A Clue in the Stew (A Soup Lover's Mystery) (3 page)

Chapter 5

L
UCKY SAT AT
the table by the front window with Jack. The restaurant was quiet. The dinner rush was about to begin. She nibbled on a grilled cheese sandwich to fortify herself for the rest of the evening. Meg had disappeared again, probably hiding out in the office or the closet. The girl hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since her earlier outburst. Lucky couldn’t blame her one bit for the way she was feeling. It was just that Meg’s recent behavior was so uncharacteristic. If Lucky had to name one person who never became ruffled or upset or cranky, who was the sweetest person in the world, it was Meg Findly.

The bell over the door jingled. Lucky sighed. Not even ten minutes for a break. She glanced up. A rather plump fortyish woman with brightly dyed carrot red hair, packed into a flowered dress and wobbling on high heels stood in the doorway. She reached over and grasped the
HELP WANTED
sign from the window. Her sharp eyes darted around the restaurant and finally settled on Jack. She made a beeline for his table and plopped down on a chair next to him, sidling as close as possible.

Jack looked up in surprise.

“
You
must be the man in charge,” she gushed, batting what looked to Lucky to be false eyelashes.

Jack’s eyes opened wide. He sat up straighter in his chair. “Well, not really . . . Lucky here . . .” He trailed off.

The woman shot an appraising glance at Lucky then turned back to Jack. “I always like to deal with the man of the house if you don’t mind.” She smiled widely. A miasma of heavy perfume bathed the surrounding air. “I saw this sign in the window and I thought, my Lord, the angels are watchin’ out for me. I am
meant
to be workin’ here.”

Jack was transfixed by the strange woman. Lucky cleared her throat. There was no way she’d hire this outrageous person. And rude too. After all, this was her restaurant. The woman could at least have had the courtesy to be polite and not ignore her.

“We . . . uh . . . we have several applicants we’re considering . . .”

The woman turned to look at Lucky. In a harsher voice, she said, “I doubt they’d have
my
experience.”

“And that is?” Lucky struggled to keep a disbelieving tone from her voice.

Jack was staring at Lucky, as if to say,
Don’t be so rude.

“I’ve been waitressing most of my life.” The woman shook her head and the red curls wiggled. Bright yellow plastic hoops hung from her ears. They matched her patent leather shoes and purse.

“Really!” Lucky responded. She glanced at the counter where Meg stood, staring furiously, her arms crossed. Lucky backtracked quickly. If she turned this woman away, Meg would never forgive her. “Uh, well, in that case why don’t you come into the office with me and fill out an application if you’re interested in working here.”

“Apply?” The woman’s voice rose two octaves. “Apply? Honey, I’m here. Now.” She turned back to Jack, who still sat staring at the strange woman. A flush had crept up his cheeks. “I’m Nanette,” she smiled coyly. “Nanette Simms.” She wiggled her shoulders, allowing an ample amount of cleavage to show. “I’ve been livin’ in Bournmouth but”—she batted her eyes a few more times—“I’m sure you can tell I’m a Southern Belle . . . originally, that is.” She smiled more seductively this time at Jack. He, in turn, stared at the woman as if he had never seen a live female in his life.

Lucky groaned inwardly.
What a floozy
, she thought. She glanced at Meg once more, aware that Meg had heard every word spoken at the table. There was no choice. She stood. “Why don’t we go into the office and I can take down your information. We usually require a month’s probationary period before a position becomes permanent,” she lied. She glanced quickly at Jack but he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

Nanette wiggled her curls once more. “If you insist, darlin.’” Lucky heard her heels clacking against the floor as the woman followed her down the corridor and into the office.

Chapter 6

“J
ENSEN
R
EALTY,”
E
LEANOR
announced brightly as she picked up the phone.

The voice on the other end of the line introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Audra Klemack. “I’m the publicist for Hilary Stone at Lexington Avenue Publishing. As you might know, Ms. Stone is the author of the bestselling thriller
Murder Comes Calling
.”

“Oh!” Eleanor replied. “Yes, I have certainly heard of her. I’ve spoken with her assistant to arrange the venue for her book signing in Snowflake. In fact, I can’t wait to read her book. What can I do for you?”

“This is somewhat confidential for now, but Ms. Stone is looking for a property to buy in Snowflake. She’s hoping to find a home that’s private and secluded while she works on her next novel. You were recommended to me by your mayor, Elizabeth Dove.”

“Oh, how nice of Elizabeth,” Eleanor said, knowing full well that her realty was the only one in Snowflake. “I’m sure I can show Ms. Stone several properties that she’d be interested in.” Eleanor hoped against hope that the Stone entourage hadn’t heard of the body discovered at the pond earlier this morning.
Oh, how could they?
she thought. The news had spread like wildfire through town in no time at all, but there was no way someone calling from New York could possibly know. Besides, whatever had happened, had happened at the pond, outside of the town proper. It hadn’t actually happened
in
Snowflake.

“That’s terrific,” Audra Klemack replied. “I’m on the road now but I’ll be in town in a few hours. I’d like to see what you have available.”

“Today?” Eleanor barely kept the squeal out of her voice. She wasn’t really sure what state some of the listed properties were in.

“Yes. Ms. Stone is already in town, but I’ll be arriving later this evening. I’m charged with selecting the best of the best for her to look at.”

“I see. Well, can I ask you if there are any special requirements?”

“There are. Ms. Stone, you see, is a rather particular person.” Eleanor groaned inwardly. “The house must have
at least
four bedrooms, a private drive and a wood-burning fireplace, and of course, an up-to-date kitchen with all new appliances.”

“All right.” Eleanor mentally reviewed the listings she had available. “I’m sure I have a few homes that will meet her requirements.”

“Thank you.”

“And please tell Ms. Stone she’ll be very welcome in Snowflake. She has many fans here.”

“Good to hear. This event has been publicized all over the state and beyond, so we expect a very large crowd. Have all the arrangements been taken care of?”

“Oh, my! Yes. Everyone in town is very excited,” Eleanor remarked. “And everything’s been taken care of. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve arranged the use of the meeting hall at the Congregational Church, which should certainly be adequate.”

“Your town doesn’t seem to have a bookstore. And I’ve been told the library is very small?”

“That’s correct. Sadly we can’t boast a bookstore in Snowflake.”

Audra sighed loudly over the connection. “Very well. We’ll just have to make do with the church.

Eleanor wondered if Hilary Stone had the slightest idea just how small their village was. But best not to question their good luck in attracting business.

“Thank you, Ms. . . .” The publicist trailed off.

“Jensen. Eleanor Jensen, but please call me Eleanor.”

“Thank you, Eleanor. I’m looking forward to getting together with you. I’ll call as soon as I reach town. Hilary will be very happy to hear she has local fans.”

“Very good. I’ll see you soon. Please call my office when you arrive. I’m right off Broadway and I’m easy to find.” Eleanor hung the phone up. She sighed and reached for the folders containing flyers for all the available properties for sale. There’d be nothing in the main part of town, but there were two homes in the Lincoln Heights area of Snowflake and a few more closer to the Resort near Ridgeline that were larger. It would be wonderful to make a sale this week, she thought.

She placed the folders in the center of her desk and slipped on a sweater. She checked the clock. Pastor Wilson should be in his office right now. She’d just run over and make sure that everything was clean and ready to go at the meeting hall. She grabbed her purse and locked the office door behind her, hurrying the few blocks to the Village Green and the Congregational Church.

Chapter 7

L
UCKY WAITED PATIENTLY
while Nanette filled out the employment application. She had had to rummage through the file drawer and locate the forms, since no new employees had been hired at the restaurant for a long time. Not since Meg had joined them, right after Janie had started working there.

“Let me find you a pen.”

“Oh, no need. I have my favorite lucky pen right here.” The woman pulled a small ballpoint pen out of her yellow purse. It was topped with a plastic flower in the same color.

“Did you mention you’re staying in Bournmouth? Won’t that be rather a long commute for you?” Lucky asked.

“Oh, ah’m stayin’ with relatives over there but it’s just temporary. As soon as I can, I’ll be looking for a place to stay in town. Can you recommend anything?”

“There are a few small apartment buildings in Snowflake. I don’t know if there are any vacancies, but there’s a very nice building over on Chestnut that you could inquire about.” Lucky wasn’t about to mention a vacancy in her own building around the corner on Maple Street. This woman caused her to grit her teeth. She certainly didn’t want to run into her in her very own building. Sage, their chef, and Sophie, her best friend, who had married last spring, were renting an apartment in the building on Chestnut. If Nanette ended up there, hopefully they would forgive her for recommending it. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was about the woman that annoyed her so. Right now, she had to admit, she was feeling like a judgmental snob and she couldn’t afford to be choosy, not if it meant losing Meg.

“I’d like to make a copy of your driver’s license and identification for our records. And whenever you move, please let me know your new address. As I mentioned, we have a probationary period of thirty days before a hire is considered permanent.”

“That’s fine,” Nanette replied. She signed the form with a flourish and pushed it across the desk to Lucky. “Ah’m afraid I don’t have my big wallet with me today.” She smiled, holding up the tiny yellow purse.

“You don’t have a driver’s license with you?”

“No. But I promise I’ll bring it in as soon as I possibly can. Should I start tomorrow?”

“Uh, well, if you like, you can start today. Meg can show you around and show you where everything you’ll need is stored. How does that sound?” Lucky did her best to put some warmth into her voice. She really hadn’t liked the way this woman had been looking at Jack.

Chapter 8

E
LEANOR TAPPED ON
the door to Pastor Wilson’s office.

“Come in,” the pastor called out.

Eleanor turned the knob and peeked through the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?’

“Oh, hello, Eleanor. Not at all.” Pastor Wilson rose from his chair, knocking several books to the floor. “Don’t mind all this . . .” he said, waving his arm over a desk buried in books and paper. “You’ve saved me from writer’s block with my next sermon. An interruption is gratefully appreciated.”

“I just wanted to make sure everything was set with the church hall for Wednesday evening.”

A confused look passed across the pastor’s face. “The hall?”

A frisson of fear traveled up Eleanor’s spine. “Yes. Don’t you remember? We talked about booking the hall for Hilary Stone’s author event.”

The pastor’s face looked completely blank.

“You do know who Hilary Stone is?” Eleanor demanded.

The pastor furrowed his brow and stared into space for a moment. “Is she one of my parishioners?”

“No.” Eleanor’s heart sank. “She’s a famous writer. We talked about this a few weeks ago. She wrote
Murder Comes Calling
. You’ve heard of that book, I’m sure.”

Pastor Wilson shook his head. “I don’t believe so. What was that title again?
Murder Comes Calling
? What sort of a book is that?”

“A very popular murder mystery.”

“Ah. Well, that’s not my usual reading fare.” The pastor smiled. “And frankly it’s not something I’d want to read, not with the news I heard this morning about a dead woman found up at the pond.” A sorrowful look passed across his face.

“Yes, terrible,” Eleanor replied impatiently.

“But what were you saying about Wednesday night?” The pastor looked at her quizzically.

“I arranged the use of the hall for the event that night with you,” Eleanor replied patiently.

“Wednesday night?” Pastor Wilson squeaked. He looked down and rummaged through a pile of papers for his calendar. “I thought . . .”

Eleanor waited, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.

“I thought that was
next
month.” He continued to shuffle papers around. “Oh, here it is.” He held a small calendar up triumphantly. “Let me just check.”

Eleanor took a deep breath to stay calm.

“Oh, my mistake, I’m afraid. I wrote it down for next month.”

“But . . . I’ve told them they could have the hall for their event.”

“Oh, dear,” the pastor replied.

Eleanor felt an urge to rush across the room and throttle him. She quickly suppressed the thought. Pastor Wilson was one of the kindest people on earth. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not possible,” he replied.

“Why not?” Eleanor’s panic was almost full blown.

“Come. I’ll show you.” He held the door open and indicated Eleanor should follow him.

Eleanor followed the pastor dutifully out of his office and down the long hall to the double doors that gave entrance to the meeting hall. He pushed the doors open and stepped inside. He gestured to the chaos in the large room. Waterproof coverings were laid over the entire floor. The plaster ceiling was stained with large dark spots. A huge scaffold stood in the center of the room, taking up most of the available space, and heavy cloth tarps hung over the tables and benches.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“We’ve had a terrible leak. It’s rained and, of course, with all the snow melt . . .” He trailed off. “We can’t possibly hold any events here right now. The roofers are just starting their repairs. We can’t risk any more water damage.” Pastor Wilson shrugged. “We could certainly use a donation for our coffers, but it’s just not possible until these repairs are finished.”

Eleanor groaned. “This is a disaster.”

“I’m so sorry about the mix-up. Had I realized the event was this month, I would have called you right away.”

“I have no idea what I can tell them. What am I to do?” Eleanor moaned.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” the pastor replied brightly.

Eleanor nodded. Her stomach was in knots. “Never mind then,” she replied. She turned away and left the hall by the side door without another word. She half walked and half stumbled around the building to the Village Green.
This is absolutely dreadful
, she thought. The author and her entourage had arrived early and were already lodged at the Drake House. If she let the Stone group down, they might decamp for the Resort and its large conference rooms. And if the book signing took place at the top of the mountain, the Drake House would lose the business, the town would lose the business and she might lose a sale. If there was going to be a popular event, then Snowflake itself should host it, not that corporate monstrosity at the top of the mountain. A thought occurred to her. The Spoonful! Why hadn’t she thought of the restaurant before? It had a large front room. Glass windows where, even if people were lined up to wait, they could watch the activities inside. That just might solve the problem. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number of the restaurant.