Intermezzo: Spirit Matters by Patrice Greenwood

Author:Patrice Greenwood [Greenwood, Patrice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, tea, Santa Fe, New Mexico, Wisteria Tearoom
ISBN: 978-1-61138-688-2
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2017-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

I told her no.

I thumbed in an answer:

She found someone else. Wants seance tomorrow night. What should I do?

Let me make some inquiries. Hang tight.

Wondering what she would be inquiring about, and of whom, I went into my office and checked my messages on the house phone system. Nothing of interest. I was tempted to send Tony a text, but I knew he was angry with me, so it wouldn’t help. I’d just have to let him cool down.

Like the biscochitos.

Sighing, I sent an email to my contact at the State Historical Archives, requesting information about Reynaldo Hidalgo, then busied myself with the dreaded message-slip stack. When I’d dealt with six of them, I got up to reward myself with a fresh pot of tea.

“Is Julio making biscochitos?” Kris called from her office as I collected the teapot.

“Yes. For a photo shoot tomorrow. They’re off limits.”

“Dang. It’s giving me the munchies.”

“You’re not alone.”

We were used to tempting aromas wafting up the stairwell, but there was nothing more mouth-watering than the smell of fresh biscochitos. I made tea, drank some, was still unsatisfied, and decided it was time to check whether the cookies were cool enough to store.

I found Mick clocking out. Clean china sat gently steaming in the drying rack. The biscochitos lay innocently on their sheet, still emitting a hint of their silent siren’s call.

Dee came in, removing her white apron.

“Last party gone?” I asked her.

She nodded, dropping the apron in the laundry hamper. “I locked the front.” She looked toward the cookies, her neck elongating a little and her nostrils delicately flaring.

“Thanks,” I said, and handed her and her brother a still-warm biscochito apiece.

“Mmm! Thank you, Ellen!” Dee said, and bit into hers.

Mick broke into a grin. “Thanks, boss. The smell’s been driving me crazy.”

I saw them out and locked the back door, then returned to the kitchen and permitted myself one biscochito, letting small bites melt in my mouth while I put the rest away in a container. I kept one out for Kris, and carried it up to her along with the day’s receipts.

She accepted the napkin-wrapped cookie and stared at it while I laid the bank bag on her desk. Then she burst into tears.

“Oh, Kris.” I sat in her guest chair, watching her rub at her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” she said soggily. “It’s ... I can’t explain.”

“You don’t have to.” I smiled gently. “I’ll be at my desk if you need to talk.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

I glanced back from the doorway in time to see her take a bite of biscochito. She’d be all right.

Back at my desk with a fresh cup of tea, I checked my phone and found a text from Willow.

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