Free Dream a Little Scream by Mary Kennedy Page B

from Noah when the autopsy results would be back. What really had killed Sonia? I drew a mental picture of the buffet table, loaded with lemon bars, tiny cherry cheesecake tarts, and shortbread cookies. Was it possible that peanuts had been lurking somewhere in there? These recipes were all straight out of Sonia’s cookbook. And Ali and I had made two of the desserts ourselves.
    â€œAli,” I said abruptly, “do you remember when Sonia shouted for more cookies?”
    â€œI sure do,” she said, nodding her head. “She practically bellowed across the room. She said she had to do a taste test, so she needed a refill. She was joking, of course, but yes, I remember her asking for a refill on the pastries.”
    â€œWho handed her the plastic plate with the cookies, do you remember? And what did they put on it?”
    She squinted her eyes and scrunched her face in thought. “I just can’t remember,” she said finally, putting Scout back on the floor. “It’s funny, I can see the blue plastic plate with the red rooster. I can see it piled high with goodies, but I don’t know who made the selection and who handed it to her.”
    â€œIt might have been two different people,” I told her. “That’s a good point.”
    â€œYou’re right; it could have played out that way. Sonia never got up from her seat, and that means someone filled the plate for her at the buffet table.” She paused. “And then somehow the plate got passed up the line to her. This is a mess,” she added, resting her forehead on her hands for a moment. “Do you think we’ll ever figure it out?”
    â€œOf course we will,” I said with more optimism than I really felt. “We have to,” I muttered under my breath as Ali heated a pan of milk on the stove. Even in the hot summermonths, Ali is fond of a cup of hot chocolate before going to bed. I think it’s more of a nostalgia thing than anything else. We used to have hot chocolate on cold winter nights in the Midwest, during that golden time when our parents were alive and all was right with the world.
    â€œI think we have to put it out of our minds for tonight,” Ali said a few minutes later, heading down the hall with her mug of cocoa.
    â€œThis will all look better in the morning. That’s what Mom used to say, remember?” I said. She gave me a wisp of a smile, and I felt a catch in my throat. There were times like this, with her face scrubbed clean and her soft hair curling around her neck, that she looked like a teenager. And I was her big sister, always looking after all, trying to protect her from her own devil-may-care personality.
    â€œOf course I remember. And she was right. Sleep well, sis. We’ll tackle this together in the morning. C’mon, kitties, bedtime.” Barney padded dutifully down the hall after her, and Scout quickly followed. I smiled, realizing that I was still a “visitor” in their eyes and Ali was the one they adored. She was their “special” human and the dispenser of hugs and cat treats. I would have to earn my way into their little furry hearts. I bet a handful of cat treats every day would do the trick.
    Ali had left the cancellation list on the kitchen table, and my spirits sank as I looked over the familiar names. Friends, acquaintances, neighbors—these were people we had counted on, some new customers and some old ones. All of them were rejecting us and it stung. One thing was certain. We had to solve Sonia’s murder, and we had to do it fast.

8
    It was barely 9:45 a.m. when the rapping on the shop door shattered my morning coffee-and-croissant break. I’d made sure everything was shipshape downstairs early that morning and then had retreated back to the apartment for a quick cup of java before officially starting my workday. Ali was taking a yoga class and wouldn’t be back till noon. I’d be managing the shop