Dairy-Free Death

by P. D. Workman

  “Did she have any? Did she say what she thought about them?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t mention anything.” Erin tried to recall what she had seen at The Bake Shoppe. She had seen her cupcakes out. On a plate, not the boxes she had packaged them into for Joelle. How many of each had been left? “I think… there were three or four of each left, weren’t there? What did you see? I wasn’t looking at anything other than Trenton. He’s really all I paid any attention to.”

  “I walked around to clear the building,” Terry said slowly. “I looked at everything.”

  She could tell that he was trying to play it back in his mind. Trying to replay each impression in his mind to answer the question.

  “Yes… three or four of each.” He cleared his throat, frowning and staring at the empty air between them. K9 was still drinking noisily. “If you sold them six of each, and there were three of each left, then there were six eaten.”

  “According to my first-grade math skills, yes. If Joelle had twelve cupcakes, and there were six cupcakes left—”

  “That’s too many for just one of them to have eaten,” Terry went on as if Erin weren’t even talking. “Both of them ate some of the cupcakes.”

  “I suppose,” Erin agreed. “I can’t see Joelle having more than one or two. Even though six of them were for her.”

  “So, Miss Biggs had one of the chocolate chip, and Mr. Plaint had two, or else Miss Biggs had two, and Mr. Plaint had one.”

  “Right.”

  “And he had all three of the red velvet because they were not vegan.”

  “Right. Joelle wouldn’t have touched those.”

  Terry didn’t say anything. He just sat there, eyes unfocused, running through it in his mind.

  “What is it?” Erin prompted. “Why does that matter?”

  “What did you see when you went into The Bake Shoppe? Describe everything in detail.”

  “I already told you everything.”

  “Mr. Plaint. He was lying face-up or face-down?”

  “Face-down, I told you.”

  “Did he have anything in his hands? Had he been eating? Was there anything on the floor? Crumbs?”

  “No, no, nothing that I noticed. Why? You don’t think…” Erin’s brows drew down, and a headache started in the middle of her forehead. “You don’t think he choked on one of my cupcakes, do you?”

  “Choked… maybe he had allergies like his mother…”

  “His air passage was clear, and I didn’t see anything on the floor. I think one of us would have noticed if he’d choked on a big lump of muffin and then dislodged it when he fell.”

  Terry nodded his agreement. “Did he have any allergies?”

  “I have no idea. He said that he was going to bake normal stuff and leave all the gluten-free to me. He never said he would eat it. I got the feeling that he looked down on the special diets. A lot of people act that way, men in particular. That they’re too big and strong to have allergies, and anyone who does must be weak or effeminate…”

  “So, he probably wouldn’t have told anyone if he did have allergies.”

  Erin didn’t like the way the conversation was turning. “If he did have any allergies, I have no idea what they are. Joelle didn’t mention any before buying him those red velvet cupcakes. She checked all the ingredients in the chocolate chip cupcakes and the icing and sprinkles. But she didn’t check anything on the red velvet.”

  “Tell me what his face looked like when you turned him over.”

  Erin closed her eyes. “Very pale. I don’t know… he might have been blue from lack of oxygen. I started on CPR and rescue breathing right away. I didn’t think there was any time to spare.”

  “No. Of course not. Did he have any… fluids on his face?”

  Erin shook her head slowly. “I… I wiped his mouth before I started breathing. So… if there was any evidence, I might have wiped it away.”

  “If you wiped his mouth, then it must not have been dry.”

  “I don’t remember… he wasn’t frothing at the mouth if that’s what you mean. He hadn’t bit his tongue during a seizure and bled. There wasn’t… I don’t know… no nosebleed or cuts that I noticed.”

  “But you must have noticed moisture, or you wouldn’t have wiped it.”

  “I… don’t know. Maybe I would have anyway. You know… because of germs.”

  “It’s so hot, any saliva would have evaporated pretty quickly.”

  “I guess. Yeah.”

  Terry sighed. He took a long drink of his iced tea. K9 had finally stopped drinking, so Erin offered him the dog biscuit. K9 took it from her and lay down with it between his paws, as usual.

  “We’ll just have to wait for the coroner’s report,” Terry said. “I’m sure it was probably nothing related to the cupcakes. This is not Angela’s death all over again.”

  “Angela wasn’t killed by my cupcakes,” Erin reminded him firmly. “It was nothing to do with my baking.”

  “And I’m sure this one wasn’t either.”

  Erin dragged herself in the door and flopped down on the couch.

  “I can’t believe how exhausted I am,” she moaned. “And how sore! My arms feel like they belong to someone else, they’re so heavy and swollen.” She shifted her position. “Except I know they’re mine because they hurt every time I move!”

  Orange Blossom, yowling for attention, jumped up onto the couch, and then into Erin’s lap. When she didn’t start cuddling and scratching him, he stood his front paws on her chest, bumping his head insistently against Erin’s chin.

  Erin laughed. “I’d give you attention if I could, Mr. Blossom, I’m just too beat.”

  Vic swooped over and picked up Orange Blossom. “That’s enough, leave Erin alone. Why don’t you go get into the bath, and I’ll feed the baby and warm up some dinner?”

  “After all the treats and iced tea, I’m going to have to pass. I really couldn’t eat anything else.”

  “Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know. Just go have a warm bath, it will help those sore muscles.”

  “I’m afraid that if I got into the bathtub, I wouldn’t be able to get back out without help,” Erin said. “And I don’t think either of us wants you to have to drag my naked self out of the bathtub.”

  Vic looked at Erin, brows raised. “I’m strong,” she pointed out. “I could help you.”

  “Yes, but…” Erin was proud of the way that she and Vic had been able to settle in together as housemates without a bunch of awkwardness between them over Vic’s background and gender identity. Most of the time, she didn’t think twice about Vic’s female identity or her former life as James Victor Jackson, Angela’s nephew. They both were modest and carefully preserved their privacy. Neither had seen the other in the altogether, and that was the way Erin intended to keep it. “I think I’m just going to head straight to bed. The heating pad will be easier to manage than getting in and out of the tub in this condition.”

  Vic nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. But she looked at Erin for a minute longer than was comfortable, and Erin was pretty sure that Vic had understood far more about Erin’s discomfort than she intended. Erin would never have done anything to draw attention to the physical differences between their bodies, but she was afraid she just had.

  “Good night, then,” Erin said softly.

  “Good night. Give me a shout if you need anything. If you’ve got the heating pad on, I’m sure this guy will be snuggling with you tonight.”

  “For sure,” Erin agreed.

  Erin had thought that would be the last she saw of Vic for the night. But Vic checked in a few hours later as she got ready for bed.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  Erin had been in and out of sleep. Exhausted, but too sore and anxious to stay asleep. She had tried to read. She had written several lists. She would fall asleep for what seemed like five minutes and then wake up again, her brain too restless to get any REM sleep.

  “Yeah.
You can come in.”

  Vic crept into the room and sat on the edge of Erin’s bed. She looked around for a minute like she hadn’t seen the room before. Which of course she had.

  “What’s wrong?” Erin asked.

  “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. My brain is going a mile a minute, and I don’t think I can settle in.”

  “Tell me about it,” Erin sympathized. “I might have to take something tonight, and I never take anything to sleep. I don’t want to be in a fog tomorrow.”

  Vic nodded.

  “Tell me what you’re worrying about the most,” Erin prompted. She looked at the paper and pencil on her bedside table. “We could make a list if you like.”

  “I don’t need a list for what I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “Me? What about me? I keep telling you I’m just fine.”

  “You have to ask? I’m worried about you getting caught up in another murder investigation.”

  Erin was surprised at that.

  “Trenton? It wasn’t murder, Vic. It was a heart attack or stroke. These athletes who put on a lot of weight later in life and end up with sedentary lives; you hear about the dangers all the time. They think they can do everything they could as kids, but their bodies just aren’t up to it anymore. They sit too much, eat too much, and then work too much in the heat when their bodies aren’t used to it…”

  “Maybe.” Vic sat there, her face bleak. “Or maybe it was poison. Or another allergic reaction. Or maybe he was hit over the head.”

  “I don’t think he was hit over the head. I looked for any injuries. Everything seemed to be just fine. He wasn’t stabbed or shot or hit over the head. He wasn’t strangled.”

  “Poison.”

  “What makes you think he was poisoned? Nobody else was there. Who could have poisoned him?”

  “You.” Before Erin could protest, Vic held up her hand and pressed on. “I don’t mean you did it, just that you could have, and that’s what Officer Piper is going to think and what everyone else is going to think. That Trenton was in your way, he was going to take your business, so you… took care of it.”

  “I did not poison Trenton Plaint.”

  “I know. You couldn’t have without me knowing about it. I was there when you made the cupcakes and when you sold them to Joelle. You couldn’t have put anything in them. Especially in just those six. But that’s what other people are going to think. That you killed him.”

  “I don’t think anyone is going to think that. If I poisoned him, why would I give him CPR? Why would I get involved at all?”

  Vic looked down and didn’t answer, but Erin could see the scenarios herself. The perpetrator often went back to the scene of the crime. They had to make sure. They inserted themselves into the investigation to keep track of it. They wanted to see other people’s reactions. To make sure the body was found. To make themselves look heroic.

  “No one has accused me of murder, and no one is going to,” Erin assured Vic. “Now you go to bed and don’t worry about it anymore. We both need to get a good night’s sleep to be effective tomorrow. If you need something to help you sleep, you can check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I have a few herbs—”

  “I have Ambien.”

  Erin looked at Vic, startled. There were still a lot of things that she didn’t know about Vic. Erin had tried to give Vic her privacy. She’d never searched through Vic’s possessions for drugs, prescription or otherwise. That was Vic’s own business. Erin didn’t even know who Vic’s doctor was, whether she had gotten a prescription from someone in town or if she had had the Ambien from the time she ran away from home. They didn’t have a lot of time apart, but sometimes Vic did take an evening or Sunday afternoon to run errands on her own.

  “Okay, then,” Erin tried to keep her tone casual. “If you need one, go ahead and take it. Tomorrow’s a new day, and everything will be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

  Vic nodded, standing up from the bed. “I’ll try not to.”

  Chapter Six

  WHEN THEY OPENED IN the morning, Erin was braced for the increase in traffic and gossip that was going to run through the bakery. Everyone would have heard about Trenton, and they would all want to share their speculations and get the inside scoop from Erin. The only other person who could tell them anything was Terry Piper, and everyone knew he couldn’t share anything about his investigation with civilians.

  So, she was pleasantly surprised when she saw that the first person into the bakery was Bertie Braceling. Erin had yet to find anything she could sell to him, but it was a challenge she was determined to succeed at.

  Bertie gave her a wide smile, toddling up to the counter. He was a short man, stout with a round face. It certainly didn’t appear that his multiple allergies and intolerances kept him from getting enough calories. Or maybe it was all just a joke, and he was able to eat whatever he wanted to and just liked to tease Erin about not being able to bake for him.

  He scanned the display case in front of him but knew that there was no point in asking about what he saw there. If there were anything he could eat, Erin would point it out to him.

  “What’s new, pumpkin?” he asked genially.

  “I’m working on it!” Erin grabbed a folder of recipes from under the cash register. “Now, you said you couldn’t have flours made from any grains.”

  “Right.”

  “But buckwheat is okay because it’s not from the grass family.”

  He nodded. “It’s a pseudocereal. Not actually related to wheat and corn.”

  “So, I wondered about this…” Erin pulled the first recipe out of her folder and placed it in front of him. Bertie’s eyes went back and forth over the ingredients, and he was shaking his head almost immediately.

  “No tapioca flour,” he said. “Cassava gives me neurological symptoms. Did you know that cassava is actually poisonous? It can kill you if not properly prepared?”

  “But not tapioca flour. All of the toxins have been removed in commercial flours.”

  He shrugged. “But something about it still bothers my body, unfortunately.”

  “Okay.” Erin circled the ingredient on the recipe. “We would need to substitute another starch in this recipe. How about…” She flipped to the next recipe. “I was thinking about some no-cook raw treats. Now, a lot of them rely on nut butters, which are out, but I could use a seed butter that you were able to tolerate…” She slid the recipe in front of him. “There are lots of variations once you have the basic recipe down…”

  Bertie laughed. “Dates.”

  “Dates?” Erin’s heart sank. All the recipes were a combination of two base ingredients. A nut butter and dates.

  “Used to be able to eat them when I was young. And I even got my hands on fresh dates a time or two going to markets in the city. But… now they give me an anaphylactic reaction.”

  Erin sighed. “So, no dates. Maybe I can figure something out with another kind of dried fruit.” She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

  “As long as I’m not allergic to the fruit it’s made from. And there are sulphites, you know. And a lot of dried fruits like raisins are coated with cottonseed oil to keep them from clumping together…”

  “Oh, Bertie…!”

  “I know, dear.” He patted her hand. “I warned you not to even try! It’s a moving target. Even something that’s safe today, I could start reacting to tomorrow.”

  “Just like Trenton,” a woman said.

  Erin looked over at the next customer, shocked at the suggestion. She hadn’t seen Melissa come in, too focused on her conversation with Bertie. Vic froze, taking a muffin out of the case for Melissa. She looked at Erin, eyes wide.

  “I’m sure the coroner hasn’t had time to determine cause of death yet,” Erin said to Melissa, gritting her teeth but forcing a smile. “He probably hasn’t even had time to look at the body. Last I saw Mr. Plaint, they hadn’t even declared him yet.”

  But she knew in her heart that Trenton h
ad been dead when they loaded him into the ambulance. He’d been dead for hours, despite all that Erin and Terry had done.

  “Well, he’s been declared now,” Melissa advised. She gave Erin a big smile. “That’s the second person to die right after eating one of your cupcakes.”

  Bertie gave Erin an uncertain smile. “I’ll check in again another day. Unless you’re ready to give up on me…”

  “Not a chance.” Erin tore her eyes away from Melissa and tried to give Bertie her full attention. “I’ll see you later.”

  He smiled and went on his way. Erin sighed and looked back at Melissa, who now had her muffins and was ready to check out.

  “So, what’s this about Trenton? It wasn’t obvious it was an allergy; not like with Angela.”

  “Your cupcakes were on the scene,” Melissa said. “He’d obviously eaten recently. His girlfriend said that she didn’t think he had allergies, but she didn’t really know for sure.”

  “She didn’t know?”

  “They apparently… haven’t known each other for that long.”

  Erin frowned as she made change for Melissa. “What do you mean by that? Did they just meet? She wasn’t a hitchhiker that he just happened to pick up.”

  “Well, no.” Melissa giggled. “Nothing like that. They have only been dating for a couple of months. Not very long, but not… she wasn’t someone he just picked up on his drive here.” She laughed again.

  Erin nodded. “Some people don’t like to share their allergies. Because they’re too macho or anxious about fitting in. But the same applies to other conditions as well. He probably wouldn’t tell Miss Joelle Biggs if he had a heart condition either, would he? Something like that might scare her off.”

  “He didn’t have a heart condition.”

  “According to who?”

  Melissa opened her mouth to respond, then realized that she was just confirming what Erin had said. Even if Trenton did have a heart condition, he wasn’t going to be entrusting it to his short-term girlfriend. The peacock was not a reliable witness as to his health issues.

  “Why don’t we just wait until the coroner has something to report?” Erin suggested. “I think that would be best, don’t you?”