A Deadly Inside Scoop Page 8

Yes! I pumped my fist and stole a glance at PopPop.

  My first customer. Family business, surely, but I knew this rebranding was all on me.

  I pressed the “No Sale” button on the cash register and pulled out the five-dollar bill she’d given me. It wasn’t the first money our little shop had ever made, but it was the first for me. It may have been a corny thing to do, but I was going to frame it. Even if the person who gave it to me hadn’t planned on buying ice cream when she came in.

  “Is that Rivkah’s cat?” PopPop spoke for the first time since the woman had come in. A big smile showing all his teeth emerged across his face. “Is she here, too?”

  chapter

  TWELVE

  The hands on that old clock on the wall dragged around at a snail’s pace. If I wasn’t watching it, I was watching the door or PopPop. Looking for customers. Looking to see if he was watching me or the door like I was.

  About an hour after he got in, PopPop had a friend drop by who bought two scoops of ice cream and then sat down to play backgammon with him.

  I wiped down the counters. Twice. Checked the temperature of the freezer. Three times. And paced the length of the space behind the dipping cabinet and register, phone in hand, a dozen times. I was nervous. Anxious. Waiting . . . Hoping for customers.

  “I know I’m late.” My mother came rushing out from the back, still tying her apron around her. “But my morning was just hectic.”

  I didn’t know what kept my mother from being on time. She piddled around that big old house most mornings and some afternoons, all by herself, and took a lot of classes.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “We only had two customers.”

  “We had customers?” She looked toward the door, as if they were still lingering around it.

  “Isn’t that what we want?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head, her little tight ringlets bouncing around. “Yes. It’s what we want. That’s not what I was saying. I meant I knew they would come. Lots of them.” She cupped my face with the palm of her hand. “So don’t be worried,” she said, like she could read what I was feeling. “Oh.” She stopped. Peeking around me, she lowered her voice. “What is PopPop doing here?”

  “Right now he’s playing backgammon. But I think mostly he’s here to protect me.”

  “Protect you from what?”

  “From who,” I said.

  “Okay, who?”

  “The guy with the puppy.” She frowned up at me. “You know, yesterday morning.”

  “I know who you’re talking about,” she said. “But you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s exactly what PopPop said.” What had my family been up to? “Why does everyone keep telling me that?”

  “What? Telling you not to worry?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Oh.” She waved a hand. “We just don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “Afraid? Why would I be afraid of him? He didn’t act threatening. Or menacing.”

  “So ‘afraid’ wasn’t the right word. Alarmed,” she said, and looked at me as if gauging how I weighed in with that word. I groaned. “Worried.” She changed the word again and I blew out a breath. She seemed satisfied with that reaction.

  “Worried,” she repeated, as if saying she’d go with that. “We didn’t want you to worry about him.”

  “I wasn’t worried about him,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “Of course you are,” she said, and gave me a pat on the arm. She turned her attention to PopPop. “I’m going to say hi.”

  Two more customers, one after the other, came in while my mother was saying hi. Either that was the longest hello ever or they had their heads together about something. Probably protecting me from Puppy Guy. But I was happy to serve our customers by myself. One bought two scoops of the Ghoulish Blueberry and the other had a scoop of the strawberry shortcake I’d made the day before. They both got the “free scoop” coupon and promised to come back.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said after the last customer left. “I’m going to run and get something to eat.”

  She looked over at me. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.” I rubbed my belly, realizing I hadn’t eaten anything, other than tasting the ice cream I’d made in the wee hours of the morning, since yesterday.

  “You want me to go and get you something?”

  “No, I’ll go,” I said, undoing my apron strings. “Can you mind the shop for me?”

  “Of course, sweetie,” she said, and smiled. “But I have to leave soon. I have a Zumba class at two.” I looked at the clock. It was twelve forty-five. I held back my chuckle. She sure didn’t keep long work hours. I was always happy for her help and company, and I knew she was enjoying her retirement. “It’s okay, Wilhelmina and Maisie are going to come in. I actually thought Maisie would be here by now.”

  My stomach was growling as I walked to the back of the store and grabbed my coat off the rack. “People are trickling in,” I said. She followed me to the back. “I hope it won’t be too much to do alone. But you should be okay until those two get here.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I’m sure backup will arrive soon. Plus”—she tilted her head toward the front—“PopPop is here.”

  “He’s the bouncer today,” I said. “I don’t know if he’s doing double duty as the soda jerk, too.”

  She giggled like she did with my father’s jokes. The chime went off and my mother’s eyes got big. “We have a customer!”

  She was excited about helping me with the store. When Aunt Jack ran it, my mother never came down to help. Even though Grandma Kay was Aunt Jack’s mom, my mother was more protective of my grandmother and the way she had run the store. My mother didn’t approve at all of what Aunt Jack had done.

  Before she went to take care of the customer, she turned back to me. “This isn’t a parking lot kind of moment,” she said. “Don’t dwell on yesterday.” She rubbed her hands up and down my arms. “More customers”—she pointed over her shoulder—“just like this one will come. It’s early yet.”

  “No worries, Mommy.” Her optimism always made me feel better. “I’m just walking to get some soup,” I said. “I’m not even taking the car.”

  “That never stopped me.”

  “I assure you,” I said, chuckling, “there will be no loitering involved.”

  I walked down North Main and around the bend in the sidewalk as it started the first leg of the town square, then turned onto North Franklin Street and smiled. I was happy with the customers who had come in. Four was good to start—actually, five with PopPop’s friend getting a couple of scoops. My parking lot moment, if I were going to have one, would have been last night when I’d parked myself on Grandma Kay’s bench to pout.

  The Zoup! line was long. Nearly out the door. Envy tingled through me and I made my way to the back of the line. I was cold, not because of the weather, although I probably should have put my long-sleeved shirt back on before going outside. But my chill was because I was full of anticipation. I rubbed my hand down my arm. I was good at marketing, and hoped with all my might that I was good enough to sell the proverbial ice to an Eskimo, because that had basically been my plan.

  It’s early yet. The words of my mother echoed in my ear.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  I looked up to see a man smiling, and it looked as if it were directed at me. But who knew. Maybe he had a Bluetooth in his ear.

  “Hi,” he said, and leaned into me. Another guy who didn’t understand about invading other people’s space.

  “Hi,” I said, and did a half step back. I gave him a smile. Mine was on the weak side. “Haven’t heard that in a long time,” I said. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “You looked like you were deep in thought.”

  I drew in a breath and
gave a half nod. “Guess I was,” I said.

  He pointed up ahead to the counter. “Soup not only warms you up, it can heal your soul.”

  I chuckled. I would end up standing next to the corny guy. “Sounds like that should be written on a fortune cookie.”

  He laughed. A throw-your-head-back kind of laugh. His eyes sparkled and he did a half step forward. Closer to me. I hadn’t thought it was that funny.

  “I hope they have loaded baked potato soup today. I need something hot and good.” He had turned to face me.

  “To heal your soul?” I asked.

  “To keep me warm,” he said, a smile beaming on his face. “Just what a body needs after yesterday with the snow. Today, it’s just cold. Brrr!” He did a fake shiver.

  I shut my eyes and let out a moan. I didn’t want to hear about the cold and people wanting to keep warm. I was too ambitious to understand such a simple concept—I’d been trying to sell ice cream all morning to boot-wearing, hat-and-scarf-clad folks.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yep.” I pursed my lips and nodded. “All I need is something warm to heal my soul.”

  He chuckled. “Are you making fun of me?”

  I pointed, indicating that the line was moving forward. He hadn’t seemed to notice. “No,” I said, after we moved a couple of feet. “It’s just the irony of it all.”

  “Of what?” he said, still smiling.

  He must be having a good day.

  “I opened an ice cream shop yesterday.”

  “Oh no!” he said, that grin still on his face turning into a pitiful puppy-dog frown. “In the snow?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did anyone come?”

  “Nope,” I said, and swung my head back and forth. “Not one person.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “That’s why I’m here,” I said. “I’m going to buy a gallon of something.” I waggled a finger toward the soup selections. “As part of my marketing strategy, I thought I’d pass out a free cup of piping-hot soup to everyone who bought a scoop of ice cream. I’m thinking that might pull customers in.”

  He laughed again. Louder. More eye sparkle. I just seemed to tickle his funny bone.

  “Oh,” he said after taking a moment to process. “Is your shop Crewse Creamery?” He pointed toward a wall, but in the direction of where the shop was located.

  “That would be me.” I raised up a hand like when you’re in class. “Win Crewse. Winter purveyor of frozen concoctions.”

  He chuckled and stepped closer. “I loved that place when I was a kid. I bet you’ll have a store full of customers in no time.”

  I didn’t know why he’d have confidence in me, a complete stranger, but his words made me feel good. But looking at the long line and the weather conditions outside, I knew Zoup!’s customer base was the opposite of mine, and it made me curious.

  When it was my turn in line, instead of putting in my order, I first posed a question. The answer from the smiling server gave me hope.

  “Do you guys sell soup in the summer?” I asked.

  “We sure do,” she said. “And the line is still out the door.”

  chapter

  THIRTEEN

  I took my soup back to the ice cream shop. Not because I was really planning to pass it out like I’d told that guy, but because I didn’t want to stay away too long. Mom had to leave and I wasn’t exactly sure what time Maisie would come.

  Plus, I was afraid Penny for Your Thoughts Guy might try to sit next to me. Once again invading my space and trying to lurk inside my brain with nothing more than a mere pittance as an admittance fee.

  “There she is,” my mother said when I came in through the front door. “I was just schooling Maisie on the new flavors and the free scoop coupons.”

  I waved to Maisie. “Did we have any more customers?” I asked. “Did Wilhelmina get here yet?” I turned and glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “I just got here,” Maisie said.

  “Yes, we had customers!” my mother said, a look of delight on her face.

  “But no Wilhelmina yet,” Maisie added.

  “She’s not due quite yet,” I said. “I didn’t realize how early it still was. So how many customers?”

  “Three,” PopPop said without looking up from his game. His friend must’ve left, because he was playing solo. His eyes deep in thought, he was still concentrating like he had an actual opponent.

  “Three,” I repeated. A sizzle of electricity snaked through me. Slowly but steadily, people were finding us again. Even in the snow.

  “Yep,” my mother answered. “And they couldn’t stop talking about how good the ice cream is. Some remembered your Grandma Kay’s and said it was just as good.”

  That made me happy.

  “And someone called to see what time we close,” my mother added.

  “What time do we close?” Maisie asked.

  “We close at eleven,” I said.

  “Ten,” PopPop said. He looked at me. “We always close earlier in the winter.”

  I glanced out of the window. It was definitely winter.

  “I’m going in the back to eat,” I said. “You guys okay?”

  “Of course we are,” my mother said.

  “I like your new flavors,” Maisie said, following me into the back. “I tasted them and they are really good.”

  I smiled at her as I pulled off my gloves and stuck them in my coat pocket. I sat the bag from Zoup! on the desk counter and took off my coat. “I was in a panic last night,” I told her. “So upset after yesterday with no sales.”

  “You’ll be okay,” she said, and smiled reassuringly. She pointed to the bag holding the soup. “Soup is good for you, it boosts your confidence.”

  I chuckled. “Someone just told me it’s good for the soul.”

  “That too,” Maisie said, nodding in confirmation. “And I’m here for you, Win. I’ll help all I can. You know that, right?”

  “Thanks.” I smiled at her. “I know I can count on you.”

  “Always. Sooo,” she started. “When did you make the ice cream?”

  With the look she gave me, I knew she knew I’d made it to relax myself. It was easy to see that after all we’d made the day before, we didn’t need anything more.

  I sat at the desk and pulled the container of soup out of the bag. “Sometime in the middle of the night,” I said.

  She frowned at me. “You should have called me. I thought you’d left right after we did.”

  Opening the soup container up, I grabbed the French bread that came with it, broke off a piece and dipped it in my cup of chicken potpie soup.

  “What happened?”

  “When?”

  “In the middle of the night to make you make ice cream?”

  “Other than opening day without customers?”

  “Yes, other than that.”

  “I found a dead guy down at the falls.”

  “No!”

  Apparently Maisie hadn’t seen the day’s paper either.

  “Yes. Police came. Asked a bunch of questions.” I looked at her. “I couldn’t sleep,” I said, chewing up the bread.

  “Oh wow. I wouldn’t be able to sleep either.” Her eyes drifted off before returning to focus a look of concern on me. “What were you doing down by the falls?”

  “I went down to get snow to make ice cream.”

  “Like your grandmother used to make?”

  She was being patient, waiting for the part about the guy.

  “Right,” I said. “I thought it would make me feel better.”

  “So who was the guy?” she asked. I could tell her mind was turning. Something was swirling around in there. Something more than concern for me. “What was his name?”

  “I don’
t know.” I crunched down on the bread and tore off a big chunk with my teeth.

  “What did the guy look like?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I sipped a spoonful of soup. “It was dark when I found him. I tripped over him.”

  “That’s creepy,” she said.

  “I know.” I stuck another spoonful chock-full of chicken, peas and potatoes in my mouth. “I’m okay though.”

  “No. That’s not . . .” She stopped talking.

  “Well what, then?” I said. “You’re acting strange.”

  “Soooo,” she said, pulling up a stool next to my chair and plopping down on it. “How did he die?”

  “I don’t know that either. And now you’re being creepy,” I said, and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Probably a heart attack or something. He must have fallen down the hill. I’m not even sure it wasn’t the fall that killed him. Maybe he slipped on the ice and went tumbling.”

  “You saw the dead body, then made the ice cream?”

  “Nothing as morbid as that,” I said, frowning. “Things happened in between.” I looked at her. “Why?”

  “Things like what?” she asked.

  I huffed and hunched my shoulders. “I don’t know, Maisie. You’re beginning to sound like that detective.” I took another mouthful of soup. “Like I made coupons. I posted on social media. Lots of social media. I went to the store to get a pumpkin and some blueberries. Just things.”

  “Ghoulish Blueberry is my new favorite,” she said absently. “You can’t see one piece of the fruit, but you can taste it.”

  “Is this why you’re acting strange?” I said. “You think the dead body inspired my ice cream flavor choices? Because it didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Maisie scooted her stool closer, sidling right up next to me. I could feel the hairs on her sweater tickle my arm. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said.

  “So tell me,” I said. “And stop acting so weird, you’re making me worry.”

  “I think I know who the guy was.”

  “What guy?” I dipped another piece of my bread in the soup.