Read Online The Cereal Murders by Diane Mott Davidson - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Mott Davidson
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Cooking, Large Type Books, Colorado, Caterers and Catering, Cookery, Bear; Goldy (Fictitious Character), Women in the Food Industry
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her tray down on the table and stomped out the wooden door of the church. Her chain of keys made a loud chinking sound when the edge of the door caught them. She didn't stop to tell me good-bye. She didn't even take off her apron.
4
Father Olson tugged on his beard. "I do wish she hadn't made fun of Heidegger...."
"Oh," I said sympathetically. "She's going through a bad time."
Father Olson moved off to smooth the Dawsons' ruffled feathers. Personally, I didn't know whether Audrey needed understanding, self-improvement, or a brand-new outlook on life. But she sure needed something. Pain seeped out of her like water from a leaking dam. I resolved to say a few carefully chosen words of support the next time we worked together. Carefully chosen, because Arch always said that what I thought of as support was giving somebody the Heimlich maneuver when all they'd done was hiccup.
Hank Dawson nodded at Father Olson and maneuvered his way back to me. "Isn't Ben Jonson a Canadian runner?" His brow furrowed.
"Yes, of course. Named after a sixteenth-century playwright, perhaps."
"Who does that woman think she is?"
"Well, she was upset..."
Hank Dawson poured himself another cup of coffee and blew on it. He looked down his broad nose at me. "Audrey Coopersmith has distressed my wife." This from the fellow who the night before had given me that classic henpecked look: Don't worry, I have to live with her. Maybe the more distress Audrey created for Caroline Dawson, the more there was for Mr. Caroline Dawson.
"Well, Hank..."
"Listen. Audrey's just jealous because of how gifted our Greer is. Heather is good in math and science, period. Greer, mind you, has been making up stories since she was eight. She excels in languages and is an athlete, to boot. She's well-rounded, and that's what they're all looking for, you know that. Heather and Greer in a contest? That's not a game, It s a rout."
"Of course," I said soothingly. "But you know we all feel so protective of our children. Especially after what happened last night."
Hank swirled the coffee around and regarded me with his stern ice-blue eyes. "Oh, tell me! Nine thousand bucks a year, and then you tell me you find a dead body after a dinner at the headmaster's house! Jesus H. Christ'"
"Father Olson is within earshot," I murmured. Hank lifted a jaw that was so sharp it would have cut an Italian salami. He spat out his words. "Of all times for that school to get caught up in a scandal, this is the worst. These kids have their senior years, college applications, all that coming up. And what business does Audrey Coopersmith" - the blue eyes blazed as his voice rose -"who has never done a thing with her life, have judging our daughter? Greer placed fifth in the state in the National French Contest. She's written poems... she went to a writers' conference and studied with the writer-in-residence at Harvard "
"Greer's wonderful, wonderful," I lied. "Everybody thinks so."
The king of the short people grunted, turned on his heel, and walked off.
The strange part about Audrey's outburst was that within ten minutes Caroline Dawson had a change of heart-not toward Audrey, but toward me. Or, more accurately, toward my plum cake. Wanted to show she wasn't all snob, I guess. Before the stragglers had left the church coffee hour, when I was cleaning up the last bird-built-of-apple slices, she bustled over and announced she'd changed her mind. What could she possibly have been thinking? Of course they'd love to have me sell plum cakes at the cafe. They were absolutely delicious, and would go over wonderfully with their clientele. Should we start with six a week?
Oh, definitely, I'd replied meekly. The cake go-ahead wrapped me in a small cloud of good feeling, so rashly informed Father Olson I'd do his clergy meeting if the church could pay for my labor and supplies.
4
Father Olson tugged on his beard. "I do wish she hadn't made fun of Heidegger...."
"Oh," I said sympathetically. "She's going through a bad time."
Father Olson moved off to smooth the Dawsons' ruffled feathers. Personally, I didn't know whether Audrey needed understanding, self-improvement, or a brand-new outlook on life. But she sure needed something. Pain seeped out of her like water from a leaking dam. I resolved to say a few carefully chosen words of support the next time we worked together. Carefully chosen, because Arch always said that what I thought of as support was giving somebody the Heimlich maneuver when all they'd done was hiccup.
Hank Dawson nodded at Father Olson and maneuvered his way back to me. "Isn't Ben Jonson a Canadian runner?" His brow furrowed.
"Yes, of course. Named after a sixteenth-century playwright, perhaps."
"Who does that woman think she is?"
"Well, she was upset..."
Hank Dawson poured himself another cup of coffee and blew on it. He looked down his broad nose at me. "Audrey Coopersmith has distressed my wife." This from the fellow who the night before had given me that classic henpecked look: Don't worry, I have to live with her. Maybe the more distress Audrey created for Caroline Dawson, the more there was for Mr. Caroline Dawson.
"Well, Hank..."
"Listen. Audrey's just jealous because of how gifted our Greer is. Heather is good in math and science, period. Greer, mind you, has been making up stories since she was eight. She excels in languages and is an athlete, to boot. She's well-rounded, and that's what they're all looking for, you know that. Heather and Greer in a contest? That's not a game, It s a rout."
"Of course," I said soothingly. "But you know we all feel so protective of our children. Especially after what happened last night."
Hank swirled the coffee around and regarded me with his stern ice-blue eyes. "Oh, tell me! Nine thousand bucks a year, and then you tell me you find a dead body after a dinner at the headmaster's house! Jesus H. Christ'"
"Father Olson is within earshot," I murmured. Hank lifted a jaw that was so sharp it would have cut an Italian salami. He spat out his words. "Of all times for that school to get caught up in a scandal, this is the worst. These kids have their senior years, college applications, all that coming up. And what business does Audrey Coopersmith" - the blue eyes blazed as his voice rose -"who has never done a thing with her life, have judging our daughter? Greer placed fifth in the state in the National French Contest. She's written poems... she went to a writers' conference and studied with the writer-in-residence at Harvard "
"Greer's wonderful, wonderful," I lied. "Everybody thinks so."
The king of the short people grunted, turned on his heel, and walked off.
The strange part about Audrey's outburst was that within ten minutes Caroline Dawson had a change of heart-not toward Audrey, but toward me. Or, more accurately, toward my plum cake. Wanted to show she wasn't all snob, I guess. Before the stragglers had left the church coffee hour, when I was cleaning up the last bird-built-of-apple slices, she bustled over and announced she'd changed her mind. What could she possibly have been thinking? Of course they'd love to have me sell plum cakes at the cafe. They were absolutely delicious, and would go over wonderfully with their clientele. Should we start with six a week?
Oh, definitely, I'd replied meekly. The cake go-ahead wrapped me in a small cloud of good feeling, so rashly informed Father Olson I'd do his clergy meeting if the church could pay for my labor and supplies.
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