A Clue in the Stew (A Soup Lover's Mystery) (2 page)

Chapter 2

A
BREEZE RUFFLED
the surface of the pond, creating a field of sparkling water. The early April day was cool and windy but the stand of trees nearby offered some protection from the chill air. Guy Bessette followed the trail to the edge of the pond. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tommy was keeping pace with him. Guy carried two fishing rods, his well-used one and a smaller one he had purchased for the boy.

Guy smiled to himself and shook his head. Here he was, a single guy, didn’t even have a girlfriend, yet he was playing dad to Tommy Evans. When Tommy’s mother had fallen ill more than a year ago, Tommy had taken to hanging around Guy’s auto shop in the village.
It’s funny
, Guy thought,
I’ve had more fun doing things with Tommy than I ever had when I was a kid myself.

“Hurry up, Tommy. You’ve got the bait, right?”

“Yup,” Tommy replied, his shorter legs moving fast to keep up with Guy’s stride.

“We couldn’t have picked a better day. It’s still cool. Best time of year to catch trout.”

Tommy looked at him dubiously. “You sure we’ll catch something?’

“Well . . .” Guy paused at the water’s edge. “I can’t be sure, but this is perfect weather for brook trout. I’ve caught ’em here before. One time I even got a bass. This is probably our best chance before the water gets too warm.”

“Why’s that?” Tommy asked.

“’Cause brook trout like cold water, maybe around sixty degrees. They go deeper if the water gets too warm.” Guy dropped his backpack on the sandy soil. He had prepared sandwiches and iced tea for their lunch. Tommy’s mother, Karen, looked relieved when Guy had suggested he and Tommy spend Saturday fishing. She was back on her feet now, healthy and getting strong, but Guy suspected she didn’t yet have the energy to keep a young rambunctious boy entertained.

“Pass me that can of worms, will ya?” Guy asked.

“Sure.” Tommy giggled as he looked into the can of squirmy creatures.

“Now, here’s what we do. We put one of these little guys on the end of our hook, like this . . .”

“Can I do that?”

“Okay.” Guy held out the end of the line for Tommy. “It’s all yours. I’ll hold the hook and you can do the bait.”

Tommy reached in and grasped a slippery worm. He hesitated and looked up at Guy. “Does this hurt them?” he asked seriously.

“I never really thought about it.” Guy’s brow furrowed. “I guess it might.”

Tommy let the worm drop back into the can. “Maybe we can use something else?”

Guy sighed. “Well, I have some lures but I didn’t bring ’em today. I’ve always used worms ’cause they’re cheap and they work good.” Tommy still didn’t look convinced. “Tell you what. I understand how you feel. Next time we come out here, I’ll bring my best lures that the fish might like just as much as worms.”

“Okay,” Tommy replied regretfully. “I can do this.” Concentrating, he carefully pushed the hook into the worm. “There,” he grimaced, “I did it.”

“Okay. You did good. Now, we’ll weigh down this line and you stand back a little. You want to swing it out like this.” Guy demonstrated and then reeled in the fishing line. “Now you give it a try.”

Tommy swung his rod and watched as the weight plopped the line into the water. “I didn’t get it out as far as you.”

“That’s all right. You did fine.” Guy eyed the short wooden pier with a rowboat tied to the side. “Tell you what, if we don’t get any nibbles soon, we can move over to the end of the pier and try there.”

“Can we go out in that boat?” Tommy asked hopefully.

“Maybe. We’ll see. The man who rents them isn’t here. And it’s a little early in the season. The other boats are in the boathouse over on the other side of the pond.”

“I’ve never been in a boat before,” Tommy remarked wistfully.

Guy smiled. “Really? Well, it’s high time then. If we can’t do it today, I will definitely take you on a boat ride. You can help me row and we can go out to that little island out there.” Guy nodded in the direction of the small parcel of land covered with trees in the middle of the pond.

“I wanna play pirates when we’re in the boat.” Tommy gazed at the island. “What’s out there anyway?”

“Not much. Just some trees and things.”

“Can we park our boat and walk around?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever gone out to the island?”

“Uh . . .” Guy thought a moment. “No. I don’t think I have. I’ve been in these boats before but I never stopped there. It’ll be a first for me too.”

The man and the boy stood patiently, holding their rods for several minutes. Guy remembered he had brought two small folding chairs, which were still in the back of his car.

“Guy?” Tommy asked.

“Yes?”

“I have to . . . I have to go.”

“Ah. Okay.” Guy nodded. “Tell you what. Reel in your line and we’ll go into the woods a bit. Then I want to go back to the car to get us those two folding chairs.”

“I can go by myself,” Tommy insisted.

“I know you can. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to go into the woods alone. I won’t look. I’ll just stay close. All right?”

“Okay.” Tommy sighed. Guy was beginning to sound just like his mother.

Guy followed the boy into the stand of trees behind them. Tommy took a meandering pathway searching for just the right spot. Finally, he reached a tree trunk that met with his approval and turned, looking over his shoulder at Guy.

“Okay. I’m not looking.” Guy turned his back, waiting for Tommy to give him an all clear. After a minute Guy shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. This was taking a while. Finally, he said, “You done, Tommy?”

“Yup.”

Guy heard the sound of a zipper and then quiet. Then the rustling of leaves. “Hey,” Tommy shouted. “Look what I found!”

Guy turned around. Tommy appeared from behind a bush holding a woman’s shoe, high-heeled and black. Guy reached out and took the shoe from the boy’s hand. “Where did you find this?” he demanded. The shoe looked almost brand new.

“Over there.” Tommy pointed at a spot near a small clearing. “I think it belongs to that lady.”

“Lady?” A chill ran up Guy’s spine. “What lady?”

“Shhh. I think she’s sleeping.”

The hairs on the back of Guy’s neck stood at attention. “Stay right here, Tommy. Don’t move,” he ordered.

Guy stepped slowly into the clearing and turned in a circle, carefully scanning the underbrush. Something colorful caught his eye. A bright splash of color. He walked forward a few steps and pushed back the branches of a thick bush. The woman lay on her side as if asleep. Her eyes were closed. A dark purple mark encircled her neck.

Chapter 3

H
ANK
N
ORTHCROSS SAT
in his favorite armchair, the one he always used when settling in with a good book on a quiet evening. His breathing was shallow. The last thing he’d be able to do right now would be to focus on reading anything. Inwardly he fumed. He had drawn the curtains and locked the front door. When the phone had rung, he knew it was his friend, Barry, calling to see if he was ready to walk down the hill to the Spoonful. He had answered the phone, but only because if he hadn’t, Barry would have become worried and knocked on his door. He couldn’t face Barry or anyone else for that matter. His emotions were in a jumble. He was angry. No, furious was a better way to put it.
How dare she
, he thought. How dare she rip his heart out and ruin the most important thing in his life? And how dare she think she could worm her way back into his good graces? Not a chance in hell! Not if hell froze over. He picked up the newspaper and read the article again. He shook his head.
What colossal nerve the woman had
. Hank flung the newspaper away in disgust and kicked the small table in front of him, sending it careening across the room. He’d show her.

Chapter 4

“W
HO?”
L
UCKY ASKED
, leaning over the counter.

“Hilary Stone,” Elizabeth replied. “Have you heard of her?”

Lucky groaned. “I certainly have. Just this morning. Marjorie was in here talking nonstop about her and her book.” The lunch rush had ended, and Elizabeth Dove, Snowflake’s mayor, had come by for a quick bowl of soup before returning to her office.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Well, I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of her. The woman who called me this morning acted as if I had been banished to the planet Mars for the past year.”

“Who called you? And why? Sure you don’t want half a sandwich or anything?”

“I’m sure, dear. I’m fine.” Elizabeth took a last sip of her cream of asparagus soup. “This is fantastic. Something new from Sage?”

“Yes, his latest invention. I love it too.” Lucky leaned over the counter, “But tell me about your phone call.”

“Well, apparently, Ms. Stone is the hottest thing to hit the publishing world in the past two decades. She’s the author of
Murder Comes Calling
. Her publicist called me from New York last week and acted as if I had been in solitary confinement for not knowing about her or her book. It’s number one on the bestseller list and has been for several months, which, I guess, is quite an achievement.”

“Why did her publicist call you, of all people?”

“The author, now that she’s so famous and popular, has decided to purchase a home in Snowflake. She’s looking for a quiet place to write and avoid her public. Her people at the publishing house want to smooth the way for her and they’ve set up some sort of a book event, book signing for her. I’m sure you’ve seen the ads.”

“I still don’t get why they’d call you,” Lucky replied.

“I don’t either. Maybe because I’m mayor of Snowflake and Hilary Stone is such a big celebrity.” Elizabeth shrugged. “But I referred her to Eleanor Jensen at the realty office. They’ve already been in touch with her for their venue. I don’t know why they just didn’t call her again if the author’s decided to purchase a home. I’m sure Eleanor will be able to show her several properties,” Elizabeth continued. “She and her retinue are all staying at the Drake House rather than the Snowflake Resort. Barbara Drake is thrilled. I know she can use the business now that the ski season is over.”

The bell over the door jingled. Horace Winthorpe, now one of the Spoonful’s regulars, stood on the threshold. “Hey, Horace,” Lucky called out.

Horace held the door open, leading Cicero, his dog, inside. He approached the counter and took a stool next to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth turned to Horace. “I was just telling Lucky about the phone call I received from Hilary Stone’s publicist.”

“Ah, I heard about all that. Imagine a famous writer like that coming to Snowflake.”

“Not just visiting, Horace. She plans to purchase a home here,” Lucky offered.

“Oh. Really? Hmmm. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Lucky passed Horace a hunk of chicken meat wrapped in a napkin for Cicero, who gobbled it instantly.

“I hope it doesn’t bring hordes of fans and followers to our little village.”

“I think that’s why she picked Snowflake,” Elizabeth said. “She wants peace and privacy.”

“Good. Let’s hope that continues,” Horace replied. Retired from teaching, Horace had moved to Snowflake for the very same purpose. Now that he had the time he had always yearned for, he was working steadily on his book about the Revolutionary War years in Vermont. When Lucky’s parents had been killed in a car accident a little over two years before and she wasn’t able to pay the mortgages, Horace arrived in town. He needed a place to live and she was happy to rent her parents’ home to him.

“I should be on my way,” Elizabeth said. “I have to get to a town council meeting.” She smiled at Lucky. “I’ll chat with you soon, dear. Bye, Horace.”

Horace stood as Elizabeth rose. “Good-bye.”

Lucky blew a kiss in Elizabeth’s direction as the older woman left the restaurant. Elizabeth had been her parents’ best friend and had offered so much help when she had first returned to town to take over her parents’ restaurant. Elizabeth had truly become a second mother.

“What can I get you, Horace?”

“What do you have for specials today?” Barry asked.

“We’ve got a fantastic tomato-based Southwestern chicken soup and a cream of asparagus, and Sage also made a chicken and almond soup this morning.”

“That sounds marvelous. I’ll try a bowl of the cream of asparagus.” Horace swiveled on his stool and spotted Jack taking a break at the front table. “Maybe I can talk Jack into a game of chess before he gets busy.” Horace rose from the stool and headed toward the table where Jack sat reading the newspaper.

Lucky finished laying placemats and silverware on the counter as a few more customers arrived and took seats at the tables. Meg, the Spoonful’s young waitress, returned from the kitchen and took their orders. It was shaping up to be a busy day. The bell over the door jingled again and Lucky saw a tall figure and a shorter one on the threshold—Guy Bessette and Tommy Evans. She waved a greeting.

Guy smiled and sat at a counter stool. Tommy hopped up on one next to his friend. “Hey, Lucky. How’s everything?”

“Fine, Guy. What would you like?”

“Well, let’s see”—he glanced at Tommy—“we were up real early this morning. So this is way past lunchtime for us and we’re starving. How about two bowls of the carrot and ginger soup and half sandwiches of chicken salad? How’s that sound, Tommy?”

Tommy nodded eagerly.

“We’ll grab a table, since it’s still quiet.” He turned to Tommy. “You want to set up a game of checkers at the corner table?”

“Sure,” Tommy agreed and slid off his stool, heading to the same corner where Hank and Barry sat every morning.

Guy’s expression became serious. He leaned closer to Lucky. “I had to cancel our fishing plans this morning and call Nate.”

Lucky raised her eyebrows. “Why? What happened?”

Guy sighed. “We got to the pond early. I wanted to take Tommy out for the day, but . . .” Guy glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tommy couldn’t overhear. “See, Tommy found a shoe. Almost new. He came back and told me he saw a woman sleeping in the woods near the pond. Only, she wasn’t sleeping, Lucky. I think she was strangled.”

“Did Tommy see that?” Lucky asked, shocked.

“He did. But I’m not sure he realized what he was seeing at first. I went further in to have a look around. Something about the shoe . . . it looked too new and it wasn’t the kind a woman would be wearing to go hiking around the pond or anything. Thank heavens Tommy didn’t see anything more gruesome.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him we couldn’t fish today. That the woman had been hurt and we had to call Nate at the police station and wait there for him. I took Tommy back to the car and then stepped away to call Nate so Tommy couldn’t hear. He was real disappointed our outing got canceled just as we were getting started.”

“That’s so horrible, Guy. But it sounds like you handled it with minimum trauma. Why should the poor kid have to see something like that? Any idea who the woman is?”

Guy shook his head. “Nope. A total stranger. Never seen her before. Attractive, maybe middle-aged or a little younger. Hard to tell. I didn’t want to take a closer look.”

Lucky shuddered involuntarily. “Maybe Nate will come by later and chat with Jack. He might know more by then.” More customers were arriving. Lucky picked up Guy’s orders from the hatch.

“I’ll take care of it, Lucky,” Guy said, taking the plates from her.

“Thanks, Guy.”

Guy carried the dishes to the corner table to join Tommy, who had already prepared the checkerboard.

Jack placed his newspaper to the side, returning to his seat behind the cash register, and Horace moved across the room to join Guy and Tommy. A few tables had filled but the counter was still unoccupied. As Meg walked by, Lucky signaled to her that she’d give her a hand if needed. Meg nodded curtly in acknowledgment. Lucky had noticed that Meg didn’t seem her normal self today. It was no surprise. Janie, the Spoonful’s other young waitress, had left a few months before to attend college in another town. Since then, Meg had handled all the waitressing duties, with Lucky pitching in as much as she could. Lucky had advertised anonymously in the local paper, the
Snowflake Gazette
, for a replacement for Janie, and the
HELP WANTED
sign was propped in the front window, but so far, she had had no nibbles. Lucky had made sure to replace the sign in the window as soon as Flo Sullivan had gone. Flo, years before, had been an employee when Lucky’s parents ran the Spoonful. Ever since that time, Flo had set her cap at Jack and had made his life a misery. So much so that Jack always made a run for it when he saw Flo approaching. The last thing Jack would be able to handle was Flo resuming her waitressing duties at the restaurant.

Sage, the Spoonful’s chef, was busily lining up orders on the hatch behind the counter. Lucky grabbed the prepared dishes and carried them to the first table. She double-checked the orders and delivered food all around. When she slipped back behind the counter, she heard Meg’s raised voice in the kitchen.

“I didn’t ask for a tomato and chicken. I wanted a tomato and turkey salad,” Meg argued.

Lucky peeked through the hatch. Sage’s eyes were wide at Meg’s outburst. Meg, normally shy and quiet, seemed to be on her last nerve. Her face was red and her glasses had slipped down her nose. Meg had nursed a not very secret long-term crush on Sage. And Sage, always gallant, had treated Meg in a friendly and courteous manner, careful not to encourage her feelings. Since Sage and Sophie had married, Meg had adjusted to the new reality, making her outburst of the moment even more shocking.

“Okay. Okay,” Sage said. “Musta been my mistake. I’ll fix it.”

“Good, glad to hear it,” Meg grumbled. She turned away and pushed through the swinging door, slamming it loudly against the wall. Lucky caught Sage’s eye through the hatch. He shook his head and shrugged, indicating his surprise at Meg’s behavior.

Several more patrons arrived and took seats at the counter. Lucky busied herself filling coffee cups and orders for the next several minutes. When she’d finished, she realized that their customers were looking around, wondering when their food would arrive. Lucky peeked through the hatch. Sage was hard at work in the kitchen and Meg was nowhere to be seen. Lucky grabbed the next few orders and bustled them to the tables that Meg had deserted. When everyone had received their food and the counter was quiet for a moment, she hurried down the corridor and peeked in the small office. It was empty. Where had Meg gone? The only other rooms in the restaurant were the bathroom and the storage closet. Lucky opened the door of the storage closet first. Meg was on a stool, her head on her knees.

“Meg, what’s wrong?” Lucky touched her shoulder.

Meg stood. At her full height, she barely reached Lucky’s shoulder. Meg’s round face was blotchy and flushed. She took a deep breath. “I quit.”

“Whaaat?” Lucky asked in alarm.

“You heard me. I quit. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t handle everything in the front, not without Janie,” she wailed.

“Oh.” Lucky sighed. “I know. It’s tough and you’re right, but please don’t quit. I’ll find someone, I promise.”

“When?”

“Soon. I swear.” Lucky had no idea how she was going to keep her promise, but she’d absolutely have to find a way. The only person who was always asking about openings was Flo and that would be impossible where Jack was concerned. Hiring Flo was out of the question. Not unless she wanted to watch her grandfather have a nervous breakdown.

“I swear. I will, Meg. I’ll hire the next person who inquires.”

“And if nobody asks about the job?” Meg crossed her arms, a sullen look on her face.

“Then I’ll . . . I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. I promise you.”

Meg tossed her head. Her glasses were steamed up from crying. “Three days. That’s my notice. If there isn’t someone else here in three days, I’m leaving.” Meg pushed past Lucky and stomped down the corridor to the front of the restaurant.

Lucky rubbed her temples. She could feel a pounding headache coming on. This was so unlike Meg. She hurried to the front room in Meg’s wake and returned to the counter. She had no idea how she’d be able to find another waitress in the village so soon.