“Talk to the bike guy.”
“Hunter?”
He held out his empty coffee cup. “Can I have more?”
“Sure.” I stood to refill his cup in the kitchen. “Do you mean that Hunter started the fire?”
“I’m not saying anything else. Talk to him.”
“Okay.” I returned with a fresh cup. “I’ll do that.”
“You should go now. They’re there. I saw them. They’re doing nothing good.”
“Who? Hunter and who else?”
Sky was silent.
I glanced at my watch. Andy, Marty, and Steph would be arriving soon. “Do you want to come with me or stay here?”
“I’m not going down there.”
“Okay. My staff is going to show up. Are you comfortable staying here until I get back?”
He clenched the coffee cup. “Yeah.”
I left him and shot off a text to the team to give them a heads-up that Sky was warming himself by the fire. Then I texted Thomas and told him I was heading to Cyclepath, just in case. Sky was skittish and paranoid. I wasn’t sure if it was warranted or not, but there was only one way to find out.
Dawning purple light guided me to the Railroad District, which was a ghost town at this hour. I hurried down Water Street, following the gushing sounds of Ashland Creek and a single crow that flew overhead.
What was I going to do if I saw Hunter? I couldn’t confront him by myself.
No, Jules, not a smart move.
What I could do is document whatever he was up to.
I had my phone on me and Thomas had been informed, so I crept along the edge of the sidewalk, staying in the shadows.
Sure enough Hunter and Lars stood outside of the bike shop. Hunter screamed at his son. “I’m done covering up your messes. This is the final straw!”
“Whatever.” Lars tossed something on the ground.
“Go ahead. Talk like that. If anyone finds out about this—you’re going to do jail time. They’re not going to care that you’re a minor.”
Jail time?
“I’m so scared,” Lars retorted, with a scoff.
“Lars, this is serious. I’ve tried everything to get through to you. If it hadn’t been for these cameras I installed yesterday, it would be the cops here now. Not me. You’re out of chances, kid.”
Lars must have been unimpressed with his dad’s lecture because he shrugged and reached for his longboard, which was propped against the side of the building.
“No way. You’re not taking off. Get inside right now. We’re calling your mother and we’re ending this once and for all.”
Hunter dragged his son inside the bike shop.
Lars? Had Lars killed the Wizard?
I waited until they were inside, then hurried across the street to see what Lars had dropped.
My hand flew to my mouth when I got a closer look at the discarded item—a cape exactly like the Wizard’s.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I stood in the middle of the street, holding the cape and unsure what to do next. Lars had been the person imitating the Wizard? Why? Was it some sort of prank, or could he be involved in the Wizard’s murder, and setting Scoops on fire?
I had no idea how long I’d been standing there, holding the cape, until a voice shook me into reality.
“Jules, Jules!”
I looked up to see Thomas sprinting toward me. Detective Kerry was right behind him.
“What are you doing here? Did you get my text?”
“I did, but we were already in route. We got an anonymous tip that there was an altercation here.” He stared at the cape. “What’s that?”
“A cape that is exactly like the one the Wizard used to wear.” I handed Kerry the cape and told them what I’d just seen.
“Let’s go,” he said to Kerry without hesitation. “Stay here, Jules.”
Just as they began to move toward Cyclepath, the front door swung open and Hunter appeared in the doorway, yanking Lars behind him. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Detective Kerry and Thomas.
I inched closer, not wanting to miss out on what they said.
“See Lars, I warned you.” Hunter pushed Lars forward. “You take him. He’s out of control. I can’t stop him.”
Neither Kerry nor Thomas moved.
“Tell them, Lars. Tell them what you’ve done. Or should I?”
Lars folded his arms across his chest and gave his dad a defiant look.
“Fine. I’ll tell them.” Hunter pointed to Kerry. “You might want to take notes. This kid is going to end up with a rap sheet longer than a tandem bike.”
Thomas removed his iPad mini. “I’m happy to take your statement.”
“Fine. I just got off the phone with his mother and we agreed that we’re not going to protect him anymore. I didn’t want to believe it was you.” He shot Lars a look of disgust.
Lars didn’t react.
Hunter picked up the longboard that was propped against the side of the building. “He’s done. I’m over it. I’m ready to take this board and burn it. The kid needs to face serious consequences for his delinquent behavior.”
Did Hunter know that Lars had killed the Wizard and had kept it quiet?
Hunter smashed the longboard on the sidewalk. “See what you’ve done, Lars! Your mother is at home crying right now. Lock him up, officers.”
Thomas held up a hand to try to calm Hunter. “We’re not going to lock anyone up, sir.”
“Why? You’re looking at a vandal. This kid and his friends have been ditching school for the last three weeks. They tagged my store, stole my bikes, and set fire to the space across the street.”
Lars had started the fire? I felt my jaw drop.
Hunter continued to rant, rattling off a variety of crimes his son had committed. I was shocked.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say?” Thomas asked Lars after Hunter had finished.
“Nah. I don’t know why my dad’s being lame as always.” He snickered. “It’s no big deal. Me and my friends were just having fun.”
“No big deal?” Kerry replied, unable to hide her incredulous tone. “Vandalism, theft, and arson. Those are major crimes.”
“No one got hurt.” Lars smirked. “I don’t see why everyone’s freaking out. It was just stupid pranks. We didn’t set the fire. We smashed some bottles and tagged a couple buildings. What are you going to do? Make me and my friends do community service for a week? Ohhhh, I’m shaking.”
Lars showed no remorse for his deeds.
Thomas reached to his waist and proceeded to handcuff Lars.
“Good, get him out of my sight.” Hunter grabbed the longboard and stormed back into the bike shop. He slammed the door behind him.
Thomas took Lars to the squad car.
I walked over to Kerry.
“Did you hear everything?” she asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t get it. Why?”
“Who knows?” She frowned. “A kid with too much time on his hands probably.”
“What about the Wizard? I didn’t hear him say anything about being involved in his death, unless I missed it.”
“You didn’t miss anything. We’re going to take him in for questioning. Let’s hope he’s not connected to the murder or the arson at your shop. He already has a deep hole to crawl out of.” Her phone buzzed. “We’ve got to go.”
I watched them drive away.
How sad for Hunter. To have his own son target his shop and steal bikes. The question was whether Hunter had known all along. Had he protected Lars initially? It certainly sounded like that from what he’d told Kerry and Thomas.
Before returning to Torte, I decided to stop in to Cyclepath. I knocked softly on the door. Hunter came to answer it and looked surprised to see me. “Jules? You’re here early.”
“I could say the same about you.”
Hunter’s shoulders slumped. “The alarm woke me.”
“I was there when everything went down with Lars,”
I confessed.
He rubbed his temples. “I don’t know what else to do. Turning in your own kid is the worst thing. Let me tell you, I feel sick right now, but when the alert came in this morning, I saw him on camera. This entire time I’ve been harassing the police for not going after the Wizard and his friends, when the whole time the criminal was living under my own roof. Why? We have given Lars everything. He doesn’t want for anything.”
Except maybe attention, I thought to myself.
“I’m sorry about your place. We’ll see that the damages get covered. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll figure it out.”
“It sounded like Lars said he and his friends didn’t set the fire.”
“You trust him on that?” Hunter pounded his fist into his palm.
I was careful in how to word the next question. “Hunter, you don’t think that Lars and his friends could have had anything to do with the Wizard, do you?”
“You mean in his death?”
I nodded.
“No. They’re stupid kids. Don’t get me wrong. Lars made terrible choices but he would never kill anyone.” Hunter didn’t look as convinced as he was trying to sound.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Why, did you hear something?”
“No.” I thought about Sky, who I hoped was still huddled by the fireplace. Could he have seen Lars and his friends start the fire? Or maybe he witnessed them stealing bikes or spray-painting Cyclepath too.
Was Hunter to be trusted?
Sure, he had turned Lars over to the police, but what if he’d been protecting him? Or, another possibility formed in my mind. What if Lars had been acting on his father’s behalf? Hunter had been extremely vocal in his dislike of the Wizard. What if Lars killed the Wizard to stay in his dad’s good graces, or to pay for Hunter’s silence about his other crimes?
Why was Sky scared?
Could Lars or Hunter have threatened him?
Suddenly, I wanted to get out of the bike shop. I glanced at my wrist. “I should probably get to the bakeshop. My team is likely wondering why I’m not there rolling out bread dough with them.”
Hunter pointed to the door. “You can let yourself out.”
“I’m sorry about Lars,” I said as I walked to the door.
“Me too,” Hunter said, before taking a bike wrench and throwing it against the wall.
Chapter Twenty-Six
My mind played through dozens of scenarios on the walk to Torte. Did Detective Kerry and Thomas have the Wizard’s killer in custody? Lars didn’t strike me as a killer, but then again I couldn’t image damaging Torte or trying to set it on fire. Hunter seemed genuinely upset and yet I wasn’t entirely convinced that he hadn’t covered for his son.
“Hey, Jules. Your guest is still here.” Marty greeted me as I started down the stairs and he came up holding a box of bread.
“How is he?” I asked.
Marty shifted the box into his right arm. “Jumpy.”
“I know. I can’t figure out if that’s normal or if he’s really scared.”
“Well, it could have to do with the caffeine. I think he’s on his fifth cup of java.”
“Oh boy.”
“I’m off to deliver the bread. Good luck.” Marty continued upstairs.
I knew that Sky would be upset, but it was time for me to call the Professor. Before I went inside, I put in a quick call. The Professor didn’t answer but I left him a message explaining that we would keep Sky at Torte until he could get here.
“Sky, I have some good news,” I said, once inside. “They’ve arrested Lars.”
“Lars?” Sky looked confused. The shaking had subsided, though.
“He confessed to stealing the bikes among other things.”
“Lars?” Sky repeated.
“Yes. Hunter’s son. You know, the kid who hangs around Railroad Park with his friends. The police have him at the station now. You’re safe.”
He tapped his forehead as if trying to force his brain to process what I was saying. “Lars?”
“Lars admitted to stealing and tagging,” I said again, hoping to appease him.
“Lars?” He repeated, rocking back and forth.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He stood up.
“Wait here for a minute. There’s something else I want to make for you.”
“I need to go. It doesn’t make sense.” He gnawed on his filthy nails.
“Give me five minutes.” Hopefully the Professor had gotten my message. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep Sky in the bakeshop.
“Morning,” I said to Steph, who removed one earphone.
“Huh?” She was already piping pastry cream into cooled croissants.
“I just said good morning.”
“Oh. Morning.” She put her earphone back in and returned to filling the pastries.
Bethany and Rosa were up to their elbows in bread dough. I scooted into the walk-in and gathered supplies to pack Sky a hearty lunch. I tucked savory hand pies along with carrots, olives, and Sterling’s lemon garlic hummus into a bag. Then I added an apple, three cookies, and two day-old pastries. When I returned to the seating area, Sky was already on his feet, the blanket hanging from his shoulders.
“Here. Be sure you eat today, okay?”
“Thanks.” He took the lunch sack.
“Are you sure you won’t stay longer? The couch is a comfortable spot to rest. We don’t open for business for another hour.”
“No, I gotta go. I gotta figure something out.” He rubbed his forehead.
At that moment Mom and the Professor walked in. Thank goodness. Talk about the eleventh hour. The Professor deftly swept over to Sky with a nod of thanks to me. “What a wonderful coincidence. You are just the person I want to see.”
Sky rounded his shoulders and started rocking again.
“It’s okay. The Professor is on our side,” I said to Sky.
“Might we step across the street?” The Professor asked. I knew that it wasn’t really a question, but Sky agreed and they left together.
“Fill me in,” Mom said, warming her hands in front of the fire. “Spring in Ashland means my hands never warm up in the morning.”
I told her everything.
She sighed. “What a shame about Lars. I hope he’ll get the emotional help and support that he obviously needs.”
“Unless he’s the killer.”
“True.” She paused. “There’s more. What is it? You look lighter this morning.”
“You were right, Mom.” I couldn’t contain my smile. “Carlos is going to stay.”
“Oh, Juliet. I’m so happy!” She wrapped me in a tight hug and stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “For the record, I’d like it known that I never had any doubts. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’ve found the real thing and I couldn’t be more thrilled that Carlos is going to be a part of our family. Tell me every detail.”
She nursed a cup of Andy’s dark roast while I relayed the details of last night’s conversation.
“He’s a keeper, Juliet. And, he’s right about Uva. You’ve seen the newspaper articles touting Ashland as the new Napa. I think you’re smart to invest in the vineyard. It reminds me of when your dad and I started Torte.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Both of our eyes got misty. “I think I need to bake. I have some specialty cakes that got left unfinished last night and I have way too much eager excitement built up inside.” My bouncing left foot was evidence of my newfound energy.
“Good plan. I’ll join you.” Mom blew me a kiss. “You know my philosophy, baking is the antidote for everything.”
With that we returned to the kitchen and I immersed myself in designing Thomas’s donut cake. The cakes had cooled overnight, so I started by stacking them with layers of luscious raspberry preserves and fresh raspberries. Then I frosted them with a thin layer of buttercream and returned the cake to the walk-in to allow the frosting to set.
Decorating the cake with donuts
would be a challenge. I didn’t think the airy, fried treats would be structurally sound, but I wanted the cake to look like a donut. I thought through possibilities until inspiration struck—macarons. I could make batches of colorful berry macarons in the shape of mini donuts to adorn on the cake.
Macarons require patience and delicate care. A few simple ingredients—powdered sugar, almond flour, and egg whites—were the building blocks for the French confection. If done correctly, the result would be a delectable Parisian meringue cookie sandwiched with jam and buttercream. After folding egg whites into the almond flour and sugar, I scooped the dough into a piping bag, and piped round donuts onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. One of the mistakes that novice bakers make when attempting the ethereal delicacies is not allowing the cookies enough time to dry. Macarons need close to an hour to harden before baking.
While I waited for them to set, I used a flat spatula to frost another layer of buttercream on the cake. Once the macarons had baked, I piped raspberry, blackberry, and cherry jam along the rims and sandwiched them together. Then I finished the donut effect by piping chocolate and vanilla royal icing on the top and dusting them with sprinkles. Finally I used more buttercream as glue to press the miniature donuts onto the sides of the cake and pile them on the top, like a stack of Sunday morning donuts.
“That is adorable, Jules,” Bethany said as I placed the last of the pastel donut on the tiered cake. “I’ve got to post that on our social.”
“You bet. Just wait a couple days to post them. This cake is for a surprise proposal.”
“I love weddings!” She clapped with delight and snapped pictures before I returned the cake to the walk-in to keep it cool until Thomas picked it up tonight.
I had to be more sneaky when it came to working on Steph’s cake, so I stuffed the last jar of our pearl-bead sprinkles into my apron pocket. “Hey, Steph, can I ask you a favor?”
Steph had finished the last of the custom cake orders. Her workstation was filled with six-inch, eight-inch, and twelve-inch round cakes meticulously decorated with fire trucks for a boy’s fifth birthday, gold and white beading with delicate sugar feathers for a Great Gatsby bash, and a fault-line cake filled with green buttercream succulents.
Chilled to the Cone Page 20
