Read Online The Chocolate Cat Caper by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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Chicago I just wanted to assure you that you shouldn’t be upset over Marion’s actions, and to say you handled the situation as slick as a peeled onion.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ainsley.”
“Please call me Duncan.”
Well, that was peculiar. What did it matter what a peon like Lee McKinney called a man like Duncan Ainsley? He wasn’t coming on to me, was he? Back when I’d been a beauty queen, that had been known to happen. But now that I had gone in for the natural look . . . Ainsley mystified me.
“I appreciate your call,” I said lamely. “Then you’re leaving tonight?”
“The police asked me to stay overnight. It’s kind of awkward, being a house guest when the hostess dies. It’s not as if we were even close friends. Clementine just asked me to stay because I was a cosponsor for this event that didn’t come off. But I’m assuming the police will let me go in the morning, after they get this druggist fellow’s stupid ideas straightened out.”
“Then you don’t take the cyanide charge seriously?”
“Of course not! From what Marion said, I guess this man and Clementine had had some sort of disagreement earlier. But the thought of someone poisoning Clementine is plumb silly.”
“I thought she had a lot of enemies.”
“Well, yes. If a disgruntled client shot her—but to poison her in her own house? That’s ridiculous. Anyway, I do want to keep on top of the situation. Could I call you again?”
The request surprised me, and I reacted with my usual aplomb. I gasped and said, “What for?”
Ainsley chuckled. “You’re a bright young woman. Perhaps I might at least call on you for local knowledge as the situation develops?”
I was even more surprised at that idea. And right then another strange thing happened. I looked out into the shop—as I said, the office had glass windows that overlooked the workroom where the chocolates were made and the little retail shop—just as the street door opened.
Joe Woodyard walked in.
He looked through the several thicknesses of glass that separated us, and he glared at me.
I stood holding the phone, completely silent, until I heard Duncan Ainsley’s voice again. “Lee? May I call you? For local background?”
Suddenly I was very nervous. “I’ll be happy to help in any way I can,” I said. “But I’m not really a yokel.” And I hung up.
I stood there, feeling like a complete fool and staring at Joe Woodyard. This was all too strange. First a call from Duncan Ainsley. Then a visit from Joe Woodyard. I couldn’t believe my personal magnetism was suddenly attracting all the men I’d met that day.
Like other Warner Pier retailers, Aunt Nettie hired the children of friends to deal with the summer trade, and now Joe was talking to the teenager behind the counter, a girl with brown hair tucked into a stringy ponytail. She was no dippier than I had been the summer I was sixteen and worked for TenHuis Chocolade for the first time. She gestured behind her while she spoke to Joe. Then she came to the door to the shop and beckoned to me. “You have a visitor.”
I went to the counter.
Joe scowled. “I just wanted to talk to you about that scene out there. Marion has her reasons—”
Little Miss Teenage Counter Help was drinking in the whole conversation. I interrupted Joe. “Come on back.”
I ignored the disappointed look on the teenager—I’d just met her the day before, and I couldn’t remember her name. I decided the office was a little too close to the front counter, so I led Joe back to the break room. It’s more like an old-fashioned dining room, since it’s furnished with a heavy oak dining suite, including a tall china cupboard, which had belonged to Aunt Nettie’s grandmother, and with several mismatched easy chairs. The floor may be easyto-clean tile, and the only window may look out on an alley, but the room is bright and cheerful, and even decorated with several watercolors painted by local artists. Aunt Nettie and Uncle
“Thank you, Mr. Ainsley.”
“Please call me Duncan.”
Well, that was peculiar. What did it matter what a peon like Lee McKinney called a man like Duncan Ainsley? He wasn’t coming on to me, was he? Back when I’d been a beauty queen, that had been known to happen. But now that I had gone in for the natural look . . . Ainsley mystified me.
“I appreciate your call,” I said lamely. “Then you’re leaving tonight?”
“The police asked me to stay overnight. It’s kind of awkward, being a house guest when the hostess dies. It’s not as if we were even close friends. Clementine just asked me to stay because I was a cosponsor for this event that didn’t come off. But I’m assuming the police will let me go in the morning, after they get this druggist fellow’s stupid ideas straightened out.”
“Then you don’t take the cyanide charge seriously?”
“Of course not! From what Marion said, I guess this man and Clementine had had some sort of disagreement earlier. But the thought of someone poisoning Clementine is plumb silly.”
“I thought she had a lot of enemies.”
“Well, yes. If a disgruntled client shot her—but to poison her in her own house? That’s ridiculous. Anyway, I do want to keep on top of the situation. Could I call you again?”
The request surprised me, and I reacted with my usual aplomb. I gasped and said, “What for?”
Ainsley chuckled. “You’re a bright young woman. Perhaps I might at least call on you for local knowledge as the situation develops?”
I was even more surprised at that idea. And right then another strange thing happened. I looked out into the shop—as I said, the office had glass windows that overlooked the workroom where the chocolates were made and the little retail shop—just as the street door opened.
Joe Woodyard walked in.
He looked through the several thicknesses of glass that separated us, and he glared at me.
I stood holding the phone, completely silent, until I heard Duncan Ainsley’s voice again. “Lee? May I call you? For local background?”
Suddenly I was very nervous. “I’ll be happy to help in any way I can,” I said. “But I’m not really a yokel.” And I hung up.
I stood there, feeling like a complete fool and staring at Joe Woodyard. This was all too strange. First a call from Duncan Ainsley. Then a visit from Joe Woodyard. I couldn’t believe my personal magnetism was suddenly attracting all the men I’d met that day.
Like other Warner Pier retailers, Aunt Nettie hired the children of friends to deal with the summer trade, and now Joe was talking to the teenager behind the counter, a girl with brown hair tucked into a stringy ponytail. She was no dippier than I had been the summer I was sixteen and worked for TenHuis Chocolade for the first time. She gestured behind her while she spoke to Joe. Then she came to the door to the shop and beckoned to me. “You have a visitor.”
I went to the counter.
Joe scowled. “I just wanted to talk to you about that scene out there. Marion has her reasons—”
Little Miss Teenage Counter Help was drinking in the whole conversation. I interrupted Joe. “Come on back.”
I ignored the disappointed look on the teenager—I’d just met her the day before, and I couldn’t remember her name. I decided the office was a little too close to the front counter, so I led Joe back to the break room. It’s more like an old-fashioned dining room, since it’s furnished with a heavy oak dining suite, including a tall china cupboard, which had belonged to Aunt Nettie’s grandmother, and with several mismatched easy chairs. The floor may be easyto-clean tile, and the only window may look out on an alley, but the room is bright and cheerful, and even decorated with several watercolors painted by local artists. Aunt Nettie and Uncle