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The Magnolias gathered at Star’s cottage that evening. It had rained for a couple of hours that afternoon before the clouds cleared. Jenny had enjoyed a flaming sunset, lounging on the porch with her aunt. Heather called as Jenny and Star were wondering what to do for dinner. She had some fancy cosmetic samples and a spa night was proposed.
Molly arrived with two big Tupperware containers and a wide smile.
“Brownies and hot fudge. We’re making sundaes.”
Jenny had just placed an order at Mama Rosa’s, the local pizzeria. Heather was laying out an array of interesting products on a coffee table.
“Are you sure these are safe?” Betty Sue inquired imperiously.
She huddled together with Star and Petunia on a couch.
“These are all organic, Grandma. People pay top dollar to use them.”
Jenny spotted a lilac scented massage cream, oatmeal and rose scrub and seaweed masks. Twenty minutes later, they were all settled in their favorite spots, their feet soaking in tubs of warm water, faces slathered with the masks.
Star held aloft her wine glass and sought their attention.
“I vote we have spa night at least once a month.”
The girls clapped and gave their resounding approval.
Jenny was dragging her feet the next morning as she chopped vegetables for soup. She had just slid a batch of apple muffins in the oven. Petunia thrust a steaming mug of coffee in her hands and told her to step out on the deck.
“That fresh air will snap you awake, honey.”
Jenny closed her eyes and sipped her coffee, still half asleep. A clatter of footsteps dashed any hopes of a quick snooze.
Harrison Webster towered over her, looking livid.
“What kind of detective are you?” he fumed. “Are you just stringing me along?”
Jenny drained her mug and sat up in her chair, trying to focus her bleary eyes.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Webster?”
Harrison began pacing the deck, rubbing his hand over his bald head.
“You say you’re looking for Tom but you don’t even know how he looks.”
Jenny realized he had a point.
“You’re right. Can you describe him for me?”
Harrison whipped out his phone.
“I can do better.”
He proceeded to show Jenny a series of photos of his beloved Tom. Jenny saw a modest black bird with a golden tail, perched on a branch in the yard, or on the ladder with the hens. There were pictures where he sat in the brown leather recliner Jenny had noticed in Harrison’s living room, or watched the old man eat cereal at his kitchen table.
“He’s cute,” Jenny remarked. “How old is he?”
“Seventeen weeks,” Harrison beamed proudly. “Didn’t I tell you he’s an artisan turkey? They are more petite than those puffed up, hormone injected birds you get at the supermarket.”
“He’s very lively, isn’t he?”
Harrison looked pleased.
“Tom’s a handful alright. I’ve never held him back, see? The freedom has done wonders for him. And it’s the special diet he’s on, of course. I personally cook all his meals, using organic fruits and grains. He loves my spinach and white bean stew. I’ll give you the recipe.”
Jenny told him she was looking forward to it.
“Are you sure Tom couldn’t have flown out? He looks strong enough.”
Harrison shook his head.
“He can’t fly more than a few feet, remember? His wings are clipped. I had to do it for his own protection.”
“What if someone walked into the yard and picked him up?” Jenny countered.
“Impossible!” Harrison started pacing again. “The whole property is secured with a high quality alarm system. An outsider can’t get in.”
Jenny felt the angst rolling off Harrison Webster and hoped she wouldn’t fail him.
“What about Sue Patterson?” Harrison scowled. “Do you believe her?”
Jenny didn’t know who that was. Harrison grew infuriated and reminded her of his competitor. Jenny told him he had never mentioned her before. They went back and forth for a while until Jenny capitulated.
“I’ll meet her today, Mr. Webster.”
Jenny got busy making bacon and cheese omelets for the breakfast crowd. She managed to squeeze in a phone call to Heather. Molly and Star came in for coffee, followed by Heather. Betty Sue had stayed at the inn to look after Tootsie, their black poodle.
“What’s wrong with Toots?” Petunia asked. “Did you take her to the vet?”
“It’s a stomach bug,” Heather explained. “I would’ve stayed with her but Jenny here needs me.”
Heather had located Sue Patterson and fixed an appointment with her. She had an office in the neighboring town, five miles out of Pelican Cove.
“We should be back soon,” Jenny promised Petunia. “Can you just keep an eye on the chicken soup please? I’ll throw in the orzo pasta later.”
Star and Petunia assured her they could handle the soup.
“What do we know about this woman?” Jenny asked as she drove across the bridge that connected Pelican Cove to the mainland.
“She used to be Harrison Webster’s biggest competitor,” Heather informed her. “They had a healthy rivalry going. Her birds were affected by the same virus that wiped out Harrison’s. Only difference is, she picked herself up and rebuilt her business.”
Sue Patterson appeared friendly enough.
“What is Harrison up to these days?”
Heather launched into a description of the Webster hens while Jenny looked around the tiny office. A bulletin board held a bunch of flyers advertising the artisan turkeys Sue Patterson reared. The small black turkeys looked very much like Tom.
“This must be a busy time for you,” Jenny began, sipping the coffee Sue prepared for them using a fancy machine.
“That’s right,” Sue explained. “The turkey business is a bit different. I have to babysit these birds for 4-5 months. As you can imagine, Thanksgiving is our busiest time. But I can take it easy the rest of the year.”
“And you only have artisan turkeys?” Heather asked.
“Bigger profit margins,” Sue shrugged. “And once I tasted these birds, I couldn’t go back to that supermarket junk. You should try one.”
Jenny nodded in assent.
“Do you have a waitlist?”
“Most of my clients are regulars.” Sue sounded proud. “They book months in advance. I tell you what. Let me do you a solid. 50% off.”
Jenny thanked her profusely.
“Have you met Turkey Tom? He’s Harrison’s pride and joy. But he’s been missing since last week.”
Sue Patterson laughed raucously.
“I heard Harrison’s gone batty in his old age.”
“He’s beside himself with worry,” Heather reasoned. “You sure you didn’t filch Tom for some reason?”
“An old grudge, for instance?” Jenny prompted.
Sue’s eyes bore into Jenny’s.
“I agree there was some friendly rivalry between me and Harrison. But that was a long time ago. I quit thinking about him when he dropped out of the poultry business.”
Jenny couldn’t think of any more questions so they bid Sue goodbye and left.
“That’s another dead end,” Heather sighed as they drove back into town.
