Out of the Dying Pan Page 8

  “What do you mean?” Talia said.

  Vivian gave her a smug smile. “It’s not common knowledge, but that girl was arrested a few years ago. Arrested!”

  “Are you sure, Vivian?”

  Vivian nodded, a glint in her eye. “The way I heard it, she was visiting an aunt in Maine when it happened. Got into a spat with a neighbor lady and bopped her over the head with a heavy weapon.”

  “What kind of weapon?”

  “A chair is what I heard. Now, Lord knows I’m not one to spread gossip, but I also heard she had to go before a judge. The woman she attacked had to get stitches. The Dakoulas girl should’ve gotten a jail sentence, but apparently the judge was lenient with her. No doubt because of her pretty face and that Betty Boop figure,” she added in a snippy tone.

  Talia thought the whole story sounded bizarre. Not that she knew Kelsey all that well. It just didn’t seem like the kind of thing she would do.

  “Vivian, are you sure about all this?” Talia said carefully.

  “As sure as I can be.” Vivian sat back with a knowing look. “You know that Ria girl who was murdered? Well, her mom, Anita, clerks at the dry cleaner’s where my cousin Ralphie works. Anita told him the whole story.”

  “But how would Ria—”

  “Ria and Kelsey used to be real good friends,” she said, anticipating Talia’s question. “Then something happened about a month ago to split the two of them up. Ralphie wasn’t sure what it was. Probably squabbled over a man, would be my take on it.” She shook her gray curls in disgust.

  All of that made zero sense, Talia thought. If Kelsey was on the outs with Ria, why did she agree to work in the vintage clothing shop?

  And then something Kelsey had said on Sunday popped into Talia’s head. Something about a cat …

  Cats are a dime a dozen. Those words from Ria.

  Then Kelsey had shot back, You are not going to get away with this.

  “Vivian, did Ralphie mention anything about a cat?”

  Vivian’s gray eyebrows dipped toward her nose. “A cat? No, I don’t think so. What would a cat have to do with the price of apples in China?”

  Not a thing, Talia thought. Much like this conversation.

  Still, she couldn’t completely dismiss some of the bombshells Vivian had dropped.

  Andy a stalker.

  Kelsey assaulting someone with a chair.

  “Well, I’m full up to my eyeballs,” Vivian said, pushing back her chair. She darted a glance at the corner where the door to the restroom was located.

  “I hope you enjoyed everything,” Talia said. “I’ll get your bill.”

  By the time Vivian shuffled out of the eatery with her bags, Talia’s head felt like a whirlybird. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more—the idea of Andy stalking a woman, or the thought that Kelsey attacked someone with a chair. She simply couldn’t picture Kelsey doing something like that! Andy, however, was a different story. He’d seemed to be an odd duck from the get-go.

  Although the police hadn’t said as much, Talia knew they considered her a “person of interest” in Ria’s death. While Vivian’s tales might be more fiction than truth, Talia would definitely have to put some feelers out to see what she could find out.

  The eatery was in its usual midday lull. Talia dug a small notepad out of her handbag. She sat at the corner table in the kitchen, pencil in hand. Her first thought was to list all the suspects that came to mind, devoting a separate page to each one.

  She had just written Andy’s name on the first page when Martha set a plate in front of her. “You look frazzled,” she said gruffly. “Have a hot dog.”

  Talia couldn’t help smiling at the plate. Martha had used the mustard sauce to draw a kitty’s face over a downturned deep-fried hot dog.

  “Thank you, Martha. You’re quite the artiste.”

  Martha raised one thick eyebrow. “Me? I can barely draw a stick figure.”

  Talia swirled one end of the hot dog in the mustard sauce and took a cautious bite. Tangy with a bit of heat, it tantalized her taste buds. No wonder the deep-fried mini-dogs were fast becoming a customer favorite. She swallowed. “You sure made those little munchkins happy today with your artistic skills. It was a very nice thing to do.”

  Martha lifted her broad shoulders in a shrug. “I was just practicing, in case I decide to take an art class one of these days.”

  Talia grinned. “You’re a fibber, Martha, and you know it. You wanted to make those kids smile, didn’t you?”

  Martha looked thoughtful, her gaze far away. “They were just too quiet. Kids ought to be giggling and squirming and jumping and—” She stopped short, as if she realized she’d said too much. “Never mind.”

  Talia decided not to push. Martha was a puzzle. Maybe one day Talia would put all the pieces together. For now she was grateful to have a hardworking employee who seemed to enjoy her job.

  She turned to a fresh page in her notebook. With the eatery now offering a variety of deep-fried goodies, she would have to keep innovating, adding new items to the menu. For some reason, seeing Wyatt and Amelia today made her think of veggies.

  A lot of kids resisted healthy foods. Almost every kid hated at least one vegetable. For Talia it was beets. She loved the color, but couldn’t stand the smell.

  “Martha, what’s your favorite vegetable?”

  Martha soaped and rinsed the last of the stainless steel cones and set it to dry on the overhead rack. “Veggies don’t thrill me in general, but I like Brussels sprouts. They have kind of a nutty taste.”

  A nutty taste. Hmmm …

  “Could you picture deep-fried Brussels sprouts with a light peanut sauce?”

  A rare smile split Martha’s face. “Yeah. Yeah I could.” Her smile faded instantly. “But remember, some people are allergic to peanuts. You’re opening a whole can of worms if you do that.”

  “You’re right.” Talia scribbled it in her notebook. What other veggies could be deep-fried? Broccoli florets? Cherry tomatoes? Maybe those kalamata olives her dad loved?

  She groaned. How could she concentrate on experimenting with recipes while she was a suspect in Ria’s death? Thoughts of being arrested clogged her mind, leaving little room for creative endeavors. If anything felt fried right now, it was her brain. Closing her notebook, she rose. She snagged two large potatoes from the supply closet and set them on the worktable.

  “Need help?” Martha said, clearly a bit curious.

  “Nope. An idea just struck me, and I want to test it out. But after I’m done, I’ll need your opinion, okay?”

  Martha hesitated for a moment. “Okay, but only if it’s food related.” She grabbed the spray cleaner and a cloth from underneath the counter. “Since we’re in a lull, I might as well clean off the tables. I’ll bet those two kids made a big freakin’ mess out there.”

  Talia pressed her lips into a smile, but said nothing. She knew Wyatt and Amelia hadn’t left even a tiny spill on the table.

  While Martha puttered around the dining room grunting to herself, Talia peeled, sliced, and boiled the potatoes. After she drained them, she dumped them into a large bowl. From the fridge she extracted a bag of shredded cheddar. She plopped a full cup into the potato mixture, and added a few hefty shakes from the salt and pepper shakers. The mixture still had to cool, but in the meantime she mashed it with her potato masher.

  Martha meandered back into the kitchen and stuck the spray bottle and cloth under the counter.

  “Was it a big mess out there?” Talia said innocently.

  Martha avoided Talia’s gaze. “Not too bad. What’cha doing?”

  Talia grinned. “Something I saw on TV a few nights ago. Grab me an egg, please, will you? And some milk?”

  Martha fetched the ingredients and set them down on the work area. “Now what?”

  “Well, first I have to let the mixture cool. After that I’m going to form stiff balls and roll them in flour. And then—” Talia set her masher down and stared at Martha. �
��Oh darn, I just remembered. I need panko crumbs to do this.”

  Martha crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the mixture. “What’s the big yank?” she said in a grumpy tone. “Why can’t you swirl them through the batter you use for the fish?”

  And just like that, the kinder, gentler Martha was gone, replaced by her crotchety old self.

  “There’s no reason,” Talia said, keeping her tone even. “I liked the idea of the crispy panko coating, that’s all. But you’re right. I can use the batter this time around to test them, can’t I?”

  Martha shrugged. “Whatever floats your dinghy.”

  Talia gave a quiet sigh. She realized all at once how much she missed working with Bea Lambert. Bea was a rare treasure—kind, funny, quirky to the tenth power. She’d been like a second mother to Talia. If it hadn’t been for her gentle prodding, Talia would never have taken over the eatery and morphed it into a deep-fried heaven.

  “—too much flour on that one,” Martha was scolding. She was aiming a thick finger at the lump of potato mixture in Talia’s plastic-gloved hand. “Shake some of it off.”

  She was right, which irked Talia even more.

  Over the next ten minutes Talia managed to coat and deep-fry six cheesy potato rounds. “Try one,” she said to Martha, and nabbed one for herself.

  Martha chomped on her potato round for what seemed an eternity. Talia ate hers carefully, testing the flavor and texture on her tongue. “Mmmm, nice and crispy,” she said. “But I still think the panko coating would be better.”

  Her mouth full, Martha nodded and then swallowed. “You know what would be good inside these? Bacon.”

  Talia took another bite. She preferred making them meatless, but Martha did have a point. Lots of people loved bacon.

  Martha ate two more and then pronounced herself as “stuffed as a holiday goose.” Talia gave her the remaining two to take home, and by that time it was nearly seven.

  “Time to roll,” Martha said, whipping her smoky-smelling scarf off the door hook.

  Talia resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the scarf as Martha shrugged on her peacoat. She was slipping on her own jacket when the eatery phone rang. Martha rolled her eyes when Talia answered it.

  “Talia Marby?” a voice said.

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  With a snort of impatience, Martha set her green handbag on the front counter and headed for the bathroom.

  “It’s Andy Nash,” the caller said. He sounded breathless. “I met you on Sunday, remember?”

  Talia’s heartbeat spiked. She remembered what Vivian had told her about him. “Yes, I remember. But I’m afraid the eatery is—”

  “I’m not calling for takeout,” he said urgently. “I’ve got a problem. I want to talk to you about it. Can you meet me at the diner in fifteen minutes? I know you close at seven.”

  No way, Talia thought. She did not intend to be Andy Nash’s next stalkee.

  “What does this concern?” Talia said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

  Andy huffed loudly. “It’s about that Ria woman who was killed. I don’t want to say any more over the phone, but it’s important.”

  “Andy, if you know something about Ria’s death you need to go to the police.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t,” he whimpered. “I—”

  “And I’m afraid I can’t help, Andy. Have a pleasant evening.” Talia hung up the phone. It rang again almost immediately. She was tempted to ignore it. The problem was, her home number would be easy to find, and he might resort to calling her there. She lifted the receiver.

  “Please please please,” he begged. “I just need to talk to you for a few minutes, okay? We’ll be in a public place with tons of people around. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  In her head, Talia counted to five. “All right, but only for ten minutes or so. I’m very busy, and frankly I don’t even have that much time to spare.”

  It was a slight exaggeration, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Thank you.” He blew out a noisy sigh. “I knew Peter Marby’s daughter wouldn’t let me down.”

  Martha emerged from the restroom. “Look what I found,” she said, holding a plain brown shopping bag in the air.

  Talia went over to her. “Someone forgot it, I guess. Where was it?” she asked Martha.

  “In the corner near the bathroom. Shall we check it out?”

  Talia smiled at her. “No, let’s leave it here for now. I’m sure someone will show up to claim it tomorrow.”

  *

  A cold breeze whipped across the cobblestone plaza, creeping under the sleeves of Talia’s flared jacket. She hadn’t yet dug her winter coat out of storage, but she planned to make the switch at the sight of the first snowflake.

  Above the distant, rolling hills of the Berkshires, a white half-moon hung low in the charcoal sky. The shops on Main Street were mostly shut down at this hour. Lights twinkled in the darkened storefronts, many of which boasted charming Christmas displays.

  Martha was quiet as they walked together to the town lot. Talia knew she was probably dying to find out who the mystery phone caller was. When they reached their cars, Martha slid inside her old monstrosity and revved the engine. Talia waved good-bye and hurried toward her own car.

  She started her engine to warm up the Fiat, and then pulled out her cell. She sent a quick text to Ryan, letting him know where she was headed. That way, if anything happened …

  Which it wouldn’t. Something told Talia that Andy Nash was all talk. Annoying, for sure, but not dangerous, in spite of what Vivian had told her. Plus, for some reason he seemed to revere Talia’s dad. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Peter Marby’s daughter, right? She didn’t know why he was so enamored of her dad, but maybe now he would enlighten her.

  *

  The Wrensdale Diner was barely a five-minute drive, located at the point where Main Street curved around toward the railroad track. Known for its “cloud high” roast beef sandwiches and bad-tempered waitstaff, it had been there for the better part of three decades. The available parking consisted of a series of diagonal lines painted on the street in front of the diner. Talia prayed she’d find a spot close by. Otherwise she’d have to park in the empty bank lot a half block away on the opposite side of the street.

  Luck was on her side. She found a perfect spot close to the entrance. She locked the Fiat and dashed inside the busy diner. Andy was already seated in a booth for two about halfway down on the right. He waved to get her attention, and she slipped onto the bench seat across from him.

  Andy’s bespectacled face looked blotchy. Both his upper lip and his wide brow were dotted with tiny beads of perspiration. It was warm in there, but not that warm. Clearly he was extremely nervous.

  “Thanks for coming, Talia. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Your dad always said—”

  “Andy, how do you know my dad?” she asked him. “I don’t recall him ever mentioning you.”

  Leaning closer, Andy gave her a lopsided smile. “Of course he didn’t. Don’t you see? It’s all very confidential. No one’s supposed to talk about the others in the group.”

  “What group?” Talia said wearily. She set her purse beside her on the padded bench.

  Andy lowered his voice. “Back when your dad had that, you know, little problem? Well, I was part of the group. Youngest one of a dozen, in fact.”

  Talia’s stomach twisted into a familiar knot. Suddenly, she got it.

  When Talia was a teen, her dad had fallen victim to the gambling bug. It had been a bad time for her mom and for her. He’d lost a load of money that they couldn’t afford to lose. It wasn’t until her dad joined Gamblers Anonymous that he got help and eventually kicked the addiction.

  “I see,” Talia said quietly.

  “Yeah, and your dad was like my mentor, you know? Anytime I was tempted to stray, he’d reel me back in. I love that guy. He’s the best.”

  Talia agreed wholeheartedly, but she wasn’t
about to discuss her dad with someone she barely knew.

  A middle-aged server with a thick ring of black liner around each eye came over and took their orders for coffee. She looked less than thrilled that they didn’t order food. Talia felt bad. The diner was busy. She didn’t like occupying a booth for a mere cup of coffee. She made a mental note to leave the woman a sizeable tip.

  “You said you had something important to tell me,” Talia prodded.

  He spoke more quietly, lowering his voice. “Yeah, but I gotta explain something first, because I know people are prob’ly talking about it.” He shifted on the padded vinyl bench. His face reddened. “I, um, did something a bunch of years ago that got me in a spot of trouble.”

  Ah, confession time.

  “You see, there was this girl I liked who worked at the town hall. I asked her out a few times, but she turned me down. Anyway, I thought I could prove what a nice guy I was by sending her a dozen roses.” He paused. When Talia said nothing, he continued. “She didn’t take it very well. She told me to, well, I can’t say the word she used. Basically she told me to get lost.”

  “So what did you do?” Talia said. She was curious to hear his version of the tale that Vivian had already related to her.

  “I guess it was stupid when I look back,” he said. “I wrote her a poem. A really romantic one.” He flushed right up to his earlobes.

  Talia forced a smile. “Go on, Andy.”

  “I left it under her windshield wiper while she was at work,” he said. His face darkened. “She went nuclear and told the cops I was harassing her. Then her father threatened me with … well, bodily harm.”

  Something about his hangdog look made Talia feel bad for him. He seemed like one of those men who had a knack for never attracting the opposite sex. Still, he needed to understand that when a woman says no, she means it. “Women don’t appreciate unwanted attention, Andy. It’s very scary stuff these days.”

  He scowled. “Yeah, I know, but I never would’ve hurt her! I don’t know why she didn’t get that.”

  So many retorts whirled through Talia’s head. Are you really that clueless? was one of the more polite ones. “So what did the police do?” she asked.