Raisin the Dead (3 page)

What else would I do, throw it at her? It was tempting, but I retrieved it and gently held it out to her in a piece of tissue paper.

She snatched it out of my hand, then turned it over and inspected it. “I knew it!”

I frowned. “What's the problem?”

“Imposters!” Her eyes narrowed. “Your bagels are imposters!”

I stared at Serafina. Was the woman serious? Accusing us of selling imposter bagels? How exactly do you make an imposter bagel? Good grief. “They're bagels. People come from all over to get them. Olivia and I happened to have gotten the recipe from a well-known bagel man in Brooklyn whom her brother knows. They most certainly are not imposters.”

She turned the bagel over slowly, as if she were afraid of what she would see on the other side. “See?” She stabbed the air with the offending bagel. “Its bottom is significantly darker and harder than the rest of the surface. You're selling rolls with holes, not bagels.” She looked down her nose at me. “I'm from New York. I bet my best pair of Jimmy Choo pumps you did not get the recipe for these from anyone in New York.”

I refrained from demanding she hand over the Choos, but had no qualms about informing her that she was still in New York, and that Olivia and I were from New York as much as she was. Just because we didn't live in New York City didn't mean we were a bunch of hicks in overalls with pieces of hay in our hair.

I don't even own a pair of overalls, and I certainly have no idea where the nearest bale of hay is. Instead, I reined in my frustration with her. With great effort, I might add.

Then it hit me. She was Calista Danforth-Brody, reincarnated. Serafina had the same haughty, snarky attitude, along with an air of superiority she wore like a mink coat. Don't get me wrong, I'm not at all happy Calista is dead, but she did have a big fat attitude going on. Same as Serafina. “I'm not going to argue with you. Call them what you will, we sell a lot of them. Maybe if you tried them you'd find that you actually like them.”

She tossed the bagel on the counter. “Fine. I'll take two, this one and a rosemary herb one. I should have known better than to hope for a decent bagel. I must have been crazy to come up here.”

She paid for the bagels and grabbed the bag from me, barely managing a thank you. I guess that's not her favorite word. Her heels clicked across the floor as she stalked out. A few minutes later, her pink and black Rolls Royce glided away from the curb. Olivia and I stared at each other in astonishment then burst out laughing. Kendra was going to have a fit that she missed what I assumed would be Serafina's only visit to Bread and Batter.

“I'm sure Sean doesn't think you killed Philip,” I assured my mother as I took a minuscule helping of her homemade macaroni and cheese. My size-six jeans finally had room to spare. I wanted to keep it that way.

“Tell her.” She motioned to my father with her fork while looking at him expectantly.

He waited a moment, then decided he couldn't pretend my mother wasn't talking to him. He put down his glass. “She's upset because your Detective Corsino was here this morning, asking her about the argument she had with Philip.”

“Seriously?” I squealed. “He thinks you killed Philip?” I haven't seen Sean in a while. Our schedules keep conflicting. Until they mesh again, we have to settle for texting and the occasional late-night phone call or visit.

I was reasonably sure he hadn't texted me anything about questioning my mother who, by the way, is the same woman who feeds him chocolate cake, meatloaf with real meat, and homemade
pasta e fagioli
; the same woman who not-so-secretly hopes he'll father her grandchildren. I prayed she hadn't communicated that morsel to him during questioning. Surely he knew I'd find out he'd been here.

“He didn't say anything of the kind,” explained my father. “It was routine questioning.”

“You were in the den, how do you know?” my mother shot back.

“Annie, come on. Sean does not suspect you of anything. He's doing his job. I bet he never said the words ‘murder' or ‘killed.'”

“Even so,” she volleyed back, “being questioned by him in an official manner was unsettling.”

“It wasn't that official. It's not as if he arrived with lights flashing, guns blazing, and backup. He was laid-back and relaxed. He apologized in advance.”

Like my mother, my father is also a big-time Sean fan, except, thank the Lord, he's kept thoughts of any grandchildren to himself.

My mother sighed. “Well of course he was laid-back and relaxed. He was playing good cop, so I'd confess.”

Good thing my mother didn't catch my father's insidious little eye roll. “I give up. Let me know when visiting hours at the jail are when you get there. Is there cake left over?”

She ignored his jail remark. “Of course. We didn't eat a whole cake since last night. Do you want me to get it for you?”

He pushed his chair away from the table and gathered up his dishes, reaching for my empty ones, too. “Thank you, no need. Talk to your daughter.”

My mother watched him make his way to the kitchen, then turned to me. “I love Sean, but despite what your father said, he wasn't Sean when he was here this morning. He was Detective Corsino.” She whispered this sentence, drawing out the Detective Corsino part, I think, for dramatic effect. “And he was a little official. I don't know how your father didn't pick up on that.”

“What exactly did he say?” I wanted to know.

“Anyone else want cake and a glass of milk?” my father yelled from the kitchen.

“No thanks,” my mother and I chorused.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

“Let's see.” She counted on her fingers. “He started with how long I had known Philip, did he have any enemies that I knew of, some other drivel, then he zoomed in on the argument Philip and I had. The one I told you about.”

“How did he know about it?” That was quick, even for our town.

“Our argument took place in Mia's parking lot after dinner. I noticed a waiter pausing to listen to us before he got in his car. I didn't think anything of it, really; I didn't care if he heard us. It wasn't top secret or anything.

“I was busy trying to convince Philip to not to be swayed. He wanted to resign from the Library Advisory Board, like I told you when I called. The Oleandra County Preservation Society was pressuring him to drop his support of the expansion. He was also getting pressure from another group.”

“Why was he getting pressure and not the rest of the board?” I asked.

“Because he's president, I suppose. He's also influential in Destiny. I'm sure they intend on getting around to all of us. Anyway, I'm afraid I lost my temper. In my anger, I told him if he resigned and stopped backing the expansion, I'd kill him. I think my exact words were, ‘If you pull out now, I'll kill you. Don't think I'm kidding. I'm a library director. Do you know how many mysteries I've read? I have murder options you've never dreamed of. I can hide your body where no one will find it.'

“I might have thrown in a ‘damn it.' I didn't mean I would literally
kill
him, naturally. It's something people say in the heat of the moment, for heaven's sake. If I went around actually killing everyone whom I threatened to kill, you wouldn't have made it past your sixteenth year, and your father wouldn't have made it past our honeymoon.

“Anyway, Sean said the waiter called the police after he saw the story about Philip's murder to report our ‘suspicious conversation.'”

Okay, I was a little surprised at the vehemence of her words. If that's exactly what she said, and how she hissed it, I can kind of understand Sean's visit to her. “That doesn't sound too incriminating. I can't believe he had to pay you a visit based on that.” I didn't want her to feel worse than she did. “You don't think someone actually murdered Philip, do you?”

My father had taken his cake to the den for his baseball game fix, and my mother and I had cleared the table and settled in their living room. I really didn't want another murder in our town because then I'd have to think about moving. Far away. “Someone else, I mean. Obviously, it wasn't you.”

“I don't know what to think. I can't believe he would drop dead out of the blue. His funeral is the day after tomorrow.”

“He was in his late seventies, mom. Dropping dead isn't out of the realm of possibility. I guess murder isn't, either. By the way, I met Serafina the other day when she came in to the bakery. She eerily reminded me of Calista, not in looks, but in her demeanor and attitude. Isn't it weird how strangers can remind you of someone you know, or knew? Anyway, she didn't seem upset about his death. I wonder what she's really doing here.”

“Maybe she didn't know him that well. The paper said she had business with him, that's all I know. He never mentioned her to me.”

“I know what the paper said, but what business?”

“I have no idea. He didn't mention that, either. I don't know that it matters since he's gone.”

“It might matter if she came to town to kill him.”

My mother looked doubtful. “That does sound far-fetched. I think Calista's murder is still affecting us. Didn't you just say he could have dropped dead? Not everyone who comes to town is set on killing someone, right? We've had plenty of visitors who haven't killed anyone while here. Maybe they've littered a little, run a stop sign. That's about it. What possible reason would she have to kill her great-uncle?”

“I'm sure she didn't. You're right, it's far-fetched, and Calista's murder did affect us. I know I'm much more wary of people now. Do you have a notebook and pen handy?”

“Sure. What are you writing down?” She got up and made her way to the antique desk where all the important papers were, including my grade school report cards, organized by year.

I took the notebook and pen from her when she returned. “I thought I'd take a few notes on what's going on.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like the research you did at the library when Calista was murdered? You've been bitten by the mystery bug again, only I hope there's no mystery to solve. Please, don't be kidnapped again, that's all I ask. I aged ten years when that happened. I'm still not sure I've recovered.”

“Don't worry. I don't plan on being kidnapped,” I assured her. The mystery-solving process did intrigue me, I admit. Not so much the details but why. We humans are so complex. “I'm pretty sure he wasn't killed.” Mostly sure, I added to myself. I popped the cap of the pen. “How well do you know Philip? Does he have enemies? I don't know that much about the library expansion; did he ruffle feathers? What was his involvement?”

“Whoa! One question at a time! You sound exactly like Sean, excuse me, Detective Corsino, did. I think I mentioned this before, I only knew Philip professionally, but I don't think he had enemies. Not the kind who would hurt him. Then again, he may have had a whole closet full. The advisory board itself ruffled feathers with the expansion, not only Philip. It wouldn't be a lie to say his money was a huge factor in the expansion. That's why I didn't want him to pull his support.”

“What do you mean his money was a huge factor?” I continued scribbling as she talked, hoping I wouldn't get home later and not have a clue as to what all my notes meant.

I planned to discuss said notes with Sean, whenever we caught up to each other. Considering there was some kind of nasty flu going around, which I had managed to avoid so far, but had much of the Destiny Police Department indisposed, I was sure he'd appreciate my assistance.

Our police department was small to begin with. We had a chief, one sergeant, three full-time officers, and two part-time officers. I'm not saying our little town is perfect; we have our share of miscreants, some homegrown, some visiting temporarily, but most crimes committed stop way short of murder.

“I'll give you a little background,” my mother continued. “Although the town supports the library expansion, which was supposed to be starting any day now, the Library Advisory Board is having a hard time raising all the funds. The bachelor auction we had helped a lot, then Philip promised to provide us with an extremely generous, extremely large monetary gift, which meant no tax increase to the town to pay for the expansion.

“Destiny's residents will pitch a fit if taxes are raised, but without Philip's help, there's no other way. We've already borrowed as much as we can, so Philip's gift was a true blessing for us. It would mean we could go ahead without any money worries.”

“Why was he being so generous?”

“Since he obviously couldn't take it with him and he'd never been married, so he had no immediate family to leave it to, he said it might as well go to something worthwhile before he died. We'd decided to name one of the new meeting rooms after him. He was thrilled.”

“Why wouldn't he have left it to Jill, since they were engaged?”

My mother nodded. “I asked him the exact same thing. He said he planned to leave Jill ‘a little something,' as he put it.”

“So he hadn't given any money towards the expansion before he died?”

“No.” She looked crestfallen. “He was about to, then all of a sudden we were having this heated argument about him possibly changing his mind—that's what I started explaining on the phone to you—and not supporting the expansion at all. When he announced his misgivings at our last meeting, we were speechless. We couldn't fathom why he'd pull out.

“I requested to meet him alone, hence us being at Mia's. He finally confessed someone was threatening him with harm if he gave us any money. Calling him on the phone, he said. He didn't want the other members to know. He was afraid it would scare us all.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I hope it wasn't Daniel Bixby. He's my senior reference librarian, but unfortunately, he's dead set against the expansion because of its effect on the Westley House.”

I went on alert, like a dog that just got a whiff of bacon frying. Vegetarian bacon, of course. “Harm? What kind of harm?” Harm covers a whole lot of ground.

Her face clouded over. “Philip wasn't specific. I didn't believe him. I thought he was trying to renege. Now he's dead. I feel awful. How could I have thought that of him? What if someone really was threatening him? Like Daniel?”

I squeezed her hand. “It's not your fault. You didn't kill him. I'm sure no one did.” I wanted to assure her, so I didn't dare wonder aloud if someone didn't want the expansion bad enough to target all the board members with harm, and hadn't gotten around to her, or the other members, yet. “Once his autopsy confirms that, you'll feel better. I'm sure we will all feel better. If you don't want to keep talking about it . . .”

She waved her tissue at me. “No, honey, it's okay. Go ahead.”

“When you called me about Philip's death, you said the expansion was becoming problematic, something about frogs, and the Westley House, which I take it has something to do with Daniel Bixby.”

“Oh yes. The expansion is supposed to go on the land behind the library parking lot. It also happens to be home to the endangered Yellow Spikey Tree Frog. We had no idea. The Oleandra County Preservation Society is concerned our new building will disrupt their habitat. They want us to build somewhere else, which makes absolutely no sense.”

“They're worried about a frog? Really? That sounds over the top. I love animals, but aren't frogs one step above insects? Can't they move them somewhere else?”

“We suggested that, but they're being stubborn. Apparently, the grass and pond on the site on which we want to build is their only home in Destiny, and there aren't any other Yellow Spikey Tree Frogs in the entire state of New York. The nearest ones are in New Jersey.”

“I find that hard to believe, but if you say so. Maybe they can ship them to New Jersey; reunite them with relatives. Who owns the property, the library?”

“No, the Destiny Community Center.”

“Are they doing anything about the frogs?”

“I don't know what they can do. They can't exterminate them, they're protected. They're rather cute for frogs. Tiny and bright yellow. The females have red toes, so it looks like someone put nail polish on them. The Oleandra County Preservation Society mailed all the advisory board members brochures trying to shame us into feeling guilty. It didn't work.”