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

  I hesitated, not wanting to offend, but slowly I said, “I guess not. My Dallas life seems like another world to me now. My world is bounded by a restaurant, a dog and a cat and my nieces and nephew, and a small town, with all its complications and intricacies.”

  “I thought small towns were peaceful, and you’d be bored.”

  “I’m waiting for that. Wheeler never seems free from problems.” I didn’t think it was worth the time, at that hour of the night, to tell her about Sara Jo Cavanaugh. She wouldn’t understand.

  When I got up on Thursday morning, I realized that I really didn’t want to go barhopping with Cindy that night. I didn’t want to listen to more stories of men good and bad and gossip about this girl and that and what this mean boss or that had done. I was ready to go back to Wheeler. And my search for Sara Jo, while not deep, had yielded nothing. Nor had I found Joanie Millican, in spite of phone calls to all three southwestern boutiques. Granted, mine was not a thorough search. Maybe I’d come back some time, stay in a hotel, and do more. Meantime, my ostensible reasons for coming to Dallas—to get away and to see old friends—were a total bust, but I had learned a lot, and it was a worthwhile trip.

  After Cindy went to work, I packed my stuff in my car, except for Wynona. I’d add her right after lunch.

  David took me to a place almost on Bachman Lake, at the end of the runways from Love Field. It was called Gyros, and you entered through a vine-covered archway. I couldn’t decide if it was spooky or charming. Inside, the place was not charming, definitely. It was a nightclub, reeked of stale beer, and had a dance floor with tables surrounding it.

  He saw my questioning look and held up a hand. “Wait. Wait until you taste the food. Trust me—no band, no music, no dancing at lunch.”

  It was Greek food, and I gorged myself on dolmas and the best spanakopita I’ve ever had. A taste of David’s gyro plate with tzatziki sauce sent me through the roof.

  “This is the best Greek food I’ve ever eaten,” I said between mouthfuls.

  He laughed. “I wanted to show you the underbelly of Dallas, the places you never discovered because you were so busy with the North Dallas bar scene.”

  Zing! That hurt, but it was deserved. I just smiled and said, “You’ve shown me. I may have to come back for another lesson.”

  His hand was on mine again. “Any time. I know lots more places. A place in the Bishop Arts District that serves home-style food—oh, you get that in Wheeler, don’t you? How about a place with a glass-floored patio where you can look down at the pier-and-beam construction of a 1920s building while you eat really trendy food?”

  “You’re so tempting. I may come to Dallas to visit more often. I see what I’ve been missing.” What I didn’t say was I was missing the life David lived—and maybe him—but not the life I’d lived.

  He drove me back to Cindy’s, and I told him I was going to leave Cindy a note and go home that afternoon. He cocked his head and looked at me. “Had enough of the high life?”

  I sighed. “Enough of the singles life. It’s not me anymore. I can’t believe I was caught up in it.”

  He leaned over and kissed me ever so gently. “This was a really worthwhile trip then. Drive safe, and I’ll see you in Wheeler soon. Maybe I’ll just surprise you and walk into the café one day.”

  I laughed. “I’d love it. So would Rick.”

  His smile faded, and I cursed my busy tongue.

  ****

  I took the back road home, going through Seagoville and on to Crandall. When I approached that town, I suddenly was aware of a flashing light and the brief signal of a siren behind me. Sure I wasn’t speeding, I pulled over and waited defensively, digging out my driver’s license.

  As I rolled down my window, I heard a cheery, “Miss Kate, we’ve been wondering about you. Meaning to get over to Wheeler for supper but just haven’t done it. Now I’ll have to ticket you for goin’ through Crandall and not stopping to see the missus and me.”

  I looked into the smiling face of Chester Grimes, who had rescued me when my brakes failed just the other side of Crandall and I rammed my car into some small trees, taking out one of them. His wife Carolyn had fed me, babied me, and put me down for a nap as though I were a child. I’d thought of them often, but just as they were too busy to come to Wheeler, I’d been too busy to contact them.

  “Miss, I’ll tear up this ticket if you get yourself into town to see Miss Carolyn. Neither of us will forgive you if you don’t. And just to be sure, I’ll follow you. Siren off though.”

  By now, I was laughing. “Chester, I’d love a visit. I’ll follow your orders.”

  And so once again, I was in Carolyn Grimes’ cheerful, cluttered living room, while she clucked like a mother hen. “Child, I’ve been worried about you. Chester told me you almost got yourself killed.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I protested.

  “Rick Daniels thought it was,” Chester said. “I can’t tell you how distraught that man was when he called me. I thought I was gonna have to go to Wheeler to save him.”

  A wave of emotion swept over me. Rick cared that much? He never really let that on to me, especially not that day. I sat and turned the thought over and over in my mind, my thoughts inevitably going back to David Clinkscales. Why was it when I was searching for men there were no good ones in sight, but now that I wasn’t searching, I kept bumping into them?

  I was silent so long Carolyn scolded her husband. “Chester, don’t you go upsetting this poor girl. I’ve got iced tea and a fresh Bundt cake—chocolate—just out of the oven. You sit and eat, Kate. Chester, the cake isn’t on your diet.”

  “Then why did you bake it?” he asked plaintively.

  “Oh, all right. You can have a small piece.”

  And so I sat and ate chocolate cake—I’d have to diet back in Wheeler whether Chester did or not—and told them about life in Wheeler. I didn’t say much about all the past events, but I found myself pouring out the story of Sara Jo Cavanaugh.

  “Asking nosy questions, huh?” Carolyn sniffed. “In Crandall, we’d run her right out of town. Wouldn’t you, Chester.”

  “Now, Mama, you know I can’t run people out of town just because you don’t like them. That was a century ago.”

  As far as I knew this devoted couple had no children, not even dogs or cats, but he still called his wife, “Mama.” I found it sort of endearing.

  “But, Kate, you take care,” Chester went on. “And this time don’t leave Rick out of things. He’s the law, and besides that he cares about you. Last time you nearly got yourself killed, so who knows what could happen this time.”

  “I don’t think it’s dangerous,” I said, “just trouble. She’s going to stir up trouble. I bet she breaks up some marriages, maybe ruins a business or two. That kind of trouble.”

  “Never can tell. She riles someone enough, she might be in danger herself. Why’d she pick Wheeler?”

  “She’s vague about that and vague about who she’s writing for. I’m going to ask for a card, or some clippings, or some evidence of her professional background. That was the suggestion of my old boss in Dallas.”

  “Good idea.” Chester nodded his approval. “Let me know what you find out.”

  After a suitable visit, I stood to leave, and Chester carried Wynona’s crate back out to the car. I hugged Carolyn and followed Chester, who said, “Mama and me will be over to eat one time soon, Kate. You count on it.”

  “I will,” I said, giving him a swift hug.

  Then I was in my car and on my way to Wheeler, feeling a great sense of joy that I was going home.

  Chapter Five

  To my relief, no one saw me come into town. Since I was supposed to stay in Dallas until the next day, I could have a quiet evening at home with Wynona and Huggles, who was delighted to see me, not so happy to see the cat. I unpacked and poured myself a glass of white wine. I’d had the forethought to buy a case in Dallas, since none was available in Wheeler. Then I fried some bacon a
nd scrambled eggs. Sometimes breakfast is the best choice for supper.

  My conscience got the better of me, and I put my book aside in favor of doing some paperwork at Gram’s desk. Huggles curled at my feet, and I was working away when suddenly the dog barked and flew out of the room. A bit alarmed I followed him, only to find Tom quietly letting himself in the kitchen door, a gun in his hand.

  “Whoa!” I said, grabbing Huggles.

  “Kate! What are you doing home? You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow. I thought someone had broken in.”

  “And you scared me half to death!” I countered. “Come in now and have a glass of wine.”

  “No, I better get home. Donna’s on a tear, and she hasn’t fed the kids. I just came to make sure Huggles is all right but now that you’re home….”

  “What’s she on a tear about?” I didn’t really want to hear, but it was polite to ask.

  “That Cavanaugh woman is gone”.”

  “Left Wheeler?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Donna looked—her clothes and computer are still here. All that’s missing is her car and that electronic notebook she carries, her cell phone, and her purse. Oh, and of course, her.”

  “Maybe she just went out of town overnight. Research or something.”

  “She left soon as she got new tires for her car.”

  “Whoa! I’ve missed something. Why did she need new tires for her car?”

  He smiled, but it was a tired smile. “Someone slashed all four tires in the driveway of The Tremont House two nights ago. Rick didn’t tell you?”

  “I haven’t seen Rick. So tell me.”

  He shrugged. “Not much to tell. No clue who did it. No note or anything. She just went out in the morning and found the car sitting on rims. We had to call to Canton for tires, got ’em fixed the next day, and she took off.”

  “Wonder if that’s connected? If she had some idea who slashed her tires and she went after them or because of it….” My voice trailed off because I was out of possibilities.

  He sighed. “I will have a quick glass of wine. I don’t like vandalism in my town.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, and I poured him a glass of wine. “I tried to convince Donna she’ll be back, but she’s afraid she’s lost her best paying customer. So now she’s furious at Rick…again…because he hasn’t found out who slashed the tires and drove away her paying customer.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead in a weary gesture, and I thought to myself Tom was looking older lately—a little puffy around the eyes, a little fuller in the face, and often dispirited.

  “Didn’t Sara Jo pay in advance?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I think Donna misses her company as much as anything. I told her to be careful what she said, but she spends a lot of time talking to her—sometimes late at night. You know how Donna feels about Wheeler. I’m afraid she’s giving Sara Jo an earful about all that’s wrong with Wheeler. And now she thinks the tire slashing is just one more nail in Wheeler’s coffin. She really wants to be out of here, and sometimes…truly…I’m tempted to tell her to go. Just leave me my children.”

  My heart broke at those words, and for a long time I had nothing to say. What can you say to a man who wants to keep his family together but can’t put up with his wife…and for good cause? What I finally said sort of changed the subject back to Sara Jo.

  “I don’t guess there’s much we can do about finding Sara Jo. She’ll show up in a day or two. I’ll try to take Donna’s mind off that.”

  “You probably don’t have to worry about that. She has a doozy of an idea that involves you. But I’ll let her tell you.”

  “Tom, that’s not fair!”

  He grinned and ducked out that door, and I was left stewing about what Donna’s doozy of an idea could be.

  Of course, the next morning I didn’t have to stew long. I was putting sticky buns in the oven, early as usual, and everyone exclaimed about my being back a day sooner than expected. When Rick came in, he grinned—rare for him—and then whispered conspiratorially the sticky buns weren’t as good when I was gone.

  But Donna knew I was back. Tom would have told her, and she must have come to the café as soon as she got the children off to school. She came in the door and made straight for the counter. “Sister! I have to talk to you.”

  I could see Rick edge sideways in his seat, as though he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and her.

  “Hi, Donna. Thanks. I’m glad to be home.”

  She got to the point immediately. “Oh, of course I’m glad you’re home. It’s just that I’ve had so much on my mind. Sara Jo’s car being vandalized and all. I knew she was trouble from the beginning.”

  Was this my sister who had found her best friend forever in Sara Jo not a week ago? Just as that thought ran through my head, I heard Gram say, “Tsk, child. Be patient with your sister.”

  “What’s up, Don?”

  She stiffened. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. But I have a problem and a great idea. My problem is Sara Jo’s gone.”

  “Tom told me, but I suspect she’ll be back. After all, she left her clothes and all.”

  “That’s what he says, but I can’t help being suspicious. I don’t mean she’s run away or anything. I just hope she’s all right.”

  Startled, I asked, “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  Rick’s ears perked up.

  “You know how this town can be, Kate. What if someone did something to her? I mean, after the tire incident, it’s clear someone wants to get her…or at least scare her away.”

  “True. She’s been annoying people, and this vandalism is scary. Maybe she just wanted to get away for a day or two to think about it. Or maybe she’s doing some research.”

  “No, but she told me she’s on to something big.”

  I wonder if that was Donna’s interpretation of something Sara Jo said.

  “She’ll be back today or tomorrow,” I said after a moment. “I don’t think Sara Jo scares easily. Want to bet, say, lunch in Canton?”

  “Canton,” she scoffed. “There’s no place there worth the bet. I’ll bet you lunch at the Adolphus in Dallas.”

  I resisted the urge to tell her I knew better places than the Adolphus but said, “You’re on.” I was fairly confident I would never have to buy her that lunch, and I’d conveniently let her forget that she owed me.

  Rick got up, put his hat on, tipped it in our direction, said, “Ladies!” and left. I wished I could go with him.

  “But let me tell you about my great idea.”

  I leaned on the counter. “Tell me.”

  “We’re going to run The Tremont House Cooking School.”

  “We are?”

  “Right. I’ll manage it, arrange the classes, collect the fees, do all the administrative work. All you have to do is teach ladies how to cook.”

  “What ladies?”

  “Well, the good ladies of Wheeler, of course.”

  “Most of them already know how to cook the stuff I fix here, like chicken-fried steak or fried catfish.”

  “Oh, no,” she said in horror. “That’s not what we’ll teach. What was that dish you made one morning in my kitchen? Coke something.”

  “Coquille St. Jacques, and you said Tom wouldn’t eat it. Neither, I bet, would most of the men in Wheeler.”

  “Well, can you come up with a list of dishes that would interest the ladies, so they could fix them for their husbands? And then we’d send home what they cooked for their dinner that night. I’d make a big salad to go with it.”

  Salad was right up her alley—if she could get pre-washed greens. Gram, why aren’t you rescuing me from this?

  I could hear a chuckle from Heaven. “You’re on your own, child.” And she was gone.

  In the end, Donna assigned me the chore of coming up with no less than ten dishes. She would, she said, be planning. As she left, I called out, “Be sure to let me know when Sara Jo comes back.” Then I walked around and sat on a s
tool feeling like a hurricane had just come through. But believe it or not, I began thinking about dishes…until my thoughts turned to Sara Jo. I’d heard a lot about her in recent days but I hadn’t seen her, not since Donna gave her kitchen privileges. It was time to invite Sara Jo to have lunch with me.

  ****

  I expected Donna would tell me when Sara Jo came back to town and then I’d go to the B&B and invite her for lunch or supper, but I had no need to do that. She came back to town late that night, and before Donna could spread the word, Sara Jo was in the café the next morning, so early I almost didn’t have sticky buns ready.

  “Morning,” I said casually, putting a cup of coffee in front of her and moving the container of sugar and sweetener packets and the creamer toward her. “You’ve been among the missing. Donna was worried. And I hear your car was vandalized.”

  She flipped her hair, worn loose today, back from her face and said, almost sarcastically, “I didn’t know I had to check in with her before I left town. And, yes, my tires were slashed. But at least I know you didn’t do it. You were in Dallas.”

  Is she serious or is she joking?

  “The tires were a huge inconvenience. It took a full day to get new ones from Canton and get them installed, but that’s just a nuisance. People who do that aren’t dangerous. And as for Donna worrying, she doesn’t have to keep tabs on me. I wish she wouldn’t.”

  “Donna’s concern is well intentioned,” I said. Good a time as any to start the conversation. “She says you’ve uncovered something big, really big, and she was afraid someone might want to harm you to keep you from writing about it.”

  She stared thoughtfully into space so long I poured myself a cup of coffee, returned and said, “Let’s go sit at that corner table.”

  When we were settled, and I had brought her a sticky bun, which I’m sure broke her diet, she said, “You know, as a journalist, I know better than to talk about my work to others. But Donna…well, we talked like, oh, maybe high school girlfriends, late into the night, and I thought I could trust her. Lesson learned. Besides, what I’ve got so far isn’t enough to make anyone feel threatened.”