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D
illy was our first customer on Thursday morning, but Walter wasn’t with her. I hesitated to ask about him because I was afraid maybe they’d had a falling out. Jackie, however, had no such qualms.
“Hey, Dilly! Where’s your sidekick this morning?”
“Walter had a doctor’s appointment this morning and had to go there fasting, poor dear.” Dilly shook her head. “I offered to bring him a biscuit, but he said he didn’t want to be lumped in with the raccoon, so I’m making him dinner this evening.”
Jackie laughed. “You look out for that raccoon! Walter should consider that an honor.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Dilly looked over at me. “Amy, did you speak with Hilda Dinsmore yesterday?”
I exchanged a glance with Jackie. Surely Jackie remembered that it was Ms. Dinsmore who’d told me about Gladys Pridemore’s potato allergy. “I did. She came in and asked for a vendor spot at the farmers’ market.”
“I warned Hil that you might not have any openings,” Dilly said.
“Oh, I’m sure we can make room for one more vendor,” I said. “I gave her a form, she filled it out, and I told her I’d look forward to seeing her on Saturday.”
“Good.”
Jackie topped off Dilly’s coffee cup. “Have you known Ms. Dinsmore long?”
“Practically all our lives. Why?”
“I just wondered how reliable she is—you know, about...” Jackie shrugged. “Setting up at the farmers’ market...and all.”
“Honey, if Hilda Dinsmore tells you something, you can bank on it.” She frowned. “Have you had many people back out?”
“Not too many,” I said, with a smile. “What can I get you this morning?”
While I was in the kitchen making Dilly’s blueberry pancakes, Jackie came in to talk with me.
“I’m sorry I was so awkward about that whole is-Hilda-reliable thing,” she said.
I waved Jackie’s concerns away with my whisk. “Don’t worry about it. I understand what you were doing, and I’m glad you asked. I am interested to see what Ivy learns about the potato allergy, though.”
“Me, too. What did Aunt Jenna say about her date after I left last night?”
“Not a lot. I got the impression she had a terrific time, but she seemed a little guarded when I asked about it... I think she might be frightened that Dr. Bennett is too good to be true.”
She groaned. “I’m afraid she might be right.”
I followed Jackie’s gaze out the window into the dining room where Dr. Bennett was arriving with Shelly.
“Please tell me it was a coincidence that they got here at the same time,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“You want me to go out there and fire her for you?”
“No. We can’t fire someone for flirting with my mom’s maybe boyfriend...can we?”
“It’s possible.” She shrugged. “Virginia is an employment-at-will state. You don’t have to have a valid reason to let someone go.”
“I don’t know about that, but I wouldn’t fire Shelly for such a petty reason.” I took my frustrations out on the pancake batter. “Besides, if Dr. Bennett is a player, I don’t want him anywhere near my mom anyway.”
HOMER’S HERO OF THE day was Augustine “Og” Mandino, II, the bestselling author of The Greatest Salesman in the World. So, one would’ve thought Homer would be spouting sales advice, right? Wrong.
“Why are your eyes shooting daggers at Shelly today?” he whispered to me.
“It’s nothing.” I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious in my irritation with Shelly.
“Well, whatever it is, just remember this word of advice from Mr. Mandino. He said to treat everyone you meet as if that person were going to be dead by midnight.”
“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Hear me out,” Homer said. “If you—again, according to Mr. Mandino—extend to them all the care, kindness, and understanding you can muster without expecting any sort of reward, your life will never be the same again.”
I nodded. “That’s excellent advice.”
“Could I have a refill on my coffee please?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I got him more dark roast coffee and then went into the kitchen to prepare his sausage biscuit.
As much as I admired the altruistic attitude of Homer and Mr. Mandino, I found it difficult to set aside my feelings and muster up much care and understanding toward either Shelly or Dr. Bennett. Although he’d greeted me with a cheery hello and a smile as big as Texas—like we were best friends or something—he’d still told Shelly he’d see her later when he left. And she’d said she was looking forward to it. Since I’d never known anyone to look forward to a doctor’s appointment, I could only guess the two of them had a date. Did the man honestly mean to go out with my mother one evening and with Shelly the next?
I smashed my spatula down on Homer’s sausage patty, and it hissed. Grease popped onto my arm as if to scold me for being so rough. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Wonder if Mr. Mandino had anything to say about lothario doctors?
Jackie came into the kitchen and handed me another order. “This is for Ivy.”
I looked up. “Ivy’s here?”
She nodded. “I’ll take Homer’s biscuit out.” She plated the biscuit.
“Wait. Did Ivy say anything about the test? Or the potato allergy?”
“Not to me. She probably doesn’t know that I know...you know?”
“I should come out there and talk with her,” I said.
“No,” Jackie said firmly. “You should prepare her breakfast and then speak with her privately when you bring it out.”
“Of course. You’re right. I don’t want to call attention to her...to me...to the test—”
Jackie sat the plate down and took me by the shoulders. “Amy, get a grip. Why are you so freaked out?”
I sighed. “It’s everything. Shelly and Dr. Bennett...and I don’t want Mom to get hurt...and I’m afraid Ivy is getting ready to confirm that Gladys Pridemore was murdered...”
“Can you do anything about any of those things?”
“No. I guess not.”
“Exactly. What you can do is prepare a delicious omelet with turkey breast, low-fat cheddar cheese, spinach, and peppers,” she said.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Yes, I can do that.”
She gave me a quick hug.
“Jackie? Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She took Homer his biscuit.
After I’d prepared and plated Ivy’s omelet, I took it out to her. She was sitting at a table by the window and was watching a cardinal that had just flown up into a nearby pine tree.
“I love cardinals,” she said.
“They’re beautiful birds.” I sat her plate in front of her. “Do you need a refill on your coffee?”
“Not yet. Can you sit a second?”
I caught Jackie’s eye, and she nodded. “Sure.” I sat across from Ivy.
“Thank you for inviting me to your mom’s house last night. I enjoyed it. Your aunt is a character.”
“That’s putting it mildly. You’ll have to check out her Pinterest boards.”
She chuckled. “I’ll do that.” She lowered her voice. “I ran the test this morning. Gladys Pridemore was allergic to potatoes and likely other members of the nightshade family.”
“Nightshade? The poison?”
“Just because two plants are in the same plant family doesn’t make them both poison. Most people eat potatoes all the time and never have any problem. But some people—Gladys Pridemore being one of them—have severe allergies,” Ivy said. “In addition to potatoes, she likely had an allergy to tomatoes, eggplant, and peppers as well.”
“Then Ms. Pridemore certainly wouldn’t have ordered potato salad from the café.”
“I’d imagine she’d have had to have been extremely careful with the ingredients in her food as well as where it was prepared. I doubt she ate out much.”
I glanced around the dining room to make sure no one was listening to our hushed conversation before asking, “Do you think she was murdered then?”
“I’ve had a strong leaning in that direction before I ever found out about the potato allergy,” she said. “But in light of this additional evidence, I need to bring Sheriff Billings up to speed. He’ll probably want to question you and Jackie about the call.”
“Thank you, Ivy.”
“Just doing my job.”
SHERIFF BILLINGS CAME in during the lunch rush and took a seat on the patio. He sat at the table farthest from the door even though he was the only person dining outside at the time. Jackie told me all of this when she came into the kitchen to give me his order for a burger and fries.
“I’ll get started on his food,” she said. “He asked to speak with you.”
“All right.” I slipped off my plastic gloves and went out the back door, rather than walking through the dining room.
Sheriff Billings started when I came around the side of the patio.
“Good thing I’m not a criminal mastermind,” I said, with a laugh.
“It is. But then I knew that when I sat down here, or I wouldn’t have left my back open like I did.”
I nodded, and it dawned on me that most of the time the sheriff—and Ryan, for that matter—sat with his back to the wall.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry if I was the cause of any conflict between you and Deputy Hall.”
“You weren’t. In fact, you were both right—I shouldn’t have been...sleuthing.”
“I owe you an apology for that too. Had you not been sleuthing, we might not have an important clue in our investigation. Ivy has brought certain facts to my attention that makes me think Gladys Pridemore’s death might be more suspicious than we’d originally thought.”
“The phone call,” I said.
“And the potato allergy.” He held up an index finger. “That doesn’t mean I want you meddling in my investigation in any shape, form, or fashion. But I would like to speak with you and Jackie later today about the phone call you received from the person claiming to be Gladys Pridemore on Saturday.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you everything I can remember.”
“Not right now,” he said. “I don’t want to interfere with your work. I’ll come back near closing time.”
“The special of the day is turkey tetrazzini. I’ll save you some if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that, Amy. Yesterday I had pizza, and I paid for it with heartburn all night.”
As I walked around the patio toward the kitchen door, I noticed that Sheriff Billings had switched seats. He was now sitting with his back to the wall.
I’d no more than stepped back into the kitchen when Shelly popped her head through the kitchen window.
“HJ Ostermann is here to see you, Amy,” she said, clipping an order onto the window.
I blew out a breath and looked at Jackie.
“Go.” Jackie jerked her head toward the dining room. “I’ve got this.”
“I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can. Sheriff Billings said he’ll be back around closing time to talk with us about the phone call.” I went into the dining room and looked around.
HJ Ostermann raised a hand and waved me over. I was glad. I wasn’t as familiar with him as I was with his parents, and I wasn’t sure I could’ve picked him out of the crowd.
“Hi, Amy.” He gestured toward an attractive woman sitting to his right. “This is Fran.”
“Hello.”
“We wondered if we could put up a flyer here about the corn maze,” HJ said. “We didn’t do as well our first week as we’d hoped. Maybe it was because it was opening weekend and people wanted to get feedback before trying it out.”
“Maybe it was because people were put off by that old lady’s death,” Fran said.
Before I could respond to HJ’s request to put up a flyer, a man with long, wavy cinnamon- colored hair walked over to the table.
“Dudes!” he exclaimed.
“Scott!” HJ got up and hugged the man. “Have a seat, bro.”
Scott pulled out a chair, sat, and winked at me. “Got any lemonade?”
“Yes, we do.” I turned to go back to the kitchen. As far as I was concerned, Shelly could bring winky-Scott his lemonade, and I’d simply sidestep HJ’s request to put up a corn maze flyer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help spread the word about the corn maze, but these three had put me off, especially Fran with her snarky comment about the old lady’s death. How disrespectful could she be?
“Amy, wait,” HJ said. “May I put up the flyer?”
“Leave it at the register, and I’ll tack it up before I leave today,” I said.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Dude, wait—is this chick the manager or something?” Scott asked.
I raised my chin. “I own the Down South Café. Why?”
“I’m looking for work,” he said. “I’m an actor, so I’m totally good around people, you know? And I’ve waited tables before. I can do handyman work—”
“That’s right,” HJ interrupted. “You made my mom some shelves, didn’t you?”
“They’re not finished yet,” Scott said. “I’m still working on them.” He turned his attention back to Amy. “So, if you need any help, I’m your man.”
“We’re fully staffed right now, but I’ll keep you in mind,” I said.
“Awesome.” Scott gave me a wide grin.
I was happy to reclaim my place at the grill.
Jackie opened the door to the dining room and then stepped back into the kitchen. “Who’s the pretty boy with the long hair who seems to be having the time of his life?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dude, that’s like Scott, you know? And he’s awesome and looking for work, and if we need any help, he’s our man.” I gave her an exaggerated wink.
Jackie was laughing as she walked out into the dining room. I was smiling too.
TRUE TO HIS WORD, SHERIFF Billings returned at closing time. I’d already boxed up the remaining turkey tetrazzini for him, and he asked for a slice of chocolate cake to go with it.
Since Jackie had plans with Roger, Sheriff Billings talked with her first. He took her out onto the patio, while Luis and I refilled the napkin dispensers in the dining room.
Luis and I finished our job before the sheriff and Jackie finished their talk. I gave the young man some cookies to take home and told him to have a good evening.
While I waited, I absently wiped the counter down again and tried to remember anything unusual about Saturday’s call...other than the fact that a person with whom I’d never spoken had called and insisted that the Down South Café deliver food to her late that afternoon.
Jackie came through from the patio, grabbed her purse, and told me she’d talk with me later.
Sheriff Billings followed Jackie into the dining room, sat at the counter, and took out a notebook. “Tell me everything you can remember about the call that came in on Saturday.”
“Honestly, the only strange thing about it is that the caller begged us to deliver the food,” I said. “I explained to her—at least, I think it was a her, but, of course, I thought I was speaking with Gladys Pridemore so the voice might’ve been disguised... Anyway, I said we don’t deliver. We have carry-out orders, but we don’t have the resources to offer a delivery service.”
“What did the caller say to that?”
“She continued to be adamant that she needed the food and had no way of getting it if it wasn’t delivered. She offered to pay extra.”
“Is that when you capitulated?” Sheriff Billings asked.
“No. What made me give in was thinking about Aunt Bess. I wouldn’t want my great-aunt to be without the food she wanted, nor would I want her out on the road endangering herself and everyone else in the vicinity.”
“Do you recall any distinguishing characteristics of the voice itself?”
“No. We were busier than usual on Saturday due to the farmers’ market, and I was in a hurry to get the caller off the phone so I could get back to work.”
Sheriff Billings was writing in his notebook.
“That’s the other thing, though,” I said. “Gladys Pridemore’s tenants—the Ostermanns—were here at the farmers’ market. They could’ve taken her the food.”
He looked up from his notes. “So, either the caller didn’t realize that, or they thought you wouldn’t realize that.”
“I didn’t. It was Jackie who pointed out that fact to me. We even tried to catch the Ostermanns so they could take the food, but they’d left already.”
“Interesting.” He closed the notebook and returned it to his shirt pocket. “I’ll let you know if I have additional questions, and I trust you’ll get in touch if you think of anything else?”
“Of course.”
“Go ahead and lock up. I’ll hang around until you leave.”
Sheriff Billings went along behind me, ensuring that the doors were properly secured. Then he walked me to my car. For some reason, his protectiveness sent a chill down my spine. Did the sheriff know something he wasn’t telling me?
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