Chapter 6

 

I was still miffed an hour later. Leave it to Monica to push my buttons. I didn’t think my question to the sheriff about taking fingerprints off a corpse was so out of line. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Monica is in such a snit.

I filled an entire cookie sheet with neat little balls of dough before I realized my mistake. I wanted to both laugh and cry when I realized my blunder. In my current state of discombobulation, I had neglected to add the key ingredient—the chunks of mouthwatering dark chocolate that make my cookies special. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I felt like banging my head on the counter. A mind is a terrible thing to lose.

Disgusted at my oversight, I dumped the entire pan-load of cookie dough back into the mixing bowl. No wonder I couldn’t concentrate. I was worried sick about Claudia.

Claudia has an adventurous streak I’ve always admired. She’d single-handedly raised two sons after her auto-exec husband left her for his busty, twentysomething secretary. A cliché, I know, but it happens. By dint of hard work and determination, she became a top-selling Realtor in Oakland County, Michigan, while seeing her boys through college. One of her sons is a successful surgeon in Chicago, the other an aeronautical engineer in Seattle. After years of putting her boys first, Claudia decided it was time to kick up her heels. She sold her home in Farmington Hills, bought a house here in Serenity Cove Estates, and settled down to enjoy the good life.

I dumped enough chocolate into the mixing bowl to induce a diabetic coma. No need for an electric mixer, I thought as I whipped the spatula through the cookie dough at high speed. Still, I couldn’t get Claudia out of my mind. Wild and wacky, Claudia is the Bunco Babes version of Auntie Mame. Drama Club, Novel Nuts, and the Serenity Singers, Claudia dove into these activities with abandon. Recently, however, she had discovered a new interest. Internet dating. Claudia, being Claudia, embraced this new hobby with her usual zest. Now, on a whim, she had gone off with a man she barely knew—a virtual stranger. She had pooh-poohed warnings from the Bunco Babes, insisting she knew what she was doing.

But did she?

I remember reminding Claudia that Ted Bundy seemed like a perfect gentlemen, too, until women started showing up dead. Claudia had been gone over a week without a single word to any of us. I needed to make sure Sheriff Wiggins put Claudia’s name at the top of his missing persons list.

For the second time that morning, I rolled perfect little balls of dough and lined them on the baking sheet like good little soldiers. And if Claudia weren’t worry enough, there was also the matter of Vera’s unexplained absence.

Vera always struck me as the sensible and down-to-earth sort. Definitely not the type to just up and leave a perfectly good job as waitress at the Cove. Granted, I didn’t know much about the woman’s personal life, but I promised myself to find out more next chance I got.

I glanced out the window and watched Earl Brubaker back down his drive. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Rosalie, but couldn’t seem to recall how long it’d been. I wondered if I should add her to my missing-persons list.

With concerned citizens such as myself, there’d be no need for a hotline. Why, the sheriff would probably be downright grateful for my assistance. And even more grateful once he got a taste of the treats I was bringing him. I smiled at the thought.

Just as I was about to pop the pan of cookies into the oven, the kitchen filled with smoke.

“Damn, damn, damn,” I swore aloud, glad no one was around to hear me.

I cracked open the oven door and immediately spotted the problem. With all the goings-on, I had forgotten to clean the spills from an apple pie that had baked over. Apparently a self-cleaning oven doesn’t clean itself.

My eyes watered from the smoke. I cranked the kitchen window wide, then flipped the switch for the overhead fan. I waited for the blades to whirl and clear the air, but nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. I flicked the switch a couple times for good measure. Still nothing.

“Damn, damn, damn,” I swore again, louder this time. I always feel so helpless when things around the house need attention. In all our years together, I had depended on Jim to fix things. He could unclog a drain, repair a dishwasher, or install a ceiling fan. You name it, Jim could do it. Of course, in the process, he made my limited use of swear words seem amateurish.

Thank goodness for double ovens, I thought. While waiting for the convection oven to preheat, I reached for the phone. Why let your fingers do the walking when you have friends like Pam. Pam has been in Serenity Cove the longest of any of my friends. She’s the go-to person when I want information. Looking for carpet cleaners, a window washer, or a landscaper—Pam is the person to ask.

Pam picked up on the third ring.

“I have a problem,” I explained, getting straight to the point. “The fan in my kitchen just committed suicide. Do you happen to know a good handyman?”

“Give me a sec.” I could hear the rustle of pages at the other end of the line. Pam rattled off a number. I scribbled it down. “You’ll like him. He’s a real gem.”

“Does this ‘real gem’ have a name?”

“Yeah, of course,” Pam said with a laugh. “It’s Bill—Bill Lewis. As a matter of fact, you met him yesterday.”

“I did?” If I had, he certainly failed to make much of an impression. Then again, other matters had made too much of one, but I didn’t want to go there.

“Bill also works as a ranger on the golf course.”

“Bill . . . ? The guy who barfed?”

“The one and only. Give him a chance, Kate,” Pam urged. “Don’t condemn the guy because he has a sensitive stomach.”

I glanced up at my dead ceiling fan and heaved a sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll call him, but he better not lose his lunch all over my nice clean kitchen floor.”

“Just don’t have any nasty surprises in store for the poor man.”

I doodled a chain of daisies on the pad where I had written Bill’s number. “I know it’s only been an hour since the last time we talked, but I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Claudia?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

“No, not a word. I have to admit, Kate, I’m concerned. Do you think we should try to contact her sons? Ask them if they’ve heard from their mother?”

I thought about this for a moment. “I hate to worry them. Besides, we still don’t know whether the arm belongs to a man or a woman. Let’s wait until we find out more before sounding the alarm. For all we know, Claudia is busily snapping pictures of the Grand Canyon.”

“I still don’t like the fact she was so secretive about this new man in her life.”

“Maybe he’s a lot older than she is.”

“Knowing Claudia, he’s probably a lot younger.”

“Maybe he has two heads.”

“Or weighs six hundred pounds.”

“Seriously, Pam, if Claudia isn’t enough to worry about, what do you make of Vera taking off like that?” I could picture Pam’s brows drawing together in a frown.

“It’s possible Vera decided to take a vacation on the spur of the moment.”

Pam has a tendency to look at the bright side of a situation. A trait I find downright irritating at times. “Yeah,” I sneered, “maybe she won the lottery and took a cruise to the Greek Isles.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” she chided. “There’s probably a simple explanation. For example, there could be an illness in the family, and Vera was called away to care for them. Hate to cut this short, Kate, but I’ve got to run or I’m going to be late for the dentist.”

“Better you than me,” I said. Personally I’d rather have gallbladder surgery than see the dentist. Surgeons give you general anesthesia. Dentists don’t.

After we disconnected, I gave Bill Lewis a call, and he agreed to drop by Sunday afternoon to check out the fan. Satisfied that my problem was under control, I packed a couple dozen cookies in a plastic take-and-go container and headed out the door.