by Laura Quinn
Chapter 14
Thursday, December 14th
“Run, Run Rudolph” played on the radio as Claire raced to her shop. She realized this pattern was happening far too frequently, and during her busiest season. Vowing to get more sleep, she called Carrie to order a large High-Octane Holiday coffee and two energy bars. Further proof that the Donald drama had to be shelved came when Barbara welcomed her with a list of treats needed, along with a reminder of Lana’s latest order.
As the caffeine pumped through Claire’s body, she gathered the ingredients for the gingerbread, sugarless sugar cookie and snickerpoochie doughs. While the honey, eggs and vegetable oil emulsified, she answered a surprise call came from Ed.
“I have to supervise an open study period,” he explained. “Fortunately, they don’t pay any attention to me. They’re wearing earbuds, busy texting and God only knows what else. I’ve been worried about you. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, but I’m concerned about Delilah,” Claire confided.
“From what I hear, she’ll probably get a light sentence. Her husband doesn’t seem to have been a very sympathetic character.”
“No, he wasn’t, but still…”
“Claire, I know you want to help, but I think you should sit this one out.”
“You didn’t see her. She’s a shadow of herself, barely eating or sleeping. It couldn’t hurt to do a little checking around, to settle my mind.”
“Didn’t you ever hear the expression ‘let sleeping dogs lie?’” he asked. “I have a bad feeling about this. You don’t really know her at all.”
“That’s true, but....”
“I’m glad you agree. It’s best that this whole business be put behind all of us. It’s the holidays, after all.”
“You’re probably right,” Claire said, crossing her fingers.
“That’s the spirit. Now, how about dinner tonight?”
“Woof,” Baron commanded.
“What is it, Baron?” Claire inquired. “I better go. He must see someone in the parking lot he knows.”
“What time should I pick you up?”
“Rain check? I have to finish a huge order for pickup tomorrow morning.”
Claire hung up, but before she could stand, Baron jumped up, resting half his body across her lap.
“I’ll bet you need attention, don’t you?” Claire said, cuddling him. “I’m sorry things have been crazier than usual lately. I’ll ask Auntie Marti to bring Clarence and Darrow for a play date soon. How’s that?”
Baron wagged his tail and took his position on his kitchen bed while Claire baked. She rolled out the gingerbread dough and carefully cut out dozens of house sides and roofs. This part was critical, as uneven walls would cause the gingerbread doghouse to collapse. Putting the base pieces in the oven, she then cut out ornamental trim, trees, and dogs, then repeated the process several times.
Once the cookie pieces were completely cooled, she began the intricate process of putting them together with thin strips of melted yogurt discs. Setting them aside to dry, she drew out designs she would incorporate later to make each doghouse unique and worthy of substantial bids.
Barbara helped form the snickerpoochie balls and rolled them in the mock cinnamon-sugar topping until the next customer arrived. Claire then pressed down on each with her grandmother’s snowflake stamp and put the trays into the oven. Lastly, she cut out holiday shapes from the chilled sugarless sugar dough. She pulled out the Chamber of Commerce’s checklist and checked off everything she promised. With the bags packed, she announced her departure to Barbara.
Before Claire could leave, Lana swooped into the shop. “Claire, dahling, how arrrrre you?” she trilled.
Claire gasped. “I, I’m fine, but, I thought you were picking up your order tomorrow. They’re not decorated yet.”
“You poor dear, of course, that’s tomorrow,” Lana assured. “I stopped by to apologize for being so short yesterday. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but the police brought me in for questioning. It was quite unsettling, the whole affair.”
“What?” Claire tried not to gasp. “I mean, that’s awful. Do you want to talk about it? I just made a pot of holiday spice tea.”
“Do you have anything stronger?”
“How about some Irish coffee? My grandfather’s recipe, guaranteed to cure what ails you.”
“I’ll have a venti, please.”
Baron entertained Lana while Claire mixed up the coffee, Irish whiskey, brown sugar, and heavy cream. The hostess brought out two cups and a tray of cookies to the café table next to bark park. Baron entered the gated area, knowing half the treats on offer were for him.
“The cookies on the right are for us. The landlord dropped them off, along with notice of the new year’s rent increase.”
“I would be happy enough to eat the dogs’ cookies; I could do without the extra sugar. All these balls are playing havoc with my diet.”
Claire eyed the ever-svelte figure, “Lana, you look like a fashion model.”
“You’re too kind. My trainer has been working overtime with me since I received the Alexander McQueen confection for the New Year’s Bash. Obviously, I was much thinner when he measured me in August, as I practically burst the seams when I tried it on last week.”
“Well, everyone puts on a little weight as the cooler weather sets in. It’s the inevitable transition from eating salads and exercising outdoors to craving comfort foods and wrapping yourself in a blanket for marathon TV sessions,” Claire said. “I’m sure I wouldn’t fit into anything based on my summer body. Too bad you couldn’t have had a winter fitting.”
Lana laughed, then covered her mouth. “Oh, Claire, dear. Haute couture can’t be rushed. Only because I’m such a good customer did he agree to take such a late commission as it was.”
“Oh,” Claire said. “My biggest fashion worry is if the dress I like will still be available in my size when it goes on clearance.”
Lana laughed heartily, nearly snorting, and drank a long gulp of Irish Coffee. “You are too much! To hell with my diet, Monique is a wizard with seams.” She helped herself to two of the chocolate-dipped mocha biscotti and a pizzelle, licking the powdered sugar that clung to her finger.
Claire was relieved to see Lana smiling again, though she did worry that the whiskey was over-poured. Baron added his charm, wagging his tail and licking his favorite customer’s hand. Naturally, treats followed.
“You always make me feel so much better,” Lana declared. “As I said, this whole business has been quite troubling. I know I can trust you not to say anything, though I suppose it is a moot point now that they have their prime suspect. You know they suspect his wife, don’t you? Poor creature, I can’t say I blame her.”
I did hear some talk about a new development,” Claire obfuscated. “I didn’t know they had released that information to the media yet. Of course, I’ve had my head in the oven most of the day today.”
“I don’t remember how I heard, but I was relieved to hear it. Officer Vert, not even the chief mind you, took me into one of those dirty little rooms at the back of the police department. To think of the money our village collects, and yet, the room has an off-kilt table and folding chairs.”
“I suppose they want suspects to be uncomfortable,” Claire suggested, immediately regretting her choice of words. “Not to say you were a suspect of course. They must use the room for many different purposes, and…”
“No, you’re absolutely correct. I was, and I hope it is accurate to use the past tense now, a suspect.”
“That’s preposterous!”
“I have to admit, it was amusing, at first. Being considered a possible criminal makes quite a change to the slew of dull conversations I’ve been subjected to this season. The novelty wore off rather quickly, however.”
The jingling bell of the door stopped Lana’s stories and announced the arrival of one of Claire’s regulars.
“This will only take a minute,” Clai
re advised. “I finally got Barbara to take a lunch break.”
“Take your time. I have a few more things to shop for,” Lana said. Though wearing sky-high heels and a figure-hugging wool skirt, she darted around the shop like a gazelle. Her basket was soon filled with Swarovski crystal collars, pink and blue bone-shaped toys made of organic cotton, talking Santa and dreidel plush toys, and holiday-themed ribbon collars. For her own pampered pets, she chose a variety of cookies, cupcakes, ice creams, and entrees.
Meanwhile, Claire pulled Mr. Benjamin’s bag of pre-ordered meals from the refrigerator. “I included a sample of the chicken liver chili for Scout. Let me know how he likes it.”
“I’m sure he’ll love it, like everything else,” the widowed customer said. “I was so worried about him after his surgery, he wouldn’t eat anything. I’m grateful my neighbor told me about you.”
“If he’s feeling up to it, be sure to bring him in for our Santa photos. We’ll have food and fun for furry and non-furry guests alike.”
“We may just do that,” Mr. Benjamin said. “We have some holiday shopping to do for his neighborhood friends.” He tipped his hat to Lana and pet Baron on his way out.
Claire prepared another loaded coffee, with a much more conservative pour of whiskey.
“I shouldn’t,” Lana protested as she took the refilled cup to her lips. “I’m taking up too much of your time and you’re so busy…especially with my order.”
“Don’t worry, I promise it will be ready on time. Besides, it’s nice to take a break. I’ve been baking all day, with the exception of dealing with a salesperson offering carpet cleaning service.”
“He didn’t notice you don’t have carpeting?”
“When I pointed that out, he offered a discount. Apparently, my welcome mat could use the weekly services of his state-of-the-art steam-cleaner.”
“You are so always so patient with morons. That overstuffed blowhard next door set me off instantly, and you put up with him for months. That’s what got me into trouble, of course. Someone, probably his wife, told the police I threatened him. As if I would actually do anything to the twerp,” Lana said, drinking several gulps of the steaming beverage. “I never told you, but I finally cornered him about my necklace. As soon as I walked in the door with that cheap copy of my necklace, his color drained. He tried making up feeble excuses as to how the mix-up may have happened, but he could see I wasn’t having it. When bribing me didn’t work, he actually accused me of setting him up by bringing in the fake pearls originally.”
“He didn’t,” Claire gasped.
“It didn’t end there. He actually tried to blackmail me so he wouldn’t go to the police, thereby ruining my good name and embarrassing me in front of all the society snobs. The entire time, he had his fat finger hovering over the 911 number preprogrammed on the phone. Of course, I told him to go ahead and call so he could be arrested.”
“Something tells me he didn’t choose that option,” Claire said as Lana finished her drink.
“If only I had called the police then and there, I’m sure the matter would have ended. As much as I wanted to see the toad arrested, I wanted my necklace back more. It meant so much to me emotionally,” Lana explained. “I thought if I had my attorney contact him, he would be more likely to return my property. Of course, he never did. Then, he had the nerve to be murdered before I could do the job myself,” Lana laughed. “Figuratively, of course.”
“I hardly see how the police could see you as a suspect. You were a victim.”
“Unfortunately, I decided to punctuate my threat by throwing a brass doorstop in his direction. It shattered a fake Ming vase next to him, and I yelled that if I didn’t get my necklace back, it would be his head that shattered next time. On my way out, I left a check for five hundred dollars to cover the damage, well over the twenty-odd dollars the piece was worth.”
“He seemed to have a talent for bringing out the worst in people,” Claire said. “Tallulah will probably have to close up or sell the business for Delilah, so maybe your necklace will turn up after all.”
“Ever the optimist,” Lila said, standing up. “I’ve come to terms with losing it. I suppose knowing he can’t profit from it, or maybe that karma settled the score, helped. Is that too terrible?”
“Quite fitting, I would say.”
“Well, I really must be going, or you’ll never get to those showpieces. Here’s a little something for you and Barbara to treat yourselves for breakfast tomorrow, and Baron of course.”
Claire tried to return the one-hundred-dollar bill, but Lana just smiled and walked out to her waiting car. Claire handed the bill to Barbara instead, asking her to split it between the staff. Then, the baker raced to the chamber office with her Winter fest contributions, hoping to avoid Mike.
Claire returned to find Barbara in the midst of a rush, and hurried behind the counter. For the next hour, she bagged orders and answering questions about how long treats would last, lists of ingredients, and requests for recommendations for grand-dogs, poodles with wheat allergies and bored cats. Looking at the decimated bins, Claire knew she was in for a long night of baking.
When Zac arrived, Claire was able to finish constructing and decorating the gingerbread doghouses, decorating the sugarless sugars, and assembling baskets for the gala. Barbara helped between customers, until Claire chased her out, insisting she was working too hard
Emma texted Claire, telling her she had to help Mandy with an emergency, but would be in as soon as she could. Claire pulled Zac to the side to ask about Emma and her friend.
“They’re fine,” Zac said. “It’s Amanda’s boyfriend. He got into some big beef with someone in his chemistry class. Campus security took both away, even though it was obvious who the aggressor was.”
Claire wanted to hear more, but a customer came through the door. Later, Zac was focused on the 1968 Dodge Dart that Keckers was selling, and how he had to convince his parents of its value. Claire asked how the tech genius was doing, learning he was flying to Fiji for a holiday cruise on the family yacht.
As Zac rattled on about the car, Claire cut out hundreds of snowman shapes with the copper multi-cutter. The repeated stamping action caused her to zone out, thinking about Donald’s murder. The crime scene tape had been removed from the antique store, and the warrant not served yet, so it seemed a good time to explore. When she put the trays into the oven, she told Zac she had to run next door.
“I just want to make sure everything is secured,” she said.
“You mean you want to snoop.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Good thing it’s really slow tonight, though that means it’s going to be hella crazy tomorrow,” Zac said. “Darned that Emma, now she has me saying it.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back. If you need me, just call.”
Claire let herself into the back door with her key, feeling as uneasy as if robbing a grave. She assured herself she was there to help, though it didn’t calm her nerves. She tried to emulate her favorite fictional detectives, detaching emotions and scouring the shop for clues.
Beginning at the window, she inspected all the Top Tat winners, cringing at the extreme display of kitsch. A green reindeer wearing a Packer jersey held red tapers in its antler candelabra was bad, but not the worst. She continued through the space, finding ugly winners interspersed among the tasteful antiques the shop typically showcased.
Finding nothing out of order, she moved to the checkout counter. Her stomach lurched as she walked towards the spot indelibly stained by Donald’s ebbing lifeforce. It’s helping Delila, she steeled herself. The old-fashioned mail slots that propped up the counter was filled with its usual contents, assorted bags, tissue for wrapping, ribbon, their calling card, handbook for the register and log to record sales and intake of new items. She noticed a large chunk of textured brown ceramic wedged behind the credit-card reader. Fearing it belonged to a repair, Claire put it in an envelope and propped it on the counter wit
h a note.
Claire grabbed the log, hoping it might reveal some secrets. She left another note on the counter, advising she had the book in case anyone needed it. Without Donald to value items, Claire wondered if Lila would hire someone to handle the purchase of items, or if she would listen to her sister and sell the lot. She hurried out of the store and locked the door behind her.
The scent of cinnamon and cloves greeted the baker, an indication that the cookies were just about ready. Although she had fancy digital timers, Claire followed her grandmother’s wisdom of knowing when something was done when you smelled it. Zac was waxing lyrical the benefits of a raw diet to a particularly attractive customer wearing a Ramones hoodie, shredded jeans, and oxblood Doc Marten boots. She hoped this meant he was recovering from the Kara friendzone devastation.
Claire pulled out the snowmen, perfectly browned around the edge, and replaced them with tins of cupcake batter. While the cookies cooled, she took a moment to survey the borrowed log. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. There were three sections, one for purchases from vendors, one for purchases from private parties, and one for consignments. Each entry was neatly printed by Delilah, including the customer’s name, description of the item, assigned sku number, acquisition date, cost, sale date, sale price and notes. The exception was the page from December 2nd, which was typed. Curious, she pressed down the pages to reveal remnants of a page torn from the binding.
“I knew he was hiding something,” Claire said aloud. The ledger should have shown Ruth’s entry and Lana’s necklace repair, but it didn’t. Claire picked up her phone to tell Marti about the discovery, but put it down when the front door jangled.
Eduardo, the adoptive father to the Basset brood, ran in for his weekly ice cream pickup. “Just made it,” he gasped as he selected the twenty-four cups of ice cream for his furry trio.
“You don’t have to rush,” Claire said. “I’ll always stay open late for you.”
“Claire, I love you. If it weren’t for Richard, I would marry you. Those hounds won’t let me in the door without these. They know when the supply is low, and if it isn’t restocked immediately, they’ll howl all night.”
