Just in Time. Suzanne Trauth
and I chitchatted during the rest of the trip to Etonville, but in the back of my mind Ruby’s life competed for my attention. My powers of invention went to work. What did Ruby do, besides work with the Creston Players? Did she have a circle of friends outside the theater? Not that the Players were very friendly with her. What about her background? Family? How long had she lived alone? The questions piled up, and I gently pushed them aside as Lola approached the Windjammer.
“So you’ll be at the park tonight for the tech rehearsal?” she asked.
“Right. Benny’s closing the restaurant and I want to check out the picnic area where we’re setting up the food stand.” A previous attempt to supply homemade concessions for an ELT production backfired when a murder investigation waylaid the opening. Not to worry, I told myself. This time we were only selling drinks and snack boxes—also provided by Cheney Brothers. I hopped out of the Lexus. “See you later.”
Lola waved and drove off. I swung my bag over my shoulder. It was heavier now that it contained Ruby’s scrapbook. I was dying to dig into it—maybe during my break this afternoon.
“Good thing you’re back,” Benny said, greeting me at the Windjammer door.
“That bad?” I asked quietly. Customers had begun to wander in and tables were filling up.
Benny jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You better check it out ASAP.”
I hurried to the kitchen. “Mmmm. What smells so good in here?”
Wilson flashed his wide, wide smile, abandoned his knife on the cutting board—where he was preparing vegetables for tonight’s special: curried squash and eggs with raita salad—and put his arms out to grab me. “Do-dee!”
At the stove, Henry brandished his soup ladle.
I put up my hands in a defensive gesture and sidestepped Wilson’s embrace. Henry stared darkly into his soup pot. “I guess we’re not serving the cream of asparagus. I’ll call Cheney Brothers and get the order here for tomorrow. Escarole and white bean soup is a good replacement,” I said optimistically.
Henry grunted. I could understand his second-guessing his decision for tonight’s winner. I felt the curried squash might be a trifle experimental for Etonville’s taste. Unfortunately, he’d chosen the winner last week—when he’d been in a euphoric mood because business was brisk, customers were complimentary, and Wilson hadn’t dropped anything for several hours. Now he was living with his decision. I patted Henry’s arm. “It will all work out.” Huh? “I’m sure people will love the squash and eggs.”
Wilson beamed. Didn’t anything get that guy down?
* * * *
Henry’s grilled three-cheese sandwiches—a staple at the Windjammer—sold like hotcakes and his soup special was holding its own, except for three or four peevish customers.
“Today’s soup special was supposed to be cream of asparagus,” said one of the Banger sisters.
“We had a slight problem with the vegetable delivery,” I said apologetically.
“We like cream of asparagus soup,” said the other sister. They waited expectantly for me to respond.
“That’s nice.” I moved on.
“Dodie, what’s with all of the white food?” asked Vernon, Mildred’s husband.
White food?
“Vernon, let Dodie alone. Can’t you see she’s busy?”
He ignored Mildred. “Last night it was white veal stew, today it’s white bean soup—”
Mildred tsked. “Next time I’m leaving you home.”
“What?” Vernon asked and cranked up his hearing aids.
I moved around the dining room, gauging the gastronomic satisfaction level of Etonville’s citizens. I’d say about a three on a five-point scale today. Wait until they taste tested the contest winner tonight…Yikes!
I rang up Edna’s take-out order for the Etonville Police Department—tuna salad, grilled cheese, and Henry’s special burger for Bill. He was crazy about them. “Busy over there today?’
Edna tucked stray hairs into her bun and leaned in. “Well, something’s up,” she said knowingly.
“Yeah?” I handed her change for the two twenties. “The chief’s been in and out three times, had Suki on the line to the Creston police, and didn’t bother ordering anything when I made my run to Coffee Heaven.”
“Sounds like something is up. Any idea what?” Edna was usually good for police chatter.
“It could be something simple like an 11-25 or 11-54…but I’m thinking it’s more a 10-29.”
Edna loved her codes, no doubt about it, and I’d become so accustomed to speaking to her in police shorthand that I recognized some of them. “10-29? That’s a ‘subject wanted.’”
She tucked the change into her purse. “Yep. 10-29F.”
A felony. What was going on? I’d have to wait to hear from Bill.
“Gotta scoot.” Edna dashed off.
* * * *
I went behind the counter to take a breather and drew myself a seltzer. I kept one eye on the dining room and the other on my cell. Lola texted asking if I’d heard from Bill about Ruby’s cue sheets.
A polite voice interrupted my messaging. “Could I have a menu, please?”
I glanced up and saw the friendly face of Alex, the musical director. He sat down on a barstool. “Of course.” I handed him the laminated card and a glass of ice water. “The soup special is escarole and white bean, but we’re also featuring our grilled three cheese sandwich. People love it.”
He pondered available choices, then, brushing light brown hair off his forehead. “I’ll take the special. I hear the chef is a master at creating soups and chowders.”
“Good choice.” I wrote up his order and handed it to Gillian, who headed to the kitchen. “We haven’t formally met. I’m—”
“Dodie. Yes, I know. I’ve seen you at rehearsals, and here of course. I’m—”
“Alex. Ditto on seeing you.” He put out his hand and I took it. His courtesy was old world, but nice. “I hear you’re taking over Ruby’s place at the piano,” I said gently.
His affable features clouded over, his dark eyes dimmed. “It’s awful. I’ll miss her.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Were you…close?”
“We weren’t what you’d call close. We’d run into each other at the Players theater, maybe coaching an actor, or doing incidental music for a show, but this was the first musical we worked on together. Ruby’d been with the Creston Players for ten years. I’m new this year. I’ve been doing musical direction for them since last September.” He hesitated. “Ruby was a memorable person.”
“I’d say.”
“She had her own way of doing things, that’s for sure.” Alex took a sip of water.
“She could read a score and then do it from memory,” I said. “That’s amazing.”
“Exactly. I’ve only met one other person in my life who could do that,” he said.
“Good thing you know the score so well. Now that you’re playing the show and conducting.”
“It’s fine. I’ve done it before. I wish Lola had found Ruby’s cue sheets from Monday night’s rehearsal. Tonight’s tech would be so much easier,” Alex said.
“We looked all over Ruby’s apartment. Not that there was much to search. She lived simply,”