Chapter 35
Dear Sophie,
I tried making cheesecake in my food processor. It seems so logical. Like a dump cake, just throw everything in and let it rip. But it definitely wasn’t the creamy cheesecake I had imagined. What went wrong?
Creative Baker in Bakersfield, California
Dear Creative Baker,
It works for some recipes but generally, cream cheese doesn’t like being beaten. Even in a mixer, it’s best to beat cream cheese as little as possible.
Sophie
The cheesecake at the murder scene had thrown me off. Tate didn’t have the cheesecake with him, his killer did!
“Sophie! What’s with you?” asked Nina.
I was still a little stunned at the thought that Spencer might have killed Tate. I cut slices of the Japanese cheesecake and placed them on white dessert plates rimmed in gold. I used my immersion blender to whip cream, added a dollop on each plate, and garnished each with a couple of fresh strawberries. Nina carried them into the sunroom two at a time.
I preferred a cup of hot tea with dessert and felt like I needed one, now that Spencer might be the murderer after all. Could he be the one who warned me to stop looking into Tate’s murder? Had he come here to frighten me or worse, but when he was caught and Bernie was present, did he fib and make up that story about Marsha?
When Nina came through for more plates, I asked, “Do you think anyone wants coffee? I’m putting on water for tea.”
She reported back a few minutes later. Five decaf coffees and Bernie would like tea.
I pulled seven mugs out of the cupboard. Only two of them matched, but the wonderful thing about white and gold was they all seemed to go together anyway. Plus, my guests would know which one was theirs if they set their mugs down. I poured tea into the matching ones for Bernie and me and loaded a coffeepot for the rest.
Nina and I carried everything into the sunroom, including sugar and cream.
And then, we tested the Japanese version of cheesecake. I noted that even Natasha tried more than one forkful. After everyone had taken a bite and rendered their amazed verdicts, I said, “I think we overlooked something. At least I did. I kept thinking that it was Tate who had cheesecake with him the night he was killed.”
“Right,” said Humphrey. “Daisy found it.”
“What if it was the killer who brought the cheesecake?”
“Ohh,” said Francie. “Symbolism. Which would mean Bobbie Sue was somehow involved? Like retribution for something she did?”
“Or something much more simple. Like someone who took chocolate cheesecake to work that day. Maybe he didn’t eat it. Maybe he ate some but not all. And when he killed Tate, whatever remained fell out of a bag. He tried to clean it up, but on the uneven surfaces of the alley and the backyard, bits of it remained.”
I had their full attention.
“You’re saying this like you know who it was,” said Bernie.
I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t even want to think it. I winced when I spoke. “I now believe it could have been Spencer.”
Mars stared at the pad where he had made notes. “He did have an argument with Tate the night before the murder.”
“And Bobbie Sue told us she gave him chocolate cheesecake to take to work for breakfast,” murmured Nina.
“Is he old enough to drive?” asked Humphrey.
“Probably,” said Bernie. “But now I feel like a dolt for being nice to him. What does he have against me?”
“He also knew that his girlfriend and her family were away,” I pointed out, still feeling horrified that Spencer had fooled me. “He’s been very upset. Everyone was chalking it up to Tate’s death, but now I have to wonder if it was because Spencer murdered Tate.”
Nina fluttered her hand in my direction. “Plus, he had a key to the restaurant and knew about the cellar.”
“Bobbie Sue will be devastated when she finds out,” said Mars.
Natasha nodded. “Imagine your child murdering a member of the family.”
“I have a feeling she already knows,” I said. “She wouldn’t let him go back to work. Pierce was supposed to take him fishing. When he collapsed and that fell through, she enlisted Coach to fill in for Pierce. Spencer was totally unenthusiastic about it.”
“Maybe she just wanted to get him away from everything,” said Francie. “Give him a break to come to terms with Tate’s death.”
“Or she wanted to get him out of town and away from the police!” said Natasha.
Our dinner party broke up after that. I shooed everyone home, but Bernie produced a toothbrush. “I’ll sleep down here, just in case. It’s the least I can do for you.”
The two of us were washing and drying dishes when we heard someone at the door. Wolf waved at us and Bernie opened the door for him.
Wolf said, “I thought you were going to stop nosing around Tate’s case.”
“Decaf coffee?” I asked.
“Sophie,” he growled.
I took that as a yes and poured him a cup. Handing it to him, I said, “To be honest, I really haven’t done anything objectionable today.”
Wolf sat down at my banquette and grumbled, “Pierce Carver.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. The next time someone starts stumbling and falls into the street right in front of me, I’ll ignore him and keep on walking.”
“Not funny.”
“It really wasn’t. And Wolf, you should have seen those blisters. They were scary!”
“I suppose poking around in his personal belongings wasn’t being nosy?”
This was ridiculous. I explained about the smell of menthol and muscle cream. “It was a long shot that he had rubbed it on his knees and had a reaction to it, but give me another good reason for his hands and knees to blister. I had to try. You would have, too.”
In a completely ordinary tone, like he was telling us the time, he said, “Pierce was poisoned.”
I gasped. “What?”
Bernie and I sat down at the banquette.
“Someone put poison in his muscle cream?” I guessed.
Wolf nodded. “It will be on the news tomorrow morning because we don’t know if it was only in his cream or if someone poisoned a bunch of them. It’s from a plant called American false hellebore.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I hadn’t, either. Apparently it has slowly been invading Virginia. Most of the plants are removed immediately because they’re so toxic. They grow tall and have a flower that looks like Queen Anne’s lace. If you even brush against it, you can be poisoned because it can be absorbed by the skin. It’s deadly to humans and livestock.”
“They’re sure it’s in the cream? No chance that he rubbed against one on a trail?” asked Bernie.
“They tested the cream that Sophie brought to the hospital. Someone blended it into the cream.”
“Wow. What’s the prognosis for Pierce?” I asked.
“Guarded. They really don’t know what will happen yet. There are some cases of people who cooked it and ate it. Let’s just say they were very sorry and lucky they survived. But the doctors haven’t seen a case like this before.”
“Does Bobbie Sue know?” I asked.
“I have no idea. I was called in because it’s attempted murder.”
“That’s why you’re here,” I said. “Clearly I had no way of knowing that! I just helped Pierce because he collapsed in front of me.”
Wolf tried hard to suppress a grin. “I have to say it was a shock when I saw your name in the paperwork as a witness.”
“I thought maybe he had a reaction to something in the cream.”
Wolf finally snickered. “You okay being by yourself tonight?”
“I’ll be fine. I dreaded the onset of darkness, but Bernie is staying over with me.”
“Stay inside and call me if either of you hear anything.” Wolf rose and walked to the door. “And Sophie, try to keep out of trouble.”
Bernie and I were beat. I said goodnight and walked upstairs, Daisy and Mochie racing ahead of me. It was a beautiful night. I raised the window for some fresh air and decided to sleep with it open. The cool night air wafted in and as I drifted off, I thought I even heard an owl calling into the night.
* * *
I woke to the scents of bacon and cinnamon. Daisy and Mochie, who had slept with me, had abandoned me for the delicious smells that wafted up the stairs. I slung on a bathrobe and hurried to the kitchen, where Bernie was hard at work.
He poured me a mug of tea and placed it on the table. “Good morning! Fried or scrambled?”
“Fried?”
“Oh good. Mars always wants scrambled.”
“Can I help?”
“You timed it perfectly.” He slid a platter of blueberry pastries onto the table and looked at his watch. “Should we phone Nina or—”
“Here she comes.”
Bernie looked out the bay window and laughed. “I don’t know how she does it.”
He unlocked the door and opened it wide.
Clad in a lavender bathrobe and slippers with little faux marabou feathers on them, Nina hurried into the house. Muppet trotted in at her feet.
Nina headed straight for the platter of bacon strips, plucked one, and munched before saying, “Morning, all. Hope I’m not late.”
Bernie and I laughed at her.
While we ate our breakfast, Bernie kept checking the time.
“Are you in a hurry?” I asked.
“I just need to be at work early this morning. There are a few things I would like to resolve before everyone else arrives and the day gets crazy busy.”
“You fixed such a lovely breakfast. This is a real treat! Nina and I will clean up.”
“Are you sure? It’s my mess.”
“I’m sure.” Bernie planted kisses on our cheeks and fled out the door.
“Wow. He was in a hurry!” said Nina.
“Yes, he was. Something is up with him.”
“You don’t mean that he murdered Tate? Do you?”
“Of course not. But he’s up to something.” I gazed at her. “Nina, I’m going over to Bobbie Sue’s this morning. She has to know that Marsha and Eli have been stealing from Blackwell’s. The problem is that she’s relying so heavily on Marsha, that I’m not sure she’ll believe it unless she sees it with her own eyes.”
“I’m in. Give me half an hour to change.”
We met on the sidewalk in front of her house and walked over to Bobbie Sue’s.
“What if Spencer is there?” asked Nina.
“I don’t think he’ll kill us, because we’re not trying to make him take AP classes.”
“Ha ha. Do you really think that’s why he murdered Tate?”
“Nina, I have trouble believing that Spencer is the killer. It’s kind of the way I feel about Bernie. We know him well, so it’s impossible for us to imagine that he could do something like that. I get the same sort of vibes from Spencer. Yet too many pieces fit into place about Spencer.”
From the outside, no one would have guessed the turmoil inside Bobbie Sue’s home. It looked as perfect as the other houses on the street. Pierce’s Jeep was still in the driveway.
I knocked on the door and Bobbie Sue opened it. She wore a fluffy bathrobe, her hair was wet, and she didn’t have on a stitch of makeup. She looked younger and more vulnerable.
She seemed pained when she saw us. “Come on in.”
We followed her to the kitchen.
“Coffee?” she asked.
We declined.
“Bobbie Sue, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Please. Please don’t. I . . . I’ve been trying so hard to—” She stopped and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “I beg of you.”