A Batter of Life and Death (10 page)

“No. Forget it. It’s me.”

The front door opened before I could push her for more. I looked up to see Mom walk in.

Chapter Thirteen

“Mom. You’re back!” I hurried to the front and embraced her.

She set her canvas bag on the floor and hugged me back. “We had to come, honey. There’s no way Doug would have enjoyed another minute of our trip knowing that there was a murder investigation going on.”

I took a step back and held both her hands. “You look great. You’re so tan.”

“Juliet, I’ve only been gone a few days.”

“It looks like you’ve been somewhere tropical.”

Her cheeks were bronzed and her eyes glowed. I hadn’t seen her this relaxed in a long time.

“We sort of were. This weather has been amazing, and the wineries were stunning. We spent most afternoons sharing a bottle of Oregon pinot in the sun.”

“You need to go on vacation more often, Mom. You look like a new woman.” I squeezed her hands.

“Well, if I get a welcome like this every time, I’ll do it.” She dropped my hands and picked up the canvas bag. “Come on, I can’t wait to tell you all about it.” Her face turned serious. “And hear how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

She frowned.

“Really.” I gave her a look to warn that we weren’t alone and waved her toward the kitchen. “Mom, this is Nina. Nina is a vegan chef from L.A. who’s here for the show. She’s going to be baking here with us.”

Mom rested her bag on the counter and extended a hand to Nina. “I’m pleased to meet you. If you need anything, feel free to let us know.”

Nina thanked her and covered her mixture. “I want to bake this in the morning, before we tape. Is there a place in the refrigerator I should store it?”

“Of course, let me show you,” Mom said, and led her to the walk-in fridge.

With her vegan futter creation cooling, Nina stacked dishes on her section of the island. “I’m going to the play this evening. What time do you arrive in the morning?”

“Early,” Mom and I replied in unison.

Nina laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”

After she left, Mom unpacked her bag. She placed two bottles of wine, a jar of hazelnut and chocolate sauce, rosemary olive oil, and a lavender-infused honey on the island. “Doug and I had some incredible food at the wineries. I brought back a few of my favorites for you to taste. I know you want to expand and do some dinners during the slow season. I have a feeling that you can create something spectacular with these.” She found the corkscrew and uncorked a bottle of Willamette Valley pinot noir.

She poured two glasses of wine and sliced a loaf of our nine-grain bread.

“Hand me that tray, would you?” she asked as she opened the honey.

I passed her the tray. She arranged slices of bread, honey, olive oil, hazelnut spread, and spoons for tasting. Handing me the glasses of wine, she said. “Let’s go sit.”

She carried the tray and I followed with the wine. We sat at our favorite booth next to the window. A handful of people were gathered in the plaza. They looked like they were dressed for tonight’s performance of
Othello.

We clinked our glasses together in a toast. “To you taking more vacations,” I said.

She smiled and swirled her wine. “It was nice to get away. I just wish we didn’t have to come back to such terrible news.”

I scooped a spoonful of chocolate hazelnut sauce onto a slice of bread and bit in.

“Your face says it all.” Mom grinned. “Isn’t that delicious? They were harvesting hazelnuts while we were there. It’s quite a process to watch. I fell in love with that spread.”

The hazelnuts had been ground into melted milk chocolate for the sauce. In my opinion there’s not a much better pairing than the two. I helped myself to another scoop. “I love it.”

“I knew you would.” Mom dished herself a slice of bread drizzled with olive oil. “Now, are you ready to talk about this murder?”

I licked chocolate from my lips. “I don’t know where to start. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. I haven’t even told you that
I’m
a contestant now.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “You’re a contestant? How did that happen?”

I filled her in on how Philip convinced me to participate. Then I gave her a brief rundown of Marco and how he’d angered all the contestants in his drunken fit. When I got to the part about discovering his body I watched her brow furrow. Was that really just this morning? I felt like I’d been awake for days.

When I finished, Mom considered everything I’d said and took a sip of wine. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this again. What can I do to help? Do you want to pull out of the show? Is it getting too stressful for you?”

“I thought about it, but if I was to win, think of the money, Mom. We could actually get Torte outfitted with everything we need.”

She gave me “the mom look” as I call it. “Stop right there, young lady. We are doing just fine, thanks in large part to you. No amount of money is worth your stress.”

“I know, but—.”

“No buts.”

“Okay, okay.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “I promise I’m not going to do it just for the money. I’m already in this far. I finished my entry for the first round of the show tomorrow so I figure I’d at least give it a shot. If I end up feeling stressed, I’ll tell Philip I’m out. Deal?”

Mom poured another splash of wine in our glasses. “Deal, but I know you, Juliet Capshaw, and I’m going to be watching you. If I decide it’s too much, I get to pull the plug too.”

“Fair enough.”

We finished sampling Mom’s foodie souvenirs. She gushed as she shared details about her romantic road trip with the Professor. Her face lit up as she told me about meeting the vintners, strolling through the grapevines, and how they got lost multiple times on the back roads of Oregon’s wine country. Apparently the Professor learned what a terrible navigator she is. She can’t read a map to save her life.

Her voice got a little shaky as she reached across the table and held my hand. “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”

“No, why?”

“It’s been a long time since your dad died. I still miss him every day. I don’t think that dull ache in my heart will ever heal, but it’s been really nice to have someone like Doug to do things like this with. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having companionship.”

I dropped her hand, stood, and scooted next to her in the booth. “Mom, I love that you have someone to hang out with.” My eyes began to mist. I leaned my head onto her shoulder. “Dad would want this for you too.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She kissed my head and wrapped her arm around me. “What would I do without you?”

Our moment was broken by a knock on the door. Mom wiped her eyes and sat up. I blinked mine and went to see who was outside.

Philip stood on the other side of the door with his cell phone attached to his ear. When he saw me he tapped on the door. “Jules, you’re here. Great. Can I come in?”

I unlocked the door.

Philip rushed in. “Glad I caught ya.” He looked at his phone. I could hear someone on the other end calling his name. “Sorry. One sec.” He spoke into the phone with one hand covering it.

All I heard was him repeating, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, on it.” He shut the phone off and took notice of Mom who had brought our tasting tray to the front counter. “Who is this vision of beauty?” Philip brushed past me and walked straight to Mom. When he reached her he kissed both of her cheeks.

“Mom, this is Philip. He’s the producer of
Take the Cake
.”

Philip looked from Mom to me and back again. “I see the genetic resemblance.” He moved his hands like he was framing Mom. “Imagine—a mother/daughter baking duo. Ladies, we should talk.”

The sound of the door jingling made us all turn around. The Professor stood in the doorway, wearing a tweed jacket and carrying a day bag on his shoulder. “You forgot this in my car, Helen,” he said, coming inside.

Mom scooted from her chair and went over to get her bag from the Professor. “Thanks, Doug. That’s so sweet. I didn’t need that tonight.”

The Professor took notice of Philip. His demeanor stiffened ever so slightly. I’m sure to someone who didn’t know him it would have gone unnoticed. He strolled over to Philip and extended his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Philip returned the handshake. “I’m in town producing a reality baking show. You may have heard of it,
Take the Cake
.”

“Ah. Yes.” The Professor nodded. “My crime scene.”

“Your crime scene?” Philip looked at Mom for clarification.

Mom jumped in. “Sorry, Philip. Doug is our lead detective here in Ashland.”

Philip’s eyes lit up. “Good. Glad to hear it. Maybe you can help me. I need to roll film first thing in the morning, and the young detective up at the theater isn’t cooperating.”

The Professor was quiet for a moment. “A man has been murdered. Protecting the integrity of the crime scene is vital. I’m glad to hear that Thomas is following protocol.”

“I get that.” Philip started pacing around the table. “I hope you can also understand how imperative it is to stay on schedule. This is an expensive undertaking to shoot on location like this. Can I get a guarantee that the set will be mine by tomorrow?”

“A guarantee?” The Professor ran his fingers through his ginger beard that was starting to fleck with gray. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, but I’m on my way to the theater now to take a look at how the investigation is proceeding.”

Philip didn’t look pleased with the response. “I’ll come up there in a while. I’ve got to keep this production on track.”

“Suit yourself.” The Professor bid us all good night and left for the Black Swan.

A timid knock on the door sounded a minute later. I figured the Professor must have forgotten something, but Linda Belle stood outside in a hot-pink dress with a sequined shawl around her shoulders.

“Oh, hi, y’all.” She greeted us with the drawl. “Philip, what a surprise to see you here.”

An awkward look passed between them.

I stepped aside. “Did you want to come in, Linda?”

She smiled broadly. “Actually, since Philip is here, I was wondering if I might borrow him for a minute.”

“I was just about to convince these two beautiful ladies that we need to sit down and talk about a mother/daughter show. I can see it now—
The Baker’s Daughter.
The camera will fall in love with both of you.” Philip reached down and kissed Mom’s hand. “But I can tear myself away for a few minutes.”

Linda’s face turned as pink as her shawl. “Thanks, sugar.”

Philip started after Linda.

“Hey, Philip,” I called. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

His cell phone buzzed. He slid it on without looking. “What’s that?”

“You said you needed to talk to me?”

He texted with one thumb as he left. “No, it can wait. See you bright and early.”

Mom picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen. “That was interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“He’s a bit over the top.”

“What do you expect, he’s friends with Lance.” I grabbed our wine glasses and rinsed them in the sink.

“Can you imagine Ashland without Lance?” Mom secured lids on the sauces.

“So true.” I dried the wine glasses and hung them on the wall. “Speaking of Lance, he stopped by this afternoon.”

Mom wiped off the cutting board. “Did he want to go over details for his end-of-season party? We should probably finalize the menu with him soon.”

“I sketched out some ideas. You should take a look and let me know what you think.” I pointed to the dry erase board that was mounted on the wall behind her. “That’s not the only reason that he came by, though. He said he had some news about Philip, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“Did you tell him to talk to Doug?”

“Of course.” I didn’t mention anything about Lance wanting to partner up to try and help solve Marco’s murder. I didn’t think she’d approve.

“Bolognese sauce—that sounds perfect.” Mom studied the whiteboard. “Hearty, rich, and easy to expand the recipe. Do we know how many people are coming yet?”

I shook my head. “I’ll head up to the bricks. I’m sure Lance will be around. I can ask him about numbers and finalize the menu. If you think the Bolognese will work, I thought we could do bruschetta appetizers on his grill with a variety of toppings, and then for the main course serve the pasta, fresh baguettes, and Italian salads with a sun-dried tomato and basil vinaigrette.”

“My mouth is watering. I think it’s time for dinner.” Mom grinned. “Any thoughts on dessert?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Lance wants an Italian theme this year to celebrate all the critical acclaim OSF received for
The Merchant of Venice
.”

“We could make your dad’s Italian cream cake, and maybe poach pears in a red wine for starters.”

“Look at us. We’re so good.” I untied my apron and threw it in the hamper next to the sink. “I’ll run it by Lance and then I’ll start playing around with the sauce. I have a recipe from the ship that I want to tweak a little.”

Cooking for me is a sensory experience. When I have time, I love to experiment with recipes, allowing the scent and flavor of a simmering sauce to direct my palate on what to add next. Carlos says cooking is a sensual experience. He sure made it look that way when he worked in the kitchen. He’d blast salsa music and move his hips to the beat while dicing vegetables or filleting beef. A bunch of the waitresses used to gather in the hallway to get a glimpse of him at work. I couldn’t blame them. I used to do the same.

“Juliet, you’re a million miles away.” Mom’s voice shook me free from the memory.

“Sorry. Just thinking about the party.” What I didn’t say aloud is that I was also thinking about Carlos, and Marco’s murder. I was surprised by how little disruption there had been with Marco’s death. Working on the menu for Lance’s party felt equally weird and reassuring. Maybe that was normal after such a traumatic event.

Mom looked skeptical, but packed the olive oil, wine, and chocolate sauce in a grocery bag and handed it to me without saying anything more. “These are for you.”