Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) Read online

  “Want me to buy a cup of coffee?”

  She laughed. “Silly. Come on back in the kitchen. I’m having a planning session…”

  My heart dropped. What if Sara Jo was there?

  “…all by myself. I’ll welcome your company.”

  Sunshine streamed into the bright and cheerful kitchen, which had windows on three sides like you find in so many older homes. I pulled a stool up to the island where she was working, and asked, “Sara Jo still upstairs?”

  “No, she was gone when I got here.”

  “You worried she’s disappeared again?”

  Donna laughed as though I were being silly. “No, her clothes are here, even that notebook thing she carries around all the time. I usually check in the mornings.”

  I gathered my courage and took the direct approach. “Tom tells me you think you should stay here.”

  She backed off a bit, visibly and verbally. “Well, it’s an idea. Tom didn’t like it.”

  “No, he didn’t. Donna, why would you even think that? I’m glad you got the B&B because I know it’s your dream, but your husband and children should always come first.”

  “I want to build my business.” With determination, she slammed shut the notebook she’d been using in her planning, whatever that meant.

  I think she knew she had a weak case at best. “Donna, have you totaled up the number of paying guests you’ve had? Don’t count Sara Jo, because she’s an unusual case”—I thought that was putting it mildly. “Not many guests will come for long stays. If you get some for a week this summer, you’ll be doing well.”

  “No, I haven’t counted.” She gazed out the window, perhaps hoping I’d disappear while she was looking the other way.

  She hadn’t counted! Who was keeping the records? Good question, Kate. “Donna, who keeps the books for you?”

  “Well, of course I do. I wouldn’t let Tom look at them because he’d immediately say he told me I wouldn’t make a profit. I’m covering my expenses, I think.”

  She thinks? She doesn’t know? She might be covering her daily expenses, but I bet she hadn’t thought about the cost of remodeling and equipping the kitchen and furnishing the house. I suppose she can write that off—all she did was blow through her inheritance, including most of what she got from me for her half of the house and the café. “Uh, Don, I can’t do it this morning, but I want to look at your books. I won’t say I told you so, but I am used to running a business, and I might give you some pointers.” I’ll have to bite my tongue to keep from insulting her when I see those books, but I can set up a good bookkeeping system for her.

  “Okay.” She was reluctant. “Why not this morning? There’s not much to it.”

  I bet! “I’m going to Crandall to have lunch with Carolyn Grimes. I’m worried about her. How about tomorrow? Can you bring the books and your laptop to the café?”

  “I suppose, but I don’t want Marj and everyone to know my business.”

  “They won’t. I’ll be sure we have privacy. And, Donna, back off the idea of moving over here.”

  She avoided looking at me. “You know, Tom and I…well, we haven’t been getting along very well anyway. I just thought a little separation would do us good.”

  “What about the children? You can’t bring them over here…there’s not room.”

  She looked away and bit her lip, and I thought for a moment she looked sad. “They like Tom better anyway. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I left, in fact I nearly ran out the door. Carolyn and her “dread in the bones” would be a welcome relief from Donna and her crazy in the head. Promising over my shoulder to call tomorrow morning, I jumped in my car. As I drove away, I was puzzling over her lack of maternal instincts. We’d been raised the same way, and yet we were so different. What had made her so self-centered that she ignored her own children? If those children were mine…no, I wasn’t going there.

  The drive to Crandall was indeed relaxing after my tense morning. Spring had come to Texas, and the pale green of early spring had given way to deeper shades. In another month green pastures would be lush, if we got some sorely needed rain to break our drought. Trees were not quite in full leaf, but the sun was warm. In fact by afternoon I’d want the a/c on in my car. For now, I left the windows down and let the warm air blow through the car. You can’t mess up already messy curls, and some days I purely longed for a convertible. But, then, not many café owners drove a Lexus, so I told myself to be content with what I had. In fact, the Lexus payments were stretching my budget since I tried to live on my monthly income and not touch what was left of the principal of my money from Gram. Wonder if Donna ever thought about such a philosophy?

  Chester Grimes did it to me again—he stopped me, siren screaming, about two miles outside Crandall. No matter if you know it’s a friend, it’s always a heart-stopping moment to be pulled over to the side of the road by an officer of the law.

  “Couldn’t you have waited until I got to your house to talk? Did you have to pull me over and scare me half to death?” I was laughing as I asked that, but Chester wasn’t as cheerful as usual and his solemn face stopped my laughter.

  “Wanted to talk to you before you get to the house. I’m worried about my Carolyn. She just isn’t herself lately. I’m afraid she’s got the cancer or some other awful thing she’s not tellin’ me. I’m gonna eat with the boys at the local café. Know it won’t be as good as what you get, and the company won’t be as good either, but I want you and Carolyn to have a little girl talk. You don’t need me around. But you might text me later tonight. She’d hear a phone call, but she won’t see the text.”

  I agreed and, waving goodbye to him, went on into town, my eye on the speedometer. After all, he was the speeding ticket cop.

  Carolyn seemed as cheerful as ever to me when I got to her house. Wearing turquoise Capri pants and a matching flowered T-shirt with outrageous turquoise sandals and the same color on her toenails, she threw her arms around me and exclaimed, “Oh, I am so glad to see you. You’re just what I need.”

  Her house was as cheerfully cluttered as always, but she cleared a space for us at the kitchen table.

  “Don’t know what’s got into Chester, but he isn’t coming home for lunch. I’ve got meat loaf sandwiches, his favorite, and he knows it, but he said he’s eating with the boys.” She rolled her eyes to express her exasperation. “I guess he thinks we should have some girl time.”

  I tried to distract her by saying that meat loaf sandwiches were my favorite. No need to tell her I ate them all the time at my own café. Everyone’s meat loaf was different, and I was sure hers would be excellent. It was—ground venison, with a characteristically strong taste but not gamey. The sandwiches were on good whole-grain bread, and she offered mustard and mayo, but I chose mayo.

  As we sat down, Carolyn pulled a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, but I said, “No wine today. I can’t take a nap before I head home. I’d rather visit with you than nap anyway.”

  “What’s going on in Wheeler? How’s that cute police chief? And what about the B&B? I swear, you got more going on in that town than happens in Crandall in a year.” I laid out the whole Sara Jo story, which made her indignant. “Don’t know where some people get off thinking they can just stick their noses into other people’s business!”

  Carolyn knew Donna—or mostly about Donna—from me and from the occasional trips she and Chester made to Wheeler, so of course I let loose on all the craziness my sister had created lately. Carolyn was distracting me from talking about her, the reason I’d come, by talking about me.

  “Okay, enough,” I said, pushing away my empty plate. “How are you? What’s going on, and what is this about a dread in your bones. Here,” I reached in my bag and pulled out the lesson plans from the last cooking class, “I brought you the instructions for the lesson you missed.”

  She tried to wave away the thought by clearing the table “Oh, piffle. That was silliness on my part.”

  “I
f it was enough to keep you from cooking class, it’s real. Tell all. Now.”

  “Oh, I tell you it’s nothing. It’s just I’m worried about Chester. I got this strange feeling that something bad’s going to happen to him.” She turned to look at me, her hands now clasped tightly together. When she spoke again, her voice broke a little. “Now I know that’s silly. I don’t believe in ESP or whatever that is. We have no way of knowing, but it’s just a feeling I can’t shake. And I sure don’t want to tell him.”

  I bit my lip. “He’s worried about you. The two of you seem to have a mutual worry society going on, but neither of you is talking to the other about it. Don’t you think it’s about time you told him what’s bothering you.”

  “Me ask Chester to be careful?” She laughed for the first time. “You know how he’d react to that? He’d ask me what there was to be careful of in Crandall.”

  “Well, can you at least tell him it’s him you’re worried about and not that you have some dread fatal disease?”

  “That’s what that foolish man thinks? That’s why he’s been moping around here for days?” Her laughter rang out. Then she sobered, the smile leaving her face. “And he cares, doesn’t he? He really does.” Her eyes searched my face.

  “Of course he does, Carolyn. He’s worried to death. I think the two of you better sit down over wine and beer and have a good talk. Your dread in the bones may go away too. Nothing cures a dread in the bones like a glass of wine and a heart-to-heart talk. And then the two of you have to come to Wheeler—I’ll fix dinner. No café meal for you!”

  She grinned slyly. “Will you invite that cute Rick Samuels?”

  “If he promises to behave.” I laughed.

  I left in good spirits, feeling there was nothing really wrong with either of them and thinking I’d been a bit of a help to two good friends. Rick called when I was driving home, but I ignored the phone. After all, he was the one who preached against talking and driving.

  When I got back to Wheeler and the café, all seemed relatively calm and peaceful. Well, that means Donna was calm. She came by to pick up pot roast for her family and mentioned Sara Jo was still gone.

  “You going to spend the night at the B&B?” I asked as casually as I could.

  “If she’s not there? No way! That big old house is spooky at night.”

  So much, I thought, for the big, brave on-site owner. I wondered if Tom would be happy to have her or if they’d just have an awkward evening all around. Nothing I could do about it, but I made a note to invite the children for a sleepover that weekend.

  Rick came in for his cup of coffee and asked about Carolyn and the dread in her bones.

  “They’re each worried about the other,” I said, “and they’re not talking to each other, not sharing it.” I thought about the gulf between Donna and Tom, which was much wider and much deeper. “Have you ever noticed how married couples often don’t talk to each other? Even the ones who seem happy?”

  “Yeah,” he said in an almost sour tone. “I’ve noticed. Enough to sour you on the idea of marriage.”

  After he left, I tallied up the sales for the day and thought to myself, It’s a good thing I wasn’t hoping to marry him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Things went along peacefully in Wheeler, and I found Sara Jo out of sight—and out of town—was also out of mind. I had no idea what Donna was doing, but I hoped she was paying attention to her family.

  Things changed dramatically one afternoon when Sara Jo had been gone three days. Donna called me in such hysterics that I could barely make out what she was saying, between sobs and exclamations of “What am I going to do? Henry, he…well I told Henry not to play in the barn. Now, poor Henry….”

  “Is Henry all right?” I demanded loudly and harshly, thinking he’d gotten hurt on some old farm equipment in the barn or fallen off the hayloft or something worse, something even fatal. The mind always leaps to the worst conclusions.

  “Of course Henry’s all right. Just scared.”

  “Okay, Don, slow down and tell me what you’re saying.”

  I heard her take a deep breath. “Henry and his friends…playing in the barn…I’ve told them a thousand times not to, but boys are boys. They don’t listen, don’t remember. I’m telling you they found the car.”

  “Found the car? What car?” I was really lost here and trying too hard.

  “Sara Jo’s car,” she screamed as if I was an idiot. “They just came in and told me. Tracked mud on my floor, too.”

  Slowly I realized what the hysteria was about. If Sara Jo’s car was in the old barn, sans Sara Jo, which I assumed it was, where was she? Once again, I could think of some pretty frightening possibilities, and my heart pounded. No wonder Donna was hysterical. “You call Rick. I’ll be right there. Just hold on, Donna. I’ll call Tom too.” My mind was going in circles.

  “I hate Rick! I won’t call him.”

  Slow and easy, Kate. Breathe deeply. “Don, you have to call him. It’s now a missing persons case. Keep the boys in the house with you, away from the barn, and call Rick. I’ll be right there.”

  “Do I have to? Can’t you?”

  “No. You have to. I’m grabbing my car keys now.” I slammed down the phone, tried to avoid alarming the few customers in the café, and told Marj I’d be back when I could. She gave me such a puzzled look that I mouthed the word, “Emergency.” She nodded as if she understood perfectly, but she mouthed back “Donna?” I whispered I’d tell all when I got back.

  Rick beat me to The Tremont House, but barely. He was getting out of his car when I pulled up.

  “Go inside, stay with her, and keep those boys there,” he ordered. “I’ve called Tom. I’m going to the barn.” And he took off at a lope before I could say I’d already called Tom. As I turned to go in the house, Tom drove up, the brakes on his pickup squealing as he came to a sudden stop. He ran to the barn without even looking at me.

  Donna was pacing around in the kitchen, with two solemn little boys watching her in awe. They sat on stools at the kitchen island as if frozen. Donna never glanced at them, never spoke to them.

  When I came in, Henry slipped off his stool to rush over to hug me and ask, “Have I done something wrong, Aunt Kate?”

  I rubbed his shoulder—he was too tall these days for me to stroke his hair—and said, “No, you’ve probably done something right. But you were told not to play in that barn, weren’t you?”‘

  He nodded. “It’s just such a perfect place to play hide-and-seek.” He hung his head and watched his foot scuff back and forth on the floor. I waited for Donna to tell him not to scuff her new floor, but she said nothing.

  An idea flitted through my brain. “Henry, when was the last time before today that you played in the barn?”

  He sat back down on his stool and looked at his friend. “When, Josh? Maybe last week sometime?”

  Josh, the son of a druggist who worked in Canton, nodded but said nothing. His blue eyes were clouded with fear, and he kept brushing a shock of blond hair off his forehead.

  “Remember that, boys, and tell Chief Samuels when he asks you.”

  “Will he ask us a lot of questions?” Henry asked, his voice rising in that squeak of nervousness that betrays a male voice that hasn’t quite settled into its deeper ranges yet.

  “You can count on it.”

  We waited forever or so it seemed. By my watch, those two men were out at that barn for an hour and a half, and I was beginning to think of going out there to find out what was going on. That, I knew, would throw Rick into a fit. Besides, I had my hands full with Donna and two nervous boys. Actually the boys were no problem. They were still frozen in place.

  “What in hell are they doing out there? What could possibly take them that long? It’s either her car or it isn’t.” Donna was nearly hysterical again.

  “Did you go look before you called?” I knew almost for certain now what they’d found, and I didn’t like it one bit. My skin was clammy and I was col
d, fearing the shakes would start any minute.

  Donna gave me another of those looks that implied I was incredibly dumb. “No, I didn’t go look. I didn’t want to see. The whole thing is creepy.”

  Her answer told me she too knew what they’d found but was in denial. Donna the brave! Not a candidate to live alone in a B&B…or anywhere else.

  At long last, two solemn men came in the back door, carefully scraping their shoes before they entered the spotless kitchen.

  “Mrs. Bryson,” Rick said in his most official, formal manner. “I’m afraid we found Sara Jo. She didn’t go to Dallas this time.”

  “Found her? What do you mean? Where is she?”

  He never showed an ounce of emotion. “In the trunk of her car. With a bullet in her head.”

  Donna did something amazing. She fainted. Just fell down right there on the kitchen floor. Henry and Josh stared, while I worried about a concussion or something awful. She lay awfully still, and I was sure her head was at an odd angle. Could she have broken her neck?

  Apparently my mind once again went to the worst extreme. Tom carefully checked her pulse and gently picked her up. Rick asked if there was any ammonia in the kitchen. I moved automatically, searching under the sink, and uncovered a bottle of lemon ammonia. While Tom held Donna, Rick waved it under her nose but withdrew it quickly.

  “Too much can do serious damage to eyes, lungs, whatever,” he said.

  Donna came to, shaking her head, finally focusing on Tom. “Did he say she’s dead?”

  Tom nodded and set her on a stool, carefully holding on to her all the while.

  She shook her head, “No. That’s impossible. She can’t be.”