Dead Velvet Cake

by James, Emily

  Dan took a step forward. His feet entered my line of sight. “Look at me please.”

  Even though it was a request, I didn’t have the backbone to disobey. I looked up.

  He was looking at me like he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure how I’d react. “You can’t keep living in your truck. For a lot of reasons. Your locks are antiques. Anyone with access to the Internet could figure out how to break in. It’s not even safe.”

  No. It wasn’t. I’d seen so much during my time practically living on the streets that I knew it wasn’t. Even more so for me. As proof of his point, when I was in Fair Haven, Nicole had even figured out how to break into my truck thanks to a video she’d watched.

  But what did he want me to say. He couldn’t possibly understand what he was asking. Something hot bubbled up in my chest. “It’s not safe anywhere.”

  Claire’s expression changed from one of mild annoyance to confusion.

  Dan hadn’t told her. Maybe she didn’t know that my name wasn’t Isabel Addington. I’d always assumed…

  “Because of your husband?” Dan asked.

  “Your husband?” Claire said at the same time as I said, “Yes.”

  She groaned. “I’m not sure which of you I’m more annoyed with right now.” She glared at Dan. “Since you’ve obviously known this for a while.”

  Dan didn’t look sheepish or even avert his gaze. “I did. It wasn’t mine to tell.” His gaze shifted back to me. “It still isn’t.”

  They both focused on me. Neither of them said anything more.

  Other than Nicole, it’d been a long time since anyone cared enough about me to press this way. To dig down into my business for my own good and put themselves in jeopardy for me.

  Maybe you couldn’t have true connection with people without that messy invasion, just like I couldn’t make a cupcake without beating the eggs and the sugar together until they combined. Real relationships couldn’t be surface conversations and pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

  Besides, if I was staying here even temporarily, Claire deserved the truth.

  I straightened my shoulders and tipped my chin up. Dan deserved the truth too. I’d been afraid that he’d believe Jarrod over me because Jarrod was a law enforcement officer, but Dan had proved that he wouldn’t. He’d believe me and protect me.

  “You’re right to think me staying here is a terrible idea. I started going by Isabel when I left my abusive husband after he beat me so badly I lost our baby.” My tongue stumbled over the word abusive. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever said it out loud that bluntly before. “He’s an FBI agent with resources and connections. I can’t sign a lease because he’d find me. When he finds me, he’ll kill me. He almost managed it once already since I left him. And I don’t know what he’ll do to anyone who gets in his way.”

  My throat closed up, and I couldn’t have said anything more if I’d wanted to.

  Claire let out a puff of air. She moved over to the bed and sat. “I need a minute to process all that.”

  For the first time since I’d known him, Dan looked like he didn’t know what to say either. Since he’d learned I was trying to stay hidden from my husband—who he knew was also a law enforcement officer—he’d probably come up with a lot of reasons for why I was running. It looked like the real one hadn’t crossed his mind.

  He reached a hand toward me. I stepped back. He couldn’t touch me right now. If he touched me, I’d break down.

  “It’s not for the reason you think,” Claire said.

  I jumped. She’d meant it literally when she said she needed a minute. It couldn’t have been more than that.

  I had no idea what she meant.

  Claire was looking up at me. “My husband is refusing to give me a divorce, which means I’m not receiving alimony. I haven’t been able to find a job because I’ve been out of the workforce for so long. Dan thought it would solve both our problems if you moved in and paid me rent. I’d have part of the income I need, and you’d have a home.”

  She stopped suddenly, like she hadn’t meant to stay so much but once she started the words poured out.

  “I didn’t want you here because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. It had nothing to do with the murder investigation.”

  The admission came out harsh, as if she was reprimanding me for something rather than confessing a failing on her part.

  I didn’t know what would be best to say, so I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I wouldn’t have felt sorry for you.”

  “I see that now,” she said without hesitation.

  We stared at each other for a second.

  Claire got up and brushed off her pants even though they were perfectly clean. “You’re staying here. Neither of us should continue being punished for our poor choice in husbands. I think we’ve suffered enough.”

  Of all the people I would have guessed I’d form a kinship with, Claire hadn’t been among them. “I think we have.”

  18

  A pair of sunglasses slid across my truck’s order counter where people usually passed cash to pay for their cupcakes.

  I followed the arm back to where it attached to Eve, balancing on tiptoes so she could see me better. Her normally bubbly smile was absent. “You said you didn’t have a pair. I thought these would look really nice with your face shape and complexion.”

  She hadn’t come to my truck since I’d visited her at her office. I’d started to think she wasn’t ever coming back. Now she showed up with a gift?

  I picked the sunglasses up. They were trendier than I’d have selected for myself, but they were what I would have picked had I not constantly felt like I needed to blend in.

  I turned them over in my hand. The brand name jumped out at me from the arm. They were designer. Real designer. Not knockoffs.

  I held them back toward her. “I can’t accept these. They’re too expensive.”

  Eve somehow managed to flip them around without ever taking them from my hand. “No, look.”

  She pointed at a tiny flaw in the left arm, almost like an air bubble got into the material while it was setting. You’d never feel it when you were wearing them because it was on the outside. It would make it so that people willing to pay this amount of money for sunglasses wouldn’t want to buy them. If you were paying hundreds of dollars for a name brand, the product better be perfect.

  “My brother works at the factory where they’re made. He gets to buy ones that would otherwise be tossed for quality control reasons at a huge discount. Cheaper than you could get for a generic brand at a box store. Promise.”

  I wanted to slide them on. They looked like they’d give great coverage, so I wouldn’t be randomly blinded like with my last pair. They also looked like they wouldn’t pinch the way my last pair had. I’d constantly ended up with a headache at the end of a day from the way my dollar store pair pressed above my ears.

  Eve glanced back over her shoulder. She’d been the only one in line, but now another couple approached.

  She leaned closer. “Besides, they’re an apology gift.”

  She had to be referring to how angry she’d seemed when I asked about what in her past Detective Strobel could have found that would make her seem guilty. Her reaction had served to make her seem even more guilty. She had to know that. Was this gift meant to distract me?

  The other customers had stopped in line behind Eve.

  She stepped back and waved at me. “I’ll see you later.” She passed the couple and spun. She walked backward. “Her cupcakes are the best in the city. You won’t regret it.”

  The cloud that had been temporarily blocking the sun moved, and I squinted.

  I couldn’t keep a gift long-term from someone who looked like she had killed her boyfriend, but Eve wasn’t going to take the glasses back today. Whether she was genuine or not, I could at least wear them for now and give them back to her later.

  I hated to even think it, but this gift made her seem more guilty,
not less. She didn’t want me to mull over her outburst.

  I slid the sunglasses on, but my hand froze before I lowered it.

  If Eve killed Anthony Rigman, then she might have been the one who called in the tip to the police about me living in my truck. I was around her enough that she could have figured it out, especially if she’d been following me, looking for a way to frame me.

  Everything she’d done could be exactly what Dan suggested it might be—a way to stay close to the investigation and direct it. Even her “friendship” with me could fit that framework. Getting close to me meant it’d be easier to frame me. Or if I came up with another viable suspect to deflect attention from her, all the better.

  I’d been gullible, just like Jarrod always said I was. He used to say he had to make all the decisions because I wouldn’t know if someone was trying to trick me or not.

  I served the customers who’d come up behind Eve and then closed down my flap even though I hadn’t sold out completely. I didn’t have the heart for selling anything more today.

  I went back into my truck and sank down onto the floor. I pulled out my phone. I couldn’t bear to tell Dan that I’d been naïve about Eve after all, but I needed to hear the voice of someone I knew I could trust.

  I dialed his cell phone number.

  “Just the person I was hoping to hear from,” Dan said in lieu of a hello. “Would you be able to pick Janie up from vacation Bible school? I’m sorry to ask you to leave work, but Claire has a job interview.”

  His words doused the fire burning behind my eyes thanks to Eve’s betrayal.

  Even after what I’d told him, he trusted me enough to still take care of Janie. He trusted that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. “I’ll head there now. Did you catch a new case?”

  Dan was usually good about planning for someone to care for Janie in advance if he knew he’d be working late. His end of the call didn’t have the normal noises I’d expect if he were driving, so he had to still be at the station.

  “In a manner of speaking.” He lowered his voice. “Strobel asked me to help with some interviews for the Anthony Rigman case. He found out that shortly before Rigman and his wife separated, the police were called in on a domestic disturbance. It turns out the receptionist I talked to at the barbecue actually filed and dropped a sexual harassment complaint against Rigman too. Strobel wants to talk to both women immediately, and since I’m the most familiar with the case apart from him, he’s, surprisingly, asked for my help.”

  My stomach did a funny twist. Maybe I’d been too hasty in condemning Eve and believing what everyone else did about her. “Does this mean Eve’s no longer a suspect?”

  “Unfortunately not. Strobel will be talking to her as well. If he can prove that Rigman has a history of mistreating women and then bullying them not to report him, it speaks to motive. Strobel thinks Eve might have decided to solve the problem on her own rather than making a formal complaint where she might not have been believed.”

  I couldn’t deny the ring of truth to what he said. So many women didn’t report harassment, assault, and abuse because they feared they wouldn’t be believed or that there’d be some negative repercussion. I was a perfect example.

  While I couldn’t condemn Eve if she’d felt backed into a corner with no other way out, I couldn’t condone what she’d done either. Assuming she was guilty.

  The whole situation felt like a tangled web. I couldn’t separate my friendship with her from her guilt. If she were guilty, she’d befriended me because I seemed like a vulnerable, easy target.

  Ugg, I didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about her or this case. With Dan actively involved now, it felt safer to back off and allow him to handle it. I had a little girl waiting for me.

  The time had come to let the professionals handle it—something I never thought I’d hear myself think.

  19

  The man who came to the front of the line after a woman I recognized from the Rigman & Associates barbecue had a clerical look to him. His dress shirt was neatly pressed and his tie lay straight, at the perfect length for someone who’d tied it intending to wear it without a jacket. He had a clipboard tucked under one arm and a pen in his pocket.

  He didn’t look at my menu when he stepped up to the counter. “I’m here to conduct a health and safety inspection. Are you…” He glanced at the paperwork attached to the clipboard. “Isabel Addington?”

  My tongue felt like it’d melted into the bottom of my mouth even though today was the coolest day we’d had in over a week. I nodded.

  “Good. I’ll need you to close up for about an hour.”

  The customers in line behind him had clearly heard what he’d said. They turned away. Who knew if they’d come back. The first thing that most people thought of when a business underwent a health and safety inspection was that there was some violation. They wouldn’t naturally assume that violation was me living in my truck. They’d think something like unclean equipment or rodents.

  I flipped my menu board around. The backside read Closed. I’d never used it that way before because I generally shut my truck down and moved on.

  I should have known the health and safety board wouldn’t schedule an appointment. That would have given me a chance to hide any potential violations. Dan had been right to move fast. Not even a week had passed since Strobel received the tip about me living in my truck.

  The inspector wanted to see my permits and asked me some questions, including my home address. I rattled off Claire’s address. The man didn’t give me a second look or pause. Either my lack of hesitation in giving my address already made him believe I wasn’t living here, or he planned to check later. Or he might have already had the address I gave Detective Strobel. The number was only slightly off, something that could have been a mistake on Strobel’s part.

  The inspector went through every inch of the truck, including pulling open the compartment where I used to keep my sleeping bag and other personal belongings. If I hadn’t had Dan’s warning and the opportunity to move everything out, I’d be losing my license at that moment. With the advanced warning, I’d filled that spot with some decorative table clothes and a spare bag of flour.

  He closed the storage compartment with a snap. His gaze shifted to the floor, and he stooped to pick up a piece of metal.

  He handed it to me. “I could knock off a mark for cleanliness because of this, but everything else is in perfect order. I’ll overlook it. You will need to make some upgrades to your truck within the next couple of years to stay within standards.” He gave me his first smile since stepping up to my counter. He pulled a carbon copy of his check list off of his board and set it on my counter. “You have a nice day Ms. Addington. I’m sorry to have disturbed you for what was clearly a false call. We get them sometimes. Usually from competitors looking to cause trouble.”

  I almost offered him a cupcake on his way out, but that could have looked like I was trying to curry favor even though the inspection was over. Besides, he likely had some ethical guidelines that said he couldn’t accept any sort of gift from a business he’d been sent to investigate.

  I set the stone he’d handed me down on top of his report. It looked more like a piece of metal than a stone now that I was actually looking at it—silvery-white and shiny.

  A picking at the back of my brain told me I’d seen something like it before.

  My stomach twisted, and a numb tingle spread down both my arms. The tiny bit of metal looked like the pictures of antimony I’d seen online after Mark told Dan and I that antimony could have delayed the decomposition of Anthony Rigman’s body to throw off the time of death.

  I had to be sure.

  I pulled out my phone and did an Internet search on antimony. The first article that came up told me what I already knew about antimony. Women in ancient Egypt used to use it as a cosmetic. High doses of it were fatal to humans. It was used in manufacturing glass, ceramics, and some plastics like those used in TV screens
and sunglasses.

  No picture.

  My finger froze over the screen before I could tap back to check more links. Antimony was used in manufacturing sunglasses. Eve’s brother worked for a company that made sunglasses. That’s how she got the pair that rested on top of my head right now.

  Had she really done this? All of this?

  I tapped back. I had to make sure this was actually a piece of antimony that someone had planted in my truck before I jumped to any other conclusions.

  The second link took me to a picture of a pound of antimony available for purchase from an online website. The image matched the stone on my counter perfectly.

  Look, the part of me who didn’t want to believe Eve had betrayed me said. Anyone could have ordered antimony online.

  That was true. Unfortunately for me in one way. I’d have a hard time proving I hadn’t ordered antimony to kill Anthony myself.

  I could take this piece and throw it away, toss it out my window while driving down the highway. I could stop somewhere and bury it. The inspector had found it, but he hadn’t recognized what it was. No one knew about this but me.

  Had that been the real purpose behind calling the health and safety inspector on me. Perhaps the person who’d done it hadn’t actually known I was living in my truck. Maybe they hoped the inspector would take pictures of any “dirt” they found so that there’d be a record of antimony in my possession. Maybe they’d even thought the inspector might package up any unusual substances found.

  Maybe they wouldn’t take any chances, and they’d call the police with another tip soon. They might have gambled on the health and safety violation getting me out of my truck at night. With my truck empty for hours, they would have the opportunity to plant the antimony. This might have only been the first step. The police could be here with a warrant for a search next.

  My brain felt too full of all the possibilities and options.