Death at the Day Lily Cafe (9 page)

“How was he with Jamie?”

She stared down at her feet. “Okay.” She looked up again. “Carl James believed in discipline and responsibility. Jamie started working with him when he was thirteen. He learned the business pretty quickly.”

“But he didn't follow in his father's footsteps?”

“No. And I think that irked Carl James, if you must know. He believed Jamie didn't think his father's profession was good enough. And then when Jamie decided to be a cop, well, Carl James never really got over that. It was a deep, deep hurt.”

“Thank you, Lori. This has been helpful.” I lifted my hair and fanned the back of my neck. “You think you'll be able to get some sleep?”

“The doctor gave me some Xanax. I took one a little bit ago. I think I'll take another one now.”

I glanced up the stairs. “How is Jamie handling his father's death?”

“Other than his mother being blamed for it, he's handling it very well.”

 

F
IFTEEN

I occupied myself while waiting up for Annie as long as my eyes would stay open, but eventually I climbed into bed. I patted the comforter, encouraging Todd to join me. He leapt onto the pillow next to my head and began kneading it with his paws. Todd originally belonged to Megan, the girl who was murdered last year. Her mother couldn't bear to look at the cat after she lost her only child. I liked having him in my life. And I felt as if I was still helping Megan in some way by taking care of him.

As I stroked his fur, I thought back to the summers I spent here at the farm with Aunt Charlotte as a child. There was almost always a jigsaw puzzle in progress on a card table in the living room. We would sit around it in the evenings listening to opera, Broadway musicals, or simply the bullfrogs belting out their ballads through the open windows.

We would unfailingly begin the puzzles by sorting the edge pieces from the rest and connect the border. Once the perimeter was completed, Aunt Charlotte would let me pick which section I wanted to attack. While I would routinely select the cat in the basket or the house with a stream of smoke rising from the chimney, she would offer to start with the monochromatic sky. Of course, she chose those sections because they were the most difficult. While I matched an eye to another green eye and part of a nose, she would be studying the shapes of the pieces, the number of prongs and flat sides, trying one and then another. As a mother, I now realized what she was doing. The best way to hold my interest was for me to experience success.

Puzzles. And now I had another one before me. Doris was convinced her sister was innocent. And I had promised to prove it. Unlike Megan, who had been new to Cardigan and relatively unknown, CJ had been a town fixture. Maybe it would be easier this time. Or maybe not.

I checked the clock. Still no Annie. I worried Custer was somehow involved in CJ's death. He had been working for CJ right around the time the money was stolen. And then he was fired. Custer was a young man with layers of history that he protected fiercely. And now he had inserted himself into Annie's life. I wondered about his father, Butch. Neither Custer nor Tyler seemed pleased to learn he was in town. But it made sense for Butch to be here if he was in fact CJ's best friend.

Todd had stopped purring. He lay on his back, stretched out, paws in the air. I stared up at the cracks in the plaster. The front door clicked shut. I sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Todd and I listened, ears forward, for Annie's soft footsteps. I saw her shadow pass by the door and called out her name.

She stopped and peered in. “You're up?”

“Just sitting here thinking.”

She stepped inside. “You have to get up so early, Mom. I can't believe you are still awake.”

I patted the bed next to me. “Come and sit.”

“You sure?”

“Uh,
yeah
.”

Annie trotted over and jumped on the bed, sending Todd a few inches into the air. She scooped him up and buried her face in his thick Maine Coon fur. She was wearing a short madras plaid skirt, a turquoise tank, and a headband. Annie had never been big on makeup or spending time on her very thick hair, but somehow she always managed to look cute and pulled together.

“How was your date?”

“We're just hanging out, Mom. I think it's too soon to call it a date.”

“But you like him.”

“Oh, well, there's that. For sure.”

“He's certainly good-looking.”

“A lot of guys are good-looking. I swam that race a year ago. Now I want some depth. Someone who actually likes to talk about real stuff.”

My heart did a little dance: I was proud of who Annie was, yet worried she was attracted to Custer's depth—the same depth that had just been concerning me. I wondered if she knew he was on probation. “What do you talk about?”

“Everything. It's so cool. Did you know he reads Lao Tzu? It helps him a lot.”

“Well, that proves he's related to Tyler.”

Annie kicked off her flip-flops and tucked her legs under the comforter. “Do you like him, Mom?”

“Of course. I mean, what I know of him. Does he ever talk about his family?”

“Not really. I met one of his sisters tonight. She's only sixteen, but she seemed okay. A little on the shy side, but Custer was nice to her. He didn't, like, pretend he didn't know her or anything.”

“Did he kiss you?”

“Mother!”

“Sorry,” I said. “That just slipped out.”

“Do you and Tyler kiss?”

“
Tyler
? Annie, why would you ask me that? Of course we don't kiss. We're business partners.”

“But you want to,” she said, and slid further under the comforter.

My face warmed. “Subject change. Have you talked to your father lately?”

“Nope.” She picked at a cuticle.

“Are you going to see him anytime soon?”

“He hasn't asked.”

“Annie,” I said, my tone more serious. “What do you make of your relationship with him?”

“I think I'm tired of being the only one doing any work. He could come out here to see me, you know. But I always have to go to him. So I'm staying put. If he wants to see me, he can ask.”

“But don't you miss him?”

“Honestly? I miss how things used to be with him. But I know for sure he doesn't miss me. When I'm around he acts like he doesn't know what to say to me. He asks me a bunch of stilted questions, and then when he runs out of stuff to say he claps his hands together like a talk-show host signaling the monologue is over.”

“What can I do to help?”

“That's the thing, Mom, you aren't there to help. So he doesn't know what to say. I don't think you realize how much you managed our relationship. But you would if you saw us now.” She sat up and climbed out of bed. “Anyway, I'll let you sleep and dream of Tyler.”

“Annie!”

She giggled and darted out of the room, flip-flops in hand.

I switched off the light and snuggled under the covers. Maybe I had married my father.

 

S
IXTEEN

Carl James Fiddler's funeral was held on a cloudy Tuesday morning. It was not well attended.

Glenn and I sat toward the rear of the Baptist church. For our first few months, the Day Lily would only be open Thursday through Sunday, allowing me time to plan menus, provision the restaurant, and catch my breath. And after our grand-opening weekend, our three-day respite would allow Glenn and me to focus on the investigation.

I was grateful to have Glenn's help again. Although the investigation into Megan's death had begun as my obsession, I later gained the help of three dear friends. Glenn was the first to sign on. Then Tony Ricci insisted on being included. Tony, who was now happily in love, lived in Wilmington, Delaware. Sue Ling, a young Korean American woman, was the fourth in our detective group. She'd moved back to California, finished her memoir, and had already signed on with a literary agency. I'd read the manuscript in one day. It screamed bestseller.

I watched as Lori and Doris sat down in the first row of pews. A young man in the dress blues of a police officer was next to her. “That must be Jamie,” I whispered to Glenn. “I want to meet him before he goes back to Dover.”

Glenn narrowed his eyes and nodded.

The casket was closed with a modest bouquet of flowers fastened on top. The preacher cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman who had already begun to perspire. He patted his forehead with a folded handkerchief as he began his eulogy. CJ must not have been a regular churchgoer, because this man didn't seem to know him. There were no personal stories or mentions of his character. Instead the preacher relied on the funeral boilerplate, stating that CJ was in a better place, that Jesus had already welcomed him to heaven, and his family would join him when their time came. Jamie shifted in his seat at that last remark.

Lori listened intently. Maybe hearing that CJ was already in heaven and no longer haunting her house was a welcomed relief. I scanned the crowd, wondering if the murderer was seated among the congregants. Pale light filtered through the stained-glass windows, but it was still dark inside the small church. The pew was hard and creaked every time Glenn or I adjusted our position. I was relieved no one volunteered to speak when the minister offered the invitation. The service was over in exactly eleven minutes.

As we waited for Doris outside, Glenn said, “Well, that was shorter than a Las Vegas wedding.”

“And about as sentimental,” I said.

“Look,” Glenn said. “Here comes Doris.”

The air was thick with humidity. Doris's gray curls were tight around her head and she breathed heavily as she lumbered toward us. “Did you find a seat in that crowd?”

“It was certainly sparsely attended,” Glenn said. “How is Lori?”

Doris scowled. “She seems fine. Do you know she painted her kitchen this weekend? The sheriff is trying to lock her up and throw away the key, and she's painting her kitchen sunflower yellow.”

“I've never asked you this,” I said, “but will Lori be okay financially? Did CJ have life insurance?”

“Why do you want to know that, Rosalie?” Doris said, still scowling. She huffed out a sigh. “Yes. There's a life-insurance policy.” She removed a handkerchief embroidered with pale blue thread from her bag. “I suppose you heard, then.”

“Heard what?”

“They found the murder weapon.”

“And?” Glenn said.

“It's the shotgun from Lori's cabinet. It was in a Dumpster on the college campus.”

“Any prints?” Glenn said.

“Yup. Somebody tried to wipe it clean, but whoever it was did a lousy job. Sheriff said the perp was in a hurry.”

“Could he ID any of them?” I said.

“Yes. Lori's, of course. I don't think he even bothered to look for any others.”

I noticed tears welling in her eyes. “Doris, are you all right?”

“No, I'm not.” She held the handkerchief to her nose. “I'm scared, Miss Rosalie.” A tear escaped down her cheek. She looked from me to Glenn and back to me. “I'm worried she might have done it.”

“You think she might have killed CJ?” Glenn said. “What's happened to change your mind?”

“I feel like I don't even know her anymore. And she's always been impulsive. That's how she ended up pregnant in the first place.”

“Let's sit down.” I looped my arm through Doris's and guided her over to a nearby bench. We sat together and Glenn knelt in front of us.

Doris dabbed at her eyes. “Lori says she doesn't know when the gun went missing. She said sometimes CJ kept it in his truck.”

“Was he keeping it in the truck before he died?” I said.

“She doesn't remember.”

“Lori seemed to love CJ very much. She only says good things about him. Do you know if they argued about anything lately?”

“Lori did seem tense the week before he died. She wasn't returning my phone calls, and when I went over there she was as nervous as a cat.” Doris shook her head. “It felt like she was keeping something from me. And Lori never does that. She's an open book.”

“If the gun was in his truck, anyone could have used it,” I said. “Maybe whoever killed him was at the tavern the night he died. There are so many possibilities. Don't give up on your sister yet. Okay?”

“I'm just so scared. I hate believing she could have done something so awful, but once I get a thought, I can't shake it.” Doris checked her watch. “I've got to get going. My Betsy is driving us home. We got a few family members coming over.” Doris nudged her glasses higher up on her nose. “I think Lori has made about ten dozen cookies. And she invited that Butch Wells over, too.” Doris wadded the handkerchief tight in her fist and stood. “She shouldn't be socializing with that man. He's nothing but trouble.”

“We'll figure this out, Doris,” Glenn said. “The sooner the better.”

“That's right.” I gave Doris a quick hug and she started back to the church. Once she was a out of earshot, I fanned myself with my program and said to Glenn, “Do you have plans this evening?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Want to get a cold one at the Cardigan Tavern?”

 

S
EVENTEEN

Despite the blazing evening sun, the tavern was cool and dark inside. Lingering scents of spilled beer and mildewed carpet lurked in the air. Glenn and I were a little overdressed. He was in creased khakis and a starched shirt, and I was still in my sleeveless black dress and pumps. Glenn placed his hand on my back and guided me toward the bar.

Regardless of the odor, the tavern appeared to be clean and well kept. The only other bar I'd been to in Cardigan was Joey's, a place in the center of town with comfortable seating and live music. This watering hole appealed to a different clientele; my guess was these patrons were less focused on being entertained. The reason they came to the Cardigan Tavern was to drink.