Free Dead Pan by Gayle Trent

mesh.
    “Very good,” she said. “But early next week. How about Tuesday morning at eleven-thirty?”
    “That’ll be great.” I penciled the date and time in my notebook.
    “So what are my options?” Belinda asked.
    “Naturally, there will be a variety of fresh fruits for both the cavies and the humans,” I said, remembering how important Vitamin C is to a cavy’s diet.
    “Naturally.”
    “I also found a recipe for cavy cookies.”
    Belinda clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! My darlings have never had cookies before.”
    “I’ll bring them a sample when I come back on Tuesday so they can decide whether or not they like them. If they’re not happy with them, I’ll modify the recipe.”
    Belinda smiled broadly. “Excellent.”
    I went on to outline the current trends. I was correct in thinking Belinda would adore white petit-fours with gold Fs on them. She also wanted a mini cake tower and a mini tart tower. As for the cake, she requested a “simple three-tier affair with sparklers in the top.”
    I told her I’d be happy to oblige and that I’d ask the fire department to be on standby.
    “Oh, Daphne, what a wit you have,” Belinda said with a laugh. “Oh, and I’ll need some things that are sugar free. Richard’s sister is coming, and she’s a diabetic.”
    “Would you like the cake to be sugar free?”
    She flipped one thin wrist. “One tier, perhaps. Either the top or middle . . . but be sure and let me know which it is. Maureen doesn’t need a great deal of cake. She’s single again, and Richard is hoping this will help her meet some people.”
    “All right,” I said. “Anything else I should know?”
    “I think that should do it . . . at least, until we talk again on Tuesday.”
    *
    I was on my way to the Save-A-Buck to deliver the cakes when my cell phone rang. It was Ben.
    “Hi, beautiful,” he said. “Would you like to go with me to Dakota’s tomorrow night?”
    “I’d love to.” Dakota’s is the only steakhouse in Brea Ridge. It’s independently owned and, during the summer, the proprietor buys the restaurant’s produce from local farmers. Even now some of the items on the menu—apple butter and peach chutney for the biscuits, for instance—were made and canned locally.
    “I thought we’d need a pick-me-up after Fred’s funeral tomorrow,” Ben said.
    “Thank you. You’re awfully thoughtful, you know.”
    “Oh, I know.” He chuckled.
    “By the way,” I said, “could you look in your archive room and make me a copy of any articles mentioning Fred’s car accident?”
    “Why do you want that?”
    “Just curious. Fran was telling me about the accident, and I’d like to see a more timely account.”
    “I probably wrote the articles myself, Daph. What do you want to know?”
    “I’d like to read the eyewitness’ testimony, that’s all.”
    “All right. I’ll dig it up.”
    “Thanks. I’d better go. I’m at the Save-A-Buck.”
    “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral, and afterwards we’ll finalize our plans for going to Dakota’s.”
    We said our goodbyes, and I hurried to enlist the aid of two baggers who’d come outside to return carts to the store. With their help, I managed to fit all eight cakes into three carts. The young men helped me push them inside before returning to their original task, and I discretely tipped them.
    There was no one in Juanita’s line, so she came over and helped me unload the cakes onto a display table near the front of the store.
    “How are you?” I asked.
    “I’m good. I took some food over to Mrs. Duncan before I came to work this morning.”
    “That was sweet of you.”
    “Do you know the funeral is tomorrow?” she asked.
    “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there. Will you get to go?”
    She nodded. “I took the day off so I could be there for Mrs. Duncan and the rest of Fred’s family.”
    “Hey, were you working here when Fred had his car accident last year?”
    “No. I came to work