by Polly Holmes
In the depths of her heart she knew he was right. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
Kayne smiled, and although it didn’t quite make it up to his honey-brown eyes, it was easy to see why Alexandra had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “So, you said earlier that you were out of the kitchen for about thirty minutes. What were you doing all that time?”
Margarete bit her bottom lip and leant back in her seat. “Well, I made a visit to the staff toilet and then did my rounds of the room, collecting empty plates and you know, just checking on how everything was going.”
“So, how come no-one can vouch for you at any point during this time?”
Oh for goodness sake, just come out and say it. It’s not going to do you much good to keep it a secret if you’re sitting in a jail cell eating bread and water for the rest of your life.
“If you must know, I was trying to get the attention of Logan Hunter.” Kayne’s frown was like a slap in the face to her ego. “I was trying to look busy but really I was just moving around without really doing too much or talking to too many people, hoping that I might attract his eye.”
“Mmmm.”
Her eyes widened. “‘Mmmm?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means for the time being, you have bigger issues to think about than romance. Like why your chef’s knife was found plunged deep into Pierre’s back.” His paused, obviously waiting for a reply but her words failed her. “And what about the argument at the café that Savannah was talking about?”
The image of Pierre’s grumpy face sprang to the forefront of her mind and her annoyance at his arrogant behaviour riled her insides once again. Dead or not, he had no right to behave in such an appalling manner. “Pierre stormed into the café about three weeks ago, ranting and raving about how I was out to destroy him. As Olivia said, we both wanted the lease on the old Italian restaurant at John’s Cape. He accused me of stealing his dream and was saying, loudly I might add, that my cooking wasn’t fit to feed to the local rats, let alone people. He was the one who threatened me and said he’d make me pay for what I’d done. I managed to get rid of him before he did too much damage. Although, I did offer all customers a free coffee or cake to apologise for the disturbance.”
Kayne took several notes as she spoke. “Get rid of him? Sounds like motive for murder to me.”
Margarete coughed, choking on her words. “W-what are you talking about?”
“Get Pierre out of the way and the lease is all yours. Eliminate the competition.”
“No. No. No.” She shook her head. Kayne’s matter-of-fact tone, mixed with the overpowering odour of cigarettes and male sweat, clouded her mind. “That is crazy. I had nothing against Pierre. He was an amazing chef. Besides, anyone could have accessed my knife. I placed it on the dish rack when I finished using it. If, as you say, I was out of the kitchen for thirty minutes, anyone, including Antony and Savannah, could have snuck in and used it to kill Pierre. I’m sure I’m not the only one in this town Pierre Bellamy held a grudge against. It seems to me there are more questions than answers.”
Kayne flipped another page in his notepad over. “You may be right. Until we have an exact time of death, we can’t eliminate anyone, including you I’m afraid. But what I can do is promise you I will leave no stone unturned until I find the truth. Whatever it may be.”
His words both delighted and frightened Margarete at the same time.
He continued. “I think we can call it a night for now. I know I don’t have to ask you not to leave town while the investigation is active.”
Where am I going to go? I have a business to run.
“I’m sure there will be more questions to be asked, but for now, why don’t I arrange to get you home? I think your day has been long enough.” He pulled his business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here, take this. If you can think of anything else that might help the investigation, feel free to ring me day or night.”
****
“This is not happening. This is not happening,” Margaret muttered under her breath. She walked on rote out of the interrogation room and into the reception area. Her heart just about stopped dead inside her chest. The sexy silhouette of Logan Hunter stood reading the police information notice board.
What on earth is he doing here? She hadn’t expected anyone to be here when she came out, especially McDreamy. Self-preservation kicked her in the butt and she quickly finger brushed her dishevelled hair into a respectable picture and wiped her face in an attempt to freshen her look. She sucked in a deep breath and headed toward him, unable to keep her gaze off his tight derriere.
She cleared her throat. “Logan?” He spun and his concerned expression deep in his chestnut-brown eyes had her off kilter. “What are you doing here?”
“Margarete. Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side. “You’ve been in there for ages. What did they say? Have they any more information?”
“Woah, slow down.” Margarete held up her hand to halt his questions. Her brow creased, confusion spreading in her chest. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I guess it is kind of strange, since we only met this evening.”
“You could say that.”
“I’m all too familiar with people being accused of a crime they didn’t commit.” Genuine concern feathered across his expression and she felt it deep in her chest.
“Thank you for coming down, but I’m perfectly fine. Actually, I half expected one of the McCorrson ladies to be here,” Margarete said, her heart deflating just a little.
“I have a confession to make.” Logan started shuffled from foot to foot like a shy teenager. “When I saw you leaving with Officer Pendleton, I knew something was up. There was so much commotion at the country club. I wanted to get out of there and if I’m honest, I was worried about you.”
“You were?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Charlotte and Cassidy were about to follow you when I convinced them to tell me what was going on. I was shocked that anyone would think you could do such a ghastly deed. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked if I could come and pick you up. I wanted to make sure you were all right for myself.”
Mind. Why would I mind? McDreamy can pick me up any day. Her lips pursed together, and she shook her head.
“Does that mean you don’t mind that I came to pick you up…or no you don’t want me to pick you up?” he asked with hesitation in his tone.
“No, I don’t mind.”
The twangy voice of Alison, the police receptionist, cut their conversation short. “Margarete, someone will be out shortly to take you home.”
Unable to take her eyes from Logan’s, she called out loud enough for the entire front desk to hear. “It’s okay, Alison. Don’t bother. I have a lift home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Margarete said over her shoulder, catching Alison’s cheeky smile as she slid her strawberry glasses to the tip of her nose.
Logan spoke as they headed toward the exit. “Oh, and Charlotte said to give you a message.”
“Oh?”
“It was kind of weird, but she said there will be plenty of time to catch up on Grey’s Anatomy at another time. Something about a match. She said you’d know what she meant.”
Charlotte McCorrson! Why, you little match maker.
“Did I get the message wrong?” Logan asked as he opened the door of his blood-red Range Rover.
She shook her head and paused to admire the smooth curves of his car. “Not at all. Is this your car?”
“I wish.” He chuckled. “It’s my dad’s car. He and my step-mum were supposed to attend the anniversary celebrations together, but Dad got called away for work and my step-mum doesn’t drive. So when she asked me to bring her, I couldn’t exactly say no. I don’t normally socialise with Elaine’s society friends. But I’m glad I did.” He gave her a little wink and her heart did a flutter.
“Me too.”
After she gave him her address they drove in a comfortable silence, but Margarete could sense a growing electricity building between them. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. It had been so long since a man had kissed her. What was she thinking? She was getting way ahead of herself. He was being nice, that’s all. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. She was confusing politeness with romantic interest.
How can I possibly be thinking about men, when I have a murder accusation hanging over my head? That’s it. Men are off the table until the real murderer is caught, and I don’t have to worry about running cooking lessons dressed in the disgusting green for inmates at the local prison.
The thought sent a shudder through her body.
****
Logan’s gut clenched like a twisted elastic band with each kilometre he drove. He glanced in her direction occasionally and feared she was going to break at any moment. She held her focus straight ahead on the road, but the way her brown hair softly hung over her shoulders tempted him. He knew from Charlotte that she was single, but what she needed right now was a good friend and a good listener, and that was something he prided himself on.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Not really much to talk about. I suspect they think I killed Pierre out of jealousy. Of all the absurd reasons to kill someone. Jealousy.”
“That is ludicrous. Although, having tasted your food tonight, I am kind of jealous that I can’t cook that well. Maybe I should enlist your services to teach this bachelor how to make a good meal.”
Margarete’s inviting laugh filled the car and he gripped the steering wheel against the sudden urge to pick up her hand. “I’m sure you do okay for yourself. But I’ll make a deal with you. When this nightmare is over, I’ll teach you how to make one of my favourite dinner meals.”
“Deal,” he said gifting her a smile.
“So, how long do you think you’ll be sticking around town?” she asked hesitantly.
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
On you. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “First, I have to be cleared of having anything to do with the murder, as all the guests at the party do. Then it will be up to my stepmum, Elaine, as to when we leave.”
“So you could be gone as soon as tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving tomorrow. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stick around.” She smiled and his heart melted like an ice cube in hot water. “Now back to why they think you killed Pierre over jealousy.”
“Both of us were looking into opening a restaurant and apparently he and I were going for the same piece of real estate. The old Italian restaurant by the water, near John’s Cape. That’s why he came into my café a few weeks back, ranting like a mad man. He’d just found out I’d made an application for the lease as well.”
“I’m guessing it will sort itself out. I’m sure murder doesn’t happen very often in a beautiful town like Ashton Point,” he said, his gut knotting as the words left his lips.
“Well…”
No, surely not. “Are you telling me this isn’t the first murder to happen in Ashton Point?”
“Actually, it’s the seventh,” Margarete said, twisting the hem of her shirt between her nervous fingers.
“What?” Logan exclaimed, mortified. “Are you telling me six people have been murdered in this town before this evening?”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that. I suppose six murders does sound excessive,” Margarete said, embarrassment coloured her cheeks. “Makes us sound like an episode of Murder, She Wrote except where Cabot Cove had Jessica Fletcher, Ashton Point has the McCorrson sisters.”
Baffled, Logan tried to make sense of her words. He pulled up outside Margarete’s house and killed the ignition. Turning, he said, “I’m not sure I follow.”
“It’s a long story best saved for another time. I’ll give you the short version. You met the McCorrson sisters this evening. Charlotte, Clair and Cassidy. You can’t miss them, with their fire-engine red hair and stunning smiles. They are the best, kindest women you could hope to meet. Alone they are amazing, but together they are a force to be reckoned with. In the past year each, as well as Clair’s best friend, Alexandra, has been accused of murder and each had proven their innocence. And that’s just what I intend to do. If they can do it, so can I.”
Are you nuts? Logan ran his hand through his hair, the new information scrambling around in his mind. He suddenly read between the lines. “You’re going to try and find out who did this yourself, aren’t you?”
She paused and the air between them shifted and an icy shiver weaved its way up his spine. “Thank you, Logan, for picking me up. I really do appreciate it.” She leant over and placed a soft, delicate kiss on his cheek. The sweet scent of her lavender perfume caught in the back of his throat and he soaked every ounce of it into his lungs. His pulse sped up. Her rosy lips burnt a lasting impression on his cheek. And then she was gone, the resounding thud of the door reverberated through the hollow car interior.
Driven by urgency, Logan was already out of the car and following her down to her front door before she even reached the porch. “Margarete.”
She turned and gasped, visibly stunned that he was standing within inches of her. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I…um… This is my problem, Logan, not yours. You are here with your stepmother, visiting the McCorrsons. What happened tonight is something I can deal with.” She paled.
“You still didn’t answer my question. You’re going to try and find out who did this yourself, aren’t you?”
She sighed, her eyes big and glassy. “I thought it best not to lie to you since we just met. I thought it best to leave a good impression. But, yes, if I have to, I will prove my innocence any way I can.”
“Are you crazy? That’s why we have policeman. It’s their job,” he snapped.
“I don’t expect you to understand. If it were you facing life behind bars, maybe you’d think differently. Listen, I trust Kayne will do his utmost to find the truth. I’m not going out looking for trouble, but if I happen to come across information that is going to help clear my name, I’m not going to ignore it.”
“I guess I can understand,” he said, her words sparked a fraction of relief in his gut. “Could you use another friend?”
Margarete bit her bottom lip. “The more friends I have on my side the better. Thank you.”
A moment of awkward silence fell between them and it was as if he was a teenager back in high school on his first date. He shook the thought from his head. Friends, remember? “Can I come by and see you tomorrow?”
“I’m working at the café tomorrow, but why don’t you pop in and we can have lunch together? Would that work for you?”
“Sounds perfect. See you then,” he said as he watched her petite figure return on her path toward the door.
Chapter Five
Margarete tucked her legs underneath her on the couch and snuggled up in her favourite, cosy Peter Alexander puppy pyjamas. She brought her steaming coffee to her lips and blew, her thoughts drifting back to the car ride home. Male friends were hard to come by in Ashton Point and Logan fit the bill perfectly. Sweet, kind, supportive and gentle on the eye. He wasn’t an overly huge man, but there was something about him that made her feel safe.
The hazelnut coffee she sipped cascaded down her throat like lava creeping across the countryside. The ring of her landline made her jump. Margarete glanced at the wall clock, eleven-thirty. “Geez, who is calling at this time of night?”
“Hello?” A sense of calm washed over her when the soothing voice of her Oma greeted her ear.
“Margarete, Oma. How are you, dear?” she asked in an aged tone.
Oh, just peachy keen, apart from being accused of murdering a rival chef and maybe facing life in prison, I couldn’t be better.
“I’m doing great, Oma. Couldn’t be better.”—Liar, liar pants on fire—
“I hope you haven’t been overdoing things since you’ve been back with Barbara?”
“Nonsense. It’s the best move I’ve made. I have my own granny flat and Barbara is such a wonderful baby sister. She looks after me so well, although, I do miss your cooking. I fear she missed the cooking gene.”
Margarete placed her coffee mug on the table and smiled. Her heart filled with love all over again for her Oma. She was a cheeky sod, but that was one of her most endearing qualities.
Oma continued. “I was just checking if you were still going to pop by for the June long weekend. I know it’s still three months away, but Barbara has to go away for work and wanted to check if you were still coming.”
“Of course, I’ll be there,” she said masking the dread that settled in her gut. Was she going to be there? Who knew what the next two months held? Either way, her Oma was not going to find out. “I can’t wait. And I promise to do as much cooking as I can, so you’ll have enough meals to last you at least a week.”
“Sounds perfect. Goodnight, sweetheart,” Oma said.
“Night, Oma. I love you,” Margarete said, the uncertainty of her future clawing at her chest.
“Love you, too.”
Margarete ended the call and dropped her head back on the couch, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why does life have to be so complicated?” The phone buzzed in her hand and the tingling sensation danced up her arm. What now, Oma?
“Did you forget something?” A ghostly silence echoed down the line, sending her anxieties into panic mode. “Is anybody there?” she asked, her pulse kicking up a notch.
A single word stabbed her in the heart as sure as it was her chef’s knife. “Murderer.”
She bolted off the couch, fear racing through her body. “No. No I am not a murderer.”
The voice spoke again. The deepened sinister tone rocked Margarete to the core. “Murderer… Murderers always get what’s coming to them and you’ll be no different. Mark my words, you’ll pay with your life.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and stood her ground. “Good. I hope the murderer does get what’s coming to them. All I can tell you is it wasn’t me and I’ll prove it,” she barked with all the fight she had in her body.
