Chapter 14
Dear Sophie,
I am delighted to be hosting a bridal shower luncheon for my niece. The menu is almost worked out, but dessert is causing strife in the family. The bride’s mother (not a blood relative to me) insists that we must have a cake. But my niece cannot eat gluten. I have never baked a gluten-free cake in my life, and I’m overwhelmed by the choices. Any advice?
Dizzy Aunt in Bridesburg, Pennsylvania
Dear Dizzy Aunt,
Bake a cheesecake! Use cornstarch, which is naturally gluten-free, instead of flour. It will be creamy and delicious!
Sophie
The smile vanished and Liddy’s eyes widened. Suddenly I had her full attention. “Gosh, I hope not. His wife is so nice.” Her brow furrowed and she thought for a moment. “I don’t think Mr. Bodoin was the type.” She glanced around for her old boyfriend. “I should know, right? But . . . one night after we locked up, I was walking home in the same direction as Marsha. It’s not like I was intentionally following her or anything, I just happened to be going the same way. She turned down an alley. I know people use them all the time as shortcuts, but just when I was walking by, I spotted her embraced in a very passionate kiss with someone.”
“Was it Tate?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was dark outside. I really couldn’t say. If I hadn’t seen her turn into the alley, I wouldn’t have known it was Marsha. And I didn’t want her to catch me watching. That would have been très awkward!”
“Which alley was it?”
“Um, do you know where the turquoise garden bench is? You can see it through the gate and hear water trickling in a fountain?”
I knew exactly the place she meant and nodded.
“It’s the next alley after that.” Her brow wrinkled. “It never entered my mind that it could be Mr. Bodoin. Does he live around there?”
“Not even close to there.”
Liddy appeared genuinely relieved. “I’m glad to hear that!”
“What about the people who work there? Was anyone angry with Mr. Bodoin?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t think so. I mean, there’s the regular griping when somebody can’t get off a day that they ask for. That kind of thing. But it’s mostly aimed at Marsha because she’s the one who sets up the work schedules.”
I wasn’t getting anywhere. “What about customers? Any that troubled you or seemed odd somehow?”
“They are so nice. And people in Old Town are generous tippers. There are one or two whom no one wants to serve, of course, because they don’t tip. I have never understood that. It’s common knowledge that servers don’t get paid beans.” Her body grew rigid. “He’s coming over here!”
A moment later, an adorable young man arrived at our table. Medium height with light brown hair, he was a cross between bad boy and scruffy rascal. “Hi, Liddy. I haven’t seen you around much.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Me too. I’m working as an intern at Representative Saylor’s office now.”
My ex-husband, Mars, was a political consultant, so I knew a little bit about how things worked on Capitol Hill and suspected he had omitted the significant word unpaid in order to impress her.
“Still working at the restaurant?” he asked in a snooty tone.
Before Liddy could speak, I said quickly, “Now, Liddy, don’t be shy. She just interviewed for a job with Mars Winston.”
Mars’s name had the desired effect.
The boyfriend’s face grew pale. “No kidding? How’d you swing that?”
Liddy smiled and said lightly, “You just have to know the right people.”
“So, how about dinner tonight?” he asked.
Liddy wrinkled her nose at him and shrugged. “I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
I knew it was wrong to lie, but it was just a little fib to help Liddy get some of her self-confidence back. We waited until he was out of earshot and then both of us burst into laughter.
“Who is Mars Winston?” she asked.
“He used to be my husband. His name is fairly well-known in political circles. I thought it might put Mr. Snooty Nose in his place.”
“I have to admit it felt kind of good turning him down. I never realized he was such a jerk. Why would I get involved with him again after the way he treated me? No, thank you! Once was enough. But now I feel a little bit better about the whole thing.”
I handed her my card. “Do you know where Antonio Hirsch lives? He was my server the other day and I’d like to talk with him. See if he noticed any problems at the restaurant.”
“Oh sure. Antonio’s a nice guy. He lives on South Henry Street, a couple of blocks down. It’s a white house with a navy-blue door. You can’t miss it. He shares it with a couple of other guys.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help, Liddy. If you think of anything that might be important or if you hear rumors, please give me a call.” I handed her my card.
“This says event planner.” She looked at me curiously.
“I plan events for a living. But I solve murders on the side.”
“You’re doing this for Bobbie Sue?”
“One of my good friends has been accused of murdering Tate. I know he didn’t do it, but someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like he did.”
“Ohhh. That’s terrible. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. And thanks for the latte!”
I was considering what I might do for lunch when I received a text from Mars. Meet me out front.
I wasn’t sure if he meant in front of my house or his. Not that it mattered since we lived on the same street. I hurried home and found Mars on the sidewalk in front of my house.
“Hi! Is Bernie okay?” I asked.
He mouthed something I didn’t understand. With an exasperated expression, he held one hand near his ear as though he were holding a phone.
“Did you lose your phone?” I pulled mine out of my purse and handed it to him.
He turned it off.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Phones hear things. Even when it seems like they’re not turned on.”
“I seriously doubt that I say anything of much interest to the kind of people who might listen.”
“Walk with me.”
“Okay, where are we going?”
“No place in particular. I need to talk to you away from prying ears.”
“Eyes,” I corrected.
“No, I meant ears.”
“I wanted to talk to one of Tate’s employees over on Henry Street. We could go there.”
“Fine by me.”
“How’s Bernie?”
“Back at work like nothing is wrong.”
I stopped walking. “You’re kidding!”
“He said there wasn’t anything he could do about it from home anyway, so he might as well go to work and see if he could figure out who stole his car keys.”
We walked on. “If that person murdered Tate, they’re not likely to confess to taking the keys,” I pointed out.
“We have a new problem. This is why I didn’t want our phones to be on. The cops will get around to it sooner or later, but there’s no point in giving them a heads-up about it.”
I winced. “What now?”
“There’s a witness.”