Well Read, Then Dead(32)
“Oh, I agree. The trouble is she keeps insisting I tell the sheriff’s office. And, well, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t? What were you talking about all this time you were outside with him?”
“The wreckers. You told me I had to tell about the wreckers, so I did. And why is everyone telling me what to report? Can’t anyone else around here talk to the sheriff’s office?”
Bridgy held her hands out defensively. “Don’t look at me. I only told you to pass along what you saw and what you heard. Jocelyn’s your problem.”
My cell rang. I think Bridgy and I were both grateful for the interruption. Cady! In the chaos, I’d forgotten all about him.
“Sorry. I’ve been mega busy.”
He told me that the newspaper had received Delia’s obituary and offered to bring a copy by so I could take an advance peek before it went up in the online edition later today. We agreed he’d stop in after the lunch rush. By the time I had hung up, the café was half-full. I grabbed my order pad and got to work.
Within fifteen minutes we had a full house.
Bridgy was speedily bussing tables and I was serving key lime pie to some day-trippers from Cape Coral when Rowena Gustavsen rushed in and, as if there weren’t another soul in sight, called across the dining room, “Sassy, what smells so scrumptious? Is there something new on the menu? I’m in a hurry.”
She leaned on the counter, and I signaled I’d be with her in a minute. Ophie came out of the kitchen, all honey and smiles.
“Bless your heart, nothing makes me happier than to hear a cultured person such as yourself refer to my muffins as scrumptious, and you haven’t even tried one yet. Here you go.”
I couldn’t see what kind of muffin Ophie offered, but Rowena’s moan of ecstasy after she took a bite assured me that I had a couple of minutes to fuss over the day-trippers before Rowena would renew her demands for attention.
I offered refills of coffee to the remaining lunch customers, and as I moved closer to the counter, I heard Rowena say, “I knew it. I knew that man was nothing but trouble. How I let these girls talk me into doing business with him, I’ll never know.”
Darn. Ophie must have told Rowena that she’d heard us talking about Skully being seen near Delia’s house. Now she’d never stop whining. I stepped up with my order pad, ready to take my verbal slap on the wrist.
I listened to Rowena fume for a couple of minutes, accusing us of putting a possible murderer right in her shop, before she finally ordered The Secret Garden Salad (hold the onions, extra tomato, vinaigrette on the side) and a side of sweet potato fries (extra crispy). I handed the order slip to Ophie with a pointed look at the kitchen door. Much as she hated to miss any gossip, duty called. She patted Rowena’s hand and slipped into the kitchen, saying, “That’s comin’ right up, darlin’.”
Rowena turned back to me, but I’d grabbed a spray bottle and a wad of paper towels and was busily scrubbing the counter, chair backs and bottoms, anything I could clean so as not to have to listen to her complaints about Skully, who was rapidly being transformed into a serial killer during Rowena’s histrionics.
Rowena took her to-go bag and left, but not before issuing a general warning that “we’re not done talking about this, not by a long shot.”
The lunch crowd was thinning and I continued to clean, a mindless task that left me free to mentally organize the rest of my day. I had a lot to do. Get over to Augusta’s and find out what clothes she wanted Delia to wear, then figure a way to get into Delia’s house and locate everything. And Cady was coming with the obituary. Should we show it to Augusta, or had she helped prepare it? And if I didn’t talk to Frank Anthony about Skully, how much trouble would Jocelyn cause? I was exhausted thinking about all that I needed to get done. I was sliding the spray cleaner under the counter when Bridgy said, “I know you have a lot going on, but don’t forget the Potluck Book Club is meeting this afternoon.”