Early the next morning…
I yawned my way into the kitchen, my mind swimming with theories that were implausible, improbable or a mixture of both. Either way, I needed to figure out who had left Brenda the incriminating note and how they had gotten hold of Mrs. Bijon’s recipe book.
The evidence so far seemed to indicate that Brenda had indeed had the book and had passed it on. But to whom? That was the case-solving question.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Lauren said, from the counter. She smiled and paged through her sacred recipe book—what was it with chefs and their recipes?
“Hey, Laur. How are you feeling?”
“Well,” she said, huffing. “I’m five days away from my due date and Jason is trying to ban me from taking part in the Tri-State Baking Competition this weekend, but other than that, I’m heavy, sore all over, and the baby keeps doing this thing where he stretches out pokes me in the ribs and the bladder at the same time.”
“Remind me never to get pregnant.”
“Apart from that, Jason also has another meeting this month and he’s complaining about having to cancel it because money’s hardly flush at the moment. I mean, Georgina pays me well, but with a family of four and his business slower than usual, it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea what it’s like to have a nagging, whining husband.”
“And I’ll add ‘never getting married’ to the reminder list.”
Lauren flipped another page in her recipe book without looking at me. “And on top of that, Tyson’s started going to daycare and the teacher says he bit a kid.”
“Does Tyson even have that many teeth?”
“He’s got the bottom and the top, and the others are pushing through, so I guess you could say he gummed the kid?”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“I imagine he picked up the boy’s finger and, you know.” She mimed snapping her teeth shut.
“No, I mean, the other kid. Tyson’s a cutie. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. If he bit the kid, I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.”
“Oh my.” Lauren let out a peal of laughter. “That’s not how that works, Charlie. Kids can’t just go around biting other kids. That’s a recipe for tetanus.”
“I assume that’s not one of the recipes in your book?”
“Hilarious.” But Lauren didn’t say it in that grumpy, “Shut up, I’m pregnant” way. She spared me a smile. “I’m happy you’re around, Charlie. You always brighten my morning. But you look like somebody dragged you out of bed backward.”
“That would be Sunlight. He had a case of the zoomies last night.”
My special orange kitty meowed at me from the hall where he sat outside the kitchen’s archway. The cats were not allowed into the kitchen under any circumstances and both Cocoa and Sunlight played by the rules.
The other cats, the ones in the kitten foster center down the hall, never entered this section of the inn anyway.
“Oh,” Lauren said, “I thought maybe that werewolf kept you up. But, of course, how silly of me. Werewolves can’t change if there’s no full moon.”
“Yeah. That’s the silly part. So, where do you need me?” Please not onions. Please not onions!
“I want to make banana cupcakes,” Lauren said. “So you can start by slicing some bananas.”
“Perfect.” I could slice bananas while I sat at the kitchen table and sipped coffee. I prepared everything and sat down. I worked methodically, placing the neatly sliced bananas in a bowl to one side.
The case played on my mind.
Brenda had handed off the recipe book to the person who had killed her. Unless, the recipe book mentioned in the note wasn’t actually the same as the one that had been stolen from Mrs. Bijon. But what were the chances of that?
And then there was the newly released murderer to think about. Surely, he had nothing to do with this.
“—talking about how Brenda’s boyfriend might be the one. I think that’s quite distasteful but what can you do? People in this town love to gossip and—”
“Wait a second,” I said. “What did you just say?” Lauren had a habit of talking nonstop in the mornings and since I was usually exhausted and not a morning person I’d gotten into the opposite habit of tuning her out.
“About what? The gossiping? It’s sinful but what can you do? There’s not much else to keep a woman entertained in this town. Or a man. Mr. Eldoy at the hardware store is just as much of a gossip as any woman in this town, if you ask me. But of course, don’t tell him I said that.”
“No, not about that. About Brenda’s boyfriend?”
“Oh, that? There have been a few rumors about him,” Lauren said. “Unpleasant ones.”
“Such as?”
“That he was the last person who saw poor Brenda alive. You see, he lives right next door to her so they go running together before she goes to the library. And Natalie at the silverware store said that Misty Primrose overheard them arguing the night before Brenda, you know.” Lauren pulled a face. “You see, Misty Primrose lives on the other side of Brenda and she’s always home.”
“She is?”
“Yeah, she’s one of those freelance graphic designers. She’s always working from home. She needs a good internet connection and loads of coffee and that’s about it,” Lauren continued. “I mean, it’s amazing what people can do nowadays with so little.”
“Yeah.”
“And Misty’s always been on the shy side too, you know. In high school, she was the outsider. Preferred to sort of, sit around and watch people rather than interact. Socially awkward. Poor girl. And now, she’s saddled with her mother’s mortgage and there’s that whole issue with the dogs down the street, I can barely imagine how she copes. A working class hero.”
“John Lennon would be proud?”
“Who?”
I stared at her, blinking repeatedly. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I never kid about death, Charlie,” Lauren said. “There are two things that are certain in life. Death and that there is no greater pain than childbirth while your husband snaps unflattering pictures of your nether region.”
I put up a hand. “We’re getting off-track,” I said. “You mentioned that the boyfriend might’ve been the last person to see Brenda alive?” My fatigue had dropped away at the prospect of a new lead.
And the fact that the boyfriend lived in the same street as Brenda made this even better. Even if he hadn’t done it—the note about the recipe book had to mean something—he might’ve heard or seen something. The neighbors too.
“Yeah. That’s what Misty says, anyway. You should talk to her if you want to find out more. She lives on Brewer Lane too. I can give you the address and her cellphone number.”
“Thanks, Lauren.”
“Careful with those banana slices, Charlie. You don’t want to make them too chunky.”
I returned my focus to the breakfast prep, tamping down on my excitement. It was time to get sleuthing.