Chapter 17
Dear Natasha,
I adore your TV show. You have such style. I try to model myself after you. My dear husband’s birthday is coming up. His favorite meal is meatloaf and corn bread, but after watching you, I know that’s too pedestrian. What would you serve for a birthday dinner celebration?
Loving Wife in Celebration, Florida
Dear Loving Wife,
I am so glad you asked! Chilean sea bass with sweet-and-spicy hot pepper jelly would be such an elegant entrée. Serve it with lima beans and pureed turnips.
Natasha
I was horrified. Natasha would wither and die without her TV show. She might be a pest and have some weird decorating ideas, but the show was the one thing that anchored her. Maybe they wanted Tilly to fill in for Natasha while she was with Charlene?
“You mean on a temporary basis?” I asked.
“No. They want me to come in and bring them down-home flavor.”
I tried to sound happy. “That’s wonderful. And just in time for your book to come out, too.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Things are looking up for me.” She glanced toward her husband. “I wish I could say the same for Wesley. He’s completely distraught about the Abby situation. He didn’t sleep all night. And he has barely touched any food. He just chugs down coffee by the potful.”
Was that normal? If he truly had nothing to do with Abby’s disappearance or Mia’s death, would he be so troubled about it?
“Is he usually high-strung?”
Tilly gazed at me in surprise. “Never! Wesley is the calmest man in the world. He’s the one you want to have around in a crisis because he’s so logical and placid. He takes care of everything. He’s a born leader.”
Funny how different my impression was of Wesley. I was itching to ask if she was certain nothing had been going on between her husband and Abby, but I didn’t dare.
Since I was there, Tilly decided to cook Wesley’s favorite meal for the cookbook. While I took notes on her Southern-style meatloaf and corn bread, I eavesdropped on the conversation between Jericho and Wesley.
“You have to ride it out,” said Jericho. “This is nothing compared to what I’ve been through before.”
“Call Wolf. I want an update.”
“Get a grip, Wesley. You don’t want to poke the Wolf. He’s the one person we need to handle very carefully.” Jericho lowered his voice, and I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I would have sworn that I heard my name.
By noon, I had everything I needed to add the two recipes to the cookbook. Only a couple more and we would be done. I left the three of them to eat meatloaf and corn bread for lunch. I was walking toward the front door when I heard someone jogging down the hallway behind me. Jericho caught up to me.
“Hey, Sophie! I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner sometime?”
No! Either he was very bad at picking up on subtle hints that someone wasn’t crazy about him, or he wanted to press me to get information from Wolf. I decided it was the latter. “Look, Stu, you must not know Wolf at all. He’s not going to tell me anything unless it will be public knowledge in five minutes.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You think I’m using you. Actually, I just wanted to get to know you better.”
I didn’t believe a word he said. I grappled with the problem women have had for eons. How to turn down a guy without being rude or hurting his feelings. Not that I particularly cared about his feelings, but no one likes to be hurtful. “That’s very kind of you, but I’ve just started seeing someone,” I lied. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll let you know.”
I smiled at him and hoped I sounded convincing.
“And who is this lucky guy?”
Oh no! I was giving him an easy out. Why did he have to push it? “I’m not quite ready to let people know yet.” I winked at him and fled out the door before he could pursue the topic or me!
All I’d had to eat was half a little apple tart. I was famished. I stopped by The Laughing Hound. Located in an old building that was once a huge home, it was broken into several dining areas.
Bernie saw me enter and motioned for me to join him. “You’re just in time for lunch. Roasted chicken salad?”
“Sounds great.”
He took me through the kitchen, where he asked a waiter to add another chicken salad, then led me out on the back deck, where Wolf sat at a table with a young woman.
Bernie, who had been raised in England and various exotic ports around the world, spoke with a delightful British accent, which made anything he said sound completely brilliant. His mother had dragged him along as she married an assortment of absurdly wealthy men. The last I’d heard she currently lived in Shanghai. Bernie had been the best man at my wedding to Mars. None of us had expected footloose Bernie to settle in Old Town, but to our surprise, he took over management of The Laughing Hound for an absentee owner and turned it into a popular eatery. He had a talent for the business.
Even though he was now a respectable restaurateur, his sandy hair still looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. And he would forever be marked by the kink in his nose where it had been broken once, or possibly twice. The stories about just how it had happened varied and seemed to grow with each retelling.
“Soph, this is Brittany Shelburne,” he said.
Brittany wore the restaurant’s uniform of black trousers, white shirt, and black vest. When she turned her head, I saw that she wore a sparkling rhinestone ponytail holder.
We gathered at a table under ceiling heaters. We were the only people on the porch.
The waiter brought out hot apple cider and roasted chicken salads for all of us. They were plated beautifully on a mound of mixed greens and red quinoa. Strips of roasted chicken radiated from the top with long pieces of red and yellow peppers between them. A creamy garlic dressing was served on the side.
“Tell Wolf what you told me, Brittany,” said Bernie.
“Sure. You know that lady, Abby? I didn’t know her name before I saw her picture on the news. She was here Friday having dinner with Bernie’s friend.”
“Mars?” asked Wolf.
That came as a surprise. I had known that they were dating, and I was certain Mars would have told Wolf. But I didn’t realize that Mars had been out with Abby the night she disappeared. I looked at Wolf’s expression. He always had a poker face. It was so frustrating not to know when he was surprised or worried. I now wondered if Mars had been the last person to see her alive. That would mean the police would be taking a harder look at him.
“Did they leave together?” I asked. “Do you recall?”
Brittany thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure they did. I was their waitperson that night. For what it’s worth, they didn’t seem to be having fun. You can tell when a date isn’t working out. One person does all the talking and the other one looks eager to run out of the restaurant. Also, when it’s a lousy date, they never order dessert. They want to get away from each other as soon as possible.”
Wolf listened intently. Her last comments made him chuckle.
“They said on the news to call the police with any information on Charlene Smith. She’s been here, too,” said Brittany.