Stake & Eggs (30 page)

Suzanne waved as Toni sang out, “Hey, George. You doing some fishing today? Must not
be any business back at the funeral home, huh?”

George pulled his stocking cap down over pink ears, and said, “Not right now, not
today, but January is actually one of my busiest months.”

“You have seasonal activity?” asked Suzanne. It sounded a little creepy, even as she
said it.

“Oh yeah,” said Draper, looking enthusiastic. “Older people, they always manage to
hang on by their fingernails through the holidays. Guess it’s all the gifts and family
cheer that punches up their spirits. But then, when January rolls around, they sort
of give up the ghost. Maybe it’s the cold and ice that gets to them. I don’t know.
Or they figure they can’t hold out until spring.”

“Jeez, George,” said Toni. “That’s totally weird.”

George glared at Toni, looking like he needed to defend his words. “Not when you think
of it as smart business analysis.”

“Some business,” said Toni.

“Somebody has to do it,” said George.

Suzanne decided it was time to change the subject. “Are you going to throw in a line
today, George? Did you enter the fishing contest?”

“No,” said Draper, “but I’m in the ice-sculpture contest tonight. One of my assistants
and I are carving an Egyptian sarcophagus.”

“A sarcophagus,” said Toni, frowning. “That’s like a…”

“Tomb,” said Draper, smiling.

“Good luck to you,” said Suzanne, grabbing Toni by the elbow and steering her away.

“What a creep,” muttered Toni. “I wonder how Claudia feels, knowing he was, like,
sucking blood out of dead bodies right before he, um…” Her voice trailed off.

“You don’t have to say any more,” said Suzanne. “I get the picture.”

“So back to the old fishin’ hole,” said Toni. “Hope I can hook myself a lunker.”

“What is a lunker?” asked Suzanne.

“Anything bigger than a bread box,” said Toni. She gazed across the ice. “Hey, what’s
the problem with Doogie’s cruiser?”

Suzanne put a hand up to diffuse the sun’s glare as she stared at Doogie’s car. It
seemed to be listing heavily to one side. “Looks like it started to go through the
ice.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Toni. “There are so many holes augered around here it’s
like a bunch of prairie dogs set up camp.”

But when they got to Doogie’s cruiser, it wasn’t ice holes that were the problem.
Somebody had poured salt near his left rear wheel, and that part of his car had partially
sunk into the ice.

“Salt?” said Toni. “Who would do that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know!” said Doogie. He was hopping mad, kicking at the mushy
ice, sending spatters of slush everywhere. He’d put in a call to Deputy Driscoll to
come tow him out. Now the deputy had fixed a towline under Doogie’s front bumper and
was cranking methodically.

“You think that’s going to work?” Suzanne wondered.

“It better!” said Doogie. He checked to make sure the
line was taut, then said, “Okay, take it ahead, Eddie. Go easy, though.” With an ungainly
leap, he hopped into the driver’s seat, revved his engine, and spun his wheels as
Driscoll inched forward in the tow car.

“That’s really weird,” said Toni. They both looked around at the horde of people.
“Somebody here did this?”

“Had to be,” said Suzanne. “Maybe his investigation is right on track and getting
a little too close for comfort.”

“Lots of suspects,” Toni agreed, chipping a frozen minnow out of her bucket.

“Unfortunately, not a lot of answers,” murmured Suzanne.

S
UZANNE
squirted a tiny spray of perfume on her wrists and rubbed them briskly together.
Euphoria Blossom by Calvin Klein. A soft scent of citrus, peony, and white musk that
lingered in the air and made her smile.
Mmm. Nice
, she thought.

Looking in the mirror and tilting her head, she grabbed a rat-tail comb and puffed
up her ash blond hair a little bit more in back. She’d done the blowout thing, juggling
hair dryer and fat boar-bristle brush, spritzing on a little mousse until she’d coaxed
her hair into a loose bob.

Satisfied with her do, Suzanne looped on a gold chain necklace and smoothed her clothes.
She’d decided on a black cashmere sweater, scoop necked and flattering in all the
right places, paired with a black wool skirt and shiny black leather boots. She’d
seen the look in a fashion magazine, a trifle austere with a hint of sexy. So she’d
shopped her closet and come up with her own version.

“Perfect,” she said to herself in the mirror. Grinned, and added, “At least I hope
so.”

Sam was picking her up for what was supposed to be a leisurely yet romantic dinner
tonight. Honestly, she thought, the man was so full of surprises. What with the rented
snowmobile today and showing up on her doorstep the night before. Still, he didn’t
come on strong, and he didn’t push. But he’d ignited a huge spark of excitement in
her life. And what woman didn’t love that?

*  *  *

K
OPELL
’
S
Restaurant and B&B in nearby Cornucopia offered a romantic, cozy dining room. In
fact, the first thing Suzanne and Sam saw when they hustled in out of the cold was
a robust fire crackling in a stone fireplace that practically dominated an entire
back wall.

“So cozy,” said Suzanne. They were seated so close to the fire that they could hear
the pop and hiss of green logs and feel the comforting warmth of the flames. “Now
all we need are a pair of deer hounds stretched out beside us.”

“This place does look like a Black Forest
schloss
, doesn’t it?” said Sam.

Deer antlers, moody paintings of castles in dark forests, and a shelf of antique beer
steins added to the Germanic atmosphere. Upstairs, the bed and breakfast featured
sleigh beds, billowing featherbed mattresses, textured wallpaper with intriguing patterns
of ribbon and gold, and plenty of old-world charm.

As they relaxed at their table, a waiter brought ice water, a basket of fresh-baked
molasses bread, and menus in ornate leather holders. But before they had a chance
to peruse their menus, Bernie Affolter, the owner and head chef, strolled over to
greet them. A large, stout man with a commanding presence, he had a full head of dark
curly hair and a waxed moustache to match.

“Good evening, folks,” Bernie said, smiling broadly.

“My good man,” said Sam. They’d dined here before and had gotten to know Bernie fairly
well. It also didn’t hurt that they usually ordered a fine Bordeaux from Bernie’s
cellar.

“I’ve got a nice Pomerol stashed away,” said Bernie, in a conspiratorial tone. “Want
me to decant it for you?”

“Sounds good,” said Sam. He nodded toward one of the mounted deer antlers. “Is that
your doing?”

Bernie eyed the antlers. “Those are from my younger
days,” he said, with a chuckle. “Before the notion of charcuterie, glazed oysters,
and wine
terroirs
ever crossed my mind. These days, instead of hunting deer, I’m much more interested
in marinating it in organic red wine, smoking it on the grill, and serving it up with
pecan chutney.”

“Sounds fantastic,” said Suzanne.

“You two are familiar with our menu,” said Bernie, “but we have a couple of specials
tonight.” He reached into the pocket of his XXL white chef’s jacket and pulled out
a hastily scrawled list. “Muscovy duck with coriander, honey, and cooked carrots;
Copper River salmon with celery root puree; and juniper-crusted bison.”

“What’s best?” asked Sam.

“Depends on what you’re in the mood for,” said Bernie.

“I’ll have the Muscovy duck,” said Suzanne.

“Bison for me,” said Sam.

“Excellent,” said Bernie. “And I’ll send along a side dish of grilled winter vegetables.”

When Bernie had moved to another table, Sam asked in a low voice, “What are winter
vegetables? I mean, nothing grows in winter, does it?”

“How about snow peas, chili peppers, and iceberg lettuce?” Suzanne joked.

Once the wine was poured, swirled, tasted, and exclaimed over, Suzanne and Sam gazed
across the table at each other.

“This is nice,” said Sam.

Nice?
thought Suzanne.
It’s fantastic!

“Mmm,” she said. “Very relaxing after such a tough week.”

Sam looked at her. “I’m sorry that murder had to land at your doorstep like that.”

“So am I,” said Suzanne. “Because it kicked off an avalanche of problems.”

“Did you ever locate that kid you told me about? What was his name?”

“Colby?” said Suzanne. “He’s probably hightailed it into the next county by now.”

“Or maybe he just went home,” said Sam.

“I hope so,” said Suzanne. But for some reason, she didn’t think he had. She had a
funny feeling that Colby might still be lurking somewhere close by. Then, not wanting
their lovely evening to focus on the murder or anything remotely relating to it, she
said, “You really surprised the heck out of me with that snowmobile.”

“I thought you’d get a kick out of it.” Sam was pleased that she was pleased.

“Once I got the hang of driving it,” said Suzanne, “it was quite an adrenaline rush.”

“See, you’re a sledhead already,” Sam laughed. “I knew it!”

Their food arrived, and it was fabulous. After they’d carefully exchanged bites and
poured refills on wine, they tucked into it with gusto.

“I had no idea I was this hungry,” said Suzanne.

“You were outside all day probably burning up a zillion calories.”

“Doubtful,” said Suzanne.

“Plus the wine is helpful in replacing electrolytes,” said Sam, topping off her glass
again.

“Wine does that?”

He winked at her. “It does for me.”

With the accompanying clink of crystal, Mozart on the sound system, and the golden
haze cast by the fire, Suzanne felt that she’d tumbled down a magical rabbit hole.
A year ago she had been a widow weighed down with worry over the future. Now, here
she was, keeping company with a great guy and reveling in his comforting and very
real presence.

They lingered over dessert and coffee, sharing a rich chocolate mousse with two spoons.

“Chocolate,” said Sam, practically scraping the bottom of the glass bowl, “is my ultimate
downfall. Dangle a Belgian truffle or bonbon in front of me and I’m yours for life.”

“Really?” said Suzanne. She might have to take him up on that.

“I’m a terrible chocoholic,” admitted Sam.

“In that case,” said Suzanne, “I’ll have to whip up my famous German chocolate layer
cake.”

He stared at her. “You really know how to make that?”

“With ease.”

“What else do you have in your bag of tricks?”

“How about dirty fried chicken,” said Suzanne.

Sam’s gaze was long and lingering. “Wow.”

S
OME
twenty minutes later, they were back in downtown Kindred. Main Street was brightly
lit and thronged with crowds of people.

“The sleigh rides,” said Sam, nosing into a parking space.

“And the ice-sculpture contest just kicked off,” said Suzanne.

“So, what’s first?”

They got out of Sam’s car just as an enormous brown Belgian draft horse clopped by,
bells jingling. The animal was pulling an old-fashioned sleigh with red velvet seats.

“Definitely a sleigh ride,” said Suzanne.

“You really have a thing for horses, don’t you?” said Sam.

“They’re the best,” said Suzanne, smiling as the big horse negotiated a tight turn
at the end of the block, arched his neck with pride, and came back toward them.

They waited in line for just a few minutes, and when it was their turn, they clambered
in and the driver tossed a striped Hudson’s Bay blanket over their legs.

“And away we go,” said Sam.

They flew down Main Street, the rushing wind chilling their faces as the enormous
Belgian horse pulled their sleigh with effortless vigor. Lampposts strung with twinkle
lights flew past, friends waved, a couple of kids chased after them.

When they were dropped at the park, Suzanne was
stunned at what a beehive of activity it was! It seemed like everyone and his brother-in-law
had a pick axe, hammer, or shovel, and was chipping and chopping at enormous blocks
of ice, trying to coax them into some semblance of an ice sculpture.

George Draper, with no sign of Claudia nearby, was chopping away with help from his
assistant. Their horizontal piece of ice had already taken on the dimensions of a
grand sarcophagus, complete with handles on the side and two small lions crouched
on top. Certainly a tomb befitting an emperor!

“Get a load of this one,” said Sam, pointing to the block of ice Ham Wick was working
on. They walked up to it.

“What is it?” Suzanne asked Wick.

“It’s a bit of a secret right now,” said Wick, sounding a little mysterious. “But
it has to do with money.”

“Is it a cash register?” asked Suzanne.

“Can’t say,” answered Wick.

“Stack of dollar bills?” proposed Sam.

Wick shook his head. “Still can’t say.”

“Okay, then,” said Suzanne. “Good luck.”

Sam and Suzanne strolled on. Some of the nurses from Westvale Clinic were trying to
create a giant stethoscope.

“Come on over and give us a hand, Doc,” called one of the nurses.

“Tonight’s my night off,” Sam called back, grinning.

Brett and Gregg from Root 66 were bearing down on what looked like a giant pair of
scissors. And Darrel Kronsky, a local wood-carver, was using his chainsaw to craft
an elaborate polar bear out of a tremendous block of ice.

Just as they were about to leave, they discovered Toni and Petra, who’d entered the
contest—sure enough—at the very last minute. They were doing a six-tiered wedding
cake, complete with fancy decorations. Only, right now, it seemed to be listing to
one side.

“Howdy, ladies!” said Suzanne. “I see you’re whipping up an irresistible dessert.”

“Trying to,” said Toni. “Only problem is, this dad-burned cake isn’t straight.”