Chapter 7
Sift
Recipe Tip: Sift twice. You're removing the lumps you can't see.
Friday afternoon found Tessa standing outside Garrick Thorne's forge for the second time that week.
She didn't like the feeling.
The first time, she'd come carrying banana bread.
The second time, she'd come looking for answers.
Neither visit had gone particularly well.
Today, the police tape was gone.
The forge stood quiet beneath a pale afternoon sky, its black chimney rising above the trees.
A handwritten notice had been pinned to the door.
PROPERTY RELEASED TO NEXT OF KIN.
Tessa read it twice.
"Next of kin?"
Dani, standing beside her, folded her arms.
"Lorna."
"Garrick's ex-wife?"
"Apparently."
Tessa looked at the building.
"That was fast."
"Death makes paperwork move strangely."
Pretzel sat beside the porch.
He looked offended by the entire situation.
Tessa glanced down.
"Don't."
Pretzel's ears twitched.
"You are not going inside."
He stood.
"No."
He walked toward the door.
"Absolutely not."
Pretzel ignored her.
Dani sighed.
"He's going inside."
"He's not."
The door opened.
A woman stood there.
Lorna Ashby was perhaps sixty, with silver-blonde hair pulled into a loose knot and a face that looked as though it had forgotten how to smile.
Her eyes were red.
Very red.
She looked exhausted.
She looked devastated.
And yet, somehow, perfectly composed.
"Tessa."
Tessa stopped.
"You know me?"
Lorna nodded.
"Garrick talked about you."
That surprised her.
"What did he say?"
Lorna's mouth tightened.
"Mostly that you were stubborn."
Tessa blinked.
Dani coughed.
"Sounds accurate."
Lorna looked at Pretzel.
"And you must be the cat."
Pretzel stared at her.
Lorna sighed.
"Come in."
They entered.
The forge looked different without Garrick.
Less like a workshop.
More like a room that had forgotten what it was for.
The tools remained exactly where they had been.
The anvil stood beneath the hanging lights.
Blades still lined the walls.
Tessa felt a strange pressure behind her ribs.
She had never liked the man.
But now every object seemed to carry his absence.
Lorna walked toward a workbench.
"I have to sort through everything."
"You don't have to do it alone."
Lorna gave a small laugh.
"I'd rather."
Tessa nodded.
"Of course."
Lorna picked up a stack of papers.
She sorted them into three piles.
Keep.
Discard.
Business.
Quickly.
Too quickly.
Tessa watched.
Lorna moved through Garrick's possessions with practiced efficiency.
Receipts.
Letters.
Invoices.
Tool catalogs.
Personal photographs.
She knew exactly where everything went.
There was almost no hesitation.
Tessa glanced at Dani.
Dani noticed too.
Lorna caught them watching.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You don't look like nothing."
Tessa smiled politely.
"I'm just surprised."
"By?"
"How organized everything is."
Lorna looked around.
"Garrick was organized."
Tessa thought of the torn ledger.
The numbered knives.
The forged records.
"Yes."
Lorna picked up an old photograph.
Garrick stood beside a younger version of herself.
They were smiling.
Actually smiling.
Tessa hadn't imagined Garrick capable of it.
"How long were you married?"
"Twenty-two years."
"What happened?"
Lorna put the photograph down.
"Garrick happened."
Dani looked away.
Tessa almost smiled.
Almost.
Lorna continued sorting.
"We loved each other."
Past tense.
"We also knew exactly how to hurt each other."
Tessa nodded.
"Did you know he had enemies?"
Lorna laughed softly.
"Everyone had enemies."
"Did anyone threaten him?"
"No."
"Did he ever mention Renata Voss?"
Lorna's hands stopped.
Only for a second.
Then continued.
"Renata was business."
"What kind?"
"Complicated."
"How?"
Lorna looked at her.
"Why are you asking?"
"I'm trying to understand what happened."
"You aren't the police."
"No."
Lorna's gaze sharpened.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't be asking."
Tessa felt her confidence shrink.
She almost apologized.
Almost.
Then she remembered Wes.
Think carefully.
So she stayed quiet.
Lorna picked up another folder.
"Garrick wasn't easy."
"No."
"But he was careful."
"About what?"
"His health."
Tessa looked at her.
Lorna continued sorting.
"He carried the pen everywhere."
"The pen?"
"His injector."
Tessa's heart gave a hard thump.
"Injector?"
Lorna looked up.
Realizing her mistake.
"Yes."
"You knew?"
"Of course."
"About his allergy?"
Lorna hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
"What was he allergic to?"
Lorna's expression changed.
"Why?"
Tessa watched her carefully.
"Because you said he carried an injector."
"I didn't say what for."
"You didn't have to."
Lorna looked away.
Tessa felt the pieces shifting.
The missing injector.
The bread.
The death.
The police refusing to tell her the cause.
And now Lorna knew.
Tessa kept her voice gentle.
"What was he allergic to?"
Lorna sighed.
"Walnuts."
The word landed heavily.
Tessa remembered the bread.
Maple.
Orange.
No cardamom.
She remembered the half-eaten loaf.
Her grandmother's recipe never contained walnuts.
Never.
Lorna returned to the papers.
"Garrick was obsessive about it."
"Did many people know?"
"No."
"Who?"
Lorna didn't answer.
Tessa waited.
"Three people," she finally said.
Tessa's pulse quickened.
"Only three?"
"That I know of."
"Who?"
Lorna shook her head.
"I shouldn't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because you aren't the police."
Tessa swallowed.
"Am I one of the three?"
"No."
That answer came too quickly.
Tessa noticed.
Lorna looked toward the old workbench.
"Garrick trusted very few people."
Tessa thought of the forged knives.
The missing injector.
Renata.
Bertie.
Desmond.
She felt suddenly cold.
"Did Garrick ever tell you he was afraid?"
Lorna frowned.
"No."
"Did he have reason to be?"
"I don't know."
Tessa looked toward the wall of knives.
Then she noticed Pretzel.
The cat had disappeared.
"Where's Pretzel?"
Dani pointed.
He was sitting beside an old wooden box.
Tessa walked over.
"Come on."
Pretzel didn't move.
"What's in there?"
Nothing.
He placed one paw on the lid.
Tessa crouched.
"Aprons?"
Pretzel blinked.
Lorna looked over.
"Garrick's old work aprons."
"Why does he care?"
"He doesn't."
Pretzel hissed.
Tessa paused.
"Apparently he does."
She opened the box.
Inside were six old leather and canvas aprons.
Some stained with oil.
Some with burn marks.
One was neatly folded.
Another had a tear near the pocket.
Pretzel sniffed every one.
Then sat directly on top of them.
"He's claiming them."
Dani smiled.
"Of course he is."
Tessa reached for him.
Pretzel dug his claws into the fabric.
"Ow."
He refused to move.
"Come on."
Nothing.
Tessa tried again.
Pretzel hissed.
She stopped.
"Fine."
Lorna watched him.
"Strange."
"What?"
"He never liked anyone touching Garrick's things."
Tessa looked at her.
"You've seen him before?"
Lorna nodded.
"Once."
"When?"
"Before the festival."
Tessa frowned.
"Why was Pretzel here?"
"I don't know."
That answer sounded too smooth.
Tessa looked at the aprons.
Then at Lorna.
"Did Garrick know Pretzel?"
Lorna smiled faintly.
"He fed him."
That was news.
Tessa crouched beside the box.
"How often?"
"Whenever he came by."
"Why didn't he tell me?"
Lorna shrugged.
"Garrick didn't tell people much."
Pretzel finally moved.
He jumped out of the box.
Something small fell from the folds of an apron.
Tessa looked down.
A brass button.
She picked it up.
Old.
Scratched.
Nothing remarkable.
She put it on the workbench.
Lorna watched.
Then she looked at the clock.
"I need to finish."
Tessa nodded.
"Of course."
She stood.
Dani moved toward the door.
Tessa lingered.
"Mrs. Ashby?"
Lorna looked at her.
"If only three people knew Garrick was allergic to walnuts..."
"Yes?"
"Who were they?"
Lorna stared at her for several seconds.
Then said quietly:
"Me."
A pause.
"Renata."
Another pause.
"And the third person..."
She stopped.
Tessa waited.
Lorna's face had gone pale.
"Who?"
Lorna looked toward the forge.
"I don't know if I should say."
"Why?"
"Because if someone knew, then someone else may have learned."
Tessa's stomach tightened.
"Learned what?"
Lorna looked directly at her.
"The secret."
Pretzel jumped onto the workbench.
His paw landed beside the brass button.
Lorna's eyes followed him.
Then she whispered:
"Only three people knew Garrick couldn't survive walnuts."
Tessa felt the room grow colder.
Three people.
Lorna.
Renata.
And one unknown person.
One person who knew exactly what could kill Garrick.
And suddenly the banana bread didn't feel like an accident anymore.