Out of the Dying Pan Read online

  Bea’s face fell. “Aw, luvvy, I’m so bleedin’ sorry. I don’t know what got into me. That woman—she just pushed all my buttons at once!”

  “I know,” Talia said quietly. Believe me, I know.

  Her head hanging, Bea asked Talia to fetch her purse and then left through the front door.

  Without a word, Talia went back into the kitchen. When she saw Martha swiping at the top of her loafer with a flimsy napkin, she tore off a fistful of paper towels from the roll over the sink. She dampened them under the faucet and went over to Martha.

  “Stick out your shoe, Martha.”

  Looking too stunned to object, Martha clutched the counter for support and lifted the toe of her loafer. Talia scrubbed the shoe with the damp towels, then repeated the procedure until every speck of batter had been thoroughly removed. Finally, she wiped the floor of any spills and tossed the whole mess in the trash.

  “Thank you,” Martha muttered, and headed for the back door. She removed her peacoat from its hook and yanked at her scarf.

  Talia gaped at her. “Martha, where are you going? We’re opening in ten minutes.”

  “Aren’t you firing me?” she said with a hangdog look.

  “Of course not. Now put your coat back and finish up with the batter, please.” Talia hoped she didn’t sound too witchy, but sometimes Martha needed a firm tone. She intended to have a chat with her later, when the lunch crowd quieted down and they could snag a few minutes to talk privately. For now they needed to be ready to serve their customers. “Did you make the coleslaw?” she asked more gently.

  Martha nodded. “And I made the tartar sauce. I didn’t know if you might run late, and I didn’t want us to get caught short.”

  “Thank you. That was smart thinking.”

  Talia realized she sounded patronizing, which she hadn’t meant to do. Chuckling to herself, she couldn’t help wondering if this was how Rachel spoke to the kids in her fourth-grade class.

  She went to the sink and scrubbed her hands with soap. Lucas looked all aflutter, as if he didn’t know what to do next. Talia smiled at him. “Lucas, have you finished cutting the potatoes?”

  Panic flitted over his deep blue eyes. He swallowed. “Um, yeah, but I dropped a few so I have to peel a couple more.”

  Talia smiled at the poor kid. “That’s okay. You can do that later, if we need them. In case we get any requests, are you interested in doing some local delivery again today?”

  “Yes!” He crossed himself and thanked the Lord under his breath.

  “Okay, we’ll see what happens. Don’t get your hopes up yet.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Marby. You’re the best!”

  Talia didn’t feel like the best. Today she felt totally incompetent. What kind of restaurateur leaves for a few hours and returns to find that her eatery has erupted into chaos? With a quiet sigh, she glanced over at Martha, who was covering the batter bowl with plastic wrap. Not for the first time, she wondered how long the woman would last at the job.

  The first lunch order came in at eleven thirty-one. Not only did the crew at the fire station want delivery again, but old Father Francese over at Saint Agatha’s telephoned and requested the same.

  “If you could, my child”—he coughed vociferously into the phone—“I’ve been laid up with a dreadful cold, and I never miss having my fish on Friday. Perhaps you might find it in your heart to send someone over with an order of fish and chips? And some of that tasty coleslaw, as well, with a heap of mushy peas? Bless you, child.” He coughed again, even more loudly this time.

  Talia couldn’t help smiling. For someone suffering with such a bad cold, the priest had quite the appetite. He was also a bit of a con man, she thought, but in a kind way. The tiny rectory behind Saint Agatha’s Church was only a short distance past the fire station. Technically, though, it was probably outside the area where Talia had thought about offering delivery.

  She checked with Lucas, who said he’d be thrilled to deliver lunch to the ailing priest. With his youthful energy and long legs, he claimed, he could deliver both orders within the space of ten or twelve minutes and be back for another trip.

  “I’m not going to charge Father Francese for his lunch today,” she said to Lucas. “He really did sound awful. It’s the least I can do.”

  Lucas grinned. “You’re like, a real angel, Ms. Marby. If he offers me a tip, I’ll tell him to give it to the soup kitchen instead. Either that or I’ll stick it in the animal shelter donation can at Queenie’s.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, Lucas.” She wondered if his folks realized what a kindhearted son they’d raised.

  Around quarter to twelve, Bea strolled back in. The dining area had begun to fill, and she nodded at some of her old customers, who recognized and greeted her instantly. With a sheepish look, she went into the kitchen and handed Martha a bunch of tickets. “These are for Suzy’s raffle,” she said. “I bought them for you, Martha. If you win, you’ll get a lovely basket filled with bath and body goodies. I don’t know if you use that sort of thing, but, well, they do smell quite pretty.”

  Martha stuck them in the pocket of her brown slacks. “Thanks, Bea.” She cleared her throat. “That was a nice thing to do, even if I’m not much for tarting myself up.”

  Bea chortled and gave her an awkward hug. “Well, I’m going to go along now, luvs. Howie has a therapy appointment for his knee at one thirty, and I wouldn’t want him to be late.”

  “Martha, do you mind if I walk Bea to her car?” Talia said. “I want to pick up something from the bakery while I’m out. I won’t be more than ten minutes.”

  “Go ahead.” Martha waved a hand at her. “Lucas and I got it covered.” She winked at her co-worker.

  *

  Over the distant hills, the sky had grown overcast. The trees were barren now, waiting for the first snowfall to coat their bare branches. Bea slipped her arm through Talia’s. “Aw, luvvy, I do have to apologize for my bad behavior today. That wasn’t like me, was it, going off on poor Martha like that?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Bea. And I’m so sorry I spoke harshly to you.” She squeezed Bea’s gloved hand with her own. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.”

  “It’s already forgotten, luv.”

  Bea’s ancient brown Datsun was parked in the town lot, close to the sidewalk. Two spaces away was Martha’s massive green clunker, looking even more dented than ever. Talia would swear that the deep scratch on the left front fender hadn’t been there a week ago. Did the woman use her spare time to drive in demolition derbies? Talia pointed out Martha’s car to Bea.

  Bea stopped dead and gawked at it. “Ah, Talia, now I know why Martha was so flippin’ angry with me. I poked fun at that horrid old car of hers!”

  “You did?” Talia looked at her in surprise. “That is so not like you, Bea.”

  “But I didn’t mean to, you see. I didn’t even know it was hers! When she came in this morning and started complaining about how far she had to walk from the parking lot, I said, ‘Well, at least you don’t have to drive an old junker like the poor sod who owns the ugly green car I saw this morning.’” Bea shook her head. “How daft of me. No wonder she gave me the cold shoulder all morning.”

  Talia groaned. “She probably did take offense, but since you didn’t know, it wasn’t really your fault.”

  “Nonetheless, I don’t like hurting people’s feelings.” Bea issued a noisy sigh.

  “Bea,” Talia said thoughtfully, “why did you call her dragon lady?”

  “Oh, I was just spouting off,” she said, unlocking the door of her Datsun. “Course now that I know she drives that old metal monster, it almost seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” She shook her black curls. “Tell her I’m sorry, will you, luv?”

  They hugged good-bye, and Talia hurried toward Peggy’s Bakery. She purchased a dozen frosted holiday cookies and asked Peggy to tie a pretty bow around the box.

  It wasn’t until she’d gotten back to the eatery
and changed into her “work” clothes that something odd occurred to her. She’d seen Martha’s car this morning, too—right before she met Bea in front of the restaurant. Since Martha’s shift at the eatery didn’t start until ten, why had her car been in the lot so early? Not that it was any of Talia’s business, but it was one more thing to ponder.

  The remainder of the day stayed blessedly busy. Lucas left at four, delighted to have made five local deliveries. The guys at the firehouse had apparently blabbed, so the requests for delivery were increasing.

  By seven, Talia felt mentally drained. The battle between Martha and Bea, short-lived as it was, had done a number on her. She hated confrontation, especially when it involved a dear friend like Bea.

  She hurried home, fed Bo, and went off with her cookies to see Anita Butterforth.

  14

  Anita Butterforth took the bakery box from Talia’s hands and waved her into the living room of her duplex unit. “Come on in. Take a load off.” She took Talia’s jacket and draped it over her arm. “You can sit there,” she said, indicating a platform rocker that lilted slightly to one side.

  “Thank you.” Talia skimmed her gaze over the narrow living room, which gave a whole new meaning to the word bland. Beige walls, off-white furniture, tan wall-to-wall carpeting that had seen better days. She lowered herself onto the indicated chair. With its pattern of splashy red geraniums, it was the sole item in the room with a bit of color. The seat was so close to the floor that she felt like a grade-schooler.

  Anita tossed Talia’s jacket over the back of the sofa. “I was watching a Sandra Bullock movie,” she said, dipping her nose at the flat screen television against the far wall. She grabbed the remote off a scarred wooden coffee table and muted the sound. “You ever seen that one where she goes undercover at a beauty pageant? It’s a hoot and a half!”

  Talia gave her polite smile. “Yes, I think I have. It was pretty funny.” She rested her purse in her lap.

  Anita ripped the bow off the white bakery box and lifted the lid. “Oh, don’t these look delicious,” she said, snagging a frosted, bell-shaped cookie. “It was awful nice of you to bring them. Want one?” She held out the box to Talia.

  “No thanks,” Talia said. “I want you to have them.”

  Anita shrugged and plunked the box on the coffee table that sat between them. “It’s real nice of you to visit,” she said, biting off a corner of the cookie. “Ria didn’t have a lot of friends. Most of my friends are people I work with at the dry cleaners.”

  “Does your friend Ralphie work with you?” Talia knew the answer, but she was curious to see if Anita would refer to him as a boyfriend.

  “Oh yeah. He’s been there a long time.” She ran a hand through her frizzy blond hair and brushed at something on her velour pants. “The boss is always ragging on him, but believe you me, they couldn’t run that place without him.” She pointed a yellowed fingernail at Talia to emphasize her point.

  Meoooowww.

  Talia peeked around the edge of the sofa. A darling little Siamese was meandering toward them from what appeared to be the kitchen. “Oh, look, you have a cat,” she said, playing Dora the Dunce again. She held out her hand to the kitty. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Ria named her Princess,” Anita said flatly, with a sideways look at the cat. She rolled her eyes. “For some reason, Ria thought I wanted a cat. This one’s okay, but they’re a lot of work, you know? And I hate cleaning that freaking litter box.”

  Hmmm. Maybe there was hope that Kelsey could adopt Princess after all.

  “Hey, there, sweetheart,” Talia cooed. “Come over here and see me.”

  “Cripes, don’t encourage her. She’ll just get cat hair all over you.” Anita snapped her fingers at the cat. “Princess, leave our company alone, and don’t you dare go near those cookies!”

  “She’s fine, Anita. I have a cat, too. Please don’t worry about it.”

  With a slow blink and a lift of her elegant chin, the cat ignored her owner’s admonition and promptly jumped into Talia’s lap. Talia grinned and stroked the cat’s silky head. “Look at you,” she said, “with those gorgeous blue eyes. You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you?” She set her purse aside so Princess could have a comfier seat. The cat revved up her purr machine and curled into a cozy circle on Talia’s lap.

  “You want a Pepsi or anything?” Anita fidgeted nervously. “Ria and me didn’t get company too often, so there’s not much to drink in the fridge.”

  “No thanks. I’m fine,” Talia said. “I really came only to pay my condolences. This must be such a difficult time for you.” She squirmed a bit from the lie, but Anita didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yeah, it is. I talked to more cops this week that I ever did in my life.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You’d think they’d’ve caught the killer by now, right? I mean, what do they get paid for?” She bit off another chunk of her cookie.

  “I understand your feelings,” Talia said, stroking Princess under the chin, “but I’m sure they’ll find the killer soon. Did they ask you who might have wanted to harm Ria? Like, whether she might have had an old boyfriend with a grudge? Something like that?”

  Anita gave out a disgusted laugh. “Yeah, like a million times. Funny thing about Ria, though. Pretty as she was, she never dated a lot of guys. She was too fussy, you know? Kinda stuck-up about who she hung with. I kept telling her, ‘Ria, you’re never gonna snag a man with that attitude of yours,’ but she never listened to me.”

  An overwhelming wave of sadness for Ria welled up in Talia’s chest. She got the distinct impression that Anita’s hunt for her own man had always taken precedence over her daughter’s needs.

  “Course the cops knew she’d been seeing Will Claiborne. Man, that guy sure did love my Ria,” she said, her eyes welling up. It was the first time Talia had seen Anita show any real emotion over Ria’s death.

  “Anita,” Talia said, “Forgive me, but something I overheard Ria say to you at the fund-raiser on Sunday stuck in my head. It sounded like she said, ‘I saw the dragon. The dragon is back.’”

  Anita snapped her gaze at Talia. “You heard that, huh?” She blew out a shaky breath. “Ria and that freaking dragon,” she said softly. “I guess she never got over it.”

  “The thing is,” Talia pressed in a quiet voice, “I couldn’t help wondering if it might have had anything to do with, you know, the person who harmed her.”

  For a long moment Anita stared at the wall. Finally, after a long sigh she said, “No, it was nothing like that. The dragon was just a”—she snapped her fingers—“you know, a filament of Ria’s imagination.” She absently brushed a cookie crumb from her velour top. “It started when she was a kid. Drove me nuts for a long time, let me tell you. I mean, here I was raising a kid on my own and I constantly had to listen to that dragon crap.”

  For a moment, Talia was taken aback. The insensitivity in Anita’s tone horrified her. Had the woman forgotten that her daughter’s life had been snuffed out in a brutal manner?

  “Ah, I know what you’re thinking. I can tell by the look on your face.”

  Talia felt herself flushing. She hadn’t meant for her reaction to be so visible, but she’d never been good at hiding her feelings. Almost as if she’d felt her dismay, Princess lifted her head and looked up at Talia.

  On second thought, Talia wondered if she was being too tough on Anita. Maybe recalling Ria’s childhood shortcomings was the only way she could deal with her death. Everyone handled grief in a different way.

  Anita stared at her through narrowed eyes. “It’s a weird story, if you wanna hear it.”

  Talia wanted desperately to hear it. Something in Ria’s tone that day had set her senses on high alert. If the dragon, whatever it was, had anything to do with the killer, maybe she could make sense of it in a way that Anita had never been able to.

  “I think it might help you to talk about it, Anita,” Talia said quietly.

  Anita looked away, her fi
ngers twitching as if she needed a cigarette. “Back when Ria was young, six or seven, we were living in Agawam. Ria’s father was long gone, so it was just me and her. Anyways, this one night—it was real hot out—I was out of cigarettes, so I drove to the convenience store down the street. I left Ria in the car, in the parking lot behind the store. I guess I was in there longer than I thought.” She reddened. “I ran into an old flame of mine—you know how it is—and we got talking about old times.”

  I know I’d never leave a six-year-old alone in the car at night, Talia wanted to say. She forced a smile. “Sure, I’ve done that,” she fibbed.

  “Anyways, me and Donny talked for a while, and he asked if he could come over to my place and have a beer with me. Even offered to bring a six-pack, which was fine with me. When I got back to the car, Ria was acting weird. She was huddled real low in the front seat, hugging herself like she was scared. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, ‘I saw a lady get hurt, and a dragon did it.’ Well, I knew that didn’t make any sense, but that was Ria, you know? Always spinning silly tales to get attention.”

  That poor little girl. The thought that Ria had to dream up stories to get her mother’s attention broke Talia’s heart. Even if Anita was exaggerating, it was immensely sad to think of the lonely childhood Ria must have had.

  Anita pursed her lips. “I told her to stop telling lies and tell me what really happened. Kid always had a wild imagination, you know? It got on every last one of my nerves.”

  Talia stroked the cat’s head, ire rising in her chest. “So what did she say?”

  “Well, then her voice got a little smaller, the way it always did when she was lying.” Anita’s eyes blazed. “She insisted, though, that she saw a dragon hurt a lady. I asked her where the dragon was, and she said it was gone. When I asked her where the lady was, she told me the dragon took her away. At that point I was like, wicked ticked, you know? I smacked her on the leg and told her to sit up straight. I told her Donny was coming over, and she’d better behave herself while he was there and not bother us. Plus, I wanted to get home and grab a quick shower before he got there, and she was being a royal pain in my patoot.