A Calculated Whisk Read online

  A Calculated Whisk

  When a woman living under a cloud of suspicion for her husband’s death comes to vintage kitchen collector Jaymie Leighton with a mysterious request, she’s not sure whether, or how much, to get involved. The police believe they have new evidence of foul play in what was initially ruled an accidental death, and the woman’s terrified they’ll try to pin the crime on her. Before Jaymie can decide whether to help her, though, the woman’s found murdered in the woods near Jaymie’s cabin.

  Still unsure whether the woman was truly innocent in her husband’s death, Jaymie decides to get to the bottom of both murders. But as she digs deeper into the couple’s past and discovers a tangled array of long-buried wounds and family secrets, Jaymie begins to sense that danger is still lurking in the woods near her home. With a killer on the loose and her family in danger, Jaymie must uncover the culprit before she loses all she holds dear, including her own life . . .

  Title Page

  

  Copyright

  A Calculated Whisk

  Victoria Hamilton

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Donna Lea Simpson.

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs.

  ISBN: 978-1-954717-49-7

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dedication

  For my readers

  Some days are extraordinary: weddings, vacations, graduations. Some ordinary days turn out to be extraordinary because you meet the love of your life or make a lifelong friend. My wish for you is more ordinary days that turn out to be extraordinary because of the people you meet.

  Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Afterword

  Vintage Eats

  Books by Victoria Hamilton

  About the Author

  Cast of Characters

  in the Vintage Kitchen Mystery Series:

  Jaymie Leighton Müller: wife, stepmom and collector of all things vintage kitchen-y!

  Jakob Müller: Jaymie’s husband, dad to Jocie, Christmas tree farmer and owner of the Junk Stops Here

  Jocie Müller: little little person (as she says!) and happy daughter to Jakob and Jaymie

  Becca Brevard: Jaymie’s bossy older sister and co-owner of QFA (Queensville Fine Antiques)

  Valetta Nibley: pharmacist and lifelong friend to Jaymie and Becca

  Mrs. Martha Stubbs: Jaymie’s elderly friend and confidante

  Johnny Stanko: Queensvillian and Jaymie’s friend

  Detective Angela Vestry: QTPD’s first female detective

  Hoppy: Jaymie’s Yorkie-Poo

  Lilibet: Jocie’s tabby

  in A Calculated Whisk:

  Alicia Vance: local widow, mom, and coordinator at QCB (Queensville Clean ’n Bright)

  Mia Vance: Jocie’s school friend and Alicia’s daughter

  Jace Vance (deceased): late husband of Alicia Vance; died in a tragic auto repair accident

  Lew (Lewis) Vance: brother of Jace Vance, brother-in-law to Alicia and local tow truck operator

  Franklin ‘Frank’ Vance: father of Jace and Lew Vance, local tow truck company owner

  Debbie Vance: ex-wife of Lew Vance, owner of QCB

  Kim Hansen: mother of Alicia Vance and Erin Hansen

  Erin Hansen: Alicia Vance’s younger sister

  Wenda Puchala: receptionist at QCB

  Charles “Clutch” Roth: local biker

  Gus Majewski: co-owner of the Junk Stops Here

  Nicki Majewski: wife of Gus Majewski

  Skylah “Sky” Majewski: Nicki and Gus’s daughter

  Lise and Arend Brouwer: owners of the farm and woods across from Jakob and Jaymie’s cabin

  Brianna Sheridan: journalist and Jaymie’s friend

  One

  “I love the smell of old junk,” Jaymie Leighton said to no one in particular. She stood at one of the sorting tables in the back room of the Junk Stops Here, her husband Jakob’s junk store, looking through a newly received box of kitchen tools. “Old junk smells of dust, and the past, and women’s lives and hope for their children.”

  Jocie, her nine-year-old stepdaughter, raced around in circles on a scooter that had come in with some boxes of kids’ toys left over from a garage sale. Every time she circled Jaymie she hooted, “Toot toot . . . Jocie train coming through!” Hoppy, Jaymie’s three-legged Yorkie-Poo, raced around after Jocie barking merrily, his yips echoing in the big sorting room.

  It was a joyful noise, and Jaymie smiled. The sorting room was a cavernous warehouse behind the store, with an enormous garage door that opened to allow trucks to unload. She stood in front of a box-type table, waist height and about five inches deep, into which she had dumped two boxes of assorted vintage and antique kitchen utensils purchased sight unseen as a box lot at an estate sale auction. Jakob had bid on the lot, and though the topmost stuff had appeared to be dollar store junk, underneath was a treasure trove of fifties and sixties utensils, including red-paint-handled whisks, mashers, spatulas and a knife sharpener, some even older wire utensils and an assortment of spoons, ladles and serving forks. She inhaled deeply. Wood, rust and a soupçon of mold: how many would think that the fragrance of happiness? For her it was better than a bottle of Chanel.

  Good thing she married a junkman/Christmas tree farmer.

  She wiped dust and grime from the items with a damp cloth, then piled all that she wanted in a box; some would be for her own collection, and the rest would be for the vintage kitchen display at the Queensville Historic Manor. She priced the rest and dumped them back into a box, hefted it to her hip, and called out to Jocie, “Come on, kiddo, leave the scooter behind. We’re going to put this stuff out for sale. Come on, Hoppy!”

  The sorting room was separated from the store by swinging double doors. Jaymie put her hip to one and pushed through, carrying the box to the kitchen department. The Junk Stops Here was located in a former factory that had gone bankrupt during the recession. Jakob and his partner, Gus Majewski, initially intended to stock only renovation items like doors, doorknobs, windows, shutters, and vintage gingerbread from old houses torn down as well as other used construction materials, but they now sold everything from jewelry and china to a vast array of furniture, books, clothes, luggage, plumbing supplies, antique wrought iron fencing . . . in short, anything a lover of vintage and antiques could ever want.

  Jaymie stopped in front of the wall of kitchen utensils and set down the box, sorting her goods and placing them in the appropriate bin. Hoppy sat patiently at her feet, and Jocie, by her side, stood in silence staring across the sales floor.

  Jaymie followed her sight line and saw a woman looking through the boxes of cupboard door handles. A girl about Jocie’s age stood beside her reading a book. She was taller than Jocie, who was, in her own words, a little little person, but she leaned slightly to one side. Her left leg was a pink prosthetic. “You shouldn’t stare, Jocie,” Jaymie admonished in a murmur. “You know better than that.”

  Jocie looked up, a frown on her face. “That’s Mia Vance. She’s in my class at school. I was waiting for her to look up so I could wave and say hi.”

  How could she have thought otherwise? Jocie had spent her life being stared at, and if she stared it was not because of a person’s differences, but for some other reason—in this case, friendship. “Why don’t you go over and say hello?”

  “You always tell me not to bother the customers.”

  “This is different. She’s a friend. Go say hi.”

  Jaymie finished her work and stood back. The kitchen section was her pride and joy, neatly organized shelves and racks with everything to stock a cook’s kitchen. She tidied the rest, returning order to t
he bins, then looked up to find Jocie. She was still with her friend and Hoppy had joined them, staring up intently at the two girls. Together they were perusing the kids’ books, arranged in a spinner rack. Joining them, Jaymie said, “Jocie, will you introduce me to your friend?” It was something they had practiced.

  Jocie’s brown eyes lit up and she stood as tall as she could, plump hands clasped in front of her. “Mama, this is Mia Vance, my friend from school. Mia, this is my mama, Jaymie.”

  The little girl, sandy hair pulled back with a pink ribbon, freckles sprinkled over her cheeks, smiled shyly. Jaymie gave Jocie’s shoulder a squeeze and, as the two girls went back to the books, she looked up at the woman nearby, who glanced over and smiled. “Hi, I’m Jocie’s mom, Jaymie Leighton Müller,” she said with a little wave. “You’re Mia’s mom?”

  “Alicia Vance,” she said. She had light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, medium brown eyes and some of the same freckles her daughter had but lighter. She was slim and fit, wearing yoga pants, running shoes and a zipped jacket. “I take it the girls are in the same class.”

  “They are. Mia is probably the kid who is closest to Jocie in height in their class,” Jaymie commented.

  Alicia smiled, gazing at Jocie and her daughter. “They’re so cute together!”

  “I’ve seen you at pickup and drop-off.”

  The two girls had taken a stack of books over to a chair and were reading together. Hoppy begged to come up, and Jocie lifted him carefully to sit between them, where he was one happy little dog.

  “Yeah, I usually do that myself,” Alicia said, tearing her gaze away from the two girls. “My mom or sister steps in sometimes. My husband passed away a few years ago, so they pick up the slack when necessary, when I can’t get away from work.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Jaymie said. “Do your in-laws live close by? Can they help? My husband’s parents are awesome at taking Jocie when necessary.”

  “It’s just my father-in-law, Franklin, and Jace’s older brother, Lew. Lew tries to help when he can, but he works long hours. As for Franklin . . .” She rolled her eyes. “Not too reliable. You know?”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m service coordinator at Queensville Clean ’n Bright. The job is somewhat flexible.”

  “Jakob and I work different jobs, so we alternate taking Jocie to school and picking her up.”

  “I’ve seen him. I think he owns this store?”

  “Co-owns, with Gus Majewski. They have a young couple who run the place much of the time, though,” she said of the ex-military couple Jakob hired a year ago.

  Her expression sobered and she looked away, frowning. “I suppose we’d better get going. I need cupboard handles. I hate the cheap ones that are on our cupboard doors.”

  “Old ones are better made,” Jaymie said. “Like most things. I was here sorting a new bunch of kitchen utensils and snagging some for the Queensville Historic Manor. I’m a historical reenactor there and take care of the kitchen collection. We’re doing a whole display of vintage whisks called Whisk Me Away to the Past. I’m going to guide Jocie and Mia’s class on a tour next month. I hope you’ll join us?”

  “I’ll try. Can’t promise.” She met Jaymie’s gaze and a smile lit up her face. “Hey, I have a whole box of my grandmother’s kitchen stuff. I think there are a few old whisks in there. I’ll have a look.”

  “Sure,” Jaymie said with muted enthusiasm. Many times she had been offered vintage finds, only to get a box of broken junk. But you never know, she thought. “I’d love to take a look at them,” she added, with more warmth.

  Alicia stared at her for a moment, biting her lip, then glanced over at the girls, still chattering over the books. She then looked back to Jaymie and muttered, leaning forward, “You’re the one who solves murders, right? There was one out on Heartbreak Island a few weeks ago and you figured it out when the cops were clueless.”

  “That’s not exactly . . . I mean . . .” Jaymie glanced over at the two girls, then back to Alicia. “I don’t usually talk about this kind of thing in front of Jocie.”

  “I have a couple of questions for you.” Her expression had a fervor that was unmistakable.

  “I can’t talk about the murder. It’s police business and an ongoing investigation.”

  “It’s not about that, it’s something else. I’d like your . . . your expert opinion.”

  The hesitation was interesting. What could she need the opinion of a stranger for? “I’m no expert,” Jaymie warned. “If I can help with anything, I’m going to be at the historic manor on Monday. Bring me the vintage whisks and we can talk then if you like?”

  Alicia nodded. “I’ve got Monday off. I’d better get going . . . it’s my mom’s boyfriend’s birthday, and we’re expected to celebrate.” Her eye roll said she’d rather be anywhere else.

  “At least there will be cake,” Jaymie joked. “Everything is better with cake.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, not with Russ Krauss as the birthday boy. He could ruin even cake. Come on, Mia,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “We have to go to Grandma’s,” she said, gathering up the vintage drawer pulls and cupboard door knobs she had chosen.

  Mia trotted to her mother with an armload of books. “Jocie said I could take these,” she said, eyes gleaming with excitement. “She said I could read them and then give them back, because her daddy owns the store.”

  “Mia,” Alicia said, with a warning tone and a glance at Jaymie. “You can’t ask people to give you things!”

  “I didn’t ask, Mom, promise!” She hugged the books to her chest with a teary gaze. “I’m just borrowing them.”

  Jaymie glanced over at Jocie with the intent to admonish her, but her daughter’s pleading expression changed her mind. How well she remembered navigating the tricky waters of childhood friendship. “What’s the harm?” Jaymie said breezily, looking to Alicia and Mia. “Jocie’s right, she does it all the time, and she loans books to special friends.” She smiled at the little girl. “It looks like Mia is a special friend.”

  All the way home Jocie talked nonstop about Mia, how her new friend liked horses and animals too, and that her friend loved books, like she did, and how Mia liked unicorns and glitter. She babbled on, even touching on Mia’s tragic accident that took her leg, and how she sadly lost her father—someone, Mia said, helped her daddy put a truck up on a jack and did it wrong, and he died—and how she lived on a farm, and how she liked watching the farmer drive the tractor, and how her Uncle Lew always remembered her favorite ice cream.

  Jaymie smiled as she glanced in the mirror and looked back at her daughter, who was talking to Hoppy as much as anyone, and how the little dog paid such close attention to everything she said. She sighed, remembering childhood and the joy of making a new friend.

  • • •

  The next day, Sunday, was gloriously sunny and bright, still warm in late September. Jaymie was at the Leighton yellow brick Queen Anne home in Queensville with Jakob, who had brought his chain saw. In his expert control it chugged and whined its way through a heavy limb that had fallen in a windstorm from the tree of their back lane neighbor. Trip Finley had offered them the wood if Jakob would take it away for him, and though they did not need the wood—they had more than they could use—Jakob never denied a request for help.

  Jocie was at her friend Peyton’s house a few doors down. Jaymie was on her knees planting spring bulbs along the lawn perimeter, a task her older sister Becca would never do—she didn’t like getting her hands dirty. Jaymie sat back on her haunches enjoying the sunshine and watching her hubby. Who would have expected her to fall in love and marry a fellow who had the same loves as she did: old stuff, old homes, old friends.

  A sedan pulled down the lane and a thin woman emerged, glanced around, spotted Jaymie, and came through the gate and up the flagstone walk.

  Uh-oh. Jaymie rose, dusted off her hands and knees and watched, shading her eyes and waiting. When the woman got close enough, she said, “Detective Vestry. I’m surprised to see you today.” Maybe there was something more about the Labor Day Weekend murder she needed to follow up on.

  “I come in peace, Jaymie,” the detective said with the slightest of smiles. “Look . . . I’m off duty.” She gestured to the jeans she wore.