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“Well,” said Claire as she backed out of their parking spot, “Except for using up the spinach soup, that was a waste of time. We didn’t learn much.”
“I learned Bryan’s been eating corn. Lots of corn.”
Claire laughed. “And there’s people who belittle our detecting skills.”
“Fisher was planning to fire Paige.” Harriet glanced over her shoulder at Bread and Roses as Claire drove down the driveway. There was a time she wouldn’t have believed that the prospect of getting fired would induce a person to commit murder. She no longer thought that way. “Bryan gets the bulk of the Sugar Sugar press, but it sounds like Fisher had a lot of power behind the scenes.”
“And power brings enemies.” Claire veered over to the side of the driveway to make room for a delivery van from Festive Flowers. “I guess we’re not the only business that’s open. They’re probably for Ariana.”
“I hope so. She’s pretty upset about being storm stayed in a place with such unattractive furniture.” Harriet’s phone rang, and she smiled with relief when she dug it out of her bag and saw the name on the display. “Hi, Nick.”
“Hey you. How are you doing? Do you have power yet?”
“No power and not much hope of it for a day or two. How are things there?”
“Great. Keeping busy. I’m going shopping in a few minutes.”
Nick hated shopping. “Shopping for what?”
“Nothing in particular; just something to do. Any updates on Fisher? His death is all over the news.”
“Nobody seemed to think much of him, but hard to know who hated him enough to kill him. Not that Meachum is trying to find out. He’s so zeroed in on Taffy, there’s a good chance he’s going to let the real killer slip away.”
“Let me guess; you’re not going to stand by and let that happen.”
“We’re not.”
“You be careful. If Fisher was murdered —”
“He was.”
“Anyone who will murder once will murder twice.”
Harriet glanced over at Claire. “We’ll be careful.”
“I should have a flight booked by later today,” said Nick, “but the way things are backed up, I won’t be home before Saturday, maybe Sunday.” He lowered his voice slightly. “I have to see you. Being away has given me time to think, time to put things into perspective.”
What did that mean? Good perspective or bad perspective? “I’ll be here, waiting.” Ugh! That sounded pathetic.
“Nick!” called a woman. “Let’s go.”
A woman? Who was that? “Is someone there with you?” Harriet struggled to sound nonchalant.
“I’ll call you later,” he replied, as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Stay safe. And warm.”
“I will. Let me know when —” Nick had already hung up. He didn’t even say goodbye.
“I’ll be here, waiting? Sounds a little desperate, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Harriet hesitated ... should she tell her? Of course, she should. She told Claire everything. “Nick couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. There was a woman there with him.”
Claire shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“I think it was Stacy Adams. I recognized her voice from TV; squeaky and annoying.”
“Horrible voice,” said Claire with a chuckle. “The worst.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, c’mon. Nick is crazy about you. And Stacy Adams is a world-famous model; she dates actors and rock stars.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “What’s your point? Nick is a handsome, bestselling author.”
“I guess so.” Claire didn’t sound convinced. “To me he’s just Nick.”
“Trust me, most women don’t look at him and see a Goldendoodle.” Harriet stared down at her phone, pondering Nick’s words. “He says he’s had time to think; that being away has put things in perspective for him. What does that mean?”
“He hasn’t even been gone two days.”
“Exactly. So why is he getting all contemplative?”
“Did he say it like, ‘In the past not quite forty-eight tortuous hours, all I’ve done is think about you,’ or, ‘I’m having such a great time in New York hanging out with gorgeous models, it’s put my boring life in perspective?’”
“Hard to say. He sounded like himself.”
“Bouncy?” Claire smiled and gave Harriet an affectionate tap on the arm. “He probably just wants to tell you how much he’s missed you.”
“Maybe.” She used her index finger to draw her initials in the fog of the window. “What if he is bored? I’m so tired at the end of the day, most nights I fall asleep in front of the TV.” Harriet could feel her shoulders beginning to tense up. “Mom told me I had to watch it; that boredom is the death of relationships, and a man like Nick was likely to get antsy with someone like me.”
“Someone like you?”
“Apparently, I’m stolid, just like my dad.”
“Stolid?” said Claire. “What does that even mean?”
“I gave her one of those word a day calendars for Christmas. Big mistake. It means I’m inexpressive and lumpish.”
“Inexpressive and lumpish?” Claire’s cheeks were flushed with indignation. “Lumpish,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Harriet chuckled at Claire’s anger. She was so accustomed to her mother’s comments, being described as a lump had barely made an impression. “Which reminds me, I guess I should send her a text.” She said the words out loud as she typed. “Can’t wait to hear your exciting news.”
“No exclamation mark,” said Claire. “She doesn’t deserve one.” She hung a sharp left, swerving a bit on the snowy road. “We’re so close. Let’s spin by The Stone Pony.” She drove down the quiet street and slowed to a stop in front of the restaurant. It looked desolate, the windows dark and the parking lot unplowed and empty except for Harriet’s snow-covered car. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat there again. I can’t shake the vision of Fisher lying on the floor with a tablecloth over him.”
Harriet remembered her first year of running the Bluebell; how tight funds had been, the constant worry. Things were just now beginning to ease up. “For Tony’s sake, I hope other people can shake it off. He put a lot of money into that place.” She looked across the street toward the house where they’d seen Fisher’s wife. The walkway was shoveled and there was smoke coming from the chimney. “I’d love to know what that’s all about,” she said, jutting her chin in the direction of the house. “We could stop by, have a chat with Patricia.”
“We need to get back to the café,” said Claire, hitting the gas. “But maybe later?”
Harriet nodded. “After work. We’re concerned citizens. Checking in on her is the right thing to do.”
“Exactly,” said Claire with a smile. “We’ll see that she’s okay and casually ask a few penetrating questions.”
“How about we start with, ‘have you murdered anyone since you’ve been in town?’”
“If she’d just give us an honest answer it would really speed this investigation along.”
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the Bluebell. The place was hopping. Every table was full and there were plenty of people standing as well. It looked like a party.
“This power outage is a boon for business,” said Claire.
“For us.” Harriet’s eyes drifted down the line of shops lining the street. “But no one else seems to be open.”
Harriet hopped out of the car and hustled towards the café’s front door. She held it open for a weary-looking couple and their two little girls. “Thank goodness,” said the mother. “We were afraid no one was open.”
“We don’t have our full menu, but you should be able to find something you like. Don’t worry if you can’t find a table. We’ll squeeze you in.”
“Lovely.” The woman’s eyes drifted around the room and she beamed at Harriet. “Perfect.”
“Mommy,” said the younger of the girls. “Look at that dog. He’s wearing a dress.”
Actually, it was a tutu. Chester loved being dressed up and his preference ran to tutus, the flashier the better. He was lounging in front of the fire, wallowing in the attention coming his way. Gran was sitting beside him in a cushy armchair. She gave Harriet a smile and a wave and went back to chatting with the friends and fans clustered around her.
Seamus had made it in as well. He was standing beside the cookie ladder, grinning happily. Given how unsteady he looked, Harriet had a suspicion that the mug he was holding contained more than just coffee. Seamus grabbed a cookie and waggled it in the direction of the newcomers. “Look at the darlin’ wee maggots,” he called. “Who wants a treat?”
“He’s perfectly harmless,” Harriet assured the woman, who was gripping her daughters’ hands, an alarmed look on her face. Harriet gestured to Denise who immediately assessed the situation.
“We’ve got a table just leaving.” Denise reached out and yanked Ron by the arm. “This is Ron. He’ll show you where to sit and get you settled.”
“Can we pat the dog?” asked the younger girl.
“You sure can,” said Ron, an ingratiating smile on his face. The mother cast another uncertain glance in Seamus’s direction and holding tight to her girls, the group followed Ron, who led them toward the fireplace.
“Ron seems happy,” said Harriet.
Denise nodded in agreement. “We’re making a killing in tips. The tourists are so relieved to find a place that’s open, they’re practically throwing money at us.”
Harriet watched as Chester rolled over on his back for a belly rub. “Chester’s a big hit, but I’m worried we might get in trouble for having a dog in here.”
“Good thing you weren’t here ten minutes ago,” responded Denise. “Peanut just left.”
“Peanut? We might be able to get away with having Chester inside; a pig is a whole —”
Denise waved her off. “Special storm rules. Taffy says the health inspector lives outside town so there’s no problem there. And the tourists loved it. You know how Peanut is.” Denise snickered in amusement. “He loves hamming it up.”
Harriet decided not to fret about it. Special storm rules worked for her. “How’d Gran get here?”
“Wally sent Ron over to pick her up. He said he was worried about her, home by herself without power.” Denise’s forehead was puckered in consternation. “Wally’s been acting so strange lately. Not so cranky and,” — she hesitated — “sometimes even kind.” She gave her head a shake as if to chase away the thought. “I’m sure he’ll snap out of it.” She gestured toward the corner, where Taffy was holding court. “She hasn’t stopped. She’s even sent Meachum out to check on people. You should have seen the look on his face when she gave him his marching orders.”
“But he did it?”
“Oh, sure. He’s no match for our mayor.” Denise bustled off to get a fresh pot of coffee and Harriet made her way over to the table where Taffy had set up her makeshift headquarters.
“I need you to check on Ronda Taylor over on McCallum.” Taffy handed a file card with a neatly printed address to a man Harriet recognized from the post office. “Her husband passed away last fall and her kids live out of town. If she doesn’t have a heating source give me a call and we’ll find her a warm place to stay.”
The man got to his feet, shoved the card in his pocket and headed for the door.
“Thanks, Frank,” called Taffy. She smiled up at Harriet. “He’s a man of few words but he gets the job done.”
“You would never know you’re a newbie at this,” said Harriet, taking Frank’s vacated seat.
Taffy smiled and settled back in her chair, momentarily relaxed. “Managing a tavern, managing a town; they’re not so different. It’s just a matter of scale. How are things over at the inn?”
“Andrew is coping.” Barely. Harriet ran her finger over the saltshaker and cast a fond look in Gran’s direction. The two of them had spent many happy hours digging through flea markets and tag sales, searching for the unique dishes and knick knacks that gave the Bluebell its signature look. “Holly says no one has a good word to say about Fisher. He sure had me fooled. I fell for his act on the show; the way he’d get choked up when he had to send contestants home.”
“He fooled me too,” said Taffy, “and I have no excuse. I knew the real Fisher; I dated him for a year.”
“You said you had a bad break up. What happened?”
Taffy excused herself to respond to a text then turned her attention back to Harriet. “What happened is he dumped me like a bag of trash. When he got the scholarship to the Culinary Institute, I was so excited for him. I even helped him pack for cripes sake. He went to New York, and it wasn’t even ten days before I got a, ‘see ya later, it’s been fun,’ call.”
“But he stayed friends with Andrew?”
“For a while. Andrew got accepted to the institute as well, but he didn’t get a scholarship. There was no way he could afford to go to school in New York without one. He moved to Maine, apprenticed as a welder, got married. We lost touch.”
“And now you’re a couple.” Or were they? It was hard to tell.
“Not anymore. He’s gone off me. I have that effect on men.”
Harriet eyed Taffy, who was so vibrant and capable and pretty. She could do a lot better than Andrew, not that Harriet would ever say that. She’d leave that level of truth-telling to Claire. “Meachum’s been at the inn asking questions about you.”
“Not just the inn. He was all over town this morning.” Taffy flashed a wry smile. “I’ve got to hand it to him; I didn’t figure he had much initiative, but by the end of today I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s found out the results from my last pap smear.” She looked down at her phone and quickly tapped out a message. “I sent him over to check the retirement home on Oakcrest. He wasn’t too pleased taking orders from his prime suspect, but I guess he figured it would look bad if he didn’t do his part.”
Taffy got another call, so Harriet said goodbye and got to her feet. She pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen and said hello to Wally, who was calmly stirring a pot with one hand while he flipped burgers with the other. She gave him a warm smile. “That was nice of you to think of Gran. She hates missing out on the action, and we’ve got plenty of it today.”
Wally responded with a scowl. “Someone has to look out for Joyce while you’re out running around. She could have froze to death, home alone like that.”
“She has a gas fireplace,” protested Harriet.
“Sure, she does,” he grumbled. “And what about the dog? Stuck in a cold house.” Normally, Wally couldn’t abide Chester. The feeling was mutual.
“He’s not stuck anywhere. He was at Gran’s, like he always is when I’m at work.” Harriet’s voice was developing the high pitch it often got when she conversed with Wally. She took a breath and concentrated on sounding calm. “We saw Holly when we were at the inn. I don’t think Andrew could manage without her.”
“He wants her to sleep there, so she can babysit Bryan.”
“Is she going to?”
“Not a chance. I’m picking her up at six.” He shot Harriet a puzzled look. “She told me to ask if you’d like to come over and take her place. She says Bryan’s taken a shine to you. What’s that about?”
“An inside joke. Anyway, thanks again for thinking of Gran.”
“Yeah, yeah. What time are we closing?”
“I was thinking we’d stay open until five. I hate to send people home when it’s so cozy here.”
Denise came flying through the doors. “I need three Bluebell Burgers, hold the onions on two of them. See if you can remember to toast the buns this time.” She spun around and addressed Claire who was busy cutting out scones. “We’re out of blueberry and we’re running low on maple walnut.” She tapped her fingers on the metal counter. “Oh, and Tony’s here looking for you, Harriet.”
“Tony?” Harriet exchanged glances with Claire. “Great. I want to talk to him.”
Tony was standing close to the front door, watching Seamus with a bemused smile.
“He thought he was going to be on Sugar Sugar today,” said Harriet, as way of explanation for Seamus’s exuberance.
“I don’t see it happening. One of the judges is still lying on the floor of my restaurant.”
“When are they going to move him? Have you heard anything?”
Tony nodded. “Meachum came by the house. Fisher will be there until they can get a forensics team in, and since the roads are closed it could be a couple of days before they can get into town.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The Stone Pony was trending on Twitter last night. I thought I might make a name for the place with my seafood risotto; instead it’s because we had a murder.”
“People have short memories, Tony.”
“Maybe.” His brows knitted together in consternation. “The whole TV thing was so last minute ... Why didn’t I say no?”
“How did that come about? They were all set to film at Bread and Roses.”
Tony shrugged one shoulder. “Paige just showed up and asked if they could use The Stone Pony. Didn’t even ask, really. She acted like she was bestowing an honor and I fell for it.” He dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Harriet. “Here’s the names you were looking for.”
She ran her eyes over the paper. “That’s a lot of people.”
“And those are only the ones I know. I didn’t catch the names of a couple of the production crew.”
“Do you remember who brought over the maple syrup?”
“Couldn’t tell you, but I know it got there early in the morning because Paige was going on about it.” His nose wrinkled in distaste. “She’s a nightmare to work with.”
“She was there the whole time?”
“Pretty much. And when she wasn’t there, her assistant was.” Tony leaned against the wall. He looked defeated. “I’m having a hard time hanging on to staff and she treats Travis like dirt, and he follows her around like a lap dog.” As he spoke, he watched Denise who swiftly cleared and re-set a four-top as she chatted amiably with guests at another table.
“You can’t have her,” said Harriet. She scanned the list for familiar names. “Bryan never came by?”
“Not that I saw. Just Fisher.” Tony gave his head a rueful shake. “He was great with me, but I don’t think he was too popular with the crew. I saw a lot of eye rolling behind his back.”
“How was he with Paige?”
“Didn’t see them together, but he asked me if Cruella was around and he meant Paige, so I guess he wasn’t a fan.”
Harriet folded the paper into quarters. “All these people, and Taffy says there was no one in the kitchen when she was there.”
“She was there early, before it got crazy. And she didn’t stay long. Just dropped off the eggs or whatever it was and left.” Tony looked Harriet straight in the eye. “She didn’t act nervous or suspicious or anything.” There was a burst of laughter nearby, and they both watched as Taffy chuckled companionably with a table of tourists. “There’s a lot of rumors going around, but I don’t for a minute believe she ...”
“Of course not.”
The front door opened and a group of four squeezed their way into the crowded café. Harriet caught Denise’s eye. She was looking the tiniest bit rattled; an unusual state of affairs for her. “Thanks for coming by, Tony. I’d better get to work, or Denise is going to mutiny.”
He gestured to the folded paper in Harriet’s hand. “Sorry, it just hit me. I forgot someone. She was only there for a few minutes.” He patted his jacket, looking for a pen.
“No need to write it down.” Harriet gave the new arrivals a welcoming smile. “I can remember one name.”
“Can’t believe I forgot about her. Kind of stupid, under the circumstances. It was Patricia Swimm.”