper.”
“To be honest, I barely had enough to write two short paragraphs. I rounded out the interview with Mabel’s Famous California Rockin’ Raisin Salad recipe.”
The set jaw suddenly erupted in laughter. “You got my aunt to spill her recipe? You must be okay after all.”
“Are you Ellen? I met some of your mother’s friends yesterday, at Golden Oaks Manor. I buy their hand-crafted collars.”
“The Crafty Codgers, they’re a hoot,” Ellen said. “Lisa, get something for Claire to eat. I hid some extra brownies behind those disgusting oat bars, so they wouldn’t disappear like the others. Bring a couple of cartons of milk, too. Chocolate or regular? I hope you’re not one of those calorie-counting zombies who only drinks skim.”
“No, regular is fine, thanks,” Claire said.
“Now, let’s talk turkey. Why are you really here?”
Claire confided that she was investigating the death on a friend’s behalf. Ellen filled in as many details as she could, with Lisa contributing the occasional tear-stained confirmation. By the time she left, Claire was full of information and dessert, which she hoped to walk off with Baron later.
When she returned, Barbara was helping a customer decide on holiday sweaters for her three grand-dogs. Emma and her friend were in the back office cutting stacks of colored paper into bone and pawprint shapes. Baron lay between the girls, playing with his gingerbread puzzle toy.
“Aren’t these adorbs?” Emma showed off the plain and bedazzled varieties to her boss. “We came up with Deck the Walls for the Bark the Halls gala. We’re going to put up green trees on the walls and people can buy these ornaments to decorate the trees.”
Her friend corrected her. “Not buy them, Ems, donate. Otherwise, they would have to pay tax, not to mention compliance issues with 501c codes.”
“See why you need to hire her? Jesi tots has a business mind.”
“Oh, you’re Jesiika,” Claire said. Emma had been not so subtly hinting that her friend be hired for the last two weeks. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jesi handed her the completed form with a resume attached. “I know this is just a seasonal position, but I like to be prepared. After law school, I plan on becoming a venture capitalist, so I can learn a lot from your start-up business.”
“Thank you. I’ll take a moment to review this,” Claire said, though she was already impressed by the bright young woman. She also knew most of what was on the form, as Emma had extolled Jesi’s attributes on many occasions, as well as her favorite artists, musicians, and fashion designers. Claire invited Jesi into the office to print a standard offer letter.
“When can you start?” Claire asked.
“Now,” Jesi answered. “Or as soon as you need me.”
“I definitely need you now,” Claire said. “The hourly and overtime rates are included in the offer, if you’re ready to sign it.”
“I’m not worried about the money; I’m going to donate it anyway. But, what hours will I need to work? Can I request to work with Ems, and maybe Zac?”
Emma stuck her head into the office. “Jes has a thing for my brother, but as disturbing as that is, don’t worry, her judgment is sound otherwise.”
“Shut up, Ems. I just thought I could learn from a variety of employees.”
“Any hours you want to work will be fine with me; we can definitely use the help. I don’t know if I’ll be able to offer a regular position to you, but would you be interested?”
“Yes! Emma told me all about working here, especially all the work you do to help pet rescues, which I tots heart. But, I start a pre-internship in mid-January with my uncle. He’s a Cook County judge now, but everyone knows he’s going to be nominated to be a candidate for the state supreme court soon. So, I don’t think I can work past the holiday. Is that okay?”
“That sounds very admirable,” Claire said. “So, we’ll plan on the next few weeks. We’re open every day through the twenty-third, then the shop will be closed until January fifth. Go ahead and write your name on the schedule board for any hours you want.”
Claire showed her new employee the selection of shirts and aprons, then took her upstairs to fill out the new-hire paperwork. Barbara finished with her indecisive customer and met with Claire to catch her up on the day’s sales.
“I’m sorry I was gone so long,” Claire said. “I had to drop off a second delivery, and got delayed.”
“My psychic powers tell me you were at the high school.” Barbara’s green eyes sparkled mischievously at Claire’s surprised look. She admitted that the teens spotted the distinctive Land Rover in the visitor’s lot. “I’m glad you hired Jesiike, she seems like a very sharp young lady, and we’re going to need extra help with this moonlighting of yours.”
Jesi appeared with the completed forms, rescuing Claire from the hot seat. With the increased staff, Claire insisted Barbara leave a little early, as the next days would be very busy with setup for their largest event of the year.
Emma congratulated her friend and asked Claire what they should work on for the rest of the night. “Should we start on a dough or work on the floor even though there aren’t many customers coming in tonight. Do you think it’s because people are afraid of the murderer next door? Anyway, should I show Jesi around for now?”
“Yes, wait, what?” Claire asked. “What do you mean murderer?”
“Everyone knows Ms. Fischer was probably murdered,” Emma explained. “Kendra’s step-mom’s nanny was picking up Kona beans at Coffee and Tea, Naturally for that Hawaiian brunch she’s hosting for the Junior League. Carrie had the coffee shipped overnight from Maui; you can’t trust the Kona blends you find in other stores. They should call them Fauxna blends.”
“Yeah, they’re terrible,” Jesi agreed. “Some companies have no scruples.”
“Tots,” Emma agreed.
“Like those stores that sell counterfeit designer products. I watched this documentary that said those knockoffs fund sweatshops, drug mafias, and even terrorist activities. Remember when Kelly bought…”
“Emma,” Claire interrupted. “What do Kona beans have to do with Ruth’s death?”
“So, Inga also had to drop off some ugly old statue from Kendra’s grandfather for that contest next door. She filmed the hand-off since the new Mrs. Randolph always blames Inga for everything, so this way she had proof of the delivery, intact. Did you know that intact comes from the Latin intactus, from the verb tangere, which means to touch? I’m so going to ace my ACT.”
“Like you won’t get into Harvard anyway,” Jesi said. “We’re both going to make that crimson hue look gorge.”
“Emma, can we get back to the murderer assumption?”
“Didn’t I say? It was on the video. Inga forgot to stop recording while she was browsing, so you can hear Mrs. Prescott crying after she took in the statue. She left a message for her husband that the police wanted to talk to him. So, obvs, the only thing that it could possibly be is the murder. What else could it be? Nothing ever happens here. Well, except this and those murders last summer. But in toto, nothing happens.”
“Emma told me Mr. Prescott is a psychopath,” Jesi said. “So, I surmise that it seems perfectly rational to entertain the notion of killing a lunch lady without being accused of conjecture.”
Between Sesquatch, vocab test prep and pre-law training, Claire was developing a cephalgia. “As far as I know, Ms. Fischer died of natural causes. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Then why were you at school today?” Emma asked. “Clearly, you’re investigating the case.”
“I was dropping off treats to Dr. Blummer’s assistant,” Claire answered truthfully. “Then, I stopped by the cafeteria to pay my respects.”
“Ms. Fischer started way back when Claire went to NHHS,” Emma explained to Jesi.
“Oh, wow, are you going to retire too?”
Emma interjected, “No, of course not. She’s decades away from being seventy.”
“Let’s just drop this whole topic,” Claire said, trying to regain control. “Jesi, you shadow Emma for now. I’m going to take Baron out for a walk and then I’ll finish up in the kitchen.”
“I’ll teach her everything I know,” Emma promised.
Claire took advantage of the free time and took an extra-long walk with Baron in the balmy forty-degree weather. As she came around the back of the complex, she ran into the coffee shop owner.
“How are you holding up?” Carrie asked.
“It’s been quite a week,” Claire admitted.
“I heard. Please accept my condolences.”
“Oh, I didn’t really know Ms. Fischer that well.”
Carrie shook her head. “I meant for taking on another teenager.”
“Word really does travel fast around here. I just hired her.”
“They were in my shop before Emma’s shift. I heard all about it.”
“Well, I heard all about your special Hawaiian coffee imports,” Claire said.
“The whole town has gone Maui mad! I spent most of the night Sunday sorting and packing orders from the island. It was a good thing Helen gave me a head’s up of her latest promotion. I sourced a large supply of organic Kona beans just in time. Of course, I ordered myself a bottle of Kahlua while I was at it. You should stop by some time for a special cup of coffee.”
“I may need a trough of it before too long,” Claire said. “What time would you like me to stop by to pick up the coffee urns Saturday?”
“I’ll drop them off myself. I need to pick up a few goodies for my brother’s dogs in Colorado. Plus, I want to bid on some of the auction items. I hear Viktor is donating a masterpiece.”
“You’ll have to outbid me and the rest of the town. He showed me the sketches, it’s a perfect replica of our mall made from his secret-recipe gingerbread.”
“Challenge accepted.”
Claire wished her luck and walked back to her shop. With the two teens watching the floor, the baker took the opportunity to catch up on making treats. Although the foot traffic in the store was low that day, the online orders were coming in steadily. As she imprinted a dozen bones for a personalized order, she talked to Baron about what she had learned in the cafeteria.
“Ruth always got what she wanted, that’s what Ellen said. I got the feeling that our humble lunch lady was wealthy in the currency of information. How many times in mysteries do the villains get busted because they ignore the hired help and talk freely in front of them? Was Ruth actually a blackmailer? It would explain a lot, but does that really happen?”
Baron sat up and tilted his head. Claire considered the objection. “Okay, yes, it did happen with the crooked accountant, but he was actually a criminal.” She jumped up when she noticed the two girls were staring at her.
“She talks to Baron a lot. Actually, we all do. He’s a very good listener,” Emma explained to her friend, then turned to tell Claire, “Mrs. Devin is asking for you.”
“Why don’t you two call it a night. I’ll close up tonight,” Claire said. She put on Baron’s leash, so they could go out to greet their friend.
The real estate agent was admiring her reflection in the front window. Her trademark polka-dotted scarf was tucked into a beautiful cranberry swing coat, one that looked just like the one featured in Le Bon’s window display.
“Hi Dottie, how are you? That coat looks amazing on you.”
“Thanks, I can’t stop twirling in it. I’m on cloud nine and thought a little shopping was in order. Simone is working on a traveling wardrobe for me, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“Did you win the lottery?”
“Just about. Kendall accepted an offer on her aunt’s mansion, so I’ll be coming into a very hefty commission.”
“That’s great news, but I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Didn’t you? The property wouldn’t have been put up for sale if you hadn’t proved her aunt was a murderer,” Dottie said. “The new buyer paid the full asking price. He’s from England, so either didn’t hear the story or is intrigued by American drama.”
“Go on, tell. What’s he like?”
“Very distinguished and I think he’s single. Once the deal’s closed, I’ll find out more about that, believe me.”
“What’s he going to do with that huge house by himself?” Claire asked.
“Before you go suspecting anything untoward, he’s very charitable. When he learned that the mansion was used to host philanthropic events, he flew over to see it. Besides, I suspect he won’t be alone very long once word gets out about such an eligible bachelor.”
“When is he moving in?” Claire asked, causing Dottie’s eyebrows to peak. “I’m not interested in a romantic liaison, I assure you.”
“He’s too old for you, anyway,” Dottie said. “He wants to close as soon as possible, so Kendall is going to fly in the day her exhibition is over. She wants to take a few photos of her childhood home before she signs the final documents. Then, a nice warm vacation for me to ring in the new year.”
Dottie’s phone chirped, reminding her of the dinner appointment with a prospective seller. “I took too long in Simone’s shop. I have to run, but I’ll be here for the gala. Ta ta.” She twirled once more before rushing out to her car.
Shortly afterwards, Claire sat in her car, pulling up Ruth’s address on her dashboard GPS. She followed the directions to the private drive of elegant Tudor-style townhomes and parked outside Ruth’s residence.
She set out a new cheesy bone for Baron and explained, “I’m just going to drop this off, ask a question or two, and will be back in ten minutes or less.” She lowered the windows slightly and locked the doors, with the engine and heater running. Baron watched her while licking his treat.
A bough of crime scene tape adorned the door of 103A. Claire shuddered, facing the reality of the situation. Re
ading about murders in mysteries was one thing, but she still wasn’t used to the real thing. She hoped she never would.
She took a guess and walked up to 103B, the neighboring townhouse that sparkled in chaser and icicle lights. The curved gingerbread lane, lined with a kaleidoscope of blow molds, led to a door adorned with a giant candy wreath. Visitors were invited to snip off a sweet with Santa scissors while they waited for the Jingle Bells doorbell to call the owner.
“Who is it,” a voice asked behind the gap in the safety-chained door.
“I’m Claire Noble. I was a friend of Ruth Fischer and I brought some toys for her cats.”
The chain rattled and the door opened to a woman, who in better circumstances might pass for Mrs. Claus. Antique ornaments tinkled as she brushed past evergreen boughs encircling the great room. Santa shadows danced across the vaulted ceiling and behind shelves of collections of Christmas kitsch that lined the crackling fireplace.
“I’m Betty. Come on in, make yourself comfortable. I was just making some hot cocoa; I’ll get a cup for you.”
“That sounds delicious, but I can’t stay; my dog is in the car.”
“Bring him in. I love dogs!”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb the cats. I understand you’ve adopted them.”
“The little darlings are tucked away in the spare bedroom upstairs. With everything they’ve been through in the past few days, I thought it best they feel secure in their own quarters.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll get Baron. He’s very well mannered.”
Claire ran out and returned with her beautiful dog at her side, proudly wearing a splotch of cheese on his chest. She quickly wiped it off on her coat arm.
“Betty, this is Baron.”
“My word, he is adorable! Oh, and kisses too. I wish I had a little something for you.”
“He just had a snack, as you can see from the remnants on his fur. A bowl of water would be great; I forgot to bring it in from the car.”
