2 

As it happened, I didn’t see Detective Aragón again for hours. One by one he summoned everyone upstairs to be interviewed, then set them free. I sent the staff home as they were released, it being obvious that we would not be allowed to clean up the dining parlor for some time.

“I can stay, boss,” Julio said, pulling off his chef’s coat after he came down from being interviewed. He hung the coat on a hook by the door and went to the counter, looking lean in a muscle shirt and his festive chef’s pants. I stared at a tattoo design circling his upper arm—I hadn’t seen it before. It was high enough to be hidden by a t-shirt sleeve, and t-shirts were what he’d usually worn until that morning.

“No, go home,” I told him. “You need to be here early to bake.”

He started measuring beans into the grinder for yet another pot of coffee. “We gonna open tomorrow?”

“Of course we are.”

If we didn’t, we might never open again. We had to weather this. It would be all right. If I kept telling myself that, maybe I’d believe it.

I watched him, looking for a sign of rebellion. If Julio quit, I’d be in big trouble. He didn’t say anything, just kept working.

A loud rapping at the front door made me step into the hall. The front door was closed at last; apparently all the cops who could fit into the dining parlor were already in there.

Bright, white light shone in through the small windows called “lights” that surrounded the door, along with occasional flashes from the emergency vehicles still parked out front. It looked like there were camera crews out on the sidewalk beyond the picket fence. I hoped they wouldn’t come any closer.

I walked to the door, my steps echoing from the hardwood floor. Peeking out through the lights, I recognized the giant poppies on the dress outside, and pulled the door open.

“Gina!”

She caught me in a tight hug. I almost lost it right then, but I managed to step back, pulling her in with me.

“Thanks for coming back.”

She grinned, cheeks dimpling deeply. “You kidding? I love circuses. Where’s your TV? I bet this makes the ten o’clock news.”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

“Yes, you do, it’s important!”

I sighed, starting toward the kitchen. “It’s in storage. Have you eaten?”

I had rented a storage shed for some of my parents’ furniture that wasn’t suited to the tearoom but that I couldn’t bear to part with. The television had gone there as well, and I’d been so busy I hadn’t missed it.

“Not since the tea,” Gina said. “Come home with me and we’ll get a pizza.”

“No, I’m not leaving.” I led her into the kitchen and looked around for the sandwiches. Julio must have put them away. He was nowhere in sight.

“You need to get away from all this nutzy police stuff. Hi,” Gina added, smiling at a blond evidence technician who came in and reached for the coffee pot.

My hand went out toward it automatically. “It’s still—”

The tech pulled the pot out of the coffee maker and held his mug over the burner, catching the stream. A slight smell of burned coffee rose from the little that had splashed on the burner.

“—brewing,” I said.

The tech smiled at me, blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses. He was younger than me, looked like he should still be in high school. I felt tired, all of a sudden.

We didn’t talk while the tech’s mug slowly filled. He replaced the coffee pot, shoveled two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the mug and stirred it with the sugar spoon, then went back upstairs.

Julio came in again, wearing a leather jacket and escorting Vi, whose shoulders slumped. “We’re going, boss. Vi’s gonna give me a ride home.”

“Thanks, Vi. If you want you can take tomorrow off.”

She gave me a wan smile that didn’t erase the frown lines on her brow. “I’ll be all right. Iz has a test.”

“Okay. Get some sleep, though.”

“You too, boss.”

I nodded, though I doubted I’d be getting much rest that night. They went out the kitchen door onto the back porch, leaving me and Gina alone. I could hear Mick and Dee, still waiting to be interviewed, talking quietly in the butler’s pantry.

“‘Boss’?” Gina said, opening the door of the refrigerator and peering inside. “I thought you’d nixed that.”

I sighed. “We’re still negotiating what they should call me. Julio suggested ‘jefa’ but to me that sounds too much like ‘heifer’.”

“How about ‘Madam’?”

“Too stiff. Besides, we’re a block away from the Palace. It might suggest connotations that aren’t appropriate for the tearoom.”

The Palace Restaurant had once been a famous brothel. Gina guffawed.

“Right now it’s ‘Ms. Rosings,’ but none of us like that much,” I added. “Trouble is, ‘boss’ is much easier to say. I’ll probably give in and let them call me ‘Ellen,’ much as I hate to yield to modern informality.”

Gina gave a gasp of mock horror. “What will Miss Manners say?”

“Scoff if you like,” I said haughtily.

Gina looked at me over her shoulder. “Getting a little tired? I’ve got a nice, comfy spare bed, you know.”

“I’m not going to leave while the police are crawling all over the place. This is my home!”

“Okay, okay!” She pulled a bowl of leftover chocolate mousse out of the fridge and put it in my hands, then took my arm. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s go sit by the fire.”

We scrounged up two spoons and went back to Iris.  The fire had died down again. I pulled a log from the carrier Dee had left and laid it on top of the coals, then sat staring at it, watching the first tendrils of smoke begin to rise.

Gina wrapped my hand around a spoon. “Eat your medicine.”

I gave a half-hearted laugh. “Trying to make me fat?”

“Trying to get some sustenance into you. You didn’t eat much at the tea.”

“Too nervous.”

“You need something in your stomach. It’s going to be a long night, if you’re staying here.”

“Yes, Italian Mama.”

Chocolate is such good comfort food. I took a spoonful of mousse and let it melt on my tongue. The energy of the adrenaline rush was long gone, and it was really starting to sink in.

There’d been a murder in my tearoom, in my beautiful dining parlor. A room I’d worked so hard to make inviting and peaceful.

Gina leaned forward and scooped up a spoonful of mousse. “So who do you think did it?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Come on, you’ve got to have some suspicions.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No, because that would be a stupid conversation, because we’d really be thinking about the murder.”

She sat in the wing chair with her arms draped over the armrests, spoon dangling from one hand, looking regal and righteous, her hair a dark, curly halo. I pictured her reigning over a court of nineteenth-century Italians, all of whom cowered before her, and had to smile.

“Now,” she said, “who can you eliminate?”

“You. Unless you’re the killer?”

“No, I’m not so crude in my methods,” she said airily. “There are legal ways to destroy people.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Gina wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s the sort of person who’d give her last dollar to someone in need.

“And Aunt Nat,” I said. “She was friends with Mrs. Carruthers.”

Gina raised an admonitory finger. “Ah, ah—friends can have fights.”

“But did they look like they were angry with each other? No. Besides, Sylvia was still in the dining parlor when I came out with Nat and Manny and watched them leave together.”

“By the front door?”

“Yes. I saw them drive off in Manny’s car.”

“And they never left your sight?”

“No.”

“Good, that eliminates them.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

She tilted her head and shrugged. “Might as well.”

I ate another spoonful of chocolate. My stomach growled, probably from being clenched for hours.

“So, not me, not you, not Nat, not Manny,” Gina said, frowning in concentration. “That leaves six suspects.”

“Five. I don’t think she strangled herself.”

“Five, right.”

“Plus the staff and the customers. And anyone else who might have slipped in.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “We’ll worry about them later. The people who were at the tea are the primary suspects. They had immediate access to the dining room.”

“You like watching cop shows, don’t you?”

“Love ‘em. Don’t change the subject.”

“That is the subject!”

“Who are the five suspects?” She ticked off the fingers on one hand. “That food critic.”

“Mr. Ingraham.”

“And Sylvia’s daughter, Donna? Donna,” she said as I nodded. “Then that guy who’s opening the gallery…”

“Vince Margolan. And Katie Hutchins, but I don’t think she’d do it. She’s so sweet, and what would she have to gain?”

“We’ll leave her on the list for now.” Gina looked at her protruding thumb. “Who else?”

“Claudia Pearson.”

Hasty footsteps in the hall made us look up. Iz came in wearing a long coat over her lavender dress, purse strap over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed.

“That guy is so rude!”

“What guy?” Gina asked, looking from Iz to me.

“Detective Aragón.”

Gina turned to Iz, curiosity glowing in her face. “What did he say?”

“He asked all kinds of nosy questions about the customers. Then he asked if I killed that poor lady, and I said no. So he asked if I thought you had done it,” she said, turning to me with an angry throb in her voice.

“It’s his job, I’m afraid,” I said. “I’m sorry, Iz.”

“It isn’t your fault he’s a jerk.” She tugged her coat closed and started doing up the buttons.

I had never seen Iz so emotional. Usually she’s so quiet you don’t even know she’s there.

“Just go home and try to forget about it,” I said. “Vi said you had a test tomorrow, so get some rest.”

She looked up and brushed her dark hair back from her face. “I will. Sorry I dumped on you. Like you need it, on top of all this! I’m sorry, boss.”

I stood up and gave her a little hug. “Don’t worry about it, Iz. We’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, you might want to go out the back door. There was a news crew out front.”

She shot a glowering look toward the front of the tearoom. “Thanks for the warning. My car’s out back anyway.”

We listened to her footsteps die away down the hall. Gina looked at me.

“He thinks you’re a suspect.”

I opened my hands. “We’re all suspects.”

She didn’t answer. Perhaps she’d realized it really wasn’t a game. I passed the chocolate mousse to her and she ate a spoonful, looking thoughtful.

“You’ve eliminated Manny and Nat,” she said. “Is there anyone else we can rule out?”

I sighed, thinking back to when the party had broken up. “When I left the dining parlor, Katie Hutchins was still there talking with Sylvia, and Vince Margolan was talking with Donna. You had already left, right?”

Gina nodded. “I came down to the gift shop. I saw Mr. Ingraham go out the front door.”

“So he’s accounted for.” I frowned. “Trouble is, someone could have come in again by the back.”

“Wouldn’t Julio have seen them go past the kitchen?”

“I guess so.”

“Or one of the girls might have noticed anyone in the hall.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe we should leave this to the police.”

Gina put down the mousse and reached over to clasp my hand. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to get you down. I thought it might help to be working at the problem.”

I gave her a feeble smile. “Thanks. But I guess the police know what they’re doing. I hope they do.”

“They could miss something.”

“Speaking of missing something, if Detective Aragón finds out you’re here you’ll get grilled. You might want to slip away.”

She shrugged. “Gonna happen sooner or later. Did he ask you who you saw in the room as you left?”

“N-no. But he’ll probably ask everyone about their own movements, and then try to verify it.”

I felt restless all at once. The suggestion that the police might make mistakes in this investigation made me uncomfortable. I picked up the mousse bowl and scraped the last spoonful out of it, then stood.

“I’d better check on the coffee situation. Want to come with me?”

“Sure.”

We went to the kitchen, where we found Mick standing with the clean, empty coffee pot in hand, looking doubtfully at the coffee maker. His long ponytail hung down his back, blond like his sister Dee’s. I took the pot from him and gave him the mousse bowl.

“Could you wash this, please? I’ll make more coffee.”

He looked relieved. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

The simple task of making coffee was oddly soothing. Gina leaned against the counter, watching. As the pot burbled away I tidied up, sponging up spills, refilling the cream pitcher and putting a fresh spoon in the sugar bowl. I put some more clean spoons out along with a little plate to put used ones on, in an attempt to preserve the sugar from further violation. Probably futile, but I had to try.

Slow, heavy steps and a rolling sound came from in the hall. I stepped out and watched as two men pushed a gurney bearing a black plastic body bag out of the dining parlor. They went out the front door toward the waiting ambulance, which had shut off its lights.

“That’ll look great on the evening news,” Gina murmured behind me.

I shot her a glance, but before I could answer I saw Dee coming down the stairs. I went to the foot of the staircase to meet her.

“He wants to talk to Mick,” she said, her voice full of repressed excitement.

I watched her. “You all right?”

“Fine. It’s so interesting!”

“Interesting?” I said blankly.

“I’m taking a criminal science class. Actually, I’m thinking about making it my major.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t wait to tell the professor about this!” Dee glanced toward the front door. “It’s dark,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Well, it’s almost nine. Do you want a ride home?”

“I can take you,” Gina offered.

“Thanks!”

Mick came out of the butler’s pantry. Dee grabbed him in a quick hug, then went down the hall to fetch her coat.

“Detective Aragón is ready for you,” I said to Mick.

He nodded, gazing after his sister as he took off his apron. He was two years older and had his own place, but they were still close.

“Shall I come back?” Gina asked.

“No, it looks like it’s winding down,” I said, stepping aside as two more cops emerged from the dining parlor.

“Sure you don’t want to spend the night at my place?”

I shook my head. “Thanks, though.”

She caught me in a swift, tight hug. “Okay. Call if you need anything, even just to talk.”

“I will. Thank you for coming. Having company helped.”

She smooched my cheek, then let me go and collected her coat. I walked her to the door, where Dee was waiting, and watched them hustle down the sidewalk past the news crews.

The house was getting quiet at last, though I could still hear people moving around in the dining parlor. I wandered through the front rooms: the parlors that I’d divided into the gift shop and eight cozy alcoves for groups having tea. Naming the alcoves after flowers now seemed frivolous, though at the time I’d thought of it I had felt clever. The flower theme reflected the wisterias that draped the front of the house, and they in turn had inspired the tearoom’s name.

I’m especially glad you chose to celebrate the wisterias. We had the hardest time keeping the law firm from chopping them down. Had to take them to court once.

Sylvia’s words, that afternoon at the tea. Just a few hours ago.

A wave of grief washed through me. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t been close.

Fighting tears, I collected the tea things from Iris and took them to the butler’s pantry. As I returned to the hall, Mick came down the stairs with Detective Aragón on his heels.

“You want me to stay so I can wash up?”

I glanced at Detective Aragón, who shook his head. “No,” I said. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

I followed Mick to the back door and locked it behind him. When I turned around, the detective was right behind me.

“Could you come upstairs, please?”

“All right.”

He led the way, the thud of his motorcycle boots deadened by the carpet runner on the steps. I wondered if he’d thought of more questions, but instead of going back to my office he stopped and indicated the door opposite.

“This door is locked,” he said.

“Yes, that’s my private suite,” I told him. “It’s been locked all day.”

“You live here? In Cinderella land?”

He sounded incredulous. I bristled, but kept my voice calm. “At the moment, yes.”

He ran a hand over his short, dark hair. “Well, I need to look in there. Open it.”

My private space. My last refuge.

“I’d prefer not to,” I said. “It was locked, it has nothing to do with—with what happened here today.”

His eyes narrowed. “Look, it’s been a long day. Why don’t you just make it easy on all of us and open the door?”

I’d had it. It probably would have been easier if I’d done as he’d asked, but I was tired of being helpful and receiving no thanks for it.

“I don’t see why I should,” I said, keeping my voice polite. “It has nothing to do with your investigation.”

“I need to look in that room.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes just got meaner.

I was sad and weary and fed up with his bullying. I straightened my shoulders and summoned my best diplomatic voice.

“If you have a valid reason to search my private rooms, Detective, then you’d better get a warrant. You won’t set foot in there without one.”

For a moment he looked so angry that I thought he was capable of anything. I was actually frightened, but I didn’t want to let him know it so I held still and waited.

“Fine,” he said at last, and turned away.

He clomped down the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t until I heard the front door slam that I breathed a sigh of relief.