Breach of Crust: A Charmed Pie Shoppe Mystery (5 page)

Mothers and daughters
, she thought.
That’s what the Camellia Club’s members are. And yet Bea replaced her daughter like she was a pair of shoes that had become too
scuffed to wear in public. Had someone else come to the conclusion that Bea was worn out? That she was in need of replacing?

Because Ella Mae didn’t think Bea’s death was an accident, she decided to learn more about the Camellias before spending a week with them. After all, one of the women might very well be a murderer.

“Do you have a club directory?” Ella Mae asked Julia. “Something that includes names and faces? I’d like to familiarize myself with your members prior to the retreat. And I’d love to know more about the club’s history. Bea gave me a brief introduction, but I’m interested in how it was founded, the membership requirements, and the various events you host.”

Julia laughed loudly. “I’d have to send you a box of files to cover all that information, but I think it’s wonderful that you want to get to know us before we arrive! I’ll include a directory with your contract. Not everyone will have a photograph, however. We had several absences the day of the photo shoot, but we’ll be redoing the directory after the August election, so those spots won’t be blank for long. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble figuring out who the ladies with the missing pictures are. I think there were only three or four.”

Eager to end the call, Ella Mae thanked Julia and hung up.

That night, she stood in the library at Partridge Hill and stared at the whiteboard she and Suzy were using to trace the magical objects that Ella Mae had once believed were only the stuff of legend.

On one side of the board were the names of the men and women who were credited as being the most notable owners of the objects. There were headings such as “Aaron and the Rod,” “Hatshepsut and the Book of Thoth,” “Jason and the Golden Fleece,” “Bran the Blessed and the Cauldron,” “Roland and the Oliphant Horn,” and “Bragi and the Harp.”

“Biblical, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Japanese, Indian, Norse, Celtic,” Ella Mae murmured, her glance traveling from the board to the piles of splayed books on the table and sofa. Two card tables had been erected to hold the additional tomes Suzy had brought in, and a stack of delicate scrolls had been collected in a large basket near the floor lamp.

“It’s pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?” Suzy said, entering the room with a jug of milk in one hand and two glasses in the other. Chewy trotted after her, his tail wagging furiously. Suzy put her burdens on the table and pulled a rawhide chew stick and two chocolate bars from her back pocket. She gave Chewy his treat and passed the chocolate bars under her nose, inhaling deeply. “Ready for another night of research?”

“We’re not making much progress,” Ella Mae said, unable to hide her frustration. “What made the Elders believe I could find these things? People have been searching for them for
centuries
without success.” She gestured at the table before her. “Every book we read or scroll we unfurl is filled with contradictory information. What we need is a magical Indiana Jones–type person. Why did the Elders enlist
me
? I’m a pastry chef!”

Dropping the chocolate bars on top of a legal pad filled with notes, Suzy swiveled her laptop screen so that it faced Ella Mae and pointed at the e-mail icon on her screen. “This is why. Because I received over two hundred new messages from all over the world. And that’s just today. These people are reaching out to you because you’re a household name.” She held up her hand. “And don’t give me that crap about your not being one of us anymore. It’s not like you can forget what you’ve seen, heard, and experienced. I still believe that magic lives inside you. It’s just dormant or something. But that’s neither here nor there. What matters is that people want to help you. Scholars. Archaeologists. Scientists. And a few crazies too.”

Ella Mae laughed and reached for a chocolate bar. “All right, my pity party’s over. What are we focusing on tonight?”

“Symbols. You’ll be tracking Greek objects by studying their symbols while I focus on the Celtic ones.” Suzy snapped off a square of chocolate and popped it in her mouth. “The theory I’m working on is that, over time, these objects have migrated from the places where they were created. I think they were handed down from one guardian to the next. Either that, or they’ve been hidden—buried, probably—beneath a symbol that represents them, but not too clearly.”

“So the symbol would be like a road sign where all the letters are scrambled,” Ella Mae said.

Suzy nodded. “Yes, but not letters. Pictures. Shapes. Take the Book of Thoth, for example. Thoth was an Egyptian god with an ibis head. An ibis looks like a crane. For a long time, treasure hunters searched in tombs by digging behind walls showing hieroglyphs of either Thoth or the ibis, but as time passed, they started looking in other parts of the world, thinking that the book had been secreted out of Egypt. The crane is an important symbol in Asian mythology too.”

“But King Arthur’s sword never left Great Britain,” Ella Mae argued.

“That’s true,” Suzy agreed. “When Arthur no longer needed it, it was returned to the women charged with guarding it. The priestesses of Avonlea. Learning the real story of that sword has made me approach this research differently. I think the guardians are the key. Who’s responsible for each object? Because whenever a magical woman is supposed to keep an object safe, she usually sacrifices everything to do so. And when she is no longer able to fulfill her duty, she passes the job to her descendants.”

Ella Mae flipped through the top book on the pile Suzy had given her. “Medea. Circe. Cassandra. Dido.” She looked
at her friend and smiled. “At least I won’t be bored reading about these women. They led colorful lives.”

“You know what Mae West said.” Suzy poured Ella Mae a glass of milk. “‘Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere.’”

“I hope these bad girls left me a clue.” Ella Mae raised her glass and knocked rims with Suzy. “Because even bad girls can keep a secret.”

Suzy screwed up her lips. “Are you thinking of Loralyn?”

Ella Mae nodded. “If Opal wasn’t sick, I wouldn’t go out of my way to locate her daughter. I’m pretty confident that Loralyn will return to Havenwood of her own volition—driven here by revenge. She hates me now more than ever.” Ella Mae studied an image of Medea casting a spell with her magical staff. “But she won’t just march into town and shoot me. She’ll want me to suffer as she’s suffered. Which means that she’s out there plotting and scheming. She probably married a millionaire on his deathbed and is using his funds to finance her own search for an object of power. And if she finds one, she won’t heal her mother with it. She’ll free her father from prison and watch him set Havenwood on fire. When every building is ablaze, she’ll come for me and the people I love.”

Suzy passed her hands over her face. “Good Lord, Ella Mae! If that’s what you really believe, we need more help, and we need it now!”

Chewy, who’d finished his treat, sat up on his haunches and whined, alarmed by the shrill note in Suzy’s voice. Ella Mae got down on the floor with him and caressed his fur. She continued to stroke him as she spoke to Suzy.

“Who would want to devote hours upon hours to poring over musty tomes and ancient documents?” she asked. “Who’s willing to be shut up in a library for days at a time in order
to follow vague and improbable leads—tiny threads woven through the tapestry of human history? Who’d volunteer to work on such an insane task other than the two of us?”

“Book Nerds,” Suzy said. She gave the computer an affectionate pat. “I’ve been trading information with a few special people for years. People like me. Bibliophiles whose hobby has been the study of material related to our kind. If I asked, these folks would leap at the chance to be involved in this quest. Put a roof over their heads and keep them fed and they’d see it as a vacation.” Suzy’s computer dinged, signaling the arrival of another e-mail. “We can’t do this alone, Ella Mae. New information is coming in all the time. We need the Book Nerds.”

“Call them,” Ella Mae said. “We have plenty of room in Partridge Hill and I can certainly provide them with good food. But you have to warn them that there’s a risk in being here. People tend to get hurt when they’re around me.”

Suzy shook her head dismissively. “That was before you lost your magic. They’re perfectly safe. The worst that can happen is that someone will sit on their reading glasses or spill coffee on their favorite bookmark.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Ella Mae said and turned away before Suzy could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Suzy’s “Book Nerds” arrived during the third week of June. Lydia Park, a petite Korean woman in her early thirties who owned a bookstore in Northern California, showed up first. Madge Stutsman, a special collections librarian at Columbia University, came next. Madge had taken a leave of absence in order to spend the summer in Havenwood, and she assured Ella Mae that she’d been looking for an excuse to flee New York City for a spell when she got Suzy’s call.

“I’ve been working in the same library for nearly thirty years,” she told Ella Mae and Adelaide over cocktails on the patio. “It’s been ages since I took a vacation. There are always too many books and manuscripts requiring my attention.” She smiled. “I think my boss was glad to see me go. Without the musty old lady around, I suspect there’ll be parties in the stacks every day.”

“Well, we’re grateful to have you,” Adelaide had said to
their guest. “Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?”

Madge had one request in particular. “I’d like to Facetime my cats once a day. I am a self-confessed crazy cat lady and I won’t be able to work without knowing that they’re being properly cared for. I’d rather speak to them without Miss Lulu or Charleston Chew contributing to the conversation. Is there a quiet place for me to make these calls?”

“You can use my late husband’s study,” Adelaide said. “The dogs aren’t allowed inside and the walls are very thick. You’ll have all the privacy you need.”

The last of Suzy’s friends to knock on Partridge Hill’s door was a professor of history from Oxford University. Henry Matthews wore silver spectacles and a bow tie. Upon entering Partridge Hill, he bent over Adelaide’s hand as though he were a knight and she, his lady. A taciturn man in his late sixties, he lit up like a lamp whenever Adelaide was around. Ella Mae took an instant liking to the professor. A brilliant scholar, he described historical events with such detail and passion that she could readily picture them in her mind.

“Your students are lucky,” she told Henry one evening as she studied another obscure book on floral symbols. “You make history leap off the page by infusing every battle, marriage, and diplomatic treaty with energy and color. The topics I once viewed as black and white—all those dates and facts—transform into vibrant people, places, and feelings. Is that your gift? Being able to make people visualize historical events?”

Henry had smiled at her. “No, but thank you for the compliment. My ability is being able to catch brief glimpses of the past. This occurs when I touch certain objects.”

Ella Mae wished Henry had been in Havenwood earlier. He could have touched the items in Bea’s hotel room. Perhaps he’d have seen what happened to her the night she died.
Believing his ability might still prove useful, Ella Mae had asked Henry if he’d be willing to touch something belonging to Loralyn.

“I doubt my gift would help you find her,” he’d answered. “I might see her as a child, as a high school student, or as she was six months ago. Considering she hasn’t touched anything in her house recently, I don’t think I’d be of much use.”

Ella Mae had replayed that conversation many times since then. Even now, as she sat at the end of the dock with Hugh, she returned to it.

“You’re drifting away again,” Hugh said, sliding his arm around her waist.

Caught out, she smiled at him. “Just a little.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Taking his hand in hers, she raised it to the star-filled sky. “When you left Havenwood to search for an object to restore your powers, how did you decide where to go first? How did you navigate?”

Hugh’s jaw tightened. He was still reluctant to speak of his journey. “I’m not as smart as Suzy’s friends, but there are so many Greek myths about magical weapons that I decided to start my search in Greece. I didn’t have access to the materials those book people do, so I had to convince the locals of whichever town I was visiting to trust me. To share their local legends. Loralyn might be doing the same thing. However, she has a magical advantage, and you can bet that she’s using her siren’s powers to get people to tell her what she wants to know.”

“You were friends with her when we were kids—one of the few people she genuinely liked.” Releasing Hugh’s hand, Ella Mae continued to stare at the stars. “Can you think of something she might have touched before leaving town? Something she felt sentimental about?”

“I’m not sure if she really liked me, Ella Mae, or if she just manipulated me the way she manipulated dozens of other men. It’s what she does. And no, I have no idea what she might have touched.” Hugh stretched out on the dock and slid his hands under his head. In the moonlight, his face looked like sculpted marble, and Ella Mae touched him to reassure herself that his skin was warm. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to him. For a while, neither of them spoke.

A loud splash from the middle of the lake caught their attention.

“Do you miss it? Being a water elemental?” Ella Mae whispered. “Tell me the truth.”

“The memories fade a bit each day,” he said, sitting up to gaze out at the dark water. “It’s almost as though that life belonged to someone else. When I’m at Canine to Five, or hanging out with the crew at the fire station, I can’t believe I used to be so different.” He turned to her. “What about you?”

Ella Mae glanced up at the hills. “My one regret is that I can’t enter the grove again. There’s nothing like it in our world, Hugh. It has a lavender sky and velveteen grass. The air is perfumed with jasmine and the trees in the orchard bear gold or silver apples. There’s a rolling meadow dotted with hundreds of wildflowers and a veritable rainbow of butterflies. And it’s always the right temperature. No matter what the season on this side of the barrier, it’s beautiful inside the grove.” She paused. “And I’ll never see it again.”

Hugh squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. You gave up an entire world of mystery too. You could explore the depths of any ocean. Any river or lake. But we have a new adventure to look forward to—the one we’re taking together.”

“I just wish I could help find Loralyn,” Hugh said. “Memories of my own search are really fragmented. So are those last
days I spent with Loralyn. They’re fading too—probably because I was under a spell then. What I do remember is her motive for fighting you. She wants to free her father. And because that’s her goal, I believe she’d visit him before setting off on a long journey. I’m not sure if the professor could get a reading from Jarvis Gaynor, but it might be worth a shot.”

Ella Mae’s eyes widened. “I think you’re on to something! I’ll ask Verena to have Buddy make a few calls. If we can confirm that Loralyn stopped to visit Jarvis, it would be a start. There’s no point in taking Henry to the prison unless Loralyn brought her father an object, and I don’t think prisoners are allowed gifts.”

Hugh shrugged. “A letter maybe?”

“Which he’d never show me,” Ella Mae said dismally. “I’m the reason he’s incarcerated in the first place.”

“Too bad you don’t know the warden. You could have Jarvis’s cell tossed,” Hugh joked. “Seriously, though. Tackle one thing at a time. Find out if Loralyn stopped by. If so, enlist someone else to talk to Jarvis. He’s always had a weakness for pretty blondes.”

Ella Mae pursed her lips in disapproval. “So he has. And that weakness tore his family apart. Unfortunately, the prettiest blonde I know would like nothing more than to plunge a dagger into Jarvis’s heart.”

“Jenny?”

“Yes. Not only did Jarvis reduce her Tennessee grove to ash, but he also killed her best friend. She hates that man more than any person on this earth.”

Hugh brushed a strand of hair off Ella Mae’s cheek. “But she loves you. If you need her help, she’ll give it to you.”

As it turned out, Ella Mae never had the chance to ask Jenny. Buddy and the prison warden were college buddies who’d kept in touch through the years. So when Verena
convinced her husband to make inquiries about Jarvis Gaynor, the warden was happy to oblige. He told them that Jarvis had received only one visitor since his incarceration and zero correspondence. He spent most of his time reading books from the prison library and, when forced to join the other inmates in the dining hall or exercise yard, kept to himself.

“I wish more of my inmates were like Jarvis Gaynor,” the warden had told Uncle Buddy.

Verena had snorted in response to this comment. “He wouldn’t say that if he knew about Jarvis’s
fiery
temper!”

Buddy learned that Jarvis’s sole visitor had been Loralyn. However, her visit had occurred shortly after her father’s sentencing and Jarvis had refused to see her.

“He’s a cruel man,” Ella Mae muttered, recalling the scene in the Gaynors’ library when Jarvis had told Opal and Loralyn that he’d tried to sire a son with another woman because he was disappointed with his current wife and child. He’d committed arson and murder in an attempt to replace one family with another. This declaration should have made Loralyn loathe him. Instead, she blamed Opal for the ruination of their family and vowed to secure her father’s freedom.

With another plan thwarted, Ella Mae returned to Partridge Hill and told Henry Matthews that his gift was her best and only chance of finding a clue that would lead her to Loralyn.

“I’m willing to accompany you to her home,” the professor said after reluctantly closing the book he’d been reading. “But the exercise may prove futile. The young lady could have been thinking all manner of things before she left. You already told me that she was physically weak—drained of her power—and possibly filled with anger and shame as well.”

“More like fury and humiliation,” Ella Mae murmured.

Henry spread his hands. “There you have it. Should I be
fortunate enough to handle something Loralyn touched prior to her departure, I may only read a tumult of emotions. I don’t expect to see a road map with a town circled in red ink.”

“I know,” Ella Mae said. “And while I realize that what you’re doing here is very important, it’s already July.” She glanced at the wall calendar Suzy had tacked to one of the whiteboards now hanging in the library. “Opal’s fading.”

Following her gaze, Henry nodded solemnly. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

*   *   *

Ella Mae hadn’t been to Rolling View for two weeks, and she was pleasantly surprised to see a battalion of groundskeepers tending to the lawn and flowerbeds. Horses were being exercised in the rings outside the stables, and a housekeeper in a starched uniform met Ella Mae and Henry at the front door.

“Good morning, Ms. LeFaye,” the woman said cheerfully. “Mrs. Gaynor is finishing her acupuncture treatment and asked me to show you to the sunroom. She and Dr. Kang will be down directly.”

The housekeeper led them past a center table featuring an enormous arrangement of chrysanthemums. As they walked down the hall, Ella Mae noticed the flowers in every room. She’d never seen so many shades or varieties of chrysanthemums in one place.

“Has Mrs. Gaynor developed a sudden fondness for mums?” she asked the housekeeper.

“The doctor uses them to treat Mrs. Gaynor,” the housekeeper answered. “None of us understand exactly how he does it, but we don’t care. He’s the first person to give her any relief in weeks. She’s finally eating a little, and yesterday, she even went for a short walk.”

Ella Mae smiled over this news. “That’s wonderful.”

“I’ve laid out her favorite treats for tea, but Dr. Kang will decide what she can eat. He says her treatment is about balance.” She pointed at a porcelain teapot and a glass pitcher of iced tea. “There’s hot English breakfast or cold peach tea. The doctor will have a special herbal tea for Mrs. Gaynor. They should be along shortly.”

Henry helped himself to several finger sandwiches and shortbread cookies before selecting a chair near a potted fern. Ella Mae, who was too distracted by the news about Opal and the presence of the mysterious Dr. Kang to focus on the tea spread, walked over to a tall vase of golden chrysanthemums and leaned in to sniff the flowers.

“Good for boosting digestion and increasing blood flow to the heart.”

Ella Mae glanced up to find an elderly Chinese man standing in the doorway next to Opal Gaynor. He was small and stooped with powder-white hair, and his gaze was sharp and intelligent. He wore black pants and a red shirt with a dragon embroidered on the lower right side. Though Opal was dressed in similar garb, her moss-green shirt and pants were unadorned and appeared to be made of cotton.

Opal looked much better than she had when Ella Mae had last visited Rolling View. Her face was a touch fuller and her skin wasn’t as sallow.

“This is Dr. Kang,” Opal said. “He came from China to treat me, and I am very fortunate that he was willing to take my case.”

Dr. Kang bowed to Henry, who politely returned the gesture. He then bowed even more deeply to Ella Mae. “It is an honor to meet you, Queen of the Clovers.”

“The honor is mine.” Ella Mae waved a hand at Opal. “We’re very grateful that you’ve come to help our friend.”

“Sit now,” the doctor commanded in a whisper-thin voice and Opal instantly complied. “Ruiping will bring tea and mushroom barley broth. You must finish both. Sip slowly. Feel the heat of the liquid enter your body. Feel it warm your mouth, your throat, and your stomach. Feel it penetrate your cells. The herbs are warriors. They are entering your body to defend you. Relax and invite them in.”

A tall, slender Chinese woman slipped into the room. She spoke a soft hello to Ella Mae and Henry, served Opal her tea and broth, and then left as silently as she’d entered.

“I practice
Qigong
,” the doctor said once he was satisfied that Opal was drinking her tea. “It is an ancient treatment focusing on the energy flow in the body. Cancer interrupts this flow. Imagine a network of rivers blocked by debris. Pieces of trash prevent the clean water from traveling freely. That is what is happening inside this woman.” He pointed at Opal. “I use many techniques to restore the flow. Herbs, food, acupuncture, meditation, cupping. I also possess a special gift. I can see which treatment is working and which is not. Therefore, I can customize my treatments for maximum results.”