The Calamity Café Page 7

  “You’re welcome. In addition to patting out some hamburgers, I sliced some tomatoes and onions, shredded some lettuce, and made a chocolate crème pie.”

  He smiled slightly. “I appreciate that. I know you said you wanted to give me some time to think it over, but I’d like to know if you still want to buy Lou’s Joint. If you’re not, I’m going to go ahead and put it on the market.”

  And another emotional shift from Pete. Was he being manipulated by a puppet master who was throwing darts at a list of moods? “I am interested. Have you already scheduled the appraisal?”

  “Billy said he’d handle all of that. I need some cash if I’m gonna buy me and Chris Anne that truck.”

  I nodded. “I wish you all the luck in the world with that.”

  “I do you too, Amy. I reckon you, me, and Chris Anne are all about to make our dreams come true. I wish Momma hadn’t been too stubborn to make hers come true.” His eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sure she had everything she wanted,” I said. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t sure of anything. I had no idea what sort of dreams Lou Lou might have had. Had someone asked me last week, I’d have guessed that maybe belittling her staff was her dream come true. And then I had a stab of guilt for thinking ill of the dead.

  Stan and Chris Anne brought out armloads of stuff from Lou Lou’s office: a metal bank box, three or four notebooks, a bunch of documents. . . . Chris Anne even had a coffee mug.

  “Look,” she said. “Still has your momma’s lipstick print on the rim.”

  I managed to suppress a shudder. Jackie didn’t.

  “Jackie, are you ready to take off?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  * * *

  I went home, showered, and changed into a navy blue business suit. I didn’t have an appointment, but I hoped Billy Hancock would see me anyway. I headed for his office with high hopes.

  The office building was small but elegantly decorated. Sarah was sitting at her desk looking beautiful in a pink dress. She loved pink, and the color looked terrific on her.

  She smiled up at me. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Is Billy in?”

  “Not back from lunch yet. Want to wait?”

  “I do.” I sat down on the chair nearest Sarah’s desk. “Are you expecting anyone in this afternoon?”

  “Not until two, so you have a little while. What do you want to see Billy about?”

  “I just need some advice. Before I left Lou’s Joint, Pete said he’d talked with Billy about getting the place appraised and that if I didn’t want it, he was going to put it on the market.”

  “He was in here this morning—he and that insufferable Chris Anne. What does he see in her? Not that he’s any big catch, but still . . .”

  “I think you hit the nail on the head with that ‘no big catch’ comment. I mean, Pete’s nice enough, but he’s always struck me as being a sandwich or two short of a picnic. Plus, think about who his bride would have as a mother-in-law.”

  “That is scary,” Sarah agreed. “Or was. Maybe Chris Anne is the one who knocked Lou Lou in the head.”

  We held each other’s gazes.

  “I was kidding,” she said after a moment, “but that’s not entirely out of the question.”

  “She was awfully ghoulish about wanting to go into Lou Lou’s office a little while ago.”

  “Maybe she wanted to make sure she hadn’t left any incriminating evidence behind.”

  I shook my head. “If she did, Ivy Donaldson has already scooped it up.”

  “Chris Anne might not know that.”

  It had me thinking. “Hey, can you come over to my house tonight? I’ll see if Jackie and Roger can come too.”

  “Are we having a party?” Sarah asked with a grin.

  “No. But what you said about Chris Anne makes sense. I want everybody to toss some theories around, write them down, and see what we can come up with.”

  “Honey, I’m sure the police are doing all of that.”

  “I’m sure they are too, but I’m on their list.”

  “What?”

  “I’m a suspect,” I said.

  “That’s total crap!”

  “Not if you look at it from their point of view.”

  “Then let’s Nancy Drew the fire out of this thing and get you off the hook.”

  Before she could say more, we heard Billy’s car pull up.

  “See you at six?” I asked.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Hello, Amy,” Billy said when he came in. “Did you and Sarah have lunch?”

  “No, sir. I’m here to see you, if you have a minute.”

  “I believe I do . . . don’t I, Sarah?”

  “You’re free until two,” she told him.

  “Good. Come on into my office, then.”

  I followed Billy into his office. Like the lobby, his office was decorated in forest green and burgundy. He had a high-backed leather desk chair, and there were two small matching chairs in front of the desk. With the exception of an in-box that was full stacked upon an out-box that was empty, the desk was uncluttered. It appeared all of Billy’s current case files and other works in progress were on the credenza behind him.

  “So how can I help you, Amy?”

  “You tell me. I’m afraid I’m a suspect in a homicide, and I want to either buy Lou’s Joint or build my own café. But you’re probably already aware of all of that.”

  “I am.” He folded his hands. “Whoever found Lou Lou was going to be a suspect in her murder. I don’t feel there’s anything to worry about unless you’re formally accused.”

  “By ‘accused,’ do you mean ‘arrested’?” My tone was matter-of-fact, but my heart was fluttering up into my throat.

  “I do. Is there any reason for you to be arrested, Amy?”

  “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Good to know but not what I’m driving at. Do you have a motive?”

  “I resigned from my job at Lou’s Joint that morning, and I offered to buy the café. Lou Lou rejected my offer . . . rather soundly, I might add. I was surprised when Pete called to set up our meeting.”

  “I admit I thought the deed to Lou’s Joint would have to be pried out of . . . well, you get my meaning.”

  “Then you were surprised too,” I said.

  “Sure, I was. And I let Pete know that I was billing him for the meeting even if his mother backed out.”

  “He told me this morning that he’d already asked you to get the café appraised.”

  Billy nodded. “I’ve called the commercial real estate appraiser, and she’s going to get to it as soon as she can.”

  “Do you think I should buy the existing building or that I should buy a piece of land and build my own café?”

  He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “I believe you’d be better off from a financial standpoint to buy Lou’s Joint. All the power, water, and sewer lines are already in place. The location is established. And all you’d have to do is renovate.” He lowered his arms and rubbed his chin. “Plus, if you don’t buy the place, some fast-food franchise might come in and get a foothold while you’re still trying to build.”

  “I hadn’t considered that,” I said.

  “The other thing you have to think about, though, is this: are you going to have the heebie-jeebies working in Lou’s Joint?”

  “I had my reservations when I went in to work this morning,” I began, but he cut in.

  “What? Why were you working there? I thought you just said you’d quit.”

  “I had given my two weeks’ notice. But I wouldn’t leave Pete in the lurch. He doesn’t have anybody else who can cook for him. If I hadn’t taken the morning shift, he’d have had to cook all
day.”

  “Or close the place like he had some sense,” Billy muttered. “But maybe that’s how he’s dealing with his grief . . . staying busy.”

  “Maybe so. Either way, I feel I can’t fully commit to buying or building a business until this black cloud I’m under goes away.”

  “Are you calling your being a murder suspect a black cloud?” Billy waved away that thought with the flick of his wrist. “That’s ludicrous. I doubt you’ll be arrested.”

  Doubt? I gulped. “Gee, thanks. I hope and pray you’re right. But I’d like to go ahead and give you a retainer so that you can start either planning my defense or working on securing the paperwork I need for the café.”

  “I do feel the need to tell you that since one of the local churches boycotted Lou’s Joint, the place hasn’t been in the best financial shape.”

  “I figured I’d have to do a lot of promotion to let people know the café is something new and different from what they were used to with Lou’s Joint. I mean, of course, many of the menu items will remain, but I take pride in my food and I’m looking forward to introducing lots of new dishes too.”

  “Sounds great. So let’s go ahead and incorporate your business,” he said. “That way, you’ll have something to help distract you from Lou Lou’s murder investigation until either the police find out who did it or the case grows cold. We can get the necessary permits and licenses in the business’s name, and you can start making a list of your expenses even before you decide whether you’ll build or buy. Sound good?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So do you want your business name to be the same as the name of your café?”

  “I want to call my café the Down South Café,” I said. I’d been thinking on that for quite a while. I wanted people to think of Southern hospitality, a sweet hometown, and a small but bustling café when they thought of my restaurant.

  “All righty. Want to call your business Down South Café, Incorporated?”

  “Sure. That works.”

  “Good. I’ll get Sarah to start on the paperwork. By this time tomorrow, you’ll officially be an entrepreneur.”

  Chapter 7

  I changed into a T-shirt and shorts as soon as I got home. Then I went into the fancy room and cuddled up in the blue chair with my old culinary school textbook. So I was almost an entrepreneur. As I’d mentioned to Billy Hancock, one of the main things I needed to do was establish that Down South Café wasn’t simply Lou’s Joint under new management . . . even if I wound up building a new restaurant rather than renovating Lou’s Joint.

  I wanted to continue to serve the foods that the café patrons expected and were accustomed to, but I wanted to give them some more exciting choices as well. My palate had become more sophisticated when I attended culinary school, but I realized that old habits died hard with many Southwest Virginians. Winter Garden residents liked the tried-and-true, and were reluctant to pay for something they might not like. So I’d have to allow patrons to sample new dishes before I added them to the menu.

  Also, I had to ensure that I could not only acquire all the ingredients I needed for a recipe, but that their cost wouldn’t make the dish a loss for the café. For example, I loved cipollini onions, but I couldn’t find a grocery store in our region that stocked them, and ordering them would be cost-prohibitive.

  So as far as breakfast was concerned, I’d serve the typical fare, offer healthier options, such as turkey bacon and gluten-free pancakes, and introduce new dishes that would, hopefully, delight my customers. I made a souffléed cheddar omelet that would nearly melt in your mouth.

  At lunch, I’d also have the menu staples patrons would expect, but I’d throw in a few surprises there as well. I felt that most of the patrons would love corn fritters made with cheddar cheese, but they might be reluctant to try fried plantain chips. Of course, they could surprise me. I wanted to give them the opportunity to try a variety of new foods. I truly felt that offering free samples was the key to seeing which items would do well on the menu.

  I thumbed through the book until I came to the section on food and kitchen safety. That was something I would certainly need to go over with my staff, especially those—if any—who came with me from Lou’s Joint. An image of Lou Lou with that ever-present cigarette dangling from her lip emerged, making me wonder for the umpteenth time what on earth happened just before I got to the café that night. And why had Pete been so willing to let Stan Wheeler pilfer through his mother’s office? I understood why he hadn’t wanted to go in there himself, and I was certainly relieved that he hadn’t asked me to go—because I’d have definitely turned him down—but why Stan?

  * * *

  Roger was the first to get to my house. I was surprised. Having his own construction business meant that Roger often worked late hours, especially in the summer. I was also glad he was the first to arrive because I had a lot of questions for him.

  He was about five feet nine inches tall and solidly built. He had dark blond hair and brown eyes. I thought he’d been half in love with Jackie since middle school, but he wouldn’t ask her out. Maybe one of these days.

  I took Roger outside and put him in charge of watching the grill while I set the picnic table.

  “I have some questions for you,” I said.

  “About what, Flowerpot?” The nickname harkened back to our childhood.

  “Running your own business. It’s difficult, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah. You learn pretty quickly that when you need a helping hand, it’s at the end of your arm.”

  I struck a match to the citronella tiki torch I had standing in the yard. “You mean you don’t have anyone you can count on to help you?”

  “I have plenty of help . . . a lot of great workers. But at the end of the day, the business is my responsibility. There’s nobody but me to worry about overhead and expenses and revenue.”

  “Is it scary?”

  “Heck, yeah, it’s scary.” He winked and grinned at me. “But ain’t anything worth having a little scary?”

  I smiled. “You’ve got a point. Which actually brings me to another question: when are you going to ask Jackie out?”

  “Now, don’t start that again. Jackie’s one of my best friends.” He took the tongs and turned the steaks. “What if we’d go out and end up not getting along—or even worse, have a bad breakup—and never be able to go back to the way we were before? It would ruin things for our whole group.”

  “But, Roger, what if you’re missing out on the love of your life? And what if Jackie is too?”

  “If things are meant to work out between us, they will somehow. Now let’s get back to talking about business. Did you ever decide whether you’re going to build from the ground up or buy an existing building?”

  “Pete’s doing his best to get me to buy Lou’s Joint, and Billy Hancock says that would be the way to go.”

  “Billy’s right. And I can make that place look like new.”

  “I know you can.” I surveyed the table. All the food was covered and waiting for us to dig in. In addition to the steaks and grilled vegetable kabobs, we were having potato salad, chips and salsa, corn on the cob, key lime pie, and watermelon slices.

  “But?” Roger prompted.

  “I’m a suspect in Lou Lou’s murder. That’s one reason I invited all of you over tonight. I have to get this figured out and clear my name.”

  He shook his head. “Honey, there’s no way anyone could think you capable of murdering Lou Lou.”

  “You’re wrong about that. I’m guessing I’m pretty high on the suspect list, since I found her body.”

  “That’s stupid. Why would you kill her and then call to say you’d found her? If you’d killed her, you’d have done exactly what her murderer did—take off.”

  “Amen,” said Jackie, coming around the side of the house in time to hear what Roger had to
say. She gave him a one-armed hug. “Long time, no see. Where’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been working my butt off,” he said.

  She took a pointed look at his backside. “Nope, Roger, it’s still there.” She gave me the “okay” sign but made sure Roger couldn’t see.

  Sarah was the last to arrive. She’d brought a banana pudding because she said she didn’t feel right not bringing anything. We gladly accepted.

  “Where’s John?” I asked.

  John was Sarah’s boyfriend. He was in law school at the Appalachian School of Law.

  “Had a late class,” she said. “Besides, I thought that since we were doing the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys thing, it should just be us for dinner.”

  Roger turned the steaks again. “What? Do you think John did it?”

  “Did what?” she asked.

  “Killed Lou Lou.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Roger, I do.”

  “Good. Get him to confess, and we’ll just enjoy our dinner.”

  “I was being sarcastic,” said Sarah.

  “I know, but it sounds like a plan. It’ll test his legal skills.”

  “He hasn’t graduated yet.”

  Jackie put an end to Roger’s and Sarah’s mock argument. “Smarty-pants, you got our steaks ready?”

  Roger shook his behind in Jackie’s direction. “Don’t rush perfection.” Then he called me over to see if the steaks were done.

  Once we were seated, I started my spiel. “I went to talk with Billy Hancock today, and he’s incorporating my business.”

  Cheers and congratulations went up from around the table.

  “But before I move forward, I need you guys to help me figure out who might’ve killed Lou Lou. I have to clear myself of any suspicion in her death,” I continued. “Who’s going to want to eat at the Down South Café if the proprietor is suspected of murdering the previous establishment’s owner?”

  “Hey, maybe Lou Lou ate some of her own food and died from that,” Roger piped up. “I mean, I know they think she was hit on the head, but maybe she hit it on something as she was falling.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I said.