On Thin Icing (24 page)

“Why would she do this, though?” Carlos dunked his tea bag in his steaming mug.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. What’s her motive? Could she have been so worried about Lance firing her, that she would kill to keep her job?”

“That does not seem right.”

I sighed. “No. It’s a stretch. But I know that the wine had something to do with Tony’s murder. I just have to figure out what. When I figure that out, I think we’ll know who killed him.”

“This is not for you to figure out.” Carlos looked concerned. “This is for the police.”

“I know, but if I can help Thomas solve the case then he’ll stop focusing on you, and I’ll feel better.”

Carlos plunged his tea bag farther into the mug. Hot water sloshed from the sides, spilling on the blanket. “Is this the only reason you want to help Thomas with the case?”

“What do you mean?”

“Julieta.” Carlos wiped his hands on the blanket. “Is it because you enjoy working on this case with Thomas?”

I drank the sharp lemon tea, trying to buy myself time to respond. Carlos’s words cut through me. I’d been telling myself that the reason I was involved was to protect Carlos. But that wasn’t entirely true. He was right. I enjoyed working with Thomas. What did that mean? I was more confused than ever.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Julieta?” Carlos’s voice was coarse with emotion. “It is okay.”

I rested the mug on the coffee table. It left a ring on an old skiing magazine. “It’s not that. I like being able to help Thomas and the Professor, that’s all.”

Carlos pursed his lips, but didn’t push the subject. “How is the tea?”

“Not bad, considering.” I laughed, trying to keep my tone light. “It’s slim pickings up here.”

“It is tea bags, yes. I agree.”

“So Whitney left the lodge, where do you think she went? She could have gone to the marina and shot Tony.” I paused. “But then how would she have lifted him into the freezer? She must have had help. Maybe that’s what the two glasses were for. Maybe she and her accomplice were plotting out their plan before you arrived.”

Carlos dunked his tea. “Julieta, you must relax. This is not your problem.”

I was in the zone. I couldn’t stop. My mind was running so fast, I could barely keep up. “What did you do after Whitney left?”

“I came back here.”

“But what about the wine?”

“I told you I did not see a wine bottle.”

“No, I mean you went to the lodge to get a bottle of wine for us. What happened to that?”

“Oh, yes. That’s true.” Carlos scratched his head. “I went to the bar to find a bottle, but Mercury was there. She was going over some number calculations.”

“Wait! You saw Mercury, too? Who else was at the lodge?”

“No one. Only Mercury and Whitney.”

“Did you tell this to Thomas and the Professor?”

“About Mercury?”

I nodded emphatically. How had Carlos failed to mention that he’d bumped into two potential murder suspects last night?

“Yes, I did tell them.”

“And what did they say?”

“I do not know. They asked a few questions. That’s all.”

“What kind of calculations was Mercury going over?”

“She was tallying the bar sales, I believe. She did not seem happy. She kept muttering and punching numbers on her calculator.”

“Tony,” I whispered. “It all has to be connected.”

Carlos shrugged. “I do not know, but Mercury was upset about something. I asked her if she needed anything from me, but she did not. I decided to not worry about the wine. I did not want to disturb her in the middle of her work, so I left.”

“And did you see anyone on the walk back to the cabin?”

“Julieta.” Carlos laughed, but looked worried. “You sound like the police.”

“I know. I’m just trying to piece it all together.”

“But I think this is disturbing you, no? You discovered Tony’s body. Do not distress yourself with this.”

“I found his body. I was the only one up here who had any connection to the police. I feel responsible for figuring out what happened to him. It’s not distressing me. I promise. It’s something to focus on. Otherwise, I’ll just focus on seeing his face over and over. At least this way I feeling like I’m doing something productive.”

Carlos dropped it, but I could feel his body tense. Was it that he didn’t want me involved in a murder investigation, or was it that he didn’t want me spending time with Thomas?

We settled under the blankets and listened to the crackling fire in silence. I sipped my tea and let my mind wander. Carlos had given me two important clues. Mercury and Whitney were both at the lodge and had potential motives for killing Tony. What was Mercury upset about? I would have to try and find her first thing in the morning and see if she would confide in me.

I also needed Carlos to tell Thomas and the Professor about Whitney. What did we know about her? Not much. This was her first weekend on the job. I’d have to ask Lance where he found her, and if he’d checked her references when he hired her. He’d love nothing more than being looped in on the gossip.

The lemon tea warmed my hands and was making me sleepy. I drifted off again, only to wake up shivering a couple hours later. The fire had burned out. Carlos snored softly. He had managed to twist himself and the blankets in a tight knot against the back of the couch. I slid out from his arm.

Without the heat from the woodstove, the cabin felt colder than the walk-in freezer at Torte. I could see my breath in front of me. I didn’t want to wake Carlos, but I didn’t want him to turn into an ice cube as he slept, either. Carefully I cranked the door to the stove open and stuffed in newsprint and kindling. It lit with ease. As flames leaped from the paper, I added two logs.

Then I made my way down the chilly hallway to the back bedroom. We had been smart to sleep in the living room last night. A thin layer of frost had formed on the inside of the windows. Brrr.

I changed as quickly as I could, trying to stay in motion to keep my blood circulating. I would have to track Gavin down later, and thank him profusely for fixing the generator. Lake of the Woods was in a deep freeze without power.

My cheeks were red with cold. I splashed them with icy water in the bathroom. I brushed my hair into a high ponytail and coated my lips with Chapstick. The dry air was making them crack.

Coffee would have to wait until I got to the lodge. That was fine by me. Yesterday’s less-than-Torte-worthy brew had left a bitter taste in my mouth. I bundled up, and tiptoed past Carlos.

Outside the snow had stopped. Even though it was still dim, I could see stars fading in the sky. The clouds had pushed north, a good sign that the brunt of the storm was past us. I wondered how long it would take for the team to arrive from Medford.

My boots crunched through a top coat of ice that had formed overnight. With each step, I sank to mid-calf. It must have dumped another eight or ten inches overnight. Debris from the storm littered the ground. Fallen pine needles and branches made the air smell like Christmas.

There was no sign of movement anywhere as I descended toward the lodge. I considered heading to the section of woods where I’d seen Dean shooting last night, but I had yeast to get rising and rolls to bake. Plus, it probably wasn’t the wisest idea to go tromping through the deep snow alone with a murderer on the loose.

None of the outdoor lights were on when I made it to the lodge. Oh no! Had the generator stopped working again? I kicked snow from my boots, and unlocked the front door. Please let there be power, I prayed silently as I scrunched my face and reached for the light switch. In one motion the overhead lights hummed on.

Thank goodness.

The heat wasn’t running. I turned that on next, and headed for the kitchen. If the last two days were any indication of how much more time everything needed to bake at this elevation, I had to get moving now. But first, I needed coffee.

Everything was prepped and ready to go, and waiting on the island for me. Sterling must have stayed late last night. Once Lance paid me, I was going to make sure to give Sterling a little bonus. He had been a godsend this weekend. I appreciated that he took charge, and didn’t wait for me to direct him.

I ground fresh beans, opting for a medium-bodied breakfast blend. The scent of the caramel roast perked me up immediately. Next, I turned the oven onto high and started water boiling on the stove. I’d learned my lesson. We were going to end this weekend on a high note. Two meals left to go: breakfast and lunch. I wanted to dazzle Lance and his guests with our signature Torte pastries and have them leave happy and satiated.

I gathered yeast, butter, flour, and sugar. While the coffee brewed, I let the yeast rise and started making dough. I had originally planned to make puffed oven pancakes this morning, but since we had to swap things around yesterday, and after my almond bar rising disaster, I figured it was safer to stick with pastries. We could serve an assortment of pastries, hot oatmeal, and the previously missing sausages.

Soon the kitchen was alive with good smells—percolating coffee, yeast, and a slight scent of smoke that lingered in the pizza oven. I needed to light that, too, but it could wait. I planned to bake everything for breakfast in the main oven. We would use the pizza oven for our last meal, lunch. And I knew exactly what I wanted to make—pizza.

When Sterling arrived I would put him in charge of pizza toppings. In the meantime I filled a coffee mug with water and heated it in the microwave. I’m a creature of habit when it comes to my coffee ritual. My morning coffee always begins with a piping-hot mug. Mom and Carlos both tease me about it, but I swear a hot mug changes the flavor and the experience of drinking coffee.

I poured a cup of the aromatic brew and added a splash of cream. Taking three long sips, I stretched in a yoga pose. Now it was time to bake.

The yeast, not surprisingly, rose like a hot air balloon, I incorporated it into the flour and sugar and pounded the dough down. My thoughts wandered. I was eager to get home to Torte and Mom, but I couldn’t shake how unsettled I felt about my future. Since I’d been back in Ashland everything felt simple and clear. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to run Torte and make it the best bakeshop in Southern Oregon. Having Carlos here complicated everything.

Would he really come to Ashland and live with me? As wonderful as that sounded, I couldn’t quite imagine him in the idyllic village with its quirky theater troupe and revolving tourists. He was used to dealing with tourists on the ship of course, but it was different in Ashland. Tourists were our livelihood. They are like royalty. The whole town caters to the summer season. Would Carlos tire of Ashland? Of me? We’d always had a new destination to look forward to exploring together. I wondered what permanent life on solid ground would be like with Carlos.

Just bake, Jules, I scolded myself as I coated my hands in flour. The sweet bread dough had developed a nice elasticity, it stretched and sprang back to life when I pressed my fingers into it. I could stretch, too. I’d learned that being home.

“Good morning,” a voice said from the doorway. It was Mercury. She wasn’t wearing her pajama pants and snow boots. Her hair was twisted in a bun and the dark circles under her eyes looked less pronounced. I took that as a positive sign that things were returning to normal, or at least as normal as they could possibly be, given that Tony was dead.

“Come on in.” I waved her in with pasty hands.

“I came down to make sure the generator was still running, and I smelled coffee. I had to come beg you for a cup.”

“No need to beg,” I replied. “Help yourself. It’s fresh. I’d offer to pour a cup for you, but as you can see I’m sort of in the middle of this.”

“That smells so good, too.” Mercury walked to the cupboard and removed a mug. She was definitely familiar with the kitchen. “Are you always up this early?”

“Yep.” I reached for a rolling pin. “It’s sort of a job requirement for bakers.”

Mercury poured herself a cup of coffee. “Yeah, I get that. We’re usually up pretty early around here, too. It’s one of the pros and cons related to running this place. We get to make all the decisions, but that means we get to mak
e all the decisions,
you know?”

“Tell me about it. My mom and I have talked about that at length with the bakeshop. It’s great to be your own boss, but sometimes not so much.”

“Especially when it comes to staff.” Mercury sank onto a barstool.

“Have you had a problem with staff?”

“You mean other than Tony?” Her voice was laced with bitterness as she said his name. She sipped her coffee and sighed. “It hasn’t been so bad. The usual kind of thing, especially in the summer when we’re really busy. We have a bunch of teenagers who help Gavin run the marina. He gets irritated when they show up a few minutes late or spend their lunch breaks flirting with girls at the swimming area.”

“Teenagers.” I made a goofy face and laughed.

“Right. What can you do? I keep telling him they’re good kids, but he’s so protective of this place. I guess that’s a good thing. Better than having staff who don’t care, right?” She paused and drank her coffee. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks, it’s a new blend from a roaster in Ashland who roasts all of her beans by hand. I brought it up here to see what kind of feedback we would get on it. I’m thinking about adding it to the daily rotation at Torte.”

“I give it a ten out of ten.” Mercury flashed ten fingers at me. “Of course, I’d probably drink coffee out of the lake bottom today. It’s been such a long weekend.”

“How are you holding up?” I asked as I pressed the rolling pin onto the dough.

Mercury exhaled. “It’s been rough. I wish I could speak to my husband. That’s been the worst part. Why did something like this have to happen while he wasn’t here?”

“It seems like that’s always the way things go. They never quite turn out the way we planned them.” I thought about Carlos.

“Can I tell you something in confidence?” Mercury looked to the doorway to make sure we were alone.

“Sure.”

“It’s about Tony.”

I sprinkled more flour over the dough. “What about him?”