Dead Men Don't Order Flake by Sue Williams

Author:Sue Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2016-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

24

A quiet afternoon in the shop. I dredged out the mystery notebook and had another fruitless flick through its hieroglyph-covered pages. Tapped my fingers on my spotless counter.

There are times when, frankly, your best course of action is to rustle up a batch of vanilla slices. They’re Brad’s favourite, and it’s hard to feel stressed when the kitchen’s full of the smell of baking pastry.

I made the custard, spread it out over the pastry, and popped the slice into my fridge to set. Leo used to be quite keen on vanilla slices too, way back. I offered to show him how to make them once: it’s a simple recipe, and I’d been looking forward to the lesson, a comprehensive one-on-one evening tutorial. But Ernie soon put paid to that idea—he gave me the Stone men: can’t trust any of ’em briefing.

I headed over to my fridge; got out the vanilla-slice tray for a brief inspection. The custard looked firm. I dusted the top with icing sugar then carefully cut them into the standard size snot blocks. Took one on a plate over to my table, holding it carefully so it wouldn’t slop onto the notebook. I bit into it, just quality-checking for Brad, of course.

My phone rang. I grabbed it, my custard-sticky fingers smearing the handpiece.

‘Rusty Bore Takeaway.’ I wiped a pastry crumb from my mouth.

‘Cass. It’s Leo.’

I’d have known his voice on the first syllable. My heart quickened. An early effect of pastry-related cholesterol, probably.

‘Are you…OK?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ Apart from feeling somewhat breathless.

‘Good. I was wondering something.’

‘Uh huh?’

‘You, ah, free for dinner tomorrow night?’

‘I’ll just check the diary.’ I rustled through Natalie Kellett’s notebook, holding the phone close to the pages. ‘Looks like I can squeeze you in.’

‘How about the Broken Nail? In Hustle. Seven o’clock suit?’

There was something odd in his voice; I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

‘Sounds good.’ I said.

‘Great.’ He hung up.

The slow afternoon got slower. Two four-wheel drives whizzed by. A blue-tongue lizard stretched itself out in the sun on my front step. I wiped down my grill, trying to steer my mind away from naked-Leo images. I stared out the shop window for a moment, but the Leo line of thinking persisted.

I grabbed the mystery notebook, slipped on a jacket and put up the Back in 10 sign. Headed out along Best Street, towards Vern’s. As I walked up the three wooden steps to his shop, Boofa came bounding out to greet me. I gave him a pat, as usual.

Vern was lying in his hammock on the front verandah, notebook tucked under his arm. He was dressed in a white singlet and blue shorts a size too small on him.

‘Cass. Where you been? Away all day yesterday. Bloody outrageous. I had no idea what to tell him.’

‘Who?’

‘Leo Stone. He come round looking for you.’

‘Did he?’ Slightly odd Leo hadn’t mentioned that.

‘Reminds me,’ Vern scratched his nose. ‘Meant to tell you something about that Natalie Kellett.’

‘Oh?’

‘Came into my shop.’

‘When was that?’

The sound of paper rustling as Vern flicked through his notebook.

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