Ellen McKenzie 04-Murder Half-Baked (17 page)

“W
hat kind of flowers did you order for the church?” Susannah asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

The four of us
—
Dan, Susannah, Jake, and I
—
were in the kitchen having breakfast. Susannah was home for a couple of days supposedly to work on a paper. It was probably just a coincidence that Neil was also home.

Dan and Susannah were at the table eating pancakes and sausage. Jake, on the floor, was having sausage. I leaned against the sink, slowly sipping a Slim Fast. I had no idea what Pat had in mind for my wedding dress, but I was determined to be ready.

“White poinsettias,” I said. “There will be small fir trees around the altar, with those tiny white lights, and the flowers will sit around them. I wonder why Aunt Mary doesn’t call? I’m worried about Marilee.”

“You said it was going to be long.” Dan drowned his pancakes in syrup. “Do we have eggs?”

“No. I’ll get some today. I wonder if I should call the hospital?”

“You did that already. An hour ago. She’ll call when she has news.”

He went back to reading his newspaper. I sipped my Slim Fast.

“Sounds like the altar is going to be pretty. Did you have poinsettias planned for anywhere else? Red ones maybe?”

“I already told you. No red ones. This is going to be all white with
… W
hy are you grinning like that?”

“Hmmm?”

“Susannah. You know something I’m not going to like. Give.”

“I think your flowers are going to be red.” She was barely able to control her grin. “Just like on your cake. It’s nice they’re going to match, don’t you think?”

M
y mouth
went
dry and my stomach lurched. I looked down at the half
-
finished can and put it down on the drain board. No. This wasn’t funny. I’d put my flower order into a commercial nursery in Santa Maria weeks ago. They were famous for their beautiful, double white poinsettias. They sold out every Christmas. If you didn’t order way in advance you were out of luck. I had, and I’d checked with them again only last week. They’d promised me white.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” There was a trace of sympathy under her grin. “Something happened to the white ones. They got blight, or something. They’re all dying.”

“Dying.” This wasn’t possible. I didn’t want red
anything
. I wanted white. Green fir trees on the altar and green dresses on the attendants. And white flowers.

Dan put his newspaper down and stared at her also. “How do you know?”

“Valerie Kirkpatrick told me.” She poured syrup over her remaining pancakes and proceeded to calmly cut them into pieces.

“Who’s Valerie Kirkpatrick, and what does she have to do with our flowers?”

I was glad Dan could still talk. I could feel my mouth hanging open but seemed incapable of closing it or making speech come out of it.

Susannah chewed, swallowed, and reached for her glass of milk.

“I think your mother is going to have a stroke if you don’t explain.” His tone left no room for more excuses.

“Okay.” Susannah stuck one last bite in her mouth and pushed her plate away. “I’m sorry I teased you, Mom, but I’m not joking about the flowers. It’s just that it’s so ironic. First the cake and now this.”

“I’m not getting white?” It came out a bit squeaky, but it was all I was capable of.

“Valerie’s one of the horticultural students at Cal Poly. She works part-time for a commercial grower in Santa Maria. I know her because her boyfriend and Neil rodeo together. We were at a party last night. We were talking, and I said I thought my mom had ordered her wedding flowers from the place where she worked. She said, oh no. Is she the one who
…
and I said yes and she said
…
I’m really sorry, Mom. I know it’s not funny, only
…”

“Sorry,” I repeated. “Red poinsettias on my cake, red poinsettias on the altar, I wonder if Pat plans on sewing a few on my dress.”

Dan pushed his paper away.
“I thought you got rid of the flowers on the cake.”

“I thought so
,
too, but who knows.”

Susannah slipped another bite of sausage in Jake’s dish before she looked up at me. “You’re upset.”

How astute of her to notice. “This is my second wedding. The first was in a grubby little chapel in Las Vegas. A fat lady played the organ, only she couldn’t remember what key she was in, and the Justice of the Peace smelled like a brewery and kept calling me Eleanor. I really don’t want a third one, so I thought it would be nice if this one was
…
oh, you know
…
perfect. Only it’s not shaping up that way. Yes, I’m upset.”

I stormed around the kitchen, taking aim at the trash can with my Slim Fast can. I missed. Fake strawberry milkshake slowly seeped out to pool on the floor. I stared at it. Dan and Susannah stared at me. Jake started toward the mess on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it,” I snarled at him. He looked at the sticky glop, then up at me, grabbed what was left of his sausage and took it and himself to safety on top of the refrigerator.

Susannah wadded up a handful of paper towels, wet them, and started to mop up the Slim Fast mess. “Maybe the florist can find them some place else.” She didn’t look at me as she carefully placed the soggy paper towels in the trash can. “I’ve got to go. Neil and I are meeting for coffee. Maybe he’ll have an idea.”

“He’s a veterinary student. What does he know about flowers?”

“Not much, but he sure knows a lot of people. We can ask around.” She rolled her eyes at Dan, came over, and gave me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then exited out the back door. It slammed behind her.

“Damn. Double damn. Now what do we do?” I poured myself a cup of coffee and waved the pot in Dan’s direction. He shook his head. I set the pot back down with a bang and plopped down in the chair vacated by Susannah.

“We could elope.” Dan pushed his chair back,
stood
up, and carried his plate to the sink.

“Don’t tempt me. But even if the whole town forgave us for running out on their party, my mother never would.”

“I don’t think mine would either.”
He walked behind my chair and started to massage the back of my neck. “Relax. You’re all full of knots. We’ll think of something.”

“Like what?”

His hands stopped. “Don’t they have a two-toned one? Sort of pink and white?”

Two-toned? Pink and white? I twisted around to look at him, wondering if he was kidding, and it hit me. The blush ones. I’d had them last year, and they’d been lovely. Maybe we could
…

“See?” Dan laughed at me. He nuzzled my cheek, letting his mustache tickle me a little. “If you just
relax
, things will work out.”

“Oh yeah? They haven’t worked out yet.” I pushed my own chair back.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the phone book. I need to call the florist. She hasn’t called me back about any of the rest of the flowers, but maybe she’ll think this is a challenge. Go to work. Go catch some bad guys or something.”

Dan caught me by the arm and pulled me back against him. Tight against him. “We still could elope,” he whispered in my ear. “No worries about cakes, flowers, caterers, guest lists. Sound good?” His lips nibbled my earlobe, and his breath tickled the hairs on the back of my neck. “You know what else sounds good?” He let his hands slip underneath my bathrobe, tugging at the knot on the tie. “I have some time. I’m the chief
.
T
here’s no one to complain if I’m late.”

I started to push him away, then thought, why? The florist wasn’t open this early anyway.

I
sat at my desk trying to put the finishing touches on Anne’s offer. I had called the listing agent and gotten as much information from her as I could and, except for a couple of minor points like ownership and financing, I was ready for signatures. Only I still had no idea who had the authority to sign it. Grace House just about had to be a nonprofit, but
since
I was
n’t
the IRS, that didn’t interest me. How they planned to pay for it did.

All of my favorite lenders were neatly filed on my computer under, would you believe it,
lenders
. I found the file and started slowly down the list. I stopped when I got to Jack McDonald. He was a loan broker and a good one. You would never guess it if you passed him on the street. Tall, thin with long legs always encased in jeans, he was the perfect picture of the Marlboro Man. He looked like
the type
who’d just parked his horse while he came into town for necessary provisions.
That wasn’t far from the truth
. He parked his horse at the fairgrounds, where
his team
had recently been named state team
roping champions. When he wasn’t
roping
, he ran the most efficient loan office in town. I dialed his number and got the answering machine. I glanced at the clock. Lunchtime. I sighed and left a detailed message.

I dialed Anne’s cell once more. No answer. I didn’t leave another message. I had already left two and frustration was building. Surely Marilee had produced that child by now
,
and I needed someone to give me the rest of the information if I was going to
put
this offer together. That person came in the form of Aunt Mary, sinking heavily into the chair beside my desk.

“It’s a boy. Nice, big healthy boy.” Aunt Mary set a large shopping bag down beside her. “That feels good. My feet are killing me.”

“Where have you been?”

That question was
prompted partly by
exasperation at
having to
wait
so long
for news about Marilee
and not being able
to find Anne to answer my questions, and
partly by
simple curiosity. Her shopping bag looked heavy.

“Everywhere.” She sighed heavily. “I got nervous waiting, so decided to go to Michael’s. By the time I got back to the hospital, she’d had the baby.”

“You went shopping while you waited for the baby?”

“It beat sitting on one of those hard hospital chairs. Besides, Michael’s had an early sale on Christmas decorations. Want to see what I got?”

“I want to know about Marilee and the baby
. A
nd did you call
…
whoever you were going to call to get me the information I need
?
”

She beamed. “They’re fine. When I left, she was sitting up in bed, trying to nurse him. He was screaming his lungs out. Poor kid, she looked terrified.”

“She always looks terrified. How big is he?”

“Over nine pounds.”

“No wonder it took so long. And she’s all right?”

“Sore but fine.”

“Where’s Leona?”

“Leona.” She shook her head. “Would you believe she made almost as much fuss as Grady? Insisted Marilee needed her. Of course, she waited to pitch her fit until the police left with Grady. When she finally realized she wasn’t going into the labor room, she demanded a chair so she could sit up in the hall. The head nurse was so exasperated she threatened to call the police back. After that, Gina managed to drag her out of there.”

“Good for Gina. And good for Marilee. I’m glad everything is fine. Now can we get on with this offer? Where’s Anne?”

“Delayed. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh oh. Grady again? Dan said they were going to try to hold him a while longer.”

“No
,
Sal.”

“Sal. What was he doing at the hospital?” I wondered if I looked as confused as I felt.

“No, silly. At the bakery. He and Gina got into a squabble, and he tried to fire her. Anne went over to see if she could smooth it all out. And, of course, she did.”

“What were they fighting about?”

“First because Gina was late. She spent most of the night at the hospital, making sure Leona didn’t leave the waiting room, and I guess she fell asleep on toward morning. When she woke up Marilee still hadn’t had the baby so Gina made Leona go back to Grace House to wait before she went to work. Then when she got there Sal was complaining they didn’t have any early morning customers and Gina had the audacity to suggest they get a machine that makes those fancy coffees
—
what do you call them? The ones with all the whipped cream on top?”

“Cappuccino? Latt
é
? Espresso?”

“I guess. She said they should put in tables, use all that extra floor space as a coffee house, play music, that kind of thing.”

“Good idea. They could
erect
bright awnings and put little tables outside as well. There’s no place like that downtown. It would bring in more customers.” It would bring in me. Especially if they kept making more specialty things. The bakery in Newport Beach
offered
little corn cakes. What had he called them? Pan De Mei. They were wonderful. I got hungry just thinking about them.

“It probably would.” Aunt Mary was plainly amused at the expression on my face. “I guess I’m going to have to try one of those coffees.” Her smile left and she got serious. “Rose has told me often how hard it is competing with the new large markets. They all have in-house bakeries. They also buy a lot of their stuff frozen and just bake it as they need it. Did you know that?”

“Yes. But so does Sal. He needs to offer the things he used to make.”

“Like?”

“Gingerbread.
Didn’t he make gingerbread?”

“No. I did. And you have the recipe somewhere.”

“Oh. Anyway, something like what Gina suggested might really help. But Sal doesn’t want to?”

Aunt Mary sighed and wiggled her toes. “I’m not so sure he doesn’t want to. I think it’s more it wasn’t his idea. Gina’s learning the business fast, and she’s smart. Sal can’t stand it.”

I thought about that. “Sal and Gina don’t like each other much, do they
?
”

“No.” She picked up her shopping bag and started to rummage through it. “Look at this. We’re going to have so many people in and out over the holidays, I thought I’d do a little extra decorating. See? Angel candles.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Angel candles? I thought they’d be cute on the
—
”

“Why do Sal and Gina hate each other?”

She sighed and stuffed the candles back in the bag. “Besides the fact that Gina is turning out to be a good baker and has innovative ideas, she thinks Sal is too hard on Rose and tells him so.”

“He is.”

“I know. He always has been. He was hard on his girls, too. And on everyone who’s ever worked there. Gina, for some reason, has appointed herself Rose’s protector.” She looked thoughtful and her tone changed. “Rose has been a little
…
vague
…
lately, so having someone run interference between them isn’t a bad idea, but it’s driving Sal nutty.” She grinned. “Sal deserves it.”

She reached into her purse and took out a slip of paper that she slid over to me. “
Here
.
”

“What’s this?” I picked it up and looked at it. There was a name and phone number scrawled on it.

“That’s who you talk to about Grace House.”

Her face was blank, no expression in her voice either. That was not like her. I looked back down at the paper. I’d never heard of this person.

“Okay
,
” I said slowly. “Who is this and why do I want to talk to him?”

“He’s Grace House’s attorney. I had a long talk with him and told him what we want to do. He’s expecting your call. I’ll see you tonight at my house for dinner.” She pushed herself up out of the chair, claimed her shopping bag, and started to leave.

An attorney. I’d never yet dealt with a real estate attorney. California doesn’t use them to complete transactions. We use escrow instead. The escrow officer acts as a neutral party between the buyer and seller
. H
e
—
or more often
she
—
does our title work, interfaces with the lender, goes over the loan documents with the buyer to make sure they reflect the terms of the contract, collects the funds, records deeds, and does a million other things. The only time an attorney gets involved is when there’s a problem or when either the buyer or seller is a little out of the ordinary. Grace House qualified. But still
…

“Don’t look so put out. He’s a nice man, and he’ll have all the answers. Be there at six o’clock.”

“Where?”

“I just told you. My house. For dinner. You’re bringing dessert.”

I was? “I didn’t know we were invited to dinner.”

“Well, now you do. I’m giving Susannah a cooking lesson, and you and Dan get the results. And Neil, of course. He might as well know early on what he’s getting himself into.”

I stared after her as she sailed through the office, smiling and nodding. Cooking lesson. Susannah. Neil. That all sounded way too domestic. Was it time to start worrying? Maybe it was past time. I gave myself a mental shake. If I needed to worry about something, it had better be about finishing this offer, which meant calling the attorney and making an appointment. I also needed to follow through on my existing escrows and find out what had happened to that nice young couple that had expressed interest in the cute house I listed on Cherry. I might even find time to track down that gingerbread recipe. Aunt Mary wasn’t the only one in this family who could bake. Maybe.