Authors: Laura Childs
“Oh,” said Julie, “and
since I got this book deal, I’ve
been asked to teach a creative writing class.”
“You
know who taught there last year, don’t you?”
asked Suzanne. “It was...”
“Carmen!” Julie
gasped, her eyes suddenly skittering
past Suzanne and assuming a slightly stricken
look.
“What?” Suzanne
squawked, spinning around abruptly only to be confronted by the grinning face
of Carmen Copeland. Correction, make that a smarmy, grinning face.
“Well, hellooo,” said
Carmen, oozing her cool brand of
charm.
“You’re here... for
the Mystery Tea?” Suzanne asked.
Carmen dimpled
prettily. “Not quite. Fact of the matter is, I was hoping to squeeze in an
impromptu book signing
with my
fellow author here.”
Suzanne
stared at Carmen, marveling at the woman’s
chutzpah. Now Julie was a
fellow
author. A couple of days ago Carmen had regarded her as a complete nobody.
“I’m not
sure how I’m fixed on books,” Suzanne stam
mered. “And there’s not much room
for two authors.”
“Oh,
Julie can squeeze over,” said Carmen. “Can’t you,
dear?”
Julie
hesitated for a moment, then said, “Sure. Why not?
The more the merrier, I guess.”
Let’s hope so,
Suzanne thought to
herself as she rushed
into her office to grab the ringing phone. Julie may
think
she could share an
author’s table with Carmen Copeland, but Carmen had a tricky way of stealing
the spotlight.
“Cackleberry Club,”
Suzanne said, into the receiver.
There was silence for
a few moments, then a woman’s
voice
said, “Suzanne?”
“Yes?”
“This is Beth Ann
Morrisey from city hall. We spoke
this morning? You stopped by?”
“Oh sure,” said
Suzanne, suddenly recalling the reluc
tant clerk. “How can I help?”
“I just
wanted to let you know that a key card
was
re
ported missing.”
A tingle
of excitement shot up Suzanne’s spine.
“Really?”
“Yes, indeed,” said
Beth Ann, “there was a memo about
it. I didn’t notice it at first because we get a
lot of memos.”
“Do you, urn, know
which office?” Suzanne asked. “So
I can drop it by? I mean, I wouldn’t want to
bother you.”
“No bother at all. But
the card belongs to the downstairs
storage area.”
“The storage area,”
said Suzanne. The news didn’t ex
actly
trip her trigger. Unless ...
“That’s where they
keep the voting booths and all?”
asked
Suzanne.
“I
suppose that would be right,” said Beth Ann. “The
voting booths and other stuff we
only use occasionally.”
“Okay,” said Suzanne.
“Thanks so much.” She hung up
the phone and stared at the top of her desk where a
clutter of
magazines
edged out invoices and recipe cards. And won
dered again if Mayor Mobley or
Allan Sharp had tried to
tamper with the voting booths. Had tried to fix the
election.
Would that explain a
dropped key card in her backyard?
Better yet, would
putting a bug in Sheriff Doogie’s ear send
his investigation in their direction?
If the key card Doogie
had found worked in that city
hall location, would it push him into taking a long,
hard
look
at Mobley or Sharp? Maybe. Possibly. Only one way
to find out, of course, and that
was talk to Doogie.
Suzanne was still
noodling ideas around when she
emerged into the cafe. And was thrilled to find every
seat in the house occupied and every woman sipping tea and smiling contentedly.
Which made her smile contentedly.
“I see the wicked
witch dropped in for a spell,” said
Toni, as she breezed by, hefting a teapot in each
hand.
Suzanne
dogged Toni’s footsteps and asked, “How’s it
going?”
“Great,” said Toni; “they’re
all loaded up on Petra’s
pumpkin-walnut scones with gigantic gobs of Devonshire
cream, so everyone’s
pretty much riding a nice sugar high.”
“So time to bring out
the tea trays?” asked Suzanne. “Dazzle them with Petra’s sandwich and dessert
artistry
while
we introduce a little needed protein?”
Toni nodded. “Better
hustle into the kitchen and lend a
hand if you can.”
“Will do,” said
Suzanne. But when she scurried into
the kitchen, Petra already had her three-tiered,
silver trays
lined up on the butcher-block table and was just arranging
her goodies.
“Can I help?” Suzanne
offered.
Petra gave a beatific
nod as she arranged madeleines,
brownie bites, and lavender tea cakes on the top tier.
Suzanne shook her head
in wonderment. “This is gonna
be
great. Again.”
Petra nodded. “I just
love it when we go all out for tea. Don’t you wish we could do this every day?”
“I think we already
are,” said Suzanne. She stepped to
the sink, washed her hands, and said, “What do you
want
me to do?”
“Middle tier,” said
Petra. “Sandwiches.”
“Okay,” said Suzanne.
She looked around for the plastic
trays Petra normally used.
“There, over on the
shelf,” said Petra.
Suzanne grabbed the
tray and pulled off the plastic wrap.
“So ... we’ve got salmon and watercress on rye,
cranberry
walnut salad on
buttered crostini, and...”
“Cheese and turkey
spirals,” finished Petra.
Suzanne carefully
arranged the small triangles and spi
ral sandwiches on each tray as Petra gave an
approving
nod.
“And chicken tartlets
on the bottom,” said Petra.
“Perfect,” declared
Suzanne.
Petra grinned. “You
think?”
“I know.”
“Then let’s carry
them out.”
Together, Suzanne and
Petra each grabbed two tea trays,
then bumped out through the swinging door.
“Ladies,” said Toni,
the minute she saw her cohorts ap
pear, “your tea trays have arrived.”
At which point, the
entire tearoom erupted in thunder
ous applause.
“Thank you, thank
you,” said Suzanne, standing front
and center, reprising her role from yesterday, as
Petra and
Toni
scurried to deliver the rest of the tea trays. “And I’d like
to remind you that
Julie Crane is in the Book Nook signing
her new book,
Ghostly Lore
and Legends,
along with our own bestselling romance author Carmen Copeland.”
One of the guests
raised her hand. “Are the authors
going to do a short reading?” she asked.
“Yes, they are,” said
Suzanne, deciding that was the per
fect way to integrate Julie’s mystery book with
the Mystery
Tea. Along with the wild card Carmen, of course.
Fifty minutes later,
tea sandwiches enjoyed and many
cups of tea sipped, the guests began to wander
throughout
the
Cackleberry Club. Some congregated in the Knitting
Nest while others found their way
into the Book Nook.
Much to Suzanne’s
delight, they sold a respectable two dozen copies of Julie’s book, along with
another dozen of
Carmen’s
romance paperbacks.
When there was a
slight lull, Carmen gazed at Suzanne and exclaimed in a fawning voice, “Such a
cute little book
our Julie wrote. There’s even a positively spine-tingling
story about a place
in Deer County called Vampire Valley.”
“I think I’ve been
there,” said Suzanne.
“Julie
and I were chatting,” said Carmen, launching into
magnanimous mode, “and I think
it’s just
marvelous
that she’s going to be teaching creative writing at
Darlington
College.”
Smoothing her form-fitting dress, Carmen added,
“I simply can’t fit pro bono
activities into my hectic sched
ule
anymore.”
“You’re
a busy lady,” said Suzanne, hoping Carmen
would have the good grace to
leave it at that.
Of course she didn’t.
“Although I do
continue to serve on the Darlington Col
lege museum board,” Carmen
announced, in broad tones.
“As you’ve probably heard, I’ve amassed quite an art
collection.”
When Julie managed to
look vaguely interested, Car
men added, “I started with outsider art and now I’m seri
ously into
photography and contemporary art. People like Chuck Close, Jim Hodges, and
Sigmar Polke.”
“I’m impressed,” said
Julie.
Carmen reached over
and patted Julie’s hands. “Just
think, dear, someday you might be successful, too.”
That was enough for
Suzanne. She retreated behind the
counter and proceeded to tally up the afternoon’s
sales. Un
fortunately,
she could still hear Carmen prattling away.
“Do you know,” said
Carmen, “I’m seriously consid
ering opening a coffee shop in downtown Kindred. Right
next to Alchemy
Boutique. I even have a name for it...” She paused for her dramatic reveal. “The
Intelligentsia
Café”
Gritting her teeth,
Suzanne packaged books, made
change, made small talk, and finally made it into the
kitchen. There,
unhappy and slightly offended, she un
loaded to Petra and Toni about Carmen’s proposed
coffee
shop.
“What?”
said Petra, outraged. “She’s trying to one-up
you again, Suzanne! When Carmen
got an inkling about
your plans for a fine dining restaurant called Crepes Su
zanne, she spread it
around town that
she
was going to
open a restaurant, too. Now she’s
rattling her saber about
starting a coffee shop. The woman is totally outrageous!”
“And
guess what she wants to call it,” Suzanne said in a
sour tone. “The Intelligentsia Cafe.”
“Carmen
and intelligentsia?” sneered Toni. “There’s a
concept at odds with itself. Kind
of like army intelligence.”
“Or educational TV!”
Petra added in a huff.
“Is she gone?” Suzanne
asked in a small voice. She’d basically hid out in the kitchen for the rest of
the Mystery Tea,
wrapping up leftover sandwiches, stacking dirty dishes, rinsing
teapots, and puttering around, trying to put things
back to normal.
“Carmen’s
gone,” Toni said with a sigh, “along with ev
eryone else. So there’s no need
to exile yourself anymore.”
“I’m sorry Carmen was
such a pill,” Petra said to Su
zanne. “But I know all our guests had a wonderful time,
so
that should serve as some
consolation.”
Suzanne popped a
leftover brownie bite into her mouth
and swallowed it whole. “I feel like I’m back in
high
school,
battling my archenemy and getting rejected by the
cheerleading squad.”
“Sheesh,” said Petra.
“I got rejected by the projectionist club. Something about not being able to
focus.”
Toni set
down a tray of dirty dishes, fluffed her hair, and
placed her hands on her blue
jean-clad hips. “Not to flog a
dead horse, but you want to know Carmen’s parting words?”
“What?” Suzanne asked
through tight lips.
“She said, in that
high-and-mighty tone of hers, that
when she signs books at Barnes and Noble they
always
give her a muffin
basket.”
“I’ll
drop-kick her a muffin,” Petra fumed, “right where
she deserves it!”
“Whoa,” said Suzanne,
touching a hand to her fore
head, feeling the stirrings of a nasty headache. “Now
we’re all letting
Carmen get to us.” She paused, then drew
what she hoped was a deep,
cleansing, yoga breath. “At
least
I am.”
Petra directed a
baleful gaze at Suzanne. “You’re right.
We’re all guilty of being cowed
and infuriated by Carmen.”