by Laura Quinn
The night was mild and Claire lowered the window for Baron to sniff the neighboring lakeside neighborhood. The Kolbs lived far enough away to allow for plenty of songs to be sung along with the radio during the drive. It felt good to be away from everything, to give her brain a rest. She was sure Baron felt the same way.
Roger Kolb was especially thrilled with the yule logs and boiled beef feasts Claire made for the dogs. He invited her in to see the Celtic-inspired décor being set up for the next day, but Claire knew she had to get back. She accepted a bottle of homebrewed honey mead instead and was surprised at its weight. Roger explained that the extra-thick glass was crafted in Ireland, specifically for the solstice.
When she returned, Jesi told her that Coach Bishop stopped by and asked about a shoe.
“I thought you weren’t seeing him anymore,” Emma said.
“Oh, shoot. I forgot about his stupid shoe,” Claire said. “And for the record, I wasn’t really seeing him.”
“Then why do you have his shoe?” Jesi asked.
“It’s a long story that isn’t very interesting,” Claire said.
“If you say so,” Emma replied. “He said he was going to be at some conference for the rest of the week, so I guess he doesn’t really need it.”
“Okay, thanks. Did I miss anything else?”
Emma handed her a stock of paper. “We got five more orders for personalized bones, even though the website specifically says yesterday was the cutoff. Plus, seven other orders.”
Claire looked through the prints and sighed. Each one contained a paragraph of comments explaining why they needed the bones, and she hated to disappoint them. “I’ll try my best.”
“I told Zac he should take the custom options offline until after the store reopens in January. People don’t read.”
“I’ll do that myself tonight, along with highlighting tomorrow’s deadline for all online orders this year. It’s going to be another long bake night for Baron and me.”
Emma looked at the murder board. “Is Mrs. Parsons-Browne a suspect?”
“Do you know her?”
“No, but I heard she was seeing Mr. Larson, our AP Biology teacher.”
Jesi came into the kitchen to restock after a customer bought all the biscotti. “I heard they did it in the lab,” she said.
“Scott--he’s in our class and I tots don’t know why, because he didn’t even know what contractile cells were until his tutor helped him--said that his friend Peregrine was going to fail Biology if his mom didn’t step in and, you know.”
“Scott is such a liar. Perry graduated two years ago, so why would his mom still be seeing Mr. Larson?” Jesi asked. “Her husband has to travel to D.C. all the time, so she’s probably just lonely.”
“I didn’t say I believed him,” Emma said. “I was telling Claire what the rumors are. Plus, Mr. Browne struck me as the jealous type. He was my model U.N. coach, and was always checking his home monitors. It’s no wonder they rendezvoused at the school.”
As the teens debated whether or not rendezvous was a noun or a verb, Claire wrote a note to call Mrs. Parsons-Browne. This was the best evidence of her theory that Ruth was blackmailing people. Was it a coincidence that she brought the valuable silverware to Donald to pawn?
“She does that a lot when she’s investigating a case, completely zones out,” Emma told her friend. “For a while, I suspected early-onset AD, but that’s not it. Something suddenly sparks an idea and she works out possible scenarios in her head. She does that when she creates recipes too.”
“It’s good that you keep an eye on her, though,” Jesi said. “She’s probably getting close to the age when subtle cognitive complications can occur. Do you think maybe she makes up lyrics when she forgets the actual words?”
“I’m standing right here,” Claire said. She started singing a mashup of made-up lyrics about old age to emphasize the point. “And I didn’t forget that your finals are Thursday and Friday, so you should go home early tonight and start studying.”
“Are you sure?”
“Be here all the earlier next morning,” Claire said using her best Scrooge impression. “Actually, Friday after school, in this case.”
“Thanks, Ebenezer Noble,” Emma said.
“You’ll ace your English Literature test,” Claire predicted. “Good luck to both of you, not that you’ll need it.”
Once the store was empty, Claire looked at the photos of the antique log to get Persephone’s phone number. She introduced herself before sharing the reason for her call. The woman denied the indiscretion and was about to hang up, until Claire offered details from Emma’s account.
“How much do you want?” she snarled.
“What? No, I’m not trying to blackmail you. I suspect that Ruth Fischer was doing that, though. Can you confirm it, off the record?”
“Off the record, yes. I was one of many that greedy witch victimized.”
“Do you know who else was on her list?”
“No, but she made it clear that she was a very experienced observer. It’s no wonder she met an early death, and before you ask, I had nothing to do with that.”
“You think someone killed her?” Claire asked.
“I would have done so myself, if I had the nerve. She seemed to know her victim’s pain spots and delighted in hitting them. The payments were just barely within reach, at least they were, until she raised the demand tenfold. She claimed she was collecting final restitution before her retirement, which was a farce in itself.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was way too young, but scored a full retirement package, so she obviously had something on Dr. Blummer. Mike said she knew secrets about everyone at that school.”
“Really?” Claire remembered how angry the principal was, and he jumped to the suspect list.
“Between the lunch lines and catering the office functions, she must have heard everything, though I still don’t know how she found out about us. Mike thinks she had hidden cameras or spies.”
“Or both,” Claire mused. “Did she blackmail Mike too?”
The phone went silent for a few moments before the woman admitted that he had. “Please don’t tell anyone. She didn’t ask him for money, but he had to constantly perform tests on specimens she brought. One time I almost drank what I thought was apple juice…that’s when he told me.”
“Drug tests?”
“I suppose so. Sometimes it was hair, sometimes a wad of chewing gum; I didn’t want to know what he was testing for or what he found.”
“One last question,” Claire said. “Did Donald demand money from you too?”
“Nobody else knew about it, or at least I thought no one else knew, until you called. Who is Donald, anyway?”
“Donald Prescott, the owner of Prescott Antiques? You sold your silverware to him.”
“Oh, him. No, my friend told me about his discretion in buying family heirlooms. It turns out that he kept the transactions quiet to protect himself; he paid me a tenth of what it was worth, probably sensing I was desperate. The world is better off without both of those parasites.”
Claire thanked Persephone for her candor and promised she wouldn’t say anything to anyone, unless compelled by the police. True to her word, Claire assigned fake names to the two lovers on the murder board.
While she imprinted the five dozen peanut-butter bones with dogs’ names, she considered the stakes for the victims she knew. Persephone seemed believable and, if so, could be eliminated. She had the cash to pay the final extortion. Her teacher-lover violated the school’s code of conduct, but his secret seemed to remain secret, and the stakes seemed relatively low. He could always claim he was helping with the random testing initiative. Principal Blummer might be an ideal candidate, if she only knew what Ruth had on him. She wished she would hear from Keckers soon; the contents of those files would most likely reveal the murderer.
Chapter 20
Wednesday, December 20th
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��You look worse than I feel,” Claire said to the normally ebullient owner of Le Bon Boutique. She was leaving the back of the coffee shop with two large cups marked double-shot espresso.
Simone walked over and pet Baron. She yawned and said, “I was up until three o’clock, making last-minute alterations. Between you and me, I think most of NoHa’s elite are on a holiday binge. Almost every dress needed letting out.”
“You and Tonelli’s Gym are probably the only businesses that will be busy in January.”
“If I survive the New Year’s Eve rush,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you poach Peggy.”
“If I remember correctly, you begged me to take her on full-time,” Claire said. “Besides, I can’t help she prefers my shop, even though she was attacked while working there.”
“That’s a silver lining; she’s never looked happier since someone tried to kill her.”
“She definitely has a revitalized spirit, nearing a--dare I say--joie de vivre state of mind,” Claire said. “She really inspired me, and who knows how many other people. I hear that the self-defense classes have waiting lists due to her courageous action.”
Before leaving, Claire invited Simone to attend her mini-training session that evening.
“I’ve already signed up for the full course at Tonelli’s,” the couturier said. “Until then, I’ll be well-armed with razor-sharp pinking shears.”
Claire wished her friend au revoir and prepared her shop for opening. The racks of cookies she finished around two o’clock that morning were waiting to be decorated and packaged. Before she could begin, Baron barked to announce a customer at the front door.
“It’s still dark outside,” Claire grumbled. She kept Baron in the back and went out to explain that the shop wouldn’t open for two more hours.
“But I’m on my way to the airport and I promised my mom I would bring her Posh Pup treats. She read about your store in the paper,” the man explained. “They don’t have a dog bakery near her in Costa Rica, at least not one that has treats like yours. She used to make her own for Sandy and Blanca, but now that she has Parkinson’s Disease…”
“Come in,” Claire said, surprised at the fact her shop made the international news circuit. “I’ll turn on the lights and you can pick out what you want. Baron can show you his favorites if you like.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” he said. Within ten minutes he filled a basket of toys and goodies. Claire packaged each variety of cookies individually with a printed list of ingredients, should customs have any questions. Before the grateful customer left, another walked in and began shopping. She called a friend to say “See, I told you the Posh Pup was open.”
Claire took a deep breath and opened the store officially. By the time Barbara arrived, the registers showed over a thousand dollars in sales.
“Oh my word,” the manager said. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“There wasn’t time,” Claire said. “Besides, Baron and I managed all right; I knew it would be busy today.”
“How are you and Marti going to manage by yourselves tonight? I should stay.”
With the teens off until after finals, Claire had enlisted her best friend to help. Marti planned to be there for the self-defense class anyway, and gamely volunteered for the next night also. Claire assured her manager that she, Marti and Peggy could manage the shop.
“Besides, you’ve got the military fundraiser party tonight, and I don’t want you to miss any of it,” Claire said. “We’ll be fine.”
Another wave of customers ended the debate. When Peggy arrived, Claire sent Barbara for her lunch break. Later, she and Baron took a walk around the mall. Progress was slow as the furry celebrity attracted larger than usual crowds. While they were stopped in front of the bookstore, Henry waved them inside.
“Could you use an extra set of hands tonight?” the shop owner asked. “My son will be here and, frankly, he’s driving me crazy again. I have to be on the floor helping my VIP customers, and he gets bored.”
Claire remembered the commotion that Dylan caused last time, but she rationalized that he couldn’t get into much trouble packaging cookies. “Doesn’t he have to study? I’m short-handed tonight because of finals.”
“He never has to study. Besides, he’s so far ahead, he could fail these tests and still get straight A’s.”
“How would he feel about packaging orders in the back?”
“Perfect,” Henry said. “I’ll send him over as soon as he gets here.”
Claire shared the good news with Barbara, who warned that the tasks should be very basic to avoid another disaster. “He’s such a smart boy, but he can be a walking catastrophe. Though, I suppose at that age, we were all a bit awkward,” she concluded.
Peggy was less than enthused when she heard the news, promising to keep a close eye on the clumsy teen. After two hours of endless customer questions and orders, however, she was happy to see Dylan.
Claire briefed him on what he needed to do, which mainly involved boxing orders and completing paperwork. She offered him fifteen dollars per hour, but he asked that his wages be donated to one of the pet shelters.
“Are you sure?” Claire asked.
“I don’t need the money; I make plenty from tutoring those jocks, and other things.”
“Okay,” Claire said, impressed with his enterprising spirit. “Tell me which shelter you want and I’ll match your gift.”
“Pick Emma’s favorite,” he said. “And can you mention the donation to her?”
“As much as she’ll appreciate your generosity, you know she’s dating someone, right?”
“For now, but that can’t last forever.”
“Is there something I should know?” Claire asked. She encouraged him by saying she had been a bit worried about what she’s heard and the stretched truth proved effective.
“Some of the football players have a pretty big secret,” Dylan said, flexing his arms in an exaggerated pose. “If you catch my meaning.”
“Steroids?” Claire asked. Dylan responded by nodding, prompting Claire to ask. “But I thought they were tested regularly?”
“That’s how I make the serious money. I ordered special bladder kits online and sell them filled with my clean urine.”
“Them, plural? How many are involved?” Claire asked, but Dylan would tell no more.
“And I’ll deny everything if you tell anyone…at least until I’ve saved up enough money.”
“Their lives could be in danger; there’s a reason steroids are illegal.”
“I’ve studied the science and monitor their symptoms. When Sticks double-dosed, I saw the signs right away and made him quit,” Dylan said, demonstrating a trace of his father’s integrity. “The others are safe for a few more months of doses.”
“It couldn’t hurt to drop an anonymous tip,” Claire said.
Dylan’s demeanor suddenly changed. “You could be hurt. More is riding on this than it’s safe to know. If the coach ever found out, there would be hell to pay.”
Claire studied the young man for a moment, trying to discern whether he was protecting his income source or if he believed what he said. She pushed for more information. “Sure, scholarships would be lost, but if they weren’t earned legitimately, then they should be rescinded.”
“Take my word on this, stay out of it. I never should have said anything, you took advantage of my feelings for Emma.” He backed into a tower of cookie tins, knocking them down in a deafening clatter.
Claire helped pick up the scattered lids and bottoms. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Coach Bishop is very astute; I’m sure it will come out soon enough. But, if for some reason it doesn’t, we’ll have a talk about what to do next.”
Before she could get a commitment from Dylan, Marti called for help at the registers so Peggy could take a break. Dylan looked relieved that his secret was safe, for a while longer at least, and continued processing the orders on the table.
The three women split
their time between helping the in-store and online customers, while Dylan did an admirable job of boxing the orders and preparing the shipping labels. By the end of the night, all the orders were complete and Claire updated the website to advise all future orders would not be fulfilled until mid-January. She made an online donation in Dylan’s name and gave a printed copy to him as proof of his good deed. After he left, Claire left a vmail for Tyler, asking if he knew who a player named Sticks was.
Miche arrived after the store closed and played a safety video for Peggy, Marti and Claire to watch. The trainer replayed the portion that illustrated the attacker’s vulnerable points: the eyes, nose, throat Solar plexus, groin and knee, then demonstrated basic defense moves on a rubber mannequin. Peggy stepped up to show how she saved herself from the deranged reindeer. Afterwards, the women practiced key gouges to the eyes; heel palm and elbow strikes to the nose and throat; escapes from a bear-hug attack, trapped hands and a headlock; and groin kicks. Before she left, Miche encouraged them to always be aware of their surroundings and how to improvise weapons.
The thirty-minute session was as exhausting as it was liberating, and Claire was tempted to call off the late baking night. The empty treat bins convinced her that it wasn’t a good idea. Peggy volunteered to stay to help, worried that Marti’s assistance in the kitchen would bring the fire department back. The attorney kept remarkably calm as she suggested the young lady go home and rest.
Bob arrived shortly after, with two bags of takeout from the Burger Baron. Recognizing his favorite restaurant’s food, Baron rose from his post-work coma and enjoyed his special order. Once the food was dished out and wine was poured, the Mystery Mavens convened. Claire explained the updates to the board.
