Dream a Little Scream (19 page)

“And she's living with Reggie Knox,” I said. “Could they have planned this together, or did he force her to be an accomplice?” They had different motives. Trudy may have wanted revenge and Knox probably wanted money, but it still didn't seem to fit.

“I think we need to run this by Sara and Noah,” Ali said.

“Definitely. We need to touch base and compare notes. Today was a bombshell, but maybe they have some surprises, too.” I glanced at my watch. We could easily be home in time to check things at the shop and then meet for dinner at one of my favorite spots in town.

“Dinner at six?” She pulled out her cell and started punching in numbers.

“It's a date.”

20

Sweet Caroline's was doing a brisk business when Ali and I walked in. I spotted Noah and Sara sitting at a table in the back and gave them a little wave before being engulfed in a hug by Caroline LaCroix, the owner. Caroline, chic in that way that only French women can manage, kissed me on both cheeks. “Oh, Taylor,” she said, her eyes welling with tears, “what a time you and Ali have had.” She looped her arm around Ali's waist and shook her head. “I can't believe the way things turned out. Who knew a visit from Sonia Scott would end in such a disaster!
Quelle horreur!
”

“We certainly didn't,” I said ruefully. “No one could have predicted it. It all went downhill at the television taping.” I explained that the impromptu book signing had been arranged when Sonia's private jet had developed engine trouble. Sonia, ever the self-promoter, wanted to wring every bit of publicity out of her visit to Savannah, and had asked Olivia to set up a quick photo op. The book signing at our
candy shop seemed like the perfect opportunity; who knew it would end with Sonia's death?

•   •   •

“I am so
sorry,” she said in her French accent. Caroline is an elegant woman in her mid-fifties who moved to Savannah from the south of France.

She ran a much larger restaurant with her husband, but when he passed away, she decided to close it and open the smaller Bay Street bistro. Sweet Caroline's has a friendly, relaxed vibe to it. The chalkboard menu changes daily and all the items are fresh and of high quality. Caroline's chef and sous chef go to the docks and markets each morning at the crack of dawn to secure the most flavorful fish, fruits, and vegetables.

Caroline is an excellent cook and makes the soups herself from scratch; the house specialty is a special
pistou
soup with beans from the south of France. It's so popular with the patrons that Caroline gave it a permanent spot on the menu. Unlike many restaurateurs, Caroline refuses to allow any prepackaged products in her kitchen and never reheats anything in the microwave. All Caroline's food is fresh, and labor intensive, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Come, let me show you to your table,” she said, her voice warm with sympathy. “Your friends Noah and Sara are waiting for you. I told the sommelier to bring a very nice Pinot Grigio, compliments of the house. I think you'll enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Caroline,” Ali and I said in unison.

Noah stood up and gave me an appreciative glance as I scooted into my seat. I admit that I took extra care tonight, wearing a classic little black dress I'd picked up at a sample sale in town and wearing my hair loose and tousled, the way he liked it. I could tell from his expression that my efforts
had paid off. I kept telling myself not to get emotionally involved with Noah again, but my heart didn't always listen to my head.

Ali is convinced Noah and I will end up together some day, but Ali is a true romantic who believes in happy endings. I'm older and a little more jaded by life. I've learned that wishing for something doesn't make it so, and that relationships can be fraught with danger. Ali falls in love at the drop of a hat, and seems to recover from failed relationships just as easily. I've learned not to give away my heart too quickly. Would I be satisfied having a deep friendship with Noah instead of a passionate love affair? Only time would tell.

“Have you brought Noah up to speed?” Ali asked Sara, as she reached for the bread basket. I opened my mouth to ask the waiter to remove the tempting basket of sliced baguettes and the little plates of seasoned olive oil, but Ali closed her hand over my wrist. “Don't even think of it,” she said. “The bread stays.” She had a surprisingly strong grip and I smiled to myself. When there's fresh-baked French bread involved, Ali can be surprisingly assertive.

“I wasn't, really,” I teased her. “I was going to ask for two more wineglasses.” She smiled at my feeble excuse. She wasn't buying a word of it.

As if he'd read my mind, the server appeared and placed two glasses on the table. “Would you like any appetizers?” he asked.

“Thanks, but we're fine for now,” Noah said, waving him away. Noah hadn't taken his eyes off me since I'd sat down, and although his attention was flattering, it was also a little disconcerting. The look in his eyes made it hard to believe that he was content with the status quo: for the time being, we were just friends. Not even friends with benefits, as Ali
liked to tease me. I reminded myself that this was what I'd wanted, wasn't it?

“So tell us the deets,” Sara said eagerly. “You two went to some little backwater town called Blessing, and what did you find?”

“We found a story,” Ali said feelingly. “Almost a Lifetime movie.” She dipped a small slice of a baguette into seasoned olive oil.

“Really?” Sara looked incredulous. “Well? Are you going to keep us in suspense? What's the big event that happened in the tiny town of Blessing?”

I took up the thread of the story. “We found a chatty waitress at the local diner—”

“Always a good call,” Noah said approvingly. “You'd be surprised what you can find out at a diner—who's sleeping with whom, who's running a scam, and sometimes you can even figure out who's buried a body.”

“This wasn't quite that dramatic,” I told him, “but we did find out that Trudy Carpenter might be Sonia's daughter, not her niece.” I quickly told Ali and Noah what we'd learned about Sonia showing up at the local hospital with a baby and walking out empty-handed.

Noah whipped out his tiny notebook and a pen. “What's the name of the hospital? You say it's in a town called Blessing?”

I shook my head. “That's a dead end. The hospital closed years ago. All we have is the word of the waitress, plus the fact that Trudy is the spitting image of Sonia. She doesn't look at all like her mother, Clare Carpenter.”

“Wow, you accomplished a lot,” Sara said. We stopped the conversation to give our orders. Everyone wanted Caroline's signature dish of caramelized onion quiche with a side salad. And we couldn't resist asking for more of the bread rounds.

“What does this give us?” Noah said thoughtfully. “Besides a motive for Trudy—or maybe her boyfriend—to kill Sonia. They knew they'd inherit a fortune.”

“What's the latest on Reggie Knox?” Ali asked. “Did the police pick him up for questioning? As far as I'm concerned, he's at the top of the suspect list.”

“Actually, they did bring him in.” Noah stared at me over the rim of his wineglass and I felt a little spark of pleasure coil through me. “I talked to my cousin at the Savannah PD and he said Reggie claims he has a rock-solid alibi for the time Sonia was at the book signing.”

“Really?” I felt let down. I was fairly sure Reggie was involved in Sonia's murder, at least as an accomplice or a coconspirator. I just had a bad feeling about this guy, and over the years, I've learned to trust my instincts. “What's his alibi?”

Noah snorted. “The crazy thing is, he won't say. He clammed up and insisted on getting a a lawyer. They didn't have anything to hold him on, so they had to release him. If they want to bring him in again, they're going to have the PD's office assign someone to him. They really don't have any evidence he's involved in Sonia's death in any way. He's on their radar screen, but that's about it.”

“I still think he's connected with her death somehow. Just a gut feeling,” I murmured. “Maybe Reggie knew that Sonia was really Trudy's mother, and he was blackmailing Sonia.”

“Then why would he kill her?” Sara asked. “No sense in slaughtering the goose that lays the golden egg.”

“I don't know,” I admitted. “Maybe she stopped payments, or something like that. Or maybe she was going to do something to land him back in jail. Is the Savannah PD looking into Sonia's financials? If there was a trail of
payments going out to Reggie, that would be pretty conclusive, wouldn't it?”

“I think they're on it,” Noah said. “Let's run through the suspects again,” he suggested, flipping open his notebook once more. “Does anyone like Etta Mae for the crime?”

“That's a tough one,” I told him. “My feeling is that she's not capable of murder, but I have to admit, she can be volatile and she had plenty of reason to resent Sonia. She really believes Sonia stole her family recipes and wants her day in court.

“It might be that Sonia was completely innocent in this whole cookbook caper and didn't know anything about it. After all, she was the head of a gigantic empire; she couldn't be responsible for keeping up with every little detail.” It would be ironic, I thought, if Etta Mae was furious enough to kill over the cookbook and then ended up killing an innocent person.

We were quiet for a moment, sipping our wine when the server arrived with our dinners. We all tucked into the quiche, and for a moment, all thoughts of murder and mayhem were forgotten.

“Who else are you looking at?” Sara said, breaking the silence.

“There's Jeremy Watts,” Ali said. “Sonia's lover.”

“What's his motive?” Noah asked.

“I'm not sure,” I admitted. “Sonia might have issued an ultimatum: marry her or else.”

“But would she really want to go public with the news that she's dating a married man?” Sara said. “She's America's sweetheart. That's not going to help her image, is it?'

“No, I suppose not. And I don't think Jeremy was going to move up in the company if something happened to Sonia. It seems pretty clear to me that Olivia was the power behind
the throne. She was probably going to run the company if Sonia was out of the picture.”

“I think we should move Olivia up to number one on the suspect list,” Sara said. “Especially if this Reggie Knox comes through with an airtight alibi. Olivia had a lot to gain.” She stopped to pass a basket of bread the server had just put on the table. Between the French baguettes and dinner rolls, it was carb city.

“What do we know about his wife?” Sara asked.

“Not very much. Her name is Leslie,” I volunteered. “She seems to stay out of the picture, although she did come to the taping of Sonia's show. We met her briefly, and I saw her chatting with some of Sonia's staff. Everything looked okay. She seemed friendly and pleasant.”

Noah arched an eyebrow. “She was there for the taping? I'd think that would be the last thing in the world she'd want to do. Doesn't she know about the affair? I thought it was common knowledge.”

“It is, but some women”—I shrugged—“just decide to look the other way. It doesn't make sense to me, but maybe that's how she's decided to play it. I suppose she had to see Sonia from time to time socially at company events, and she was okay with it. Maybe she just pretended nothing was going on. And, of course, Sonia never said a word, either. Outwardly, everything's fine.”

“Sonia was something of a control freak,” Ali interjected.

“So they say,” I added. “Actually, Lucinda reconnected with Leslie at the taping,” I said to Noah. “I think I may have mentioned this earlier, but she seemed happy to run into her. I think Lucinda feels sorry for Leslie. They didn't talk much about Jeremy, but everyone seems to know the gossip. It's no secret that Sonia had her claws in Jeremy and she wasn't going to let go of him.”

I stopped talking for a moment, my thoughts buzzing. So Jeremy was cheating on his wife with Sonia. Was he also cheating on both of them with Olivia? Hadn't Jeremy and Olivia looked a little too friendly in the restaurant and outside of the taping? Or was I imagining things? I made a mental note to ask Lucinda for information on Leslie, if she had any from her Academy days. Maybe she could shed a little light on Jeremy and his affairs.

We wrapped things up quickly with promises to touch base in the next few days. Noah looked like he wanted to spend some time alone with me, but he had to meet a new client and reluctantly said good night. I nodded and told him I had to leave, too. After all, I'd promised Ali we'd spend some time on the cooking classes. I knew I'd have trouble focusing on donuts and cupcakes, but a promise is a promise.