“We’re out of pearl sprinkles. Could you run up to Medford and restock the sprinkle drawer? There are quite a few jars that are nearly empty and you have the best eye for what’s on trend.”
“I guess.” She sounded disinterested but I caught a tiny curl of her lip at my compliment.
“Take petty cash and I’ll pay for your gas too.”
Once she was gone, I took the black velvet cakes out of the walk-in and layered them with deep purple blackberry buttercream. Then I frosted the stacked cakes with midnight black frosting and trimmed the sides and top with gothic purple swirls of blackberry buttercream.
“What do you think?” I asked Sterling when I finished.
“That’s awesome, Jules. It’s like Steph in cake form.” He spun the cake on the stand to see every angle. “She’s going to freak when she sees this.”
“I’m so glad you like it. I’ll hide it in the walk-in behind the produce. Take it whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” He bit his bottom lip. “Wish me luck.”
“It’ll be great,” I assured him. I boxed Steph’s cake, tucked it behind a box of apples, and took a break upstairs. The bakeshop was alive with vibrant morning energy. I loved watching customers perusing the pastry case, trying to decide on which delight to order, and listening to them chat with Andy and Sequoia as they poured creamy shots of espresso and foamed milk.
Addie stood at the end of the line. I was surprised to see her at Torte.
“What brings you to the bakeshop this morning?” I asked, walking over to join her at the end of the line.
“I needed a chai latte.” Her eyes were on high alert. They darted from the espresso bar where Sequoia foamed oat milk to the booths by the front windows.
Was she looking for someone?
Addie rolled her neck in a half circle. “I have to spend the morning with the insurance agent and I’m not looking forward to it.”
We stepped closer to the counter as the line moved.
“Did you hear about Lars?” I asked.
Addie wrapped her cashmere shawl tightly around her narrow shoulders. “Who’s Lars?”
“Hunter’s son.”
“No.”
She didn’t sound particularly interested, but I filled her in about Lars getting caught breaking into Cyclepath and how he’d been pretending to be the Wizard as we waited in line.
Addie made it to the pastry case where Rosa waited to take her order. “What? You mean the kid? The teenager who skates around the neighborhood with his friends when they should be at school?”
“Yep. You got it. That’s Lars.” I motioned toward Rosa. “Did you want a chai?”
Addie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Wait, what are you saying? That skater kid was impersonating the Wizard?”
“Apparently. It sounds like he and his friends took advantage of the Wizard being a known entity around town. They committed a variety of crimes, pretending to be him.”
“Oh my God! I have to go.” Addie slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter.
“Did you want to order?” I asked. Rosa looked at me, unsure what to do with Addie’s money.
“No. I’ve need to go. I can’t believe this. I’ve been so wrong. God, I’m so stupid. It totally makes sense now. He used to hang around the studio. I told him and his friends to stop loitering. This entire time I thought the Wizard was following me at night. I bet you anything it was Lars. I have to get back to the studio and check my cameras and files.”
“Your files?” I reached for the five-dollar bill and handed it back to Addie.
She stuffed it in her sports bra. “I made a file documenting everything when I was trying to take out the restraining order. I have pictures and videos. Some of them aren’t the best resolution because they were taken at night, but the police might be able to enhance them. My surveillance cameras have hours of footage. The police can probably tell based on height and build whether whoever was following me on the bike path was Lars or the Wizard.” She stepped out of the line. “I feel terrible. What if I was wrong?”
“It was an honest mistake. I think that was Lars’ intention—to try and blame his crimes on the Wizard.”
“That’s terrible.” Addie practically ran out of the bakeshop.
If nothing else, Laney might get some relief in knowing that her father wasn’t a stalker, assuming that Addie’s documents proved that Lars was the one following her.
“Darling, over here!” Lance’s singsong voice turned my attention away from Addie.
Lance waved his fingers. He sat at one of the front window booths. “Don’t be shy. Come sit.”
When had he snuck in? I scooted behind the bar and poured two cups of coffee. Then I took a seat across from him.
“Coffee?” I offered him a cup.
“Always, darling.” Lance blew me a kiss. “I must know everything about the investigation, but first I have a special request.”
This is becoming a trend, I thought to myself, fully expecting Lance to want a “surprise” cake.
“I have the absolute best idea for this weekend’s Sunday Supper theme.”
“What’s that?” I cradled my coffee cup.
“Romance. A spring in your step as they say. Think springtime in the south of France. Beautiful budding flowers, wine, and something decadent for dinner.”
“How does Proposal Chicken sound?”
“Uh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darling!” Lance shot me a look of horror.
“Eating the dish does not mean you have to propose. It’s simply a lovely, romantic dish infused with flavor, and every so often it might spark getting on a knee and popping the question.”
Lance snapped fingers on both hands in unison. “You won’t be seeing me on a knee, but a romantic lovely dish does have a nice ring to it. What do you say? Time for a Torte supper? Sunday?”
“Sure.” The south of France reminded me of my wedding day. “Why the inspiration?”
“No reason. No reason.” Lance strummed his fingers on the table. “Put me down for two.”
“Oh really, and who’s your guest?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He winked. “Now, on to the good stuff. Do tell, what is the latest?”
Yet again I repeated what I knew about Lars’ arrest.
“An imposter amongst us. Do you think he did it? Killed the old man?”
I shrugged. “Not really. I guess it’s possible, but he doesn’t seem like a killer to me.”
“A killer kid. Shudder. Let’s leave that level of drama for the stage.” He pretended to wipe his brow.
“Fine by me. I saw the whole thing evolve this morning and Lars swore he didn’t have anything to do with the fire. I don’t know why, but I believe him. I feel like pieces of the puzzle are right in front of me but I can’t make them fit. The fire has to be at the center of it. But what are we missing? If the fire was intended to burn down Namaste Yoga, then what’s Addie’s connection?”
Lance’s gaze drifted to the window where Arlo was chatting with a woman near the bubblers.
“Are you listening?”
He drew his eyes away from the window. “Yes, yes. You are definitely on the crux of a breakthrough, but I must run, darling. Duty calls. Let’s book that springtime in Paris dinner. Ta-ta.”
He left with a spring in his step. I couldn’t blame him. I felt the same. I wanted to run through the plaza and sing at the top of my lungs. Carlos was staying. Thomas was proposing. Lance was gushing. And Sterling and Steph were moving in together. Love was winning. Everything would be perfect if I could just figure out who killed the Wizard.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As the afternoon wore into the evening, I finished my baking duties and started on Thomas’s dinner. The Proposal Chicken would marinate in a base of olive oil, garlic, onions, and sun-dried tomato pesto. I started by dicing the savory onions and garlic and tossing them in a cast iron skillet. Then I added the sun-dried tomato pesto, chicken breasts, and
fresh chopped basil. After I had browned the breasts on both sides, I added heavy cream and Parmesan cheese, and placed the skillet in the oven to bake for thirty minutes.
Donuts are best served fresh, so I saved those for last. Sticking with the romantic theme, I wanted to bake our signature raised donuts with an assortment of fruit-and berry-infused glazes. I warmed milk and yeast. For fluffy donuts it was critical to activate the yeast without killing it with scalding hot milk. I set it aside to rise and mixed melted butter, eggs, flour, salt, and a touch of sugar together. Once the yeast was bubbling, I incorporated it and turned the dough onto a floured cutting board. There’s nothing quite as cathartic as kneading dough. My mind wandered as I punched and pressed the dough until it became thick and soft while still slightly sticky.
I added oil to the fryer and turned the heat to medium high.
My thoughts drifted to Addie’s studio as I rolled the dough and began cutting out donuts. If my gut feeling about Lars was right and he hadn’t set the fire, then who had? Hunter had been on the scene. He claimed to have been working late, but what if that was a lie? What about Sky? I’d caught him sleeping in the outdoor kitchen. Maybe the fire had been an accident or a burst of outrage.
I dropped the first few donuts into the grease. They had to be watched closely so as not to burn. After about a minute and a half I flipped them with tongs. The donuts were a beautiful golden brown.
I lined cooling racks with paper towels to soak up any grease and transferred the first batch from the fryer. As I repeated the steps with the remaining donuts, I considered other possibilities. What if Addie had set the fire herself? She didn’t act as if money was a problem, but I had learned over the years that appearances could be deceiving. Or, what about Dean? What was his relationship with Addie? Was he dealing more than milk or was it the other way around? Was Addie his source?
It felt like I was so close to an answer, yet nothing quite made sense.
I flooded the donuts with citrus and berry glazes. Then I boxed them up along with the donut-themed engagement cake, salad, and bread.
Thomas texted a little after six. “Running late from the case. Any chance you could bring dinner to the park? Kerry’s meeting me here in thirty.”
I texted back a reply right away. “Of course. See you soon.”
The chicken had cooked in its cheesy, garlicky base. I finished it with more fresh chopped basil.
When I arrived at Railroad Park, my breath caught in my chest. Thomas had wrapped tiny yellow and pink twinkle lights around the gazebo. A silky cream tablecloth was draped over the picnic table. Two place settings, a bottle of champagne, and dozens of votive candles were arranged on the table. Janet, his mom, trimmed yellow and pink roses that were bundled with wildflowers and herbs.
“Hi Juliet, isn’t this beautiful?” She set one huge bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.
“Incredible.” In the distance the summit of Grizzly Peak was barely visible as the sun sunk behind us. The sepia-toned range, warm breeze, and scent of budding blackberries was an unequaled backdrop for a proposal.
“Hey, I’m here,” Thomas called from the path. Instead of his uniform he was wearing black slacks, a crisp white shirt, a suit jacket, and a simple black tie. His pace was quick as he approached the gazebo.
“Can I help you with that, Jules?” He fiddled with his tie.
“No way. You’ll get your suit dirty.” I set everything on a bench and began unpacking the feast.
He paced back and forth. “You haven’t seen Kerry yet, have you?”
“No sign of her yet,” Janet replied, resting a dainty bouquet on Kerry’s plate. “Don’t worry about us. I’ll help Juliet.”
It took us only a few minutes to set up dinner. To make sure everything would stay hot, I’d brought warming trays. I tossed the salad, arranged loaves of bread in a basket, set out ramekins with herbed butter, and uncorked a bottle of Uva’s cabernet. Next I propped the box of donuts open to reveal the glossy glazed sweets adorned with sprinkles, drizzled chocolate and caramel, and fresh-grated orange, lemon, and lime rinds.
Saving the best for last, I unboxed the cake while Thomas and Janet gushed over my shoulder.
“It’s so adorable,” Janet said. “The macaron donuts are so clever.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I pointed to the pastry box with the actual donuts. “Those are the real deal.”
Janet steadied an antique platinum cake stand while I slid the cake onto the center. It had turned out better than I had expected, with a touch of whimsy and elegance.
“Jules, you’ve outdone yourself. There’s enough food for the entire police force. Man, we’re going to be stuffed.” Thomas grinned. A car pulled up near the children’s play structure.
“That’s our cue,” Janet said to me. She kissed Thomas on the cheek. “Good luck. I can’t wait to hear the details tomorrow.”
“Same here.” I waved.
Janet and I hurried down the path as Kerry got out of her car. Part of me wished I could stay and watch as Thomas got down on a knee. Proposals were so romantic.
“That was kind of you to cook for them,” Janet said as we parted ways on the path.
“I’m excited for them. They’re a good match.”
Janet gave me a long hug. “They are. And you are a dear friend. I hope you know that.”
I squeezed her hand. “I do.”
Since I was near Scoops, I decided to stop by and see if Addie had learned anything new from the insurance inspector.
Namaste was dark. I was surprised. Addie’s evening classes were always packed with the after-work crowd.
Even stranger than not having class was the fact that the porch door leading to the studio was halfway open. I went up the stairs to the front porch and tapped on the door. “Addie, are you in there? It’s Jules.”
There was no answer, but I could have sworn I heard a whimper.
The tiny hairs on my forearm stood at attention. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and called the Professor.
He answered right away. “Juliet, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m at Namaste. I think something’s wrong,” I whispered. My brain told me to back away, but I stood frozen on the porch. “The front door is open, the studio is dark, and I think I heard whimpering.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way and I’ll car a squad car.”
“Okay.” I hung up as a loud thud sounded inside the yoga studio.
“Addie?” I pushed the door open farther.
Another whimper sounded.
Was it a cat?
“Hello?” I stepped all the way inside.
The lights were out but the sound of meditative music was playing in the next room. Maybe my imagination was getting the best of me. Could Addie be teaching a new form of yoga in the dark?
I tiptoed toward the door, and turned the handle slowly so as not to disturb a class—if there was one.
The music grew louder when I opened the door—as did the whimpering.
My worst fears turned into reality. There wasn’t a yoga class. Addie was tied to the ballet barre that ran along the far wall. Dean was in the process of gagging her.
“Tell me where the footage is now! I’m going to finish you off the same way I did that crazy old man.” Dean’s back was to me, but he loomed large over Addie, holding a milk bottle in one hand.
She tried to move her head away from Dean’s grasp, but he was much stronger.
I could feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. What should I do?
I glanced around the studio for anything I could use as a weapon. If I snuck up on Dean from behind, maybe I could take him out.
That’s not smart, Jules, my inner voice tried to reason.
The Professor was on his way and sending a squad car. They would be here any minute. My best bet was to sneak back outside and wait for the police.
“Where is the footage, Addie?” Dean shouted again. He had managed to get the gag aroun
d her mouth.
As Addie threw her head to the side she spotted me.
I shook my head and placed my finger to my lips.
Her eyes widened. She attempted to scream through the gag.
Dean whipped around and spotted me.
My stomach dropped.
“Hey!” He hurled the milk bottle at me.
It shattered against the wall.
My adrenaline kicked into high gear. “I’m going to get help, Addie!” I shouted as I made a break for the door.
Dean thudded after me.
I raced through the reception area and out the front door. My breath sounded like it had been amplified in my head.
“Stop!” Dean was right behind me.
I flew down the porch steps and glanced around me. There was no sign of the Professor or a squad car.
The front door banged shut.
Dean was outside.
I didn’t have time to think.
I needed to run—now!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You’re dead!” Dean bellowed as I sprinted toward the bike path.
I didn’t remember his voice sounding so evil before. He had killed the Wizard and was about to do the same to Addie. What would stop him from killing me?
There was only one solution. I had to get to Thomas and Kerry—fast!
The muscles in my chest squeezed like a tourniquet. I kept my strides as long as I could to try and keep distance between Dean and me.
Railroad Park wasn’t more than a quarter mile away, but it felt like I was running forever.
I could hear Dean’s heavy steps and panting gasps behind me.
“Help!” I shouted, flying toward the narrowing part of the path.
“Thomas! Kerry!”
Was Dean about to tackle me?
His wheezing breath felt like it was hitting the back of my neck.
Using every ounce of reserves I quickened my pace.
“Help!” I shouted again.
A flashlight beam pierced the sky again and again, like a bolt of lightning.
“Who’s there?” Kerry’s voice reverberated in the air.
Thank goodness.
I ran over the small stream as the playground came into sight.
Chilled to the Cone Page 21
