Egg Drop Dead Page 9

  “Jail?” Suzanne said.

  Freddy showed up with their pitcher of drinks and a fresh basket of chips. “Enjoy,” he said. “Sorry about the horse thing. Didn’t mean for it to be such a bummer for you guys.”

  Suzanne nodded. “Thanks for the drinks.” She poured out a margarita for Toni. “I think we better quit after this round.”

  “I hate to admit it,” Toni said, “but you’re probably right. I’m not as young and nubile as I used to be. My recovery rate has slowed.” She held up a finger. “And if you ever mention that I said that, I’ll claim plausible deniability.”

  “I get it. It takes me longer to bounce back in the morning, too.”

  “Or afternoon,” Toni said. “Considering ours is going to be super busy tomorrow.”

  “Petra’s pretty excited about this Yarn Truck she’s got coming in. She did a great job at marketing the whole event, so I think the Cackleberry Club is going to be packed to the gills.”

  “I just hope all the nervousness over Mike Mullen’s murder doesn’t put a damper on things,” Toni said. “I mean, people are really scared. No one knows if they’re safe in their own home. There’s a vicious killer out there and Sheriff Doogie’s got no suspects.”

  “He’s got suspects. Just no actual proof.”

  “Still, the killer could be anyone.”

  “I don’t believe Mike’s death was random,” Suzanne said. “The way Mike was killed . . . the horrific stab wounds . . . it’s what a homicide investigator would call overkill. Meaning it was up close and personal.” She paused. “I think Mike knew his killer.”

  Toni gave a little shiver. “Who do you think killed him, Suzanne? Do you think it was that neighbor kid, Noah? Even Junior thinks that kid is a little strange.”

  “I don’t know,” Suzanne said. “But I intend to do a little digging on my own. For one thing, I’d like to meet this Noah in person.”

  “Just be careful,” Toni said.

  “I will.” Suzanne glanced toward the bar and saw that Elder had left. She’d gotten a vibe off him that she didn’t care for and had decided to find out more about him, too. And about the herd of horses she’d seen this morning. So, a lot on her plate.

  Suzanne grimaced. But no horsemeat on her plate. No horse burgers. That was just plain awful. No way would she ever let something like that happen to one of her horses, even if he was old and sick and lame. Never. Never in a million years.

  CHAPTER 10

  PETRA grabbed her spatula and, quick as you please, flipped over a dozen blueberry pancakes. Then she moved over to her enormous skillet and pushed around a mound of sizzling turkey bacon. Thursday morning breakfast service was under way at the Cackleberry Club and today everyone was fizzing with excitement.

  For one thing, Toni was all whipped up about choosing a Halloween costume for Monday night’s big party. “It’s gotta be ultra sexy,” she said to Petra as she set out plates. “Something that will make everybody’s eyeballs pop out of their heads.”

  “Don’t make it too sexy,” Suzanne warned. She was slicing oranges and strawberries for garnishes. “Or Junior will try to recruit you for his car wash.”

  “The thing is,” Toni said, “Halloween is the one day of the year a girl can go hog wild and let it all hang out. I mean, I could be a harem girl, a fortune-telling gypsy, or even . . .” She arched her back and kicked out a leg. “A ballet dancer.”

  “I could care less about wearing a sexy costume,” Petra said. “All I want is to be comfy.”

  Toni wrinkled her nose. “You mean, like, a stretchy waistband?”

  “And roomy through the hips.”

  “Ach. I bet you wear granny panties, too.”

  Petra squinted at her. “Hey, don’t knock ’em until you’ve tried ’em, honey.”

  “Not me,” Toni said. “I’m a Frederick’s of Hollywood gal. I like my undies flashy and trashy.”

  “Not to change the subject,” Petra began. Then she managed a lopsided grin and said, “Actually I do want to change the subject.” She was suddenly serious. “Are you ladies aware that Mike Mullen’s visitation is tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Toni said. “Are you going?”

  “Well, I suppose so,” Petra said. She glanced at Suzanne. “I mean, I assumed all three of us would go and pay our respects.”

  “Of course we will,” Suzanne said. In the back of her brain, the parietal lobe area that didn’t concern itself with remembering breakfast and lunch orders and dealing with a bunch of crazed knitters this afternoon, she was still wondering about the autopsy report. Had anything interesting turned up? She needed to call Sam and find out.

  “I don’t know about this,” Toni grumped. “You guys know how much I hate looking at dead bodies that are all tricked out in a fancy casket. The whole creepy ritual bums me out.”

  “I don’t think you should be unduly concerned,” Suzanne told her. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a closed casket.”

  Toni jittered on the balls of her feet like an over-caffeinated Chihuahua. “You mean because”—her eyes darted back and forth—“because Mike was all chopped up?”

  “Excuse me,” Petra said as she added golden brown pancakes to the waiting plates. “Can we please change that subject, too?”

  * * *

  BALANCING three orders, Suzanne pushed her way into the café and delivered the breakfasts to waiting customers.

  Toni followed on her heels and delivered another four orders. Then she smiled, poured coffee, accepted compliments on the food, laughed at jokes, and did everything but the bunny dip to make their customers feel welcome, happy, and semi-coddled.

  “You’re suddenly in a good mood,” Suzanne told Toni when they both found themselves behind the counter, grabbing sticky rolls and little wrapped pats of butter.

  “I’m in a good mood because I just figured out my Halloween costume,” Toni said.

  “So what’s it going to be?”

  “Definitely a ballet dancer. A really sexy one.”

  “Interesting choice,” Suzanne said. It was interesting because Toni’s dance moves generally involved doing an energetic two-step at a country-western bar.

  “You don’t like it?”

  Suzanne held up her hands, palms outward. “Hey, I’m the one who’s going as a witch. Who am I to judge?”

  “I was thinking of wearing a leopard-print leotard and some kind of frilly, black ballet skirt.”

  “And you’re going to create this skirt yourself?” Suzanne asked.

  “I thought maybe you’d help me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Remember, sweetie, I’m the sewing-challenged partner who foisted the design and stitching of my costume on my too-polite-to-say-no neighbor.”

  “Well, do you think Petra would help me?” Toni asked.

  “Probably have to ask her, though she’s more into quilting and knitting.”

  “You sure you couldn’t help me with the skirt?”

  “Toni . . .”

  “What if I went to the dime store and bought ten yards of black netting and frilly lace?”

  “And then what?” Suzanne asked. “You want me to wrap you up like a burrito?”

  “It should probably be a little more artful than that,” Toni said.

  Suzanne glanced into the café. “We’ll see, okay?” She’d just noticed a new face in the crowd. Well, not completely new, since she’d met the man yesterday. “Toni,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t look now, but that guy Byron Wolf just walked in and sat down.”

  Toni spun around like an out-of-control gyroscope. “He did? Where?”

  Suzanne grabbed her and cranked her back around. “Table by the window. And don’t stare at him. Don’t make it so obvious.”

  “Are you gonna wait on him or do you want me to go over there?” Toni asked.

&nbs
p; “I’ll take care of him.”

  “Anytime you want to hand him off to me, that’s just fine,” Toni said. “Cause that Big Bad Wolf looks like he might be a big-time tipper.”

  Suzanne grabbed a fresh pot of coffee, pasted a smile on her face, and hustled over to Wolf’s table. “Good morning,” she said in a cheery voice.

  Wolf thumbed something on his iPhone and then glanced up at Suzanne. “You,” he said with an almost smile. “The lady entrepreneur.”

  “Masquerading as your waitress today.” Suzanne poured him a cup of coffee and set the pot down on his table. “Have you had a chance to look at the board? Do you know what you’d like?”

  Wolf lifted an eyebrow as he continued to gaze at her. “The board?”

  “Chalkboard. As in menu?” Suzanne was not unaware that Wolf was rather good-looking. No wonder Toni was so smitten.

  “Why don’t you just bring me what’s good.”

  “It’s all good,” Suzanne said.

  Wolf settled back in his chair, a smile playing at his lips. “So bring it all.”

  Suzanne tapped her pen against her order pad. “How about we whip up a nice mushroom and red pepper omelet for you? With a side of chicken and rice sausage.”

  “That sounds ridiculously healthy. How about a couple of fried eggs with a rasher of bacon?”

  “Up to you.”

  “Hey,” Wolf said. “You’re kind of cute, you know that? And I hear you’re smart, too.”

  Suzanne smiled. “Somebody’s been spreading nasty rumors about me again.”

  “I happen to be an excellent judge of character. You have to be when you’re in my kind of business.”

  “The kind of business where you build shopping centers and housing developments?”

  Wolf nodded. “That’s right, honey. When hundreds of millions of dollars are on the line, commercial real estate development is not for the faint of heart.”

  “How much money will it cost you to buy the Mullen farm?” Suzanne asked.

  “You’re very forward with your questions.”

  “Thank you, I am.”

  “The thing is,” Wolf said, “we’re still in negotiations.”

  “But you didn’t waste much time, did you? Mike Mullen has only been dead for forty-eight hours. Of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “Say now . . .” His face clouded over.

  “What did you promise Claudia, Mr. Wolf?” Suzanne asked. “And is she really and truly a willing seller or did you have to twist her arm?”

  “Don’t read too much into this, honey. It’s just another negotiation.”

  “What’s Mayor Mobley’s part in the deal?”

  Wolf frowned and his dark eyes bored into her. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  “Just a few friendly questions,” Suzanne said. “I’ll go put your order in. Honey.”

  * * *

  “WHAT’D he say?” Toni asked when Suzanne came into the kitchen.

  “Wolf says he’s still in negotiations with Claudia.”

  Standing at the stove, her back to them, Petra shook her head. “I still can’t believe Claudia is thinking about selling the farm, just like that.”

  “Believe it,” Suzanne said. “I’m getting the feeling this is really going to happen.”

  “Claudia could stand to make a bundle,” Toni said. “Unless . . .”

  Petra turned and cocked an eye at her. “Unless what?”

  Toni grimaced. “Unless Claudia whacked her own husband. Then Sheriff Doogie will probably figure out the whole scheme, arrest her, and the poor woman will spend the next twenty years working in the laundry of some crappy women’s prison.”

  “Will you stop,” Petra hissed. “There’s no way Claudia could have harmed Mike. No way at all.”

  But Toni was unwilling to let it go. “You don’t find it strange that, boom, one day Mike is dead, and the next day, howdy do, mister, the farm is on the market?”

  “Yes, I find it strange,” Petra said. “But I chalk it up to stress and frayed nerves. To Claudia not knowing where to turn or what to do.”

  “I don’t know,” Toni said in a singsong voice. “It looks to me as if Claudia knows exactly what to do.”

  “Why don’t we table this discussion for now,” Suzanne said. She knew she had to intervene or Toni and Petra would go back and forth all day long. Toni tossing out theories, Petra trying to shoot them down. “Why don’t we go to the viewing tonight and . . .”

  “Knock knock,” a voice at the back door called out.

  “Hmm?” Petra said, turning.

  Toni flew to the door and yanked it open. “Hey,” she said, a smile coloring her voice. “It’s Kit. Get in here, girlfriend. Glad you could come by and help.”

  Kit Kaslik stepped tentatively into the kitchen and paused as Toni gave her a great big bear hug. Even though Kit had once worked at Hoobly’s Roadhouse as an exotic dancer, she was a slightly timid girl. She was also twenty-two years old with long blond hair, a sweet face, and a lush figure. And now, since she was five months pregnant, her figure was positively ripe.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Suzanne said. “Thanks for coming. We really need your help today.”

  “That’s for sure,” Toni echoed. “We’re gonna be crazy-busy, what with the Yarn Truck and the Knitter’s Tea. Petra’s already in a huge flutter.”

  “Am not,” Petra said. “I’m just trying to anticipate any problems before they crop up.”

  “See what I mean?” Toni said.

  “How’s Ricky?” Petra asked Kit.

  “He’s good,” Kit said. “In fact, he just called me last night from Afghanistan.” A hand slid protectively down to her belly.

  “Still have plans to get married?” Petra asked with a distracted smile.

  “Petra,” Suzanne said. There was a warning tone in her voice. Petra was old-fashioned and tended to be a trifle disapproving of single mothers.

  “Maybe when Ricky comes home at Christmas,” Kit said.

  “That would be great,” Toni exclaimed. “I just love a Christmas wedding. And we’d for sure throw you a great big baby shower.”

  “Here? At the Cackleberry Club?” Kit’s eyes shone brightly. “That would be fantastic!”

  “Ladies,” Petra said. “There isn’t going to be a Cackleberry Club if you don’t get out there and start waiting on tables.”

  * * *

  WHILE Toni and Kit hustled out to take orders from the guests that had shown up mid-morning, Suzanne busied herself at the chalkboard. She quickly erased the breakfast menu and started writing out the luncheon menu.

  Today was going to be easy. Tomato bisque soup, chicken salad on pumpkin bread, muffuletta sandwiches, and shepherd’s pie. With chocolate cupcakes, cherry crumb bars, and pumpkin fudge for dessert.

  “Suzanne?”

  Suzanne spun around to find Kit looking a little lost. “Yes?”

  “Do we carry oolong tea?”

  “We sure do, but you’re going to have to brew it.”

  “Can you show me how?”

  “Of course.” Suzanne took Kit behind the counter and showed her how to warm the teapot with hot water, measure out two scoops of loose leaf tea, add hot water, and then figure out the steeping time.

  “This is so cool,” Kit said as she watched the leaves twist and dance as they brewed. “But wouldn’t tea bags be a whole lot easier?”

  “They probably would,” Suzanne said. “But a lot of the tea that comes in tea bags is made up of pieces and stems. And tea dust. Loose leaf tea is generally fresher and more flavorful.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “Trial and error. Lots of error.” Suzanne glanced over at Byron Wolf’s table. He was still planted there, apparently conducting a full morning’s worth of busi
ness. He talked on his phone, scribbled in a little leather notebook, and looked generally important as well as slightly discontent. Was he trying to hammer out a big important deal? Suzanne wondered. Or was something else going on?

  She strolled toward his table, where Toni had suddenly materialized to pour him a fifth refill of coffee. Or was it his sixth?

  “You’ve got some big business deals going on, huh?” Toni asked Wolf. She winked and fixed him with a friendly, flirty smile. “I like a man who’s a wheeler-dealer. Reminds me of . . .”

  “Toni,” Suzanne said. “You’re needed in the kitchen.”

  Toni spun around. “Huh? Now?”

  Without giving an answer, Suzanne grabbed Toni by the arm and steered her into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Suzanne asked once they were out of earshot.

  Toni shrugged. “Flirting. Entertaining the customers.”

  “You’ve been prancing around the café like Gypsy Rose Lee.”

  “So what?” Toni said. “Jiggling is just my way of saying hello. And I know the customers enjoy my friendly banter ’cause I get lots of feedback from them.” She gave a contented sigh. “And you know what else? I think I’m just beginning to hit the peak of my sexuality. You ladies wouldn’t want to deny me that, would you?”

  Petra eyed her carefully. “You know that little tingle you feel?”

  Toni turned and widened her eyes. “Yeah?”

  Petra snorted. “Those are just garden-variety hot flashes.”

  * * *

  LATE morning, Sam called Suzanne to see how she was doing.

  “I’m going crazy,” Suzanne said. “And it isn’t even lunchtime yet. The Yarn Truck will be here in three hours and I still haven’t had a free moment to think about this afternoon’s tea.”

  “You’re telling me it’s business as usual?” Sam asked

  “That’d be about right.” Suzanne paused. “Listen, I’d love to see you tonight.”

  “Can’t,” Sam said. “I’m on call at the hospital.”

  “Oh right, I forgot. And now that I think about it, I was planning to swing by Driesden and Draper Funeral Home for Mike Mullen’s visitation.”