Authors: Claudia Bishop

Toast Mortem (27 page)

BOOK: Toast Mortem

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“It’s one of the reasons a lot of state lotteries let you opt for anonymity. Anyhow, Serena’s quite the blogger. She met a few other lottery winners online and came up with the idea for this group.”

“WARP.”

“It stands for Winners Against Rapacious Predators.”

“Oh, my.”

“That was Collier’s contribution, by the way. The name.”

“The mortgage banker?”

“Ironic, no?”

“Very.”

They grinned at each other.

Quill was feeling better and better. “They formed this group and elected Serena president. Her gruesome little joke was that they all take the names of dead lottery winners. All of them wanted to change their names, because every single winner had the same problem. Demands for money from relatives, friends, and strangers.

“Anyhow, Serena decided she’d had enough of Le-Vasque’s demands. So she arranged this little convention here at the Inn.”

“She planned to kill him all along?”

“Apparently.”

“The state of New York isn’t going to like that.”

“Premeditated, without a doubt. So, she killed him.” Quill took a deep breath. “This is an even uglier part. Vee . . .”

“That’s Mrs. Owens.”

“Vee decided she had a right to some of the money, too. After all, she was the one who’d passed the winning recipe along to her sister. And Serena had had enough. She’d given LeVasque more than four hundred thousand dollars, the state and the feds had taken a bunch for taxes, and she had jewelry bills to pay.”

“You mean those rhinestone brooches?”

“Weren’t rhinestones at all.”

“Golly.”

“Yep. A jewel and her money are soon parted.”

Meg groaned.

“Bobby Ray Steinmetz was the obvious person to take the fall for Vee’s murder. He had a record, and he was going through his lottery winnings at a rapid rate, so Serena figured the police would find a motive if somehow the robbery part came out.”

“She met Vee at the statue in Peterson Park to hand over more cash. And after she killed her, she took it back.”

“How did she get her hands on the knife from my kitchen?”

“Sheer bad luck for Clare. I don’t think LeVasque actually meant to steal it, Meg. But you were chasing him around the prep table with the sauté pan, and I think he just grabbed it with some muddled idea of defending himself. He left it in the kitchens at the academy and Serena picked it up because it was the biggest, heaviest knife on the rack. She told Davy she wanted to make sure she did the job right.”

“So poor Clare . . .”

“Should be out of jail as soon as Justin can get the proper paperwork done.”

“Then she’ll be home for dinner,” Meg said with an irritating air of complacency. “Justin’s a genius.”

It took more than a few hours to get Clare out of the Five Points Correctional Facility, but she walked into the Tavern Lounge with Justin late Saturday afternoon looking worn, too thin, and happy.

“Hey!” Meg leaped out of her chair and hugged her. “You’re free!”

“You’d think it’d be like the movies,” Clare said wryly. “You find the real murderer and boom! You’re presented with the jailhouse key. Doesn’t work like that.”

“Process,” Justin said with a half smile. He put his arm around Meg and kissed the top of her head. “Are we in time?”

“We haven’t started yet.”

“What’s with all the balloons?” Clare said. “Is it somebody’s birthday?”

“Mine!” Jack said. “I’m two!” He proudly put three fingers up. He held a stuffed rabbit by one ear. Max trailed after him. Bismarck trailed after Max. The cat took a long look at his mistress, then strolled up and twined around her ankles. Clare bent down and rubbed his head. “I missed you, too, buddy.”

“That is my lion,” Jack said. “And that is my birthday cake. And that is my mommy.” He cocked his head to one side. “All of my friends are here.” He pointed. “That’s Dina. She hurt her neck. But it’s going to be okay, Mommy says. That’s Davy, her good friend. He is helping her with her neck.”

“Because his arm is around her?” Clare guessed.

“Exactly. And there are my friends from the kitchen, too. And Mike. Mike is a good digger, but not as good as I am.”

“And your gram, of course.” Clare waved at Doreen.

“Yes.” He clapped his hands in delight. “They are all here for my birthday! It’s because I’m two!”

“You are a fortunate boy,” Clare agreed. She stiffened. “My God. Is that Madame?”

Quill glanced over at the corner table. Mrs. LeVasque sat between Harland and Marge. Harland looked mildly grumpy. (What sixty-two-year-old dairy farmer wants to be at a birthday party for a two-year-old boy? Quill had seen that he was well supplied with beer.) Marge listened attentively to Madame. All three of them turned and looked at Clare.

“There’s an opening at the academy,” Quill said. “Madame was hoping you’d be interested. And your old rooms at the annex are ready for you and Bismarck.” She paused. “Meg and I persuaded her that the employment contract you had with LeVasque should have been voided by his death.”

“So you’re free to choose.” Meg put her hands on her hips. “What I’m thinking is that the two of us working together can come up with pretty fabulous ideas to keep the tourists coming to both places. What about it.”

Clare turned perfectly white. Then a tide of red swept up from her collarbone to her hairline. “I don’t owe anybody any money anymore.”

“Let me sort those ‘any’s out.” Meg closed her eyes. “Hmm. The answer would be no, you don’t owe anyone a thing.”

“And I’ve got a job?”

“If you want it.”

Clare pinched her nose hard, but two tears ran down her cheeks. “I owe you,” she said. “If I can think of a way to thank you . . . there’s no way to thank you.”

“Sure there is.” Meg grabbed her by the arm. “About that recipe for the shortbread . . .”

“Meg,” Quill said.

“So never mind about the recipe for the shortbread.”

“I can’t quite take all this in,” Clare admitted. “I think I’m dreaming.”

Meg grabbed her arm. “C’mon. You’ll be right across the gorge from us. It’ll be cool.” She dragged Clare over to the table. Justin grabbed Meg’s free hand and followed them. Quill watched them and tried not to feel incredibly sentimental.

Jack tugged imperatively at Quill’s skirt. “Daddy.”

“I know, darling. I miss him, too.”

“Daddy!” Jack pulled at her skirt and she turned around.

There he was, standing in the doorway. His hair was a little grayer around the temples. There were a few more lines around his coin-colored eyes. And he was darkly tanned from some desert sun thousands of miles away.

“Myles,” she said.

He opened his arms and she went into them.

Author’s Note

I’m absolutely delighted to be bringing the next volume of Meg and Quill’s adventures in Hemlock Falls to readers. If you have met Meg and Quill before, I’d like to say, welcome back! And if you are new to this series, thank you very much for giving us a try.

If you have a love for cooking, I would love to hear from you. Join me for a chat any time on my blog at
www.claudiabishop.com/blog
. I’m especially interested in kitchen experiences.

Q: What is your main purpose when you create a menu?

Q: Has the way you’ve cooked changed over the years?

Q: Where did you learn your way around the kitchen?

Q: Do you have a favorite technique? What gives you the most pleasure at the stove?

Q: How important is equipment? The oven? What tools are essential to you?