Clobbered by Camembert

“How did you know it was us?”

“Your laughter is very distinctive, my dear. Like crystal chimes. And I almost forgot.” Tallulah tapped the side of her head. “Should I tell Chief Urso that I saw a person run past the park that night?”

“You saw someone?” Rebecca nearly shouted.

“Man or woman?” I asked.

“Not sure. It was too dark. It was a rather tallish shape, running at a clip. Whoever it was made a heck of a noise.”

With Tallulah being so short, tallish would describe almost anyone other than my grandmother.

Using her hands, she outlined the runner, then erased it in the air. “No, that’s not right. I can’t draw worth a lick.”

I wondered if it could have been Georgia Plachette wearing those platform shoes she favored.

“What time was it?” Rebecca said.

“Half past the hour. I was taking four of the pups out for their duty call. Whoever it was held something like a bat.”

“Was it a pu’ili stick?” Rebecca asked, breathless.

Tallulah raised a shoulder and let it drop. “How would I know? It was dark, honey. Didn’t I say that already?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Rebecca grabbed my hands and guided me in a ring-around-the-rosy dance. “He’s innocent. Ipo’s innocent. I told you, I told you,” she sang.

I broke free and gazed at Tallulah. “Why haven’t you mentioned this to Urso?”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Coming forward with information is never intruding.”

“Point taken.” She paid for her purchases. “I’ll go to the precinct now.”

As she shuffled out with one of our gold totes swinging on her forearm, Amy and Clair sprinted in. With all the people coming and going, it felt like a revolving door had been installed in the shop.

“Aren’t we pretty?” Amy spun in a circle. Her red choir robe fluted out like a toreador’s cape.

Clair copied her. “Don’t we look like professional singers?” Her eyes glittered with pride.

“Very. Where’s Meredith?” The girls had gone on a morning shopping spree with her.

“She had to run.”

“Did she sew the hems of the robes?” I asked. I had planned to take a break and return to the house to finish the job.

“No, Mum did,” Amy said.

“How did she get them?” I had left the robes in the laundry room by my Singer sewing machine and knew I had locked the house after the girls departed with Meredith.

“Um … She let herself in.” Clair nibbled on her lower lip.

“How? She doesn’t have a key.”

“Um … She made a copy of mine,” Clair said. “She was there when we got home.”

“She was what?” I moaned. Sylvie and I would have to have a chat about privacy.

“Uh-oh,” Rebecca said.

“Clair told her not to,” Amy added quickly, always ready to defend her younger-by-a-minute sister. “But you know Mum.”

I did. I was intrigued that the girls were catching on, too.

“By the way, she has some gossip for you,” Amy went on. “She said it had something to do with seeing that Miss Platch … Platt … Plate—”

“Plachette?” I said.

“That’s the one. Mum saw Miss Plachette in the diner talking with an older couple.”

To Sylvie, that could be anyone over forty.

“They were talking about a contract. Mum said they were dressed nicely, but they looked like they were after something.”

That gave me pause. Were they attorneys, hired to help Georgia deal with her mother’s will? Or were they real estate people, interested in following through with the purchase of the Burrell farm and Arlo’s property and whatever other property they could garner?

Amy slipped a sliver of cheese from the platter on the tasting counter, held it to her nose, and inhaled. “What’s this? Smells yummy.”

“Guess,” I said, realizing I had forgotten to set out a nameplate.

She plopped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Savory, slightly crystallized. Piave, from Italy.”

“Good job.”

Amy would make a fine cheese monger one day, if she chose the career.

“Aunt Charlotte,” Clair said. “We left Ragsie playing with Rocket in the backyard. That’s okay, isn’t it?” She looked tentative, as if she couldn’t bear to be told she had done two things wrong in a day. “He’ll use the dog door to get back inside.”

“It’s fine,” I said, though I didn’t know Rags had gotten the hang of the dog door. Maybe having the Briard pup around wasn’t such a bad thing. A creature probably wouldn’t attack Rags with Rocket around, but my fence was short, and almost anything could encroach. Rags, being the scaredy cat that he was, could get spooked. However, not being cooped up in The Cheese Shop office all day might be good for him. I would have to weigh the options.

“Can we go across the street for some hot chocolate?” Amy said.

“Ask Daddy.” Clair hitched her head toward the annex, where Matthew was buffing the wine-tasting counter.

“No. Aunt Charlotte can decide. We’ll come to the tent afterward,” Amy pleaded. “Promise.”

Saturdays weren’t easy for a working parent—I wasn’t theirs but they lived under my roof. I had arranged for the girls to help Tyanne at Le Petit Fromagerie during lunch. They would hand out the souvenir plates. Afterward, they would head to the library to finish their homework, and then meet up with Meredith for a quick dinner before their chorale debut.

“Okay, as long as you stay together,” I said.

They darted out of the shop, hand in hand.

Moments later, Grandmere scurried in. “Emergency!”

I sighed. Was everything going to be a crisis today?

“Your grandfather is making his famous pizza for our theater rehearsal. You know, the hot pepper one.”

“Mrs. O’Leary’s,” Rebecca said. “Named for the woman whose barn caught on fire.”

Pepere loved giving clever names to his creations. Mrs. O’Leary’s pizza was deliciously piquant, with three kinds of peppers, red pepper flakes, garlic, onion, mounds of pork sausage, and Lioni Smoked Mozzarella that was laced with hickory and cherrywood overtones. A beer chaser was needed after every bite of pizza.

Grandmere clucked. “Because we are in rehearsals for Chicago, he thought it would be fun to give our actors a Chicago-themed pizza. He is adorable, non?”

“Oui,” I said. “Rebecca, would you fill the order?”

Grandmere gazed at Rebecca and her face turned grave. “How are you, cherie?”

“Better,” Rebecca said, “now that we have a new witness.”

“Who?”

Before Rebecca could say Tallulah Barker, Urso pushed open the door and bellowed, “Where’s Jordan?”

CHAPTER

To say my stomach felt like it had jumped on a roller coaster and was doing a loop-de-loop was an understatement. Panic zipped through me. Had Urso found out about Jordan’s past? Had Bozz put two and two together and spilled the beans? Could anyone be trusted with a secret?