Final Fondue (A Five-Ingredient Mystery) (15 page)

Gunnar’s eyebrows rose. “You asked to go back?”

“No. He called me out of the blue. I told him I’d give him my decision on Tuesday.”

Gunnar braked harder than he needed to for a stop sign. “I thought you were settled here. I didn’t know you were thinking of going back to New York.”

“I wasn’t, until I got the phone call.”

He glanced at her, frowning. “Why would you go back there after the way he treated you? He fired you for no good reason.”

She turned away and looked out the side window. “He shuttled me off to a position I didn’t want, and I quit. It’s not the same as being fired.”

Gunnar pulled past the stop sign. “Right. If you’re fired, you usually get severance pay. Your boss figured out how to get rid of you cheaply.”

She winced. “The accountant’s viewpoint. The money didn’t matter to me. I quit because my pride was hurt.”

“Your pride should keep you from going back.” Gunnar drummed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “The traffic’s picking up and getting on my nerves. I don’t mean to badger you. It’s your decision.”

“Of course, it’s my decision.” But if he said what she’d hoped to hear, that he wanted her to stay, she’d have one more reason not to go back.

He slowed down and looked intently at her. “Does Tony have anything to do with your sudden interest in going back to New York?”

“Certainly not.” So that’s what was bothering Gunnar—not the idea of her leaving, but of Tony influencing her decision.

Her phone chimed. Granddad was calling her back at the perfect moment. Without the interruption, she and Gunnar might have said something they’d later regret. “That’s my grandfather. I have to take his call. He says he’s found a witness.”

She answered the phone as Gunnar hit the accelerator. “Hey, Granddad. Tell me about this witness you found.”

“This morning I knocked on all the doors from here to the festival. I showed folks those photos Monique gave me.” His voice came through the phone, full of energy. “I wanted to know if the neighbors saw any of our guests Friday night.”

“The police must have already canvassed the neighborhood.”

“Not with photos of our visitors in crab hats. A lot of the neighbors saw people in crab hats Friday night, but no one paid attention to what they looked like, except for Bill James. He’s the fella who just bought the ugly yellow house on the next street. He saw Jennifer in her crab hat walking toward Main Street a few minutes before the fireworks started. She came from the direction of our house.”

“How could he be sure it was her with that hat on?”

Granddad laughed. “Her legs attracted his attention. He checked
them
out first and then her face. He figured she was a neighbor he hadn’t met yet. He sure wanted to meet her. She had a lot of leg showing between her skirt and—what did he call them?—her cross trainers. Another name for sneakers, I suppose. Didn’t she leave the house earlier wearing high heels?”

“You took a good look at those legs too, Granddad.” Val caught Gunnar’s amused look and took it as a sign that he wasn’t dwelling on Tony. “I focused more on Jennifer’s shoes. She wore sandals with stacked high heels. Walking on brick sidewalks with those heels had to be a challenge. She probably went back to the house to put on more comfortable shoes.”

“The chief asked her what she did after dinner with her fiancé. She didn’t say she came back here. She made it sound like she was at the festival the whole time. Why did she lie about it?”

Val imagined herself in Jennifer’s shoes, the metaphorical ones, not the high heels. There was another explanation besides deliberate deceit, for Jennifer’s failure to mention being at the house. “If I’d just found out an old friend was dead, changing shoes earlier in the evening would have slipped my mind too.”

“Hmph. Now that she’s over the shock, she should correct what she said. When you lie, you look guilty.”

Val would have reminded him that his newspaper column was based on a lie if Gunnar hadn’t been listening. Like most people who didn’t know Granddad well, Gunnar had fallen for the ruse that the Codger Cook knew all about cooking. Her grandfather would be ticked off if she outed him to anyone.

“What does Jennifer look guilty of, Granddad? Not murder. She was at the house before the fireworks started. Fawn was still at the festival then.”

“Who said so?”

Val must have inherited her skeptical streak from her grandfather. “The chief told me someone reported seeing her talking to a man when the fireworks first started.”

“How could that witness identify her if she was wearing a crab hat?”

“Excellent question.” Exactly the one she’d asked Granddad a minute ago. He often turned the tables on her. “Maybe Fawn wasn’t wearing it when the witness saw her.”

“Jennifer’s on top of my suspect list because she lied. She’ll stay there until I know for sure that Fawn was still alive when Jennifer left the house. I gotta get back to the fondue.”

“See you at the cook-off.” Val put her phone in her bag.

The police hadn’t released information about when Fawn died, possibly waiting for the autopsy results. The local medical examiner must have estimated the time of death. Maybe Val could coax the information from the chief.

She gave Gunnar the gist of the conversation. By the time she finished, the car was crawling toward the Bayport historic district.

“Look at this.” Gunnar pointed at the windshield. “It’s like being back in Washington with cars bumper to bumper. Day-trippers.”

Val smiled. He’d been a day-tripper himself a few months ago. “They’re coming for the food. Between the restaurant chefs’ cook-off and the amateurs’ dessert cook-off, I’ll be lucky to have anyone buy food at my booth this afternoon.” And at this pace, she’d be lucky to get to the booth by closing time. “Can you let me out? I’ll move faster on foot. Maybe we can meet for an early happy hour before you change into your zombie clothes.”

“Happy hour with a zombie doesn’t appeal to you?” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. He pulled over to let her out. “I’m going to turn around and run some errands in Treadwell. Then I can stop by the booth, unless the traffic gets even worse.”

“See you later.” She stepped out of the car.

After she’d walked a block on the narrow sidewalk, a man came up behind her—Roy Chesterfeld, deputy sheriff from a nearby county. He’d responded when she reported finding a murder victim in that county a few months ago. Blond and broad-shouldered, he looked just as handsome in casual clothes as in the uniform she associated with him, but younger. He couldn’t be much over thirty. His gray T-shirt clung to his toned body.

“Hey, Val. You’re looking good. Going to the festival?”

She nodded. “To work at my booth, the Cool Down Café Annex at the festival.”

Roy fell into step next to her. “I’ll walk over with you, okay?”

“Sure.” She looked for Gunnar’s Miata among the cars inching along the street, but he must have already turned off.
Whew.
If Gunnar saw her now, with his jealousy stoked by Tony’s presence, he might assume she’d left the car to meet up with the hunk walking next to her.

“I hear you found another dead body.”

“The police haven’t made it public who found the body. You must have inside information about the case.”

“I have access to the reports. We’re on standby, in case the Bayport Police Department and the deputies from this county need assistance.”

“I found Fawn dead around ten o’clock. Do you happen to know what time she died?” The last time she’d found a body, he’d been less closed-mouthed than other deputies.

“I’ll check what the medical examiner said and let you know.”

He caught her eye. “I kept your phone number. Are you still seeing someone?”

“I am.”
But for how much longer?

“That’s too bad. How’s your grandfather doing after another murder on his property?”

Val turned the corner onto a side street with fewer people on it and picked up her pace. “He’s upset but making the best of it.”
By throwing himself into detecting.
“He’s competing in the dessert cook-off this afternoon. If he sees you, he’ll twist your arm to try his dessert and vote for his entry.”

“I’ll skip the cook-off. I’m not big on desserts.”

She glanced at his tight abs. Not dessert territory. As far as she knew, he subsisted on protein bars, which he carried in his pockets. The only protein bar she’d ever tried had tasted like pressed sawdust mixed with ground gravel. She’d rather eat baby food. To be fair, she’d never dined with Roy. Just as well. To him a square meal might mean an actual square of pulverized protein. Gunnar couldn’t compete with the deputy in looks, but at least his taste buds were compatible with hers.

“What’s going on today besides the cook-offs?” Roy said.

She gave a rundown of the activities she remembered from the schedule. As they crossed the street toward the festival booths, Tanisha was crossing the opposite way.

“Hey, Val.” She darted a look at Roy. “I’m taking a break from the booth. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Okay.” Val would have introduced her to Roy, but Tanisha zoomed off. “See you later.”

Val and the deputy joined the crowd strolling between the rows of booths. “My booth’s smack in the middle of this row. You’re welcome to a cool drink, on the house. We have sandwiches and salads if you haven’t eaten lunch yet.” She was looking forward to lunch herself.

“I’ll take you up on some ice water.”

To wash down his protein bar?
Val spotted Jennifer, Noah, and Sarina near her booth. “Are you off duty, Deputy Chesterfeld, or working undercover in plain clothes?”

“Would I tell you if I was working undercover?”

“I just want to know how to introduce you to some murder suspects.”

“Go with my name, not my job.”

They arrived at the booth as Bethany gave a cranberry spritzer to Jennifer, a lemonade to Noah, and an iced tea to Sarina.

Noah slapped a ten-dollar bill on the table. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you. Hey, Val. I was just telling Jennifer that you went to the maze to look for clues to who chased her.” She leaned across the serving table toward the wedding group. “Val has solved murders that stumped the police.”

Val cringed inwardly. “That’s not true.”

“It is too.” Bethany said, sounding like one of her first graders. “Val’s really modest. She dug up most of the evidence.”

Val glanced at Roy, who covered his mouth, probably to stifle a laugh.

“I hope you found some evidence in the maze.” Jennifer sipped her spritzer. “No one should get away with terrifying people.”

“I didn’t find anything that would identify the person who chased you.” Val watched Jennifer and her friends. None of them looked relieved that she’d failed to find evidence. She caught Bethany’s pointed look at Roy. “Everyone, this is my friend, Roy Chesterfeld. Roy, meet Bethany O’Shay. She helps me at the café when she isn’t teaching first grade.”

“Hi, Bethany.” Roy leaned toward her, shook her hand, and gave her a warm smile.

When he let go of her hand, she kept it outstretched, apparently too mesmerized to let her arm drop.

Now for the suspects. “Roy, these are the guests staying at my grandfather’s house.” She introduced Jennifer, Sarina, and Noah. He shook hands with them, giving them the same smile he’d bestowed on Bethany. “They took part in the knot-tying contest today. How did it go?”

“I came in first,” Noah said.

“Congratulations.” Val shook the winner’s hand, which surely knew how to tie a bowline.

Roy and Bethany also congratulated Noah.

Jennifer beamed. “He won a fantastic prize. A gift certificate for dinner tonight at the Inn on the Bay. I wanted to check out the restaurant there this weekend, but I couldn’t get a reservation. Lucky for us they set aside a table for the contest winner. We’re all going. Payton too. He’s meeting us there.”

Val moved out of the way of a middle-aged couple checking the menu at the booth. “How did Payton do in the contest?”

“He had something else on his agenda,” Sarina said. “I managed to tie all the knots correctly except one. Jennifer was hopeless.”

The bride-to-be shrugged. “I didn’t learn to tie my shoes until I was in third grade. Well, nice talking to you all. We’re going to the cook-off. Will you be there to cheer on your grandfather, Val?”

“I’m planning on it.”

The wedding group left. The middle-aged couple continued to study the menu.

Bethany looked up at Roy with the same brown-eyed adoration that her dog Muffin gave her. “Would you like something to eat? We have lots of choices.”

Val knew what was coming next. She’d had no chance to warn Bethany.

Roy removed a wrapped protein bar from his trouser pocket. “In my job I’m never sure when I’ll get a chance to eat. I carry my own food. Would you like to try one?”

Bethany nodded, her ginger curls bouncing. “I’d love one.”

No, you wouldn’t
.

Bethany took the bar Roy gave her and tore into the wrapper as if it were a longed-for birthday gift. She bit off a chunk and chewed. An expression of bliss came over her face. “Oh,” she moaned.

Roy must have heard an
oh
like that from other women, but only after he’d given them something besides a protein bar.

“Oh,” Bethany moaned again. “This has
so much . . . texture.
And
flavor.
”

“I’m glad you like it.” Roy’s delight looked genuine.

Maybe he’d found his soul mate, at least for the time being. Once Bethany gave up her baby food diet, she wouldn’t take so much joy in protein bars. She and Roy might as well enjoy the honeymoon.

Val owed Bethany some time off. “Why don’t you give Roy a tour of the festival and check out what’s happening on Main Street.”

“Can you handle the booth on your own for a while?”

“I can handle it.” Val appreciated Bethany’s dependability. No matter how much she longed to do something, she wouldn’t renege on a commitment. “Tanisha will be back soon. Have fun, you two.”

Tanisha returned just as the lunch crowd increased.

When the number of customers dwindled, she said, “Could I ask you something, Val? Bethany said the guy you left with this morning was like your boyfriend, and he was an actor, and really nice.”

“Gunnar. Yes, he’s nice.”

“The dark-haired guy who was here before him and the blond guy I saw with you half an hour ago look like they belong in the movies. I wonder if maybe Bethany mixed up who’s the actor and who’s your boyfriend or something.”

Val laughed. Her love life was probably not the subject of whatever question Tanisha hadn’t quite managed to ask. “Bethany got it right. Are you asking why I prefer the man who isn’t handsome to the two who are?”

“Well, yeah. I guess you’re going to say that looks aren’t everything.”

“And that’s hard to believe when you’re eighteen. I can give you a simple example of why Gunnar appeals to me more then the other two guys. Did you notice Tony’s smile when he was here this morning? It’s lopsided. A lazy half-smile. He only gives so much of himself and holds the rest back.”
A cheapskate with his emotions.

“Well, the blond guy was smiling big at you.”

“Roy has a huge smile, but it’s the same for everybody.”
Or at least every female body.
“When Gunnar looks at me, his smile transforms his face, and that smile is for me and no one else.”