Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery) (11 page)

“I did wonder about it,” she admitted, even as she stood taller for a moment and picked up her coffee pitcher. “This was just freshly brewed, but if you don’t think it’s hot enough I’ll bring you some more right away,” she said loud enough for others to hear. But before she left, she leaned down again and whispered, “A chef got fired recently for not getting a meal ready fast enough for those … superiors. And for not obeying their cooking orders. He was really mad.”

“I hadn’t heard that was the reason he left,” Neal said. “That was Manfred, right?”

“It was,” she said. “Be right back with your coffee,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the kitchen.

“That’s Manfred Indor,” Neal explained when she was gone. “He was actually a pretty good chef. Trained at the CIA.”

“What?” I stared at Neal, confused. “Was he a government agent?”

“Nope. Like I said, he was a chef trained at the CIA: Culinary Institute of America. It’s in New York City.”

I gave my brother a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Drat. I was starting to get all excited about the possibilities. An angry government agent would probably be able to kill someone and frame another person fairly easily.”

Both my table companions laughed. I just smiled weakly.

“If she’d been poisoned,” Neal said, “I’d definitely consider Manfred the perfect suspect.”

Well, even if Manfred wasn’t with the CIA that most people thought of when hearing those initials, he’d still apparently been an angry guy.

I wasn’t planning on trying to prove who’d killed Myra, of course. That was for the police. But if the authorities kept considering me as a suspect, I’d need to be able to suggest some other logical possibilities, preferably with more than just names and claims of who’d not adored Myra.

And I already knew I wasn’t the only person who’d argued with her lately.

I wondered where Manfred was now.

NINE

N
EAL HAD TO RETURN
to the registration desk, and soon afterward Reed and I finished our meal.

He handled our bill. I’m not an old-fashioned wimpy woman who insists on being treated on dates. But practicality counts, so although we’d only gone out for coffee a few times since we’d met, I’d let Reed pay since he’d asked to. He’s a full-fledged, well-paid vet, while I’m a vet tech—not paid badly, but I certainly bring home less than he does. I also foot some of Neal’s bills, since I make more money than him.

And now, especially, with my new business venture, every penny counted to me, even after my generous loan from Arvie. Plus, this was our first dinner date, and Reed had invited me—not that I’d even considered playing coy about it. I’d wanted to go out with him.

I’d wanted to come here.

I did, however, insist on leaving the tip, and since I appreciated Gwen’s potential clue I was even more liberal in the amount than I usually am—and I’m not particularly stingy.

“Do you want to head out of here?” Reed asked as we strolled into the lobby. There weren’t many people around now, but Neal was still behind the registration counter.

I took Reed’s hand and headed in Neal’s direction. We passed a couple of open doors to offices, and I noticed that the Ethmans were all gathered in one of them.

Well, not really all the Ethmans. I hadn’t thought about him earlier, but there was one missing who was actually fairly nice, or at least I thought so: Les Ethman, the City Councilman who’d come to my opening party … was it just yesterday? Too bad he wasn’t here making his family members act somewhat polite, even if their mind sets were nasty.

Mrs. Ethman—Susan, I thought her name was, Harris’s and Elise’s mother—spotted me and glared. I simply smiled and kept going, but the event helped me decide how to respond to Reed’s question about leaving. “Not yet,” I said. “Why don’t we take a walk on the beach?”

Although it was getting late, there were lights on near the water, I’d noticed, so it wouldn’t be too dark there. I wasn’t sure if the Ethmans would notice us, but I at least would know that I was defying them, or maybe all of them but Walt Hainner. Before we were out of view, though, Susan’s husband also saw me. His name, I believed, was Trask. His glare was similar to his wife’s.

I was good friends with quite a few senior people: Arvie and the Nashes in particular. But these Ethman seniors were anything but buddies of mine. Aging apparently didn’t always make people grow nice and kind and civil. With some, maybe, the opposite occurred.

I knew they saw that I’d ignored their statement that I wasn’t welcome here. To rub it in further, I spoke loudly enough for them to hear. “I think the beach outside will be a great place to walk this evening.”

I felt Reed’s slight tug on my hand and looked at him. His grin was sideways, his expression amused. He knew what I was doing. And, sweet guy that he was, he went along with me.

“Right,” he said, also loudly. “I really enjoy walking along the beach at this resort.”

I laughed and used the leverage caused by our clasped hands to swing our arms as we walked out one of the lobby’s rear doors and down the concrete stairs to the beach.

The lights illuminating the vicinity were attached to the upper areas of the building. The sand was a wide path, leading to the edge of water that sparkled under the artificial radiance. We were far from being the only people there. Some were walking. Others lay on blankets or towels on the sand, mostly fully clothed. A few hardy souls in bathing suits waded into the lake despite the coolness of the late spring evening.

“Want to take off your shoes?” Reed asked. I looked down at my low tan heels and considered it.

“Why not? Although I don’t want to get into the water.”

We walked slowly along the sand, and I felt its grittiness on my soles and between my toes. We talked not about what had brought us here, but about animals we’d been treating at the clinic.

Eventually, I said, “I’m really enjoying myself, but I think we’d better go. I have to be at my shops at five o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Really? Every day?” We’d stopped, and Reed looked down at me. I enjoyed the concern and amazement in his shining brown eyes.

“Yes, at least for now, till I get things started. My assistants may help me in that way, too, soon, but I have to get into a routine with them and make sure I trust them to do everything necessary at that hour before I’ll let either or both of them get things started in the morning.”

“You could also hire someone else,” he said.

I nodded. “That’s another possibility I’m considering, but it would mean paying another salary, so that’s in the future as well.”

Reed’s eyes had changed a bit while we looked at each other. Now there was fondness and more in his gaze.

So, yes, right there on the beach, all the world—or at least as much of it as was on the Knobcone Heights Resort’s beach at this hour—got to see us share a really nice, warm kiss.

We walked back to the stairway. Still smiling, I brushed the sand from my feet and put on my shoes, and then we went up into the lobby again.

We were crossing it when Reed’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen. “The clinic.” He answered immediately.

It was soon apparent that he was talking to one of the techs staying there overnight, who had a complicated question about a new patient’s overnight treatment. I knew which dog they were discussing, a Portuguese water dog named Riff who had had a fight with an even larger dog. The patient had been badly bitten but should be fine, although for right now his injuries needed to be treated very carefully. Reed walked to a corner of the lobby. I didn’t stay with him. There was nothing I could do at the moment.

I considered baiting my new enemies, but when I walked by the door where I’d seen them before, it was closed.

I figured I’d just write a note to Reed and hand it to him, thanking him and letting him know I’d see him soon at the clinic but I needed to go home to sleep. I headed to the desk, where Neal was talking with someone, to request a piece of paper to write on.

I recognized that someone right away—Jack Loroco, the guy who’d not only come to my party but suggested I might want to sell some of my dog treats nationally as a VimPets product.

“Hi,” I said somewhat hesitantly. It was too soon for me to approach that kind of marketing, even if I eventually wanted to. But just in case, I needed to be friendly.

“Carrie, hi,” he said. “Remember me from yesterday?”

“I do, Jack,” I replied. I looked at Neal. “May I have a piece of paper? I need to leave Reed a note since he’s on the phone. I unfortunately need to get home now.”

“Yep, sis, you do.” Neal looked at Jack. “Since you’re in the business—we were just talking about your store and VimPets, Carrie—you must know, Jack, how early someone who runs a bakery needs to get started in the morning.”

“Definitely,” Jack replied.

“I’ll give Reed your good night,” Neal said. “I’ll still be here for another half hour or so. He’s bound to be off the phone by then.”

I liked the idea that Reed would get the reminder personally. “Great. Thanks. And he can call me on my way home—as long as it’s no later than about ten minutes from now.”

“Got it.”

I turned to say goodbye to Jack, but he said, “I’m staying here but I’ll walk you to your car. Got a couple of ideas.”

I sucked in my breath. Did I want to talk any kind of business with him now?

But he fortunately said, “I’ll be here for another day or so before heading back to L.A. We should make arrangements to talk when it’s not getting so late.”

“Good idea,” I said.

We decided that coffee tomorrow afternoon might work, and I gave him my phone number to call and confirm it.

“Now,” he said as we reached my car in the crowded parking lot and I pushed the button on my key fob to open it. “You know I was there when that Myra woman gave you a hard time about baking things that compete with her husband’s pet emporium.”

I held my breath for a moment. Was he going to accuse me of murdering her too?

“I heard that she was killed last night,” Jack continued.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s a shame.” I reached for my car’s door handle but he beat me to it, opening the door for me.

I slid in quickly and waited for him to make a comment about the rumors—or worse, about my guilt. Which he did, but not exactly as I’d braced myself for.

“She was a silly woman,” he said. “Competition can be good. And her ridiculous attitude still wouldn’t have given you reason to harm her. So, all I’ve heard around here today? I know it’s untrue. In some ways, I had more reason to kill her than you did—and I didn’t do it either, Carrie. Good night. I’ll look forward to our talk tomorrow.”

He bent down and unexpectedly kissed me on the forehead, then closed the door.

I had a lot to ponder on my drive home on the curving, hilly, and artificially lighted streets of Knobcone Heights. At the top of the list was why Jack Loroco thought he was a more logical suspect in Myra Ethman’s murder than I was.

Had he argued with her too? Had anyone heard it?

Most of all,
had
he killed her?

If it wasn’t Jack, then what about Chef Manfred Indor? He’d been fired by Myra. To most people, that isn’t a horrible enough event to lead to murder, but I didn’t know Manfred. Maybe he’d flipped out because of the insult, or the way she’d handled it, or … who knew?

Most important, were the cops aware of Jack or Manfred or anyone else who had an motive, arguably, to kill Myra—assuming Jack actually had a motive?

Sure, the detectives were harassing me, but I couldn’t be the only one—could I?

And would I be able to sleep for my few available hours that night?

I’d started to pull into my driveway when my phone rang. It was hooked up to the car while I was driving, and the sound startled me. I stopped and pushed the button, figuring I knew who it was.

I was right. “Hi, Carrie. It’s Reed. Sorry I got distracted by the call, but—”

“It’s perfectly all right,” I told him. “Riff’s care is much more important than our saying good night.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “Anyway, I assume I’ll see you at your shift tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sure,” I said. But my smile faded when I pushed the button to hang up and finished driving into my garage. I could have added, but didn’t,
As long as I’m not in jail
.

I didn’t have to say it, though. Just thinking it—again—made me quiver. I was scared. But I couldn’t let myself focus on it.

Even so, I was so glad that Biscuit was waiting when I went into the house. Her exuberant greeting helped my state of mind. “I missed you too, girl,” I told her with a hug, then took her out for a brief walk under the neighborhood’s streetlights.

And, yes, I did somehow get some sleep that night, since I was awakened by my alarm when it went off again at four a.m.

“Oh, no,” I whispered around five o’clock in the morning. I barely heard my own words over Biscuit’s barking in—where else?—the Barkery. I was in the part of the kitchen right behind the Barkery, since I’d already gotten the human breakfast treats started and was about to commence the doggies’.

I wasn’t sure which door I’d heard someone knocking on—and calling “Police!” from outside. Couldn’t they at least wait until I’d gotten all my initial products ready, so I could open the shops on time? Or maybe till six a.m. when Judy was due to arrive?

Maybe I could buy them off with a couple of scones. They’d seemed to enjoy them before. Or … I looked down at the dough I had just been preparing for the first round of dog biscuits, ones that contained fresh apple slivers. Maybe the police would like these better? All my doggy treats were good enough to be eaten by people.

I heard the knock again and realized I’d better move. I quickly rinsed the dough off my hands and hurried through the door into the shop. I grabbed Biscuit’s leash and attached her to the crate. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened the Barkery door.

The two detectives stood there under the lights. “Can we come in, Ms. Kennersly?” Detective Bridget Morana demanded.

“Do I have a choice?” I hadn’t had one last time. And I’d no reason to think that Neal would join us again, since as far as I knew he’d been sound asleep when Biscuit and I had left this morning—and I wasn’t aware of any visits he’d had from these cops.