Final Fondue (A Five-Ingredient Mystery) (13 page)

“No siblings, and her parents are dead. They didn’t give her much while they were alive. She put herself through college. Everything she’s accomplished, she’s done on her own without any help from family. I admire her for that.”

Val detected defiance in his statement as if he expected her to argue against it. Maybe his mother had belittled Jennifer’s achievements. Payton’s upbringing had certainly differed from his fiancée’s. “At least Jennifer studied what she wanted.” Unlike Gunnar whose father pressured him into an accounting career. “Family help sometimes comes with strings attached.”

“Tell me about it.” He banged his mug down on the table, like a judge using his gavel to cut off discussion.

“Good morning!” Mom had come down the back staircase into the kitchen.

Val introduced Payton to her mother. As Mom made small talk with him, Val excused herself and hurried to the front hall. Her grandfather emerged from his room as she was about to knock on his door.

She heard the floor above creaking. “Here are the photos Monique made for you. Put them out of sight, unless you want to tell our guests why you asked for them.”

Granddad took the envelope into his room.

Jennifer came down the stairs and gave Val a strained smile. “Good morning.”

“Same to you. I hope you slept okay. Payton’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” Jennifer reached into a back pocket of her yellow capris and held out a credit card. “Could I ask you for a refund on Fawn’s room?”

“No problem.” Val took the credit card as Jennifer went into the kitchen.

Granddad came out of his room and grumbled about the refund. Val pointed out that, with Mom occupying the bedroom, he couldn’t insist a guest pay for it.

By the time they went into the dining room, Mom had set the table. Val invited Payton to stay for breakfast. In quick succession, the other guests came downstairs. Granddad put the casserole on the table as they all sat down.

Val was so engrossed in her own thoughts about Monique’s prowler and Payton’s revelations that she tuned in only intermittently to the table conversation. When the chase in the corn maze came up, Payton urged Jennifer to leave town. Noah did too, offering to stay with her if she was afraid to be alone in her apartment in Washington. Sarina cautioned against overreacting, saying that a teenager had probably run after Jennifer for kicks. After much discussion, Jennifer decided not to leave.

The group then discussed plans for the day, which included the knot-tying contest. At first, only Noah was going to enter the contest, but Jennifer proposed that they all do it. Granddad suggested the group go to the dessert cook-off that afternoon and cast their votes for his fondue.

Val ate quickly, excused herself from the table, and went into the study for a map of the maze. The maze manager had provided a detailed map with the signposts marked on it so she could work out the trivia questions for each spot. In the daylight, she might be able to trace the route Jennifer had taken when pursued and figure out if either Noah or Sarina could have chased her. She stuffed the map into her shoulder bag and went out to her car.

As she turned the Saturn’s ignition key, her mother dashed out the front door toward the driveway.

She climbed into the passenger seat. “I’m going with you to the club.”

“Why?” Surely not to make salads and bake sweets for the festival booth.

“I’ve never been to the Cool Down Café. I’d like to see where you work. Also, I haven’t had much chance to talk with you alone.”

Visiting the café was Mom’s excuse for the jaunt. Her real reason was to talk
to
, not
with
, her daughter. As a teacher, she liked lecturing to a captive audience, and that’s what she’d do for the fifteen minutes it took to drive to the club. But Val had a captive audience too. Maybe this was her chance to ask Mom about the chief, assuming she could interrupt the lecture.

Val backed the Saturn out of her grandfather’s driveway. “What do you want to talk about?” She could guess what Mom would say.

“Your grandfather. Losing your grandmother and two old friends hit him hard. You’ve lifted his spirits since you’ve been here. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Val was too surprised to say anything for a moment. She’d expected the Tony-talk. “Granddad gets in the dumps less, but he hasn’t given up the grumps.”

“Before you came here, he ate badly and did nothing but watch old movies. Now he’s eating better and writing a newspaper column, of all things. It gives him status in town. He takes more interest in life now.”

And in murder.
“He’s always willing to tackle something different.”

“Take a leaf from his book.” Mom crossed her legs and adjusted her sandal strap. “Now that you’re sure he’s in a good place, it’s time to get on with
your
life. He’ll do fine without you.”

“You really think so?” How he would do without her had been on Val’s mind ever since her former boss had phoned with the job offer. “Granddad likes having someone around to spar with.”

“He’d find another sparring partner if he moved to Florida near us or even to the senior community here.”

But he didn’t want to move, even though his good buddy, Ned, lived at the senior village. “You figure he’ll sell the house sooner if I’m not here?”

Her mother shrugged. “That’s not the reason I brought this up. Don’t narrow your choices because of him. He’s on a roll with that newspaper column. Just keep feeding him simple recipes. He’ll give them hokey names and throw in some homespun advice. He can do that without you being here.”

For the first time since Friday, Val could think about returning to her job without feeling guilty about leaving her grandfather. On the other hand, she no longer had him as an excuse for turning down the offer. Now she had only one criterion for accepting the job—whether it was right for her.
Was the job a step forward or a step back?
“Thanks for saying that, Mom. I wasn’t sure how he’d react if I told him I was moving out.”

“He’ll react badly, but he’ll get over it. Now that you’ve given him a taste for good food, he’ll learn to cook for himself. It’s time to take off the training wheels.”

Val hit the accelerator as she left the town limits behind. “Even with the training wheels on, he crashes in the kitchen. Batter on the walls, cookies baking on the oven door, and a thick haze of smoke all over the house.”

“I’ve had similar results in the kitchen. Your culinary genes didn’t come from either of us.” Her mother fidgeted and uncrossed her legs. “Cooking isn’t the only thing I mess up. I hope you forgive me for springing Tony on you this weekend. I could have handled that better, but I still think you need to talk to him. You shouldn’t rush into another relationship without having closure on one that lasted for five years.”

Her mother had given her the spoon full of sugar. Val should have known that the foul-tasting tonic would follow. “Tony doesn’t have closure, or he wouldn’t be here. But I have closure. He gave it to me. And who said I was rushing into a relationship?”

“Within a few months of breaking your engagement, you start seeing a man who—”

“Am I supposed to have a longer period of mourning?”

Mom pursed her lips at the interruption. “Almost immediately, you started seeing a man who sounds like Tony’s opposite.”

“That’s what I like about him.” Whatever her mother knew about him had come from her grandfather. “Did Granddad tell you Gunnar looks like a troll?”

Mom laughed. “No, like a hit man.”

“Gunnar can’t compete with Tony on looks. Luckily, I’m not shallow enough to care about that.”

“I don’t care about looks either. Tony is a hard worker. He’s on track to be a partner in his firm. He has a bright future.”

“And Granddad told you Gunnar walked away from a secure government job to pursue an acting career.” No wonder Mom was suddenly so enthusiastic about Tony.

“A lot of people want to be actors. They work at it for a while, get it out of their systems, and settle down with a steady job before they’re thirty.”

“Gunnar did it in reverse. He’s always wanted to study acting, but he had family issues that prevented him. He spent a dozen years at a steady job and then inherited some money. Now he can do what he really wanted to do all along.”

“A downturn in the economy can wipe out an inheritance fast.”

Pointless to tell her mother that Gunnar could expect an income from his accounting practice once it took off. Mom wouldn’t consider a small start-up business a sufficiently reliable source of money.

“I get it, Mom. You’re afraid Gunnar can’t provide for me with my lavish tastes. I’m used to luxury after living in a tiny city apartment and a ramshackle house here.” Val turned onto the road leading to the club. “Well, don’t worry about it. Gunnar and I are far from making a commitment.”

“Things move fast when you’re on the rebound. You risk exchanging one set of problems for another unless you take the time to put the past in perspective. Figure out what was good about your relationship with Tony, not just what was bad. Then you’ll have a better idea what you want for the future.”

Her mother gave meaty lectures. “I don’t disagree with you, Mom. You could have said all that without bringing Tony here.”

“Tony the Cheater is the image you have of him because that’s what he was the last time you saw him. But you should see him again so that you get past that one-dimensional view.”

“And give him another chance?”

“Talk to him for your own benefit . . . and Gunnar’s. A rebound relationship isn’t fair to him either.”

Her mother didn’t know that Gunnar too was on the rebound. She’d probably say that two rebounds are like two wrongs—they don’t make a relationship right. They double the pitfalls.

Val pulled into the club’s parking lot. Every morning when she did this, she looked forward to working at the Cool Down Café. Did she enjoy managing the café only because it was a rebound job? Here she didn’t have to deal with people like Chef Henri La Farge. Just as Tony’s cheating overlaid everything else in their relationship, Chef Henri’s nastiness kept her from putting her old job in perspective.

Her mother gave her a long, hard look. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that while Bayport is celebrating its past this weekend, my own past is assaulting me.”
On two fronts.
She had to make peace with it. “Okay. I’ll listen to what Tony has to say.”

But she’d have to put off her talk with Mom about the chief. The private time with her mother was over.

While Val mixed the batter for pecan mini muffins, Mom helped Bethany chop the vegetables and fruit for today’s salads. With an extra set of hands, they finished preparing the food earlier than they had the day before and loaded the coolers into Val’s car quickly. Her mother hitched a ride back to town with a high school classmate who’d been exercising at the club.

* * *

As Val and Bethany unloaded the coolers, a teenage girl who’d worked at the Cool Down Café in the summer showed up.

“Hey, you two.” Tanisha radiated energy.

Val hugged her. “Welcome back.”

“My turn.” Bethany enveloped Tanisha in a bear hug. “How’s Swarthmore?”

“I have a lot of reading and papers, but I’m keeping up. I’m really glad fall break is at the same time as the festival. You need any help in the booth this weekend?”

Val nodded vigorously. “I can use some time off.” To talk to the police chief, visit the maze, and make sure her grandfather was set up for the cook-off. “How many hours can you spare?”

“Whatever you need.”

Val huddled with Tanisha and Bethany to work out when they’d each cover the booth. Then she got on the phone to schedule an appointment with Chief Yardley. He could see her right away.

She drove to the Bayport Police Department headquarters at the edge of town. The chief met her in the reception area of the converted farmhouse and led her to his Spartan office.

She took a seat in a straight-backed metal chair facing his desk. The chair was as hard and the room as cold as she remembered it. At least the chief’s smile was warm as he lowered himself into his cushioned desk chair.

He pointed at the grocery sack she held. “ Is that for me? The last time you came here, you brought some sweet bribes. What have you got this time?”

“Pecan mini muffins.” She passed a plastic bag with three muffins across the desk to him. Then she pulled a small paper bag from the grocery sack. “This contains an empty can of espresso. I brought it from my cousin’s house.”

“Why?”

She told him about the trash Monique had found and the prowler her mother-in-law had seen in the backyard. “I brought the drink can with me in case you want to test it for fingerprints.”

“Your cousin lives outside the town limits, the county sheriff’s territory, not mine. Up to her whether she wants to pursue this, but I’d blame the litter on festival visitors.” The chief took a muffin from the plastic bag. “A tourist staying at the B&B on the peninsula could have walked along the creek to your cousin’s house, stopped to enjoy the view, and munched on some snacks.” He ate half the muffin in one bite.

“The can and the wrappers weren’t visible from the house. It’s certainly possible someone dropped them during the day yesterday.” Yet Val couldn’t shed her fear that Chef Henri had followed her to her cousin’s house. “No matter who left the litter, my cousin’s nervous about a prowler, especially after a murder.”

“She should have called 911 right away. If her mother-in-law can describe the man—”

“She can’t.”

The chief finished the muffin. “Not much to be done now. Whose fingerprints do you expect to find on the can—the celebrity chef’s or your former fiancé’s? Your granddaddy believes one of them tried to kill you.”

“He might be right about Chef Henri, but my cousin’s afraid her children might be the next victims of a serial murderer.”

“A lot of folks are calling in worried that the strangler will strike again.” He tapped his pen on a blank page of a notebook. “I want to hear tips about the victim we already have. Instead, I get theories about who’s next on the list.”

“I’m sure a lot of those theories are far-fetched. Have you heard what happened to Jennifer Brown in the maze last night?” At his nod, she continued. “You can’t blame her for thinking she could be the murderer’s next victim. Her fiancé would like you to pressure her to leave Bayport because it’s too dangerous for her here.”

“Why should she leave? Because we have a serial killer confined to the town limits? That’s the only situation that would make it more dangerous for her here than elsewhere.”

Val should have picked up on that herself. “I get it. A murderer who planned to kill Jennifer specifically could do it anywhere, so there’s no reason for her to leave town. Maybe she figured that out, and that’s why she’s reluctant to leave. Here, at least, she’s staying in a house full of people.”

The chief took another muffin from the plastic bag. “Even before that incident in the maze, you said Jennifer might have been the murderer’s target. Got any ideas on who’d want to kill her?”

“A few. Jennifer dumped Noah in favor of Payton. She also snatched Payton from Sarina.” While the chief ate his muffin, Val told him about the blind date that resulted in a shuffling of couples.

He brushed crumbs from his hands. “Which of them told you about the blind date?”

“Payton. He’s a lawyer, trained to choose his words carefully, and yet he volunteered information that put him and Jennifer in a bad light. Maybe he did that to suggest that Sarina and Noah have a reason to resent Jennifer.” Val leaned forward in the hard chair. “Someone staying at the Grandsires’ house also has a reason to resent her.”

The chief laced a rubber band through his fingers. “Who?”

“Whitney Oglethorpe, Payton’s ex-girlfriend. Mrs. Grandsire invited her instead of Jennifer for the weekend. I wonder if Whitney has an alibi for Friday night when Fawn was killed and last night when Jennifer was in the maze.” Val decided against mentioning her possible sighting of Whitney at the maze. The chief liked definites, not possibles.

“History repeats itself. You find someone murdered and bring me a list of suspects. You want me to check their alibis because you’ve thought of motives for them. At least the last time, those motives had to do with the actual victim, not a supposed victim.”

“And potential next victim, Chief. That’s my main concern.”

“And mine is capturing Fawn Finchley’s killer. She was divorcing a man with a criminal record and a warrant against him. He’s been on the run for months. We now have police looking for him in a lot of states. We will find him.” The chief sipped coffee from a foam cup, made a face, and put the cup back down on his desk. “You know, a third of all female murder victims are killed by current or former husbands, lovers, or boyfriends.”

And two-thirds were killed by other people, harder to identify than the usual suspects. Val swallowed the comment because she had something more important to say. “Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself in another way. The police focus their investigation on the obvious suspect. Then someone else is murdered. Oops. Maybe you can prevent a second murder by casting a wider net for suspects in the first murder.”

The chief’s face puckered as if he had a lemon wedge in his mouth. “You want me to question the Grandsires and their guests because one of them has a motive for a murder that hasn’t taken place? How many lawyers do you suppose are staying in that house?”

If Val had a white flag, she’d have held it up. “Okay. They’d probably alibi Whitney anyway. Keep her on your radar if anything happens to Jennifer.” Val held up the paper bag with the soda can. “So I should just toss this out?”