by Polly Holmes
The inside matched the outside. Pink and chocolate brown stripe walls. Chalk menu boards, framed in gold, with cute detailed pictures of cupcakes strategically placed. Glass counter cabinets hosted some of the most amazing and intricate cupcake designs he’d ever seen. Who knew cupcakes were so popular? Not me.
His breath caught in his throat as Clair popped into view at the other end of the counter, talking and laughing with Suzi. Mason stood and watched her emerald-green eyes sparkle as she spoke. She was a vision of beauty. A sweet, delectable beauty, and way out of his league. After all, what woman would be interested in a geek who obsessed over computers 24/7?
Ignoring the twinge of hope deep in his gut, Mason threaded his way through the customers to where Clair was deep in conversation. He cleared his throat and she spun, gifting him with a smile that would rival any morning sunrise.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said as he placed the bag of pastries and two coffees on the counter.
She quickly ended her conversation. “Of course not.”
The smell of frangipani and chocolate tickled his nose. He couldn’t be sure if it was the shop or Clair, either way it smelt divine, and good enough to eat.
He gazed around the shop. “Wow, you sure are busy today. Is it like this all the time?”
“Most days. The pre-lunch rush has me run off my feet sometimes,” she said, picking up a coffee. “But we’ve been really blessed. Charlotte and I worked our butts off in the first few years to build the business up. Well, Charlotte, mostly. Now we have great staff and a part-time pastry chef in the shop, which frees up Charlotte to work on the design side and special events, and me to branch out on my own with CC’s Cupcake Haven.”
“Like the Founder’s Day Gala Dinner on Saturday night,” he said.
She nodded then frowned. “How did you know about that?”
“Well, apart from it being the number one topic on the town’s gossip train, I do remember the few I attended when I was younger. I also happened to see the poster on the wall in the café earlier.”
“Oh, right. I suppose you could say that it’s the most popular event this time of year. Everyone who’s anyone is there and it gives us normal folk a chance to sport the formal attire for a night.”
A pang of jealousy ricocheted through his body. He knew from the bouquet toss at Lincoln’s wedding that Clair wasn’t seeing anyone, but as if she wouldn’t already have a date for an event such as the gala dinner. He shook off the thoughts, knowing that if they didn’t clear her name, she wouldn’t be attending anything for the next twenty to life. The notion turned his blood to ice. “Is there a place we can talk?”
She paled. “Yes, this way.”
He followed her through the kitchen and they entered a room that looked like an office. She turned and pointed toward an antique gold and burgundy chaise lounge in the corner. “Shall we sit?”
His back stiffened, but he nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay, do you want to go first or shall I?” Clair asked.
Mason ignored his increasing heartrate. “Ladies first.”
“Cool,” Clair said as she flicked her leg underneath her and shuffled into a more comfortable position. “Turns out Christina was at the police station, so I confronted her about the article in the paper and things got a little heated.”
“How heated?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle, but enough to alert Detective Anderson. He came out and I thought what better way for Christina to print the truth than to hear the latest details first hand? Turns out the message we overheard in Trent’s office was recorded the day before his murder, so that clears me, but also leaves the question. If it wasn’t me he was meeting, who, then?”
“My bet is Stella,” he said with confidence. “We know they knew each other. Anything else?”
Clair nodded. “They hadn’t heard about their marriage so I’m sure Christina will have a field day with that bit of information. Both men were killed in a similar fashion, with a round object. On the night I found the body, I noticed a round object missing from the table near the entrance. It fits the description of the murder weapon and that means it most probably is the same killer. Turns out they searched your dad’s offices and computers and came up empty, but they’re interested in his mobile phone. They haven’t been able to locate it. If we find his phone, we might find the missing piece of evidence to clear my name.” Clair’s face flushed. Mason watched her slender neck as she gulped down water from a drink bottle. “Your turn,” she said.
“Just as I was leaving the Tea 4 Two Café, I happened to overhear a very interesting conversation between two locals.”
“Do tell,” Clair said eagerly swapping legs as she got comfortable.
Unable to keep the information under wraps, he blurted it, barely taking breaths between sentences. “Edwardson’s threat sounds real to me.”
Clair’s brow furrowed. “I’ve only met Norman Gorson a few times and I don’t really know Mr Edwardson or his wife that well. They moved into town last year when they bought the Stewart Farm.” She paused. “Come to think of it, he has made some pretty large acquisitions for the farm and I heard Mavis Stevenson talking last week about his flash new building plans. Some sort of housing extension on the farm.”
Mason couldn’t shake the niggle in the base of his neck. “What I don’t get is why kill him, if he wanted his money back? You can’t get money from a dead man. Like you said, we have more questions than answers.”
They sat in silence, mulling over his questions. Clair had the cutest frown on her face that made him smile.
“I’ve got it.” Clair sprung off the couch and her eyes sparkled as if a lightbulb had just turned on in her head. “It’s just an idea, but supposing Stella is innocent and the phone message has nothing to do with his death, what if Edwardson didn’t mean to kill him?”
“What? Like an accident?” Mason asked with raised eyebrows.
“Not so much an accident, but an impulse retaliation that resulted in murder. A murder that Edwardson covered up and used me as the perfect scapegoat for. What if he went to see him to get his money back, and in a fit of rage lashed out and struck him down harder than he meant to?”
Pleased with her deductions, Clair smiled a disarming smile that had Mason’s stomach turning inside out.
Why does she have to be so damn gorgeous?
“If what you say is true, why kill him at the Sweets mansion? Surely there’d be better ways of disposing of the body?”
She joined him again on the lounge, her excitement bubbling over. “Think about it, with our meeting scheduled at seven, I provided Edwardson with the perfect out. There are a number of ways he could have found out about our meeting. It was no secret. I’ve been so excited about finally closing the deal that I’ve been blabbing to everyone for the past month. James was always rushed for time, he probably had him meet him there for convenience. They argued and maybe in a rage—” she smacked her fist into her palm, “—wham, he slugs him one with the missing object.”
Her words made some sense, but could it really be that easy.
“Finally, a solid lead,” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.
His heart squeezed in his chest and he fell back on the chaise lounge, his arms fastening around her. They froze, gazes locked. The frangipani scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils and heat radiated from her body. Her cheeks glowed the warmest crimson blush. Clair bit her bottom lip and Mason suppressed a groan deep in his gut. Her lips were so close. Dare he kiss her? What are you waiting for man? Do it. He suddenly felt like a schoolboy, too shy to make the first move.
Too late.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, pushing against his body to right herself. “I guess my excitement got the better of me.”
He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up on his nose with his right pointer. His body instantly regretted the loss of her touch. “No harm done,” he said through a forced smile. “I’m gla
d we have a lead to follow, but we still need to find out the connection between Stella and Roland Trent in order to rule her out. Maybe we should get your name cleared before we start celebrating.”
Clair ran her palms down her jeggings. “Of course,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Bolting off the chair as if she’d sat on hot coals, she turned and grabbed her bag from the bottom draw in the filing cabinet and headed for the door. “No time like the present. The sooner we speak to Mr Edwardson, the sooner I can clear my name and you can get back to your life on the Gold Coast.”
Mason’s heart dropped. In the past few years it had been very clear that he didn’t have room for a woman in his life, but the thought of going back home and not seeing Clair every day filled him with dread. She was a breath of fresh air, slowly seeping into every pore of his geek body. She may not be attracted to him, but that wouldn’t stop him seeing her named cleared.
“Don’t you think we should call Detective Anderson and tell him about Edwardson?” Mason asked as he followed suit.
She spun and her sharp gaze halted him mid-step. “This is our find. If it turns out I’m right, I’ll happily serve him up on a platter to our dear Detective.”
“Do you even know where he lives?” Mason asked.
“If I remember rightly, Charlotte did a one-off delivery for his wife a month or so ago, so we should still have the address on file.”
There was obviously no changing her mind, so he didn’t bother. “Shall I drive this time? I have my car out front.”
“Why not?” He followed her into the bustling shop. “I just have to tie up a few loose ends before I leave. I’ll be ten minutes, tops. Do you mind?”
“Not at all, I’ll wait over by the door,” he said. The perfect place to watch you while you work.
Chapter Eight
CLAIR JERKED HER head up from behind the counter and looked toward the exit. Mason stood leaning against the wall just inside the door, looking positively sinful. How could I have got it so wrong? A fresh wave of embarrassment worked its way up her neck to her cheeks. She pretended to check the order book, then counted the packets of icing sugar under the counter. Anything to give her a moment to recoup.
She had no idea what possessed her to throw her arms around his neck. The only way he could have been clearer about his intentions was if he had “not available” painted on his forehead for all to see. The constant pounding of her heart was enough to send her crazy.
Wouldn’t be the first time she hadn’t caught the eye of a man and it won’t be the last. So, he’s not interested. I can deal with that. She had stalled long enough. Clair quickly jotted down the Edwardson’s address from the order book and shoved it in her pocket. Her eyes caught Suzi as she re-entered the main serving area. “Suzi, I’m off now. Charlotte will be in later to work on the cupcakes for the gala Saturday night.”
Suzi’s golden eyes lit up like yellow topaz glowing in the sunlight. “Oh, I can’t wait ’til Saturday evening. It’s going to be the best Founder’s Day dinner ever.”
“Really? Why’s that?” Clair asked.
“Because for once I won’t be attending alone. I’ll have Daniel on my arm.”
“Daniel? From The Chronicle?” Clair asked with raised eyebrows. The sheepish glint in Suzi’s eyes answered her own question. “I had no idea you two were an item.”
Suzi blushed. “We’re not. At least not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Good for you.” Suzi’s happiness was like a lead boot tied to her heart. Clair chanced a glance in Mason’s direction. It’s not like I’ll have a date for the dinner. I won’t have time anyway, I’ll be focused on the cupcake display, or in jail.
“Okay, I’m off. Enjoy the rest of your day and if you or Pierre need to use any of the supplies set aside for the weekend, can you make sure you write it up in the order book so I can replace it before Friday?”
“Sure thing. Bye,” said Suzi, as she returned to serve the next customer.
“Bye.” Clair headed toward the exit, her eyes narrowed and a new determination filled her with renewed energy. I will not go down for these murders and there’ll be no more male distractions.
“Ready to go?” he asked as she approached.
“You betcha,” she said as she walked straight past him toward his car, his jaw dropping in the process.
Mason moved faster than she had ever seen and was beside her in an instant. “Right, let’s get this show on the road.”
“Do you want to play good cop or bad cop?” she asked as Mason drove south toward the old Stewart farm.
“Excuse me?” he said in a questionable tone.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “One of us has to play the baddy, I just wanted to get the game plan down before we get there.”
“Clair, I don’t think either of us should be playing the bad cop. He’s not likely to give us any information if we storm in there demanding it. I think we need to be careful. If he’s the murderer and realises we’ve worked it out, he might just decide to do something about it.” Mason gripped the steering wheel harder as he turned down the semi-gravel road.
“All right, I see your point.” She sighed and a brush of air escaped her lips. A frown marred Mason’s face. What is that all about? She wondered. Tension settled in her stomach as they turned into Edwardson’s driveway.
Mason continued. “I think the best angle would be an honest one, without throwing any accusations around. You’re simply here to try and prove your innocence, not accuse him of murder.”
“I guess you’re right.” She succumbed to his logical point of attack.
He turned off the engine and looked Clair square in the eyes. “The last thing we want is to become statistics. There are a lot of places to hide a body out here, so let’s be careful.”
No distractions, no distractions, no distractions, she chanted in her head as her chest tightened, lost in the spellbinding depths of his deep Mediterranean-blue eyes. Focus.
“I have an idea. Why don’t I take the lead? I’ll inform Mr Edwardson that I am looking into my father’s clients in the prospect of taking over his business? That way, if he truly is looking for his money, he will relish in spilling his guts in the hopes I can find it. If he’s our murderer… I guess we’ll know soon enough.”
Gorgeous and smart. He’ll definitely make some woman very happy someday. A jolt of jealousy compounded the tightness in her chest. Forcing a smile, she said, “Good idea.”
Clair’s enthusiasm took a beating when their persistent knocks on Edwardson’s door went unanswered. She’d almost given up when a hollow thump boomed from the side of the house.
“What was that?” Mason asked, his gaze shooting toward the source of the noise.
Clair shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like it was coming from the back yard,” she said in a hesitant tone.
Clair shadowed Mason as he followed the continuous thumping. It pounded inside her head like the thunderous crack of someone hitting a snooker ball into a corner pocket, but twenty times louder. Her gaze caught a tall, stocky, shirtless man with shoulders the size of a boxer. He held an axe airborne as he brought it down in one swoop, splintering a stump of wood in two. She hadn’t even realised Mason had stopped until she barrelled right into him, catching her before she fell on her backside.
“Are you okay?’ he asked.
Her skin burned under his touch. She froze a moment, Mason’s gaze hypnotising her. Clair opened her mouth but the words vaporised into thin air.
Holy cow, there he goes again, distracting me when I’m supposed to be concentrating on proving my innocence. And now I also have to contend with a semi-naked man, doing his best impersonation of a male model in a wood chopping contest?
No male distractions. She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course I’m all right. I just lost my footing on the uneven ground, that’s all.”
Liar.
“Oh.” Mason paused as she fiddled with her shirt smoothing the imaginary creases out. He
smirked. “I thought it might have had something to do with the sweaty, almost-naked man over by the barn.”
Her eyes widened and a betraying blush flooded her cheeks. If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have seen men chop wood before, you know,” she snapped.
“Half-naked men?” he pried.
Annoyance fuelled her reddened cheeks and she folded her arms across her chest. “Are we going to go and question Mr Edwardson, or stand here and debate the man’s clothing or lack thereof?”
He held his hands up. “Okay, okay.”
Clair pushed past Mason and headed toward the barn. As she neared the wood pile, she wondered what Mason’s body would look like half-naked chopping wood. His broad, tanned shoulders glistening under the scorching Australian sun, sweat streaking down his chiselled abs.
For goodness sake, you’ll be having those thoughts from jail if you don’t stay focused. She blanked all images of men from her mind and sucked in a deep breath. Her focus returned to the man in front of her. The possible murderer.
Her back warmed, and she knew Mason was near. His presence reassured her. Maybe he was Superman in disguise. She could definitely do with some extra-terrestrial magic right about now.
Mr Edwardson turned, his darkened eyes glaring straight through her, and she felt uneasy in his presence.
“What do you want?” he barked.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Mr Edwardson, it’s Clair McCorrson, I’m not sure that we’ve been properly introduced but I was hoping I might be able to have a word with you about James Hapworth.”
A sly smirk spread across his face. “Are you the McCorrson woman I have to thank for killing that deceitful, two-faced excuse for a man?”
