Cat Trick

I propped my elbows on the counter. “I was thinking about one of your breakfast sandwiches.”

“Good choice,” Claire said as she passed behind Eric with her half-empty coffeepot.

He smiled and headed back to the kitchen. “It’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

I was wondering how to bring up the subject of Mike Glazer’s death as Claire set a napkin-wrapped bundle of utensils by my right elbow. She gave me a thoughtful look and then said, “Kathleen, is it true that you found Mr. Glazer’s body?” Her face flushed. “That was a tacky question, wasn’t it?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “And yes, I did find his body.” I didn’t bother adding the part about my cat finding it first.

“The guy was obnoxious, but”—she gave a little shudder—“no one deserves to die all alone like that.”

I nodded, remembering how the body was slumped in the plastic chair in the dim light of the tent. “It seems like he rubbed some people the wrong way,” I said, reaching for my coffee.

“More like everybody.” She shot a quick glance past me to make sure the other customers weren’t trying to get her attention. “He wasn’t in here five minutes and he was telling Eric how he needed to change the menu and update the decor.”

I looked around. “What’s wrong with the decor?”

Claire gave a snort of laughter. “He thought we should go for a Parisian bistro look.”

“In Minnesota?”

She reached for the coffeepot and topped up my cup. “If people want a Parisian café, they’ll go to Paris. Tourists who come here are looking for a small-town restaurant with comfort food they recognize.”

Eric came out of the kitchen then. “You must be talking about Mike Glazer,” he said, as he slid a heavy plate in front of me. I could smell bacon, tomatoes and maybe a little thyme. The thick-cut sourdough bread had been pan-toasted—crisp and golden on the outside and soaked with tomatoes and spices on the inside.

I took a large bite and sighed with happiness. How could Mike have found fault with this?

Claire grinned at me and headed for the table by the window with the pot.

“I take it Claire was telling you about Glazer’s suggestions,” Eric said.

“Parisian bistro?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “He also thought we should get rid of all the ‘old-fashioned’ stuff on the menu, like the chocolate pudding cake.”

“Did he have any idea how popular that is?”

Eric shrugged. “Wasn’t interested. I made that recipe three times a day during the music festival last month. It was almost eighty degrees outside and the tourists were still ordering it.” He gave me a sideways smile. “By the way, how was last night’s batch?”

“Good,” I said.

His smile widened, and I knew I’d just been hooked in a fishing expedition. “Susan was positive it was you Marcus Gordon was trying to impress. As my grandmother used to say, are you and the detective keeping company?”

“No comment,” I said, bending my head over my plate. “And tell your wife she’s going to be dusting every single shelf in the library today.”

Eric laughed and gestured to my half-empty plate. “Would you like anything else?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.” I took another bite of the sandwich while Eric started a new pot of coffee.

“Are you still going to do the food tasting?” I asked.

“We are,” he said. He turned to look at me over one shoulder. “If Liam and his group can pull this together, it could be good for the town. And I know it sounds awful, but it’ll be a lot less of a hassle without Glazer.”

I reached for my cup. “Do you think it was just the small-town boy trying to show off his big-city polish?”

“It’s possible. Not such a good idea, if you ask me, considering he might have been leaving the big city.”

“What do you mean?”

Eric stopped to wash his hands and then came back over to the counter. “Friend of mine has a restaurant in Chicago. I called him when we knew this pitch to Legacy was a go. He said there was some talk going around that Glazer’s partners wanted him out of the company. Nothing specific, mostly just talk.”

Before I could ask if he knew why, Claire came back with an order for the three men—town workers—who had just come in.

Eric headed for the kitchen. “Have a good day, Kathleen,” he said. “And remember, Susan’s bringing lunch. Let me know what you think of the soup.”

Claire took my empty plate and I pulled out my wallet to pay for breakfast.

“Kathleen, are you going to be seeing Maggie anytime soon?” she asked.

“Tomorrow night at tai chi class,” I said. “Why?”