Sugar and Vice Read online

  “You want to change that?” Kate asked, curious.

  “I want the Coral Cay Irregulars to change that,” Barb emphasized. “We meet again on Sunday. Or we’re supposed to, if Harp is still hosting us. I have to check with him on that. All that nonsense with Caroline. He might not be up to it. But if we do meet, I’m going to propose that we take up the mystery of Gentleman George. And I wanted to see if you and Maxi would support me.”

  Kate had to admit, the pirate’s story—true or not—was riveting. From a practical standpoint, it would also give her and Maxi a cover for what they were already investigating: Alvin.

  Barb Showalter had also been a generous friend to Sam—despite the bookstore owner’s claims to the contrary—during the weeks the baker had been in jail. Before the police figured out who really killed Stewart Lord.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Kate said finally. “Count me in. And I can’t speak for Maxi. But I think she’d love it.”

  Barb beamed. “I know we had a false start the other day. But I believe we can do this. Four-hundred-year-old cold case or not, if we all put our heads together, I think we can finally solve the mystery of what really happened to Sir George Bly.”

  Chapter 10

  As it approached noon, a lull between waves of customers gave Kate time to reload the cookie trays in the bakery case. The classic oatmeal cookies were a big hit. And the chocolate chip variety was outselling raisin three-to-one.

  Kate was already planning a few more test batches—one with butterscotch chips, another with shredded coconut.

  The front door banged open and Maxi struggled in lugging a large ceramic vase of red roses.

  “OK, that is seriously huge,” Kate said, stacking warm chocolate chip cookies into neat rows in the case. “You look like a flower arrangement with legs.”

  “From one of your many suitors with his compliments,” Maxi said grinning, as she hoisted it up on one end of the bakery counter.

  “So not funny. Which one is this?”

  “The ex. I’m putting off the Harp flowers as long as possible.”

  “Because once I receive them, I have to say ‘thank you’ and let him down easy?”

  “Because I keep hoping the young coot will come to his senses.”

  “Young coot?” Kate asked.

  “He’s not old enough to be an old coot,” Maxi said, turning the vase slightly and readjusting several of the blooms. “But he’s no spring chicken, either. You sure you don’t want me to refuse to fill that one? We can invoke the mercy rule. Like at Miguel’s soccer games.”

  “What’s that?” Kate asked, handing her friend a cookie wrapped in a paper napkin.

  “Gracias! If one team gets too much of a lead on the other—so much they can’t possibly win—the coaches invoke the mercy rule and end the game. The winner still wins, but nobody gets super trounced. I say we need the same thing for dating. So if some guy is chasing a woman way out of his league or much too young, she can invoke the mercy rule and everybody walks away—no hard feelings.”

  “OK, I kind of like that,” Kate said, retrieving a cookie for herself. “But no, I’m going to have to deal with Harp. And I think I’d rather do it in person than on the phone.”

  “Gutsy,” Maxi said, taking a dainty bite. “You want me to come?”

  “No, it’s going to be awkward enough. But I’m definitely taking Oliver. And I might take some cookies.”

  “Make defeat easier to swallow?”

  “Something like that. I just don’t want him to interpret it as flirting.”

  “Ay, this makes me so glad I’m already married,” she said, polishing off the last of the treat and wiping her hands with the napkin. “That and mi amor. Who has called like six times today. He pretends he has little things to ask. But really he just wants to make sure I’m OK. I love him, but he’s driving me nutty.”

  “Sounds about right. You just missed Sam. He took a delivery over to Amos Tully. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he stops by your place on the way back.”

  “Only four times so far this morning,” Maxi said, holding up a quartet of fingers. “Mi padrino keeps finding things that need fixing. I’ve never had so many new light bulbs in my life.”

  “They’re worried about you. He and Peter both. Me too, for that matter.”

  “I opened my purse before to get my hairbrush,” Maxi said. “You know what I found? A giant can of pepper spray.”

  “In the language of plants, pepper spray means love,” Kate said, smiling.

  “At least it’s easier to carry around than those roses. I can’t believe your boy Evan is doing this.”

  “I can’t believe he came all the way down here. And I keep wondering why.”

  “Calling on the phone didn’t work. So he’s kicking it up a notch. Or maybe his shiny new toy doesn’t seem so shiny and new anymore.”

  “I’m thinking it’s that last one.”

  “Hey, how about we pack him and Harp both off to a deserted island? One of those places at the end of the Keys? It could be like one of those buddy movies. Or a reality survival show.”

  “Only if the island is Manhattan. Evan wouldn’t last long without room service and a good dry cleaner.”

  “You see? He and Harp have a lot in common. So where do you suppose your ex is staying? A fancy penthouse suite at one of the resorts? Or maybe the one where you get the little luxury bungalows all to yourself?”

  “Nope. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s on the yacht. I’m just praying he didn’t bring his mother along. Amanda’s a trip and a half. The funny thing is, I actually miss her.”

  “Been in touch?”

  “Last month. She’d left a few messages. So I finally called her.”

  “Corizon, if you can handle that call, you can handle anything. What did you say? Did you tell momma that sonny-boy is a sorry hound dog?”

  “No, I told her that the relationship hadn’t been working, and it was better that we realized it before the wedding instead of after.”

  “Damn, chica, that’s classy. I’d have been tempted to give her all the juicy details. And a couple of the photos.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she already knew. Amanda can read between the lines. Besides, from what I heard, Evan’s father was the same way. Movie-star looks. Piles of family money. And no off switch.”

  “So the boy comes by it honestly?” Maxi asked.

  Kate nodded.

  “Well, if you want to bring some more of those cookies, I’ve got another show you might wanna see. Those radar guys just showed up. In a little while, we’ll find out if Alvin has a friend.”

  Chapter 11

  Sitting on the back patio of Flowers Maximus, Kate and Maxi dispatched another half dozen warm chocolate chip cookies, along with most of a pitcher of iced lemonade.

  A half hour later, Kate nipped over to the bakery for another pitcher, along with some cookies for the radar crew.

  While one technician happily accepted both, his co-worker quickly chugged a glass of lemonade and headed back to the machine.

  “Don’t take it personally,” his buddy confided. “Crash diet. His twenty-year class reunion’s next week,”

  “So did you guys find anything?” Maxi asked.

  Despite her carefree demeanor, frequent clenched fists and tension in her smile told Kate the florist was putting on a brave front.

  “Uh, we’re not supposed to discuss the results with civilians,” he said, looking guiltily at the cookie in his hand. “But between you and me, nothing.”

  “Good,” Kate said.

  “Any luck and that last thing’ll be just a one-off,” the tech added, grabbing a second cookie from the box with a mammoth paw as he headed back to work.

  “It’s sorta hypnotic,” Maxi said, as she watched them slowly crisscross the yard pushing a giant black box supported by what looked like three fat bicycle tires. “So when do you think mi padrino will stop by next?”

  “Not for a while,” Kate said, no
dding at the lumbering machinery. “Since you have a couple of protectors over here already. Plus, he’s trying out a new recipe for the festival. Pirate bread.”

  “Ay, the whole island has pirate fever. What in the world is pirate bread?”

  “Sam wanted to do something authentic. Something that the pirates would have actually eaten. So he did some research and found a recipe for hardtack.”

  “That sounds like something you buy at a hardware store.”

  “Then it tastes pretty much like it sounds,” Kate said. “Fortunately, sailors could carry it on long sea voyages because it never went bad. Unfortunately, that’s because it was never good in the first place. Basically, it starts out hard and tasteless.”

  “Ay, poor Sam. So what’s he going to do now?”

  “A peace offering to the old pirates. Instead of what they actually ate, he’s developing something they would have enjoyed, if they could have. He’s calling it pirate bread. It’s big and flat, like hardtack. But it’s made up of a lot of light, flaky layers. He’s using sea salt, and he adds rosemary.”

  “Rosemary means remembrance,” Maxi said, nodding.

  “That’s what Sam said. And I stole a piece earlier. Buttery and good.”

  “OK, I’d like to try some of that,” Maxi said.

  Suddenly, the machine in the yard let out a cacophony of electronic beeps. The tech stopped and rolled it back over the same area. It happened again. After a third roll-by, he stopped.

  “Dios mio!” Maxi said under her breath.

  “Not again,” Kate whispered.

  The first tech signaled and the second one marked off a patch of the yard with pink fluorescent spray paint. The spot was about four feet from where Oliver had discovered Alvin.

  One tech quickly shut down the machine, while the other grabbed two shovels from their pile of tools near the patio. When the guy passed Kate and Maxi, he shrugged.

  “I can’t watch,” Maxi said, covering her eyes.

  “It’s OK,” Kate said softly, patting her friend’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, it’s going to be alright.”

  “We’re going to have to sell this place and move the shop,” she said. “Ten years making it perfecto. Every bush, every flower, every tree. Who’s going to want it now?”

  “Right now, just breathe,” Kate said, as she felt her own heart hammering.

  A few minutes later, the crew hit pay dirt. Kate watched them use the sides of their shovels to clear away the soil. Then one tech knelt and leaned in for a better view. Kate saw relief on his face, as the second one broke into a wide grin.

  “Any chance you got a dog?” he shouted.

  “Definitely!” Kate called back.

  The second tech bent over, reached down into the hole and pulled out a large chew bone, waving it triumphantly in the air.

  “Look, Maxi! It’s OK. It’s just one of Oliver’s toys.”

  The florist pulled her hands from her eyes and took in the scene. Her face relaxed into a smile. “Gracias,” she said softly.

  “Hey, I know what will take your mind off things,” Kate said. “Barb stopped by the Cookie House this morning. She wants us to find Gentleman George.”

  “Unless he’s crouched behind those raised garden beds or hiding beside that big tree in the front yard, I haven’t got a clue,” Maxi said, before draining what was left of her lemonade in one long gulp.

  “No, I mean, she wants the book club to take it on as a project,” Kate explained. “She’s going to propose it at the meeting this Sunday. She wanted to get our support in advance.”

  “Canvassing for votes. Very cagey. And very Barb. La Presidenta doesn’t want to suggest an idea and fall on her face. So she’s counting the votes ahead of time.”

  “Apparently, she’s a real history buff,” Kate said. “And she loves the Gentleman George story. She’s also convinced it could help tourism on the island.”

  “OK, that I believe. Barb is a super-smart businesswoman. If she thinks it will help, it probably will.”

  “I was also thinking it could give us an excuse for nosing around,” Kate said. “Since we’re trying to find out what happened with Alvin.”

  “Ooo, sneaky! I like it. Still, it’s gonna go on one super long to-do list. Now in my spare time, when I’m not digging bones out of my yard, or chatting about little nothings with mi amor, or clearing cans of pepper spray out of my purse, or delivering giant flowers, I’ve gotta keep my eyes peeled for a four-hundred-year-old pirate.”

  Chapter 12

  It took Maxi several minutes to politely work her way to the front of the crowded bakeshop. The oversized flower arrangement she was hauling didn’t help. And the steady thrum of conversation among the customers meant that almost no one heard her say “excuse me,” as she tried to wind her way through the throng.

  “So the good news is Alvin doesn’t have any friends,” she said softly, sliding the large vase of roses onto the counter as she handed off the card to Kate. “The bad news is that you-know-who didn’t change his mind.”

  “I’ll go talk to him after work,” Kate said crisply, pocketing the card.

  “Oh, nice roses!” Bridget O’Hanlon said. “They must be from your fiancé. Is he an actor? He’s really cute.”

  “Ex-fiancé,” Kate corrected, as she herded a dozen sourdough rolls into a white wax-paper bag. “Emphasis on ‘ex.’”

  “Ex as in ‘exit,’” Maxi added.

  “Are you sure?” Bridget asked, watching Kate fill her order. “’Cause I swore he said ‘fiancé’ when he was in the pub this afternoon.”

  “I’m sure that was just a slip of the tongue on his part,” Kate said. “We broke up this long time.”

  “OK, well, whatever,” the pub owner said, accepting the bag. When she reached the shop door she hesitated, turning.

  “But Mitzy Allen heard Delores Philpott mention he’d hired a real estate agent to find a place in town,” Bridget called over the din. “She figured that you guys were house hunting. You know, for after the wedding.”

  With that, she disappeared out the door.

  “Oh, that’s sweet,” said Minette Ivers, stepping up to the counter. “Let’s see, I’m going to need a loaf of wheat, sliced. And a dozen of those oatmeal cookies. Oh shoot, add in a half dozen of the ones with chocolate, too. I wish my Carl would have done that. I had to find every single one of our homes my own self. ’Course that man was working all hours,” she said, grinning. “Before, during, and after our wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Sam said, coming through the swinging doors carrying a fresh batch of garlic naan. “Who’s getting married?”

  “Kate is,” Phyllis Webster piped up from across the crowded shop.

  “Her groom’s an actor,” Frannie Alfano added from the other corner. “And he’s buying her a big house in Coral Cay as a wedding present.”

  Sam wrinkled his nose and looked at Kate.

  She shook her head vigorously. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she enunciated clearly. “Evan’s not my groom. He’s not my fiancé. He’s not even my boyfriend. And I seriously doubt he’s shopping for a home anywhere south of Fifth Avenue. He’s dating a Manhattan real estate agent.”

  “Why’s this place look like a florist?” Sam grumbled.

  “It’s a new advertising campaign,” Maxi announced brightly. “We put big flowers over here. And we give away cookies to customers at the flower shop.”

  Sam looked dubious. “Got some challah that husband of yours likes. Might taste good with dinner.” With that, he retreated back to the kitchen.

  “Now ladies,” Kate said, cheerily. “Let me tell you all about our brand-new cookie-of-the-day contest.”

  Chapter 13

  As Kate walked out the front door of the bakery, she turned the sign to CLOSED.

  Oliver, who’d been napping on one of the white benches on the front porch of the Cookie House, leapt from his perch and fell into step.

  “The name of the game is ‘keep i
t short,’” Kate informed him, as she slipped a gingersnap to the pup. “I brought a box of anise cookies for Harp. We drop in, let him down gently, and take off. Got it?”

  Oliver quickly looked away.

  “OK, it’s not much of a plan, I admit, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

  As they passed Wheels, something in the window caught her eye. Kate stopped and peered into the bicycle shop. The object looked like an actual artifact: a large treasure map, wrinkled and yellowed with age.

  Kate looked up, and Claire St. John was standing in the doorway, smiling. “So what do you think?”

  “This is amazing,” Kate said. “Is it real?”

  Oliver galloped toward Claire, who squatted down to greet him.

  “I made it, actually,” Claire explained in her clipped British accent, as she tousled the silky hair on Oliver’s head and patted his flank. “To advertise the bike tours I lead during the Pirate Festival. I’ve dubbed it the Treasure Island Tour. That’s the display. And everyone on the tour will get their own copy. But they’re much smaller. More the size of a letter.”

  “How did you do this? It looks authentic.”

  Claire stood and walked over to the window, next to Kate. “Old British remedy. Tea. Of course, it works best with paper that’s mostly cotton. I give each sheet a bath in a dishpan of strong tea. It dries looking ancient and wrinkled. I even apply some extra with a sponge—to create the dark splotches—and make it appear more realistic. Weathered. Then once the paper dries, I print out the maps using brown ink instead of black.”

  “This is amazing.”

  “I was actually rather chuffed,” she said proudly. “With that one, I even burned the edges a little. But I can’t do that with every one.”

  “Too time consuming?”

  “Too nerve wracking,” Claire said, laughing. “I was a shambles. Convinced I was going to set off the fire sirens.”

  “This is a work of art,” Kate said, shaking her head.

  “You should see my storeroom. It looks more like a darkroom. Or a printer’s studio. I’ve got a washing line with bits of damp paper strung across the place.”