Bedeviled Eggs (16 page)

“Was he shot with an
arrow?” asked Sam.

“No, I think maybe
with his own gun. I didn’t exactly get
a chance to
analyze
the
crime scene. By the time my mind
processed what had happened out there in that swamp, I
got scared and just sort of... ran away.”

“Smart
lady,” said Sam, putting an arm around her and
pulling her close.

“And then
I called Doogie. And then after that I found
the dog and called you.”

“Doogie’s bringing in
the state crime lab?’ asked Sam.

Suzanne nodded.

“Only thing to do at
this point,” said Sam.

“There
you go, Scruff.” Suzanne set an aluminum bowl
on the floor, filled with kibble
and topped with a handful of
warm, chopped-up
chicken. “Bon appetit, you brave little
patient.”

“You’ve really taken
a liking to that mutt, haven’t you?” asked Sam, gazing at the collie-shepherd
mix as he gulped
his food, looking like he’d just won the doggy lottery.

“Baxter won’t mind
having a buddy around,” Suzanne
told him. “Dogs being pack animals and all.”

“Man’s
best friend,” said Sam. Then he smiled at Su
zanne. “And women’s, too, I guess.”

“No, sir,” Suzanne
said with a laugh, “diamonds are a
girl’s best friend.”

Sam
chuckled as he snaked an arm around her waist.
‘This has been a tough couple of
days for you. All this
criminal activity, ripped from the headlines as they say.”

Suzanne laughed,
hiccupped, and oozed a few tears.
“That’s the same thing I told Toni. Maybe I
should fictionalize my story, self-publish, and sell it in the Book
Nook.”

“I’d buy
it,” he told her, “but only if you promise to au
tograph it.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Oh my gosh,” Suzanne
said suddenly, “I never offered
you
anything to eat!”

Sam’s eyes crinkled
with warmth as he gazed at her. “I
got coffee.”

“How about a nice
glass of wine and some actual food?”

Sam shook his head.

Suzanne gave him a
long look. “Me?”

“I thought you’d never
ask.”

They
took their time. Suzanne lit scented vanilla candles
and put on soft
music. Then, like a couple of innocent col
lege kids on their first date,
they held hands and kissed. A
prelude
to their first night together.

Afterward, just
hovering on the edge of sleep, Suzanne
and Sam cuddled like spoons.

A soft
snore, from Baxter, not Sam, caused Suzanne to
glance over at the doggy beds
where the two dogs slum
bered
and twitched.

“Do you
think Scruff might have been attacked by wild
pigs?” Suzanne murmured.

Sam
wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer.
“Looked more like he was roughed
up by another dog.”

Wednesday
was Crabby Omelet day
at the Cackleberry
Club, but this morning the usual fun and frivolity was some
what diminished. Pans
still rattled, plump sausages sizzled
on the grill, coffee cups thunked on the marble
counter, but
talk among the three women was tense and terse.

“The
thing is,” said Toni, as she busily shredded a chunk
of cheddar cheese, “I can’t help
wonder who’s next?”

“Don’t say that,” said
Petra. Hunched over her stove,
she cracked eggs into a large ceramic bowl. “Please don’t
talk like
that.” Grabbing a wire whisk, she went to work on
the eggs, swirling and whipping
them into a froth.

“I say that because
we now have
two
murders on our
hands,” said Toni, throwing a cautionary glance at
Su
zanne.
A warning look that clearly said,
Petra’s in a mood.

“Not on
our
hands,”
snapped Petra, liberally sprinkling
salt and pepper into her beaten eggs.

“They kind of are,”
Suzanne said, finally. “Since the first
murder happened right here and
the second one... well, I
don’t
have to explain that to
you.”

“Man,” said Toni,
shaking her head and looking both
distracted and sad. “It must have been something,
discover
ing poor old Wilbur Halpern
like that.”

“Someming awful,”
agreed Suzanne.

“People are really
going to chatter now,” said Petra,
peeling open a package of fresh crabmeat.

“You mean talk about
us?” said Suzanne.

Petra nodded
silently.

“There are always a
few people who’ll gossip and spread
rumors,” said Suzanne. “We just need to keep a
level head
on
our shoulders and our answers to the bare minimum.”
And hope Doogie comes up
with some answers fast,
she
wanted
to add.

“But
what,” asked Toni, “is
really
going on? Ouch!” she
yelped, almost grating her own finger.

“Doogie’s probably
going to blame Jane again,” Petra
snapped.

“No, he won’t,” said
Suzanne. “Doogie’s not going to
do
that. Not now. Not after last night.”

“It’s possible the
two murders are unrelated,” said Toni.
“But, somehow, it doesn’t feel
that way.” She stabbed at
the last bit of cheese. “You probably won’t be surprised
to hear
that Mike O’Dell has moved up to suspect number
one on my list.”

“Mine, too,” said
Petra. “If you could have seen him last
night...”

“A very
scary guy,” agreed Suzanne. “You could feel a
definite threat level.”

“You think Wilbur
Halpern might have been trying to
impress Doogie?” asked Toni. “I mean, obviously
Doogie
told
him about O’Dell having a bow-hunting license, so
maybe Halpern decided to follow
up on his own. Only he
somehow
... blew it.”

“Blew his brains out,”
muttered Petra.

“Petra!” said Suzanne.
“Of all of us you’re the one
who’s
always the most positive.”

“Not
today,” said Petra. “Not when I have to face Win
nie Halpern at church.”

“Got it,” said
Suzanne. She grabbed a loaf of zucchini
bread, started cutting it into chunks.

“Time to change the
subject?” Toni asked. “Maybe go
over
the specials?’

“Petra?” Suzanne
glanced over at her friend and chef.

“Crabby Omelets,”
said Petra, without her usual pream
ble. ‘“With hollandaise sauce. A breakfast parfait
of vanilla
yogurt,
cubed zucchini bread, sliced almonds, and cran
berry topping.”

“Tasty,” said Toni.

“And Jumpin’ Jack
scrambled eggs,” said Petra. “Plus
we have our full complement of ham, spicy sausage
patties,
and turkey bacon.”

“People
always roll their eyes when I tell them it’s tur
key bacon,” said Toni.

“Then don’t tell
them,” said Petra. “Just say bacon.”

“Is that kosher?’
asked Toni. “I don’t mean the bacon, I
mean to deceive our customers?”

Petra just shook her
head and frowned. “Lord knows, I
don’t want to be the one responsible for half of
Kindred
dropping
dead from coronary infarctions.”

“Okaaaay,” Toni
murmured.

“On a
happier note,” said Suzanne, “Petra’s quilt looks
beautiful hanging over our front door.”

“Doesn’t it?” said
Petra, brightening a notch. “I had one
of the fellows who’s helping
rebuild the church next door
drag
his ladder over and put it up.”

“So are we going to be
able to pull ourselves out of
our blue funk and have a successful Quilt Trail Tea this
afternoon?’ asked
Toni. They were co-hosting the tea with
the historical society and were expecting around thirty
customers.

“I was so looking
forward to the tea,” said Petra, “but
Wilbur’s murder puts a terrible damper on things.”

“I just hope it doesn’t
scare people off,” said Toni.

“Arthur Bunch already
called, worried about that exact
same
thing,” said Suzanne.

“He’s
still coming, isn’t he?” asked Petra. Bunch was
scheduled to deliver his little
talk midway through the tea.

“He’ll be
here,” said Suzanne. “I told him the tea was
still on. That it was possible
Wilbur’s murder would bring in even more people.” She glanced out the
pass-through
toward the front door, where a half dozen people were al
ready lined up.

“You can bet Gene
Gandle will have a big, splashy ar
ticle in the
Bugle
tomorrow,” said Toni.

“Gene
does adore his bylines,” Suzanne tossed back
over her shoulder, as she went to
unlock the door.

“Isn’t
this Waffle Wednesday?” a bearded man in overalls
asked Suzanne, as she
stood at his table, pen poised above
her order book.

“That
was last week,” she pointed out. ‘Today’s differ
ent. Crabby Wednesday. Crab
omelets with hollandaise
sauce
are our special today.”

“You should have seen
the waffles!” Mr. Overalls ex
claimed to his companion. ‘They had waffles with apple
and raisin sauce,
even Belgian waffles stacked a mile high
with caramelized bananas and
whipped cream.” He grinned
at Suzanne. “If you have a sweet tooth like I do, it was
one
fantastic breakfast.”

“So,” Suzanne said
with a smile, trying to move the
ordering process along. “Two Crabby Omelets with hash
browns?”

“Done,”
said the man in the overalls, though he looked
a little wistful.

As more customers
poured in, the mood seemed to lighten. Petra, who usually hid out with her
eggs, even
stepped
out of the kitchen to deliver an order of French
toast to a friend seated at the counter.

“You’re looking
decidedly more upbeat,” Torn re
marked, as they both hastened back into the kitchen. Then
Suzanne came running in with another order for a Crabby
Omelet.

“I’m feeling better,”
said Petra. “But we’re perilously
low on crabmeat.”

“Which means your
omelets are a big hit,” said Suzanne.

Petra looked
thoughtful. “Think I could substitute
shrimp?”

“Shrimpy omelets?”
said Toni. “Sounds weird to me.”

“Sounds delicious,”
said Suzanne. “But let me check
with
a couple of customers.”

She came back forty
seconds later and nodded at Petra.
“Shrimp it is. Only with baby Swiss cheese instead
of
cheddar.”

“I agree,” said Petra.

Toni plunked her
bottom on a wooden stool and said,
“You know what? I was watching
The Bachelor
last
night
and
all those women were
soooo
competitive. They were,
like, scratching each
other’s eyes out to get a rose from that
poor goombah and try to win his heart”

“What
would you have done?” asked Suzanne. “I mean,
in their place?”

“I dunno,”
said Toni. “Be nicer than
they
were.” She
glanced at Petra. “How about you,
Petra?”

“Lay around and read
a book,” said Petra. “Hope he
picked
somebody else.”

“Hah,”
said Toni, poking an index finger at her. “Good
one.

Five minutes later,
the wall phone in the kitchen jingled.

“I’m up
to my armpits in egg yolks and flour,” said
Petra. “Suzanne?”

Suzanne
grabbed for the phone, then was glad that she
had. Sam.

“How you doing today?”
he asked.

“Good.”

“Just
good?” He was toying with her now. “You can’t
talk?”