Spiced and Iced (A Callie's Kitchen Mystery Book 2) Read online

  “I sure hope so,” Melody answered. “This book has been a long time coming. I’ve worked so hard to build up this part of my career. In fact, if things go well, I’m going to make writing books and doing tea parties my full-time job. Adults like them too, not just kids. Don’t tell Emma,” she said hastily. “It all depends on how many books I sell.” She frowned. “A murder at the inn isn’t exactly going to help my image.” She looked up, a sheepish look on her pretty face. “No offense.”

  “I completely understand,” Callie answered. “But look – you’ve achieved your dream. Writing a cookbook sounds like fun, though I’m sure it’s a lot of work, too.”

  “You should write one,” Melody said, picking up a square of iced gingerbread. Thick white icing dripped off of the sides and a candy version of holly berries and leaves completed the decoration. “Your food is amazing. Not just the Greek stuff – everything.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Is there room for more than one cookbook author in Crystal Bay?” Callie joked and both women laughed.

  “What about Christy from Tea for Two?” Callie asked. “I thought she might be here today to talk about the launch.”

  “I asked her, but she begged off. Apparently, she’s really busy with gift orders for Christmas and anyway, she’s only serving the tea. I figure she’s got that part down pat. I already know what teas pair well with what foods. In fact, I make suggestions in my cookbook.”

  “Kind of like pairing food with wine? Or even, these days, with beer?”

  “Exactly,” Melody answered. “It’s part of the fun. Of course, everyone has their personal taste preference, but a lot of people appreciate the suggestions.”

  Callie had finally relaxed and was pleased to find that she was enjoying herself, but a quick glance at the clock on her phone made her realize that she’d lingered at Melody’s long enough.

  “I’ve had a wonderful time, but I’ve got to get back to work,” Callie said regretfully. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to finish making. Max and Piper will wonder what happened to me.”

  “Of course! Listen to me – I’ve been talking your ear off!” Melody blushed. “Thanks for stopping by and for offering to help me out.” Her voice wavered a bit. “You have no idea how much this book means to me. It is real a dream come true and I just want everything to go well.” Melody’s large, beautiful eyes had tears in the corners of them.

  Callie impulsively hugged her, moved by Melody’s obvious joy in her new venture. “I’m sorry to be so emotional,” Melody said, wiping her eyes. “I know it seems silly.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Callie countered. “I know you’ve worked hard. Now it’s time to enjoy your success.”

  “Sure, Callie. You’re right.”

  But she didn’t sound all that sure, Callie thought, after she had taken leave of Melody and was driving her car on the icy roads back to Callie’s Kitchen. Something was bothering Melody and Callie wanted to know what it was. She’d been on edge since Natalie was killed.

  But truthfully, who wouldn’t be? Callie shook her head. All of this stuff was making her paranoid. Time to focus on food.

  * * *

  Snow was falling thickly by the time Callie was putting the finishing touches on the baked goods for the Dayton party. Hardy Crystal Bay-ers were still coming in to buy dinner foods but they were leaving dirty wet slush in their wake. Piper had volunteered to clean the entry way while Max and Callie boxed up meals and sold baked goods at a nice pace. The herd instinct and stress-eating among Crystal Bay residents seemed to be continuing. Combined with the normal uptick in business that accompanied the holidays, Callie hoped that maybe she’d be able to make up for some of the money she’d lost when she’d been under suspicion for the death of Drew Staven.

  When she thought of Drew, she felt sad and helpless. Callie wondered if maybe that was why she was so reluctant to let herself fall too hard for Sands. She didn’t have the greatest track record.

  The phone rang in the back room and Callie picked it up, hoping it wasn’t somebody calling to tell her that Viv and Sweetie needed to be bailed out of jail. She hadn’t spoken to them all day and had no idea what they were up to.

  “Callie! It’s Emma. Can you hear me?” the line crackled with static.

  “Hi! Yes, I can hear you. Well, pretty much. What’s up? When are you coming home?”

  “All I could get were standby flights and even those flights have been cancelled. The big storm must be headed your way – brace yourself.”

  “Yes, I know,” Callie answered, not wanting to contemplate what debilitating snow would do to her business. “So if you’re not able to come home yet, what’s the plan?”

  “I found a time share,” Emma explained, “which I probably wouldn’t have done if I’d had to leave earlier. I’m just going to stay in Arizona awhile longer until the weather permits me to finally get home. My hotel bill is astounding, but what can I do?”

  “Yeah, that’s tough. But on the bright side, congrats on your new vacation spot!” Callie said.

  “Thanks. I certainly hope you’ll join me out here sometime.”

  “I’m going to take you up on that – if I ever get a vacation. In the meantime, let me catch you up on things at the inn.”

  “That was my next question. How does it seem over there? When I call, they tell me everything’s going great, but it’s hard to believe, given all that’s happened.”

  Callie held her breath – had Bix refrained from telling Emma about Viv and Sweetie’s aborted attempt to find clues? It seemed like it. She felt almost disloyal for telling Emma about his checkered past, but she’d promised. Could it jeopardize his job? What would Sam think of her then?

  “I don’t have too much to report right now,” Callie said, deciding at the last minute to leave the Bix stalking problem alone for the time being. After all, the police knew about it – let them tell Emma. She just couldn’t do that to Sam right now – even if she didn’t want Sam and Bix to be together.

  “It seems like the staff are working hard and keeping things together. I hear Bix Buckman has been helping keep the hotel secure and relatively free of nosy onlookers.” She winced at this last statement, thinking of Sweetie and Viv’s clue-finding caper. “And I’m busy working with Melody Cartwright on the Christmas Tea. In addition to that, I’m hosting a book launch party for her at Callie’s Kitchen.”

  “That’s actually a big relief,” Emma admitted. “I wanted to do something to help celebrate but obviously, I can’t now. Thanks for helping her. You’re the best.” Callie wondered what Emma would think if she knew Melody was looking to leave the inn and work at a new career as author and party planner. But again, she’d promised Melody not to tell Emma about any of that.

  Callie was starting to feel uneasy. It was a compliment to be seen by others as someone to confide in – but it certainly created some interesting situations. Luckily, Emma was anxious to end the call.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said. “That’s my realtor on the other line – we’ve got a few details to iron out. Thanks again and I’ll be in touch.”

  In something of a daze, Callie walked slowly over to a pot of avgolemono soup and checked it to make sure the delicate egg-lemon and chicken soup concoction wasn’t curdling. She turned the flame a bit lower and stirred the creamy, fragrant soup with a huge wooden spoon. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the familiar, homey scents of succulent chicken and tangy lemon. No doubt about it, the soup was reviving her spirits.

  Determined to put thoughts of Emma’s troubles at the inn, her issues with Sam, Natalie’s unsolved murder and an impending blizzard from her mind, Callie found herself thinking about the crumpled envelope addressed to “Sandy Madison.” It probably had nothing to do with anything – and in fact, she was a bit ashamed of herself for snooping. She couldn’t even justify investigating the inn and its staff anymore if she wasn’t even going to tell Emma what she learned.

  Still, she thought, stirring the steamy pot of soup: Would i
t hurt to find out whom Sandy Madison was – if only to satisfy her own curiosity? Then again, as Viv would say, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  Callie looked up as Max burst into the back room, his muscular and tattooed arms full of empty bakery trays. “We sold out of loukoumades,” he said proudly. “Plus, gingerbread. And the paxemathia are pretty low, too.”

  “That was quick!”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Every time somebody comes in and wants to discuss the murder, people just start stuffing their faces with sweets.” Max grimaced. “Who knew that murder would be good for business this time around?”

  “Oh, Max! What a way to put it.” She thought a moment. “I’ve got some butter cookie dough in the freezer, so let it thaw. We’ll bake some of those while I get going on more cakes and paxemathia.”

  “Sounds good,” Max said, already striding to the freezer.

  “Max,” Callie ventured. “Have you ever heard of someone named Sandy Madison?”

  The back of Max’s neck turned bright red and he nearly dropped the cookie dough. He coughed a bit before turning around.

  “Uh, yeah. I have. Have you?”

  “No, Max,” Callie said, growing exasperated. “That’s why I’m asking.”

  “Sandy Madison, if it’s the person I’m thinking of, was a centerfold in the ‘90s for a men’s magazine. She was pretty well known in certain circles.”

  “The ‘90s! How do you know about her, then? You were probably barely even alive.”

  Max cleared his throat while his face grew red to match his neck. “My dad kind of collects these old magazines. I may have seen a few, you know. Once or twice.”

  “Don’t worry,” Callie laughed. “I’m sure you read them for the articles.” But inside she was thinking – why would Melody be getting mail for Sandy Madison?

  Max laughed too, a little uncertainly. “Why do you ask? Do you know her?”

  “No!” Callie answered, a little too loudly. “I just sort of…heard the name the other day. This Sandy Madison that you’re talking about – did she ever live in Wisconsin?”

  Max seemed on more secure ground now that the embarrassing part of the conversation – at least for him – had passed. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “I thought she lived in L.A.”

  “My, my, Max,” Callie said, teasingly. “You certainly know your men’s magazine models.”

  “Not really,” Max answered, turning red again. “But would you please not tell Piper about this conversation? I’ll never hear the end of it.” He had placed the cookie dough on the counter and had stacked some clean cookie sheets next to it before turning to face Callie, his face now only slightly pink.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ve got customers to wait on. I’ll be back to scoop out the dough when it’s thawed.” With dignity, Max walked out to the front of the room and Callie waited until he’d gone before she burst out laughing.

  Poor Max. Sandy Madison was a common enough name, of course. It was just a coincidence.

  Wasn’t it?

  Eighteen

  Hugh dropped Olivia off at home the next evening, but he stalled in the entryway instead of going through his usual drop-off routine, which was to give his daughter a hug, maybe pet the dog and exchange brief – but civil – remarks with Callie.

  Tonight, though, instead of leaving, he shifted from foot to foot.

  “Hugh. You’re jumpy as can be. If you need to use the facilities, please feel free. Down the hallway and first door on the left.”

  Callie knew something was up when he didn’t even take the bait at her mild jibe. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, looking into her face with an expression that was part excitement and wait a minute – could it be pity?

  “Raine wanted to join me,” Hugh was saying in gentle tones, “but I told her it was better if I spoke to you first, alone. Can we sit down for a minute?”

  Callie closed her eyes and steeled herself. “Yes, of course. Come on in.” She led the way into her front room and perched uneasily on the edge of a chair while Hugh flopped down on the well-worn sofa.

  “Raine and I have decided to put in a bid on a house, right here in Crystal Bay. We’ve thought it over and it’s the right thing to do for a lot of reasons. The number one reason, of course, is that I really want to be closer to Olivia.”

  “What about work?” Hugh worked as a bank manager but she knew he’d been somewhat unhappy with the job for a while.

  “I’ll commute, but I’m keeping my options open. In fact, Raine and I have both been looking for new jobs.”

  “Well, it may have escaped your notice, but we seem to be having an uptick in homicide right here in good old Crystal Bay.”

  “Yes, I know. Kathy told us you were the one who found the body. Sorry. But it’s all the more reason for me to want to be closer to my daughter.”

  Callie was running out of objections. Of course she wanted her daughter to keep a close bond with her father. She’d even resigned herself to Raine, his new wife. However, Callie had come a long way. She finally felt free, independent and in charge of her life – well, most of the time. What would it be like to keep running into her ex and his new wife while grocery shopping, going to the mall – heck, they could even be customers at Callie’s Kitchen. It would be odd, to say the least.

  “Where is the house?” Callie heard herself ask faintly, but already bracing herself for the answer.

  “That’s the beautiful thing about it, Callie. Just two blocks from here. I’ll be able to see Olivia just about every day!”

  * * *

  “Do you have a personal beef with that cookie dough or is it just that you now hate all dough in general?” Max asked Callie a few hours later as they worked side by side, prepping for the next day’s baked offerings.

  Callie looked up from her work station where she was using a rolling pin to smack a piece of hardened, refrigerated dough repeatedly, so that she could roll it out.

  “What?” she asked absently.

  “You’re beating the heck out of that cookie dough and I just wondered what was wrong.”

  “It’s nothing.” Callie went back to whacking the dough with the rolling pin.

  “Bull.” Max walked over to her where he gently, but firmly, yanked the rolling pin away from her. “Sorry, boss,” he said. “I can’t stand the racket. Why don’t we let the dough thaw a few minutes more while you tell me what’s going on. Bonus: this way we might just save the rolling pin from cracking in two.”

  Callie half-laughed. “Okay, okay.” She wiped her floury hands on her apron and leaned against the counter, amused that her protégé was offering to listen to her woes. It was actually kind of refreshing. “I’ll tell you what’s bothering me, but no judging. I already feel like a jerk.”

  “I’m all ears,” Max said, folding his arms in front of him, the colorful tattoos on his forearms providing a visual feast for the eyes. Piper was out in front serving customers, so apparently Max thought he had all the time in the world to play psychologist.

  “It’s just that Hugh told me that he’s buying a house with his new wife, just a few blocks away from where I live. I know it’s good for my daughter, so I feel guilty for being upset. I’m unsure about how the move is going to affect my daily life. No wait: correction. I know it will impact my daily life and I’m not too happy about it.”

  “Wow. No wonder you’re beating up on your cookie dough.” Max looked thoughtful. “I wonder what Detective Sands will say about it.”

  Callie’s heart gave a painful jolt. She hadn’t even thought about Sands and his response to the news. He wouldn’t feel threatened, surely. Not someone as confident as him, or as open about some of his feelings about his past relationship.

  As Callie reasoned with herself, she suddenly felt very overwhelmed. The kitchen seemed overly warm. She went to the tap and got a drink of water, gulping it down greedily.

  Max followed her to the sink and put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, it isn’t t
he greatest news, I get it. You don’t want to keep running into your ex. Don’t beat yourself up about your feelings. And don’t beat up any more cookie dough while you’re at it. I’m sure you’ll find a way to work it out. Besides, Olivia will be happy.”

  “Yes,” Callie said, smiling as she thought of her 10-year-old daughter. “She’s ecstatic. It’s just – I’ve moved on. It’s hard to be reminded of the old mistakes.”

  “I know. And then there’s your dad. I can’t imagine he’ll be thrilled.”

  Callie felt some anger return as she thought of George. Her father and Hugh had a surprisingly good relationship – even after the divorce. George could be surprisingly open-minded about life’s ups and downs, perhaps as a result of his own struggles as an immigrant, not to mention losing his wife at a relatively young age. However, even if he did bear resentment towards Hugh, what could George say about it? He had been squiring Hugh and Raine’s realtor aunt all over town, giving the appearance of not only tolerating the move, but endorsing it.

  Callie sighed. Max was a sweetheart but he just kept bringing up even more issues for her to be worried about. She decided to change the subject. Walking over to her beaten up cookie dough, she touched it gently with her forefinger to check its consistency.

  “I think it’s ready to roll out,” she said. “Thanks for your concern, Max. I promise – no more errant rolling pins.”

  “If you say so,” Max said, giving Callie a sidelong glance. They got back to work.

  Quietly, this time, Callie rolled out dough and cut festive Christmas shapes. Some of these cookies were going to be served at the Dayton holiday lunch. The Daytons. Callie couldn’t even make herself think about them right now – that was going to be one awkward gathering, given all the vehicular near misses she’d had with that group lately.

  Her mind drifting as she worked, Callie had finally relaxed when she heard the familiar sounds of her father’s voice as he said hello to Piper at the front of the shop. Callie tensed, waiting to hear the soft tones of Kathy’s modulated voice, but none came.