by Polly Holmes
Kayne felt for the woman. He knew what it was like to trust people, only to have your heart trampled on time and time again. His gaze landed on Alexandra and his heart did a backflip. His new love. He’d made the right choice to leave his old life and ex-fiancée behind and move to Ashton Point.
He cleared his throat. “How well did you actually know him?”
“Pfft, obviously not very well,” Cassidy said joining Charlotte munching on a choc-caramel cupcake. “I didn’t have a lot to do with him, but he always creeped me out a little.”
“What?” Charlotte and Clair said in unison, disbelief lodged deep in their expressions.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clair asked, annoyance edging her tone.
Cassidy’s eyes widened and all eyes shot to her. Waiting. “Because it wasn’t my place to say anything. I know very little about cupcakes, except the delicious taste of the mouth-wateringly good ones. I wasn’t about to butt in on your business decisions. I have way too much respect for you.”
“But—” Charlotte’s rebuttal was abruptly interrupted by the drone of the doorbell.
Kayne could feel the tension when an edgy silence fell upon the room. He tracked each scattered gaze and how they shifted from one person to the next. No-one was willing to look at anyone else for longer than necessary. No-one but him, who always tried to keep his eyes peeled for details.
“Listen, this really isn’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t we all take a moment to recoup while I get the door?” Edith asked. As she trotted down the hallway, the ring of her high heels tapping on the tiled floor was like a perfectly rhythmic strike of a musical triangle.
“It’s crazy to let this new evidence come between you all,” Alex said, moving over to stand by Kayne. “So, Pierre wasn’t who he said he was. But he was a damn good chef and I, for one, am better off for having tasted his food. Putting his unknown identity aside, no-one deserves to be murdered in such a ghastly manner.”
Kayne watched Alex’s words calm the tense mood like a soothing balm working its way across the room. Smiles crept onto the faces spread throughout the kitchen.
“Alex is right. Let’s find who did this and make sure they pay for their crime.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” A stern, female voice echoed behind them.
Kayne spun to see Margarete and Logan standing at the kitchen entrance, Mrs McCorrson by their side. Margarete twisted her fingers in front of her belly and Kayne’s suspicions were instantly aroused. “What are you doing here?”
“I am so sorry to interrupt your celebration, but—”
“Nonsense,” Mrs McCorrson said, swishing her hand flippantly in the air as she headed back to stand beside her husband. “You’re always welcome here, Margarete, and of course you too, Logan.”
Logan nodded. “Thank you.”
“Celebration. Ha,” Charlotte chimed in. “I think everyone would agree with me when I say the celebrations are well and truly over.”
Margarete’s jaw dropped. “I’m not sure I understand. I’m sorry for the intrusion but I was hoping to have a word with Kayne about a certain video recording. I also have some new information that may help my defence.”
Clair’s eyes widened and she beckoned Margarete and Logan into the conversation with keenness. “More new information. This should be good. If you share yours, we’ll share ours.”
Chapter Nine
More new information? Do they already know about Charlie?
“I think I speak for most everyone in this room, when I say we don’t believe you had anything to do with Pierre’s murder,” Clair said, snagging an orange poppyseed cupcake from the plate in the centre of the island bench. “It seems none of us knew Pierre as well as we thought we did.”
The puzzled expressions on their faces sent a warning chill through Margarete’s chest. “I don’t understand.”
“That man pulled the wool over our eyes good and proper,” Charlotte said. She folded her arms and leant on the edge of the bench, deflated. “Me the worst. I employed the guy, for goodness sake.”
“You had no idea of knowing,” Kayne said sympathetically.
Frustration danced up Margarete’s spine as she struggled to work out what Pierre had done. “Knowing what?” she asked.
“Please forgive us,” Edith McCorrson said in an apologetic tone. “Kayne was just informing us that the Pierre Bellamy who worked with my girls was an imposter. It seems he stole his identity, for whatever reason. We had no idea.”
Margarete’s stomach clenched as if she’d been punched with an iron fist. An imposter? Not the real Pierre Bellamy? Then who was he? Who have I been competing against all this time? “Are you serious? How? What? …I mean, who was he, then?”
Kayne’s voice was the first to answer. “That’s the very question we’ve been asking ourselves. His fingerprints are not in the database, but the real Pierre Bellamy died over twenty years ago.”
Margarete’s mind raced its own sprint. A fraud? Did Charlie know he’d made a deal with an imposter? Maybe that was why he silenced him? This new information made her think. How well do any of us really know one another?
“Your turn. What juicy information do you have for us, Margarete?” Cassidy asked like an eager beaver.
A multitude of ideas bolted through her mind. It was as if she were trying to do a jigsaw puzzle. Only, every time she thought she had the right piece, it fell through her fumbling fingers.
“Margarete?”
Clair’s sweet voice snapped her back to the present. She shook her head. “Sorry, I was a hundred miles away.”
“Like we couldn’t see that,” Cassidy said with a cheeky grin. “You said you had information that could help your defence.”
“Oh, yes, I was hoping to talk to Kayne about a certain video recording that has made it into his possession as evidence.” Nervous anticipation weeded its way into her stomach.
Kayne frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know how you know about that recording, but it’s evidence and I really think it needs discussing down at the station.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Kayne Pendleton,” Mrs McCorrson tutted. “Can’t you see this poor woman has been through the ringer? All she wants to do is prove her innocence. I seem to remember it wasn’t that long ago, Alex was in the same predicament. The least we can do is hear her out, so she doesn’t go completely insane.”
She’d always loved Edith McCorrson. Margarete’s eyes widened as she waited in anticipation for Kayne’s answer. All eyes drilled into him and he held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Technically, I’m off duty, so really, we’re all just a bunch of friends gathered around the kitchen bench chatting. Even so, I would like Margarete to come in when I’m on duty to give a formal statement.”
“Of course,” Margarete nodded.
Charlotte’s sapphire-blue eyes glowed like a little girl’s who was about to find out a secret. “Okay, now that that is sorted don’t keep us hanging, Margarete.”
Margarete sighed and she felt Logan take a step closer. His presence comforted her. “I know a video recording was anonymously handed in to the police and I know when you look at it, it’s going to look bad, but I promise you it is all innocent.”
“How do you even know about the recording?” Kayne asked.
“Logan and I were on our way in to see you at the police station to get an update. I ran into Mary-Jane on her way out of giving her statement regarding the murder and she mentioned it. I knew I had to find you to explain. I know it will look bad and I just wanted to explain before you got the wrong impression.”
“Go on,” said Mr McCorrson.
“It was taken last December. Behind the café, before the annual Christmas fair was in full swing. It’s all innocent but looks suspicious under the circumstances. I didn’t realise Pierre had expressed his interest to Pam over at MMM. So, I did. He found out and came to see me. Actually. It was more like he chewed my ear off. I admit he was angry, until I
explained that I’d had no idea he had already expressed interest. I backed off and wished him well on his adventure. We left on good terms, I swear.” It had been the worst part of her day, but she’d refused to let him spoil such a wonderful event.
“This new evidence, combined with the argument you and Pierre had at the Tea 4 Two Café a few weeks back doesn’t look good,” Kayne said.
Heat maneuverer its way up Margarete’s neck until her cheeks warmed like a simmering cauldron. The memory of Pierre’s raging voice rang in her head as if he were standing next to her. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“Margarete?”
Blinking the cobwebs from her mind Margarete continued. “I know, but it all looks worse than it is.” Margarete turned toward the McCorrsons. “Ashton Point is a small town and Pierre thought it wasn’t big enough for two new restaurants. He thought he’d tell me so. He was ranting and raving about how he would be the only chef opening a new restaurant. He said that I was stealing his limelight and accused me of sabotage.” Margarete paused. Her breathing was laboured under the constant weight of their gazes.
“I think it’s fair to say Pierre was jealous of Margarete’s cooking abilities,” Logan said in her defence.
“Ashton Point may be a small, seaside town but it is definitely big enough for two new eating establishments,” Liam said with a chuckle. “I, for one, like variety when I take my beautiful woman out to eat.”
A crimson blush touched Charlotte’s cheeks and she edged closer to Liam’s chest.
A pang of longing stabbed Margarete’s heart as she watched them snuggle. That kind of true love was hard to come by. Ignoring the niggle in her gut, she forged ahead. “You see, that’s just it. With the new Vietnamese place opening last year, it seemed both Pierre and I were going to open family-style eateries. In direct competition with each other. I managed to get him into the kitchen to discuss it, away from the prying eyes of customers. He just kept raging at how he’d destroy me and how he was coming into some money. He said he’d make sure his restaurant would rival the best in the world, including mine.”
“Money? What money?” Charlotte asked a frown wrinkling her perfectly smooth forehead. “He wasn’t getting any from CC’s Simply Cupcakes or CC’s Cupcake Haven.”
Margarete shrugged. “He never told me.”
Kayne rubbed his chin. “Interesting. Just so I’ve got this straight… The recording will show you and Pierre having an animated argument about Pam and MMM. Pierre was jealous of your expressed interested in MMM. Have I got it right?”
Oh gosh, when you say it like that, it does make me sound like I have a motive for murder.
Margarete nodded, her words struggling to get free. “That’s why it’s important I find the real murderer. Whoever it is, is doing a great job of framing me for a murder I didn’t commit. If I don’t do something, I’m going to spend the rest of my life locked away in a padded cell.”
“How about you leave the investigative work to the professionals?” Kayne asked, puffing his chest out. “I know the previous detective was a piece of work, but I’m here now and I promise you all, I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of this. I’d prefer if all the sleuthing were done by me.”
Sleuthing? A heavy cloud of guilt froze Margarete to the spot. I guess I have been caught up in the hype a little more than I expected. She wasn’t Nancy Drew, but she had watched every episode of Murder, She Wrote with Oma when she’d been growing up. Not to mention, she loved Agatha Christie movies. Maybe she would leave the sleuthing up to the police, but it couldn’t hurt to keep her eyes and ears open for unusual happenings. “Of course. You’re the professional. But you will keep me posted on your findings, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Kayne said. “It may be hard to keep anything quiet in the town.”
She lightly elbowed Logan’s chest and sidestepped toward the exit, pulling him along beside her. “Come on, Logan, we’ve interrupted their evening long enough. Congratulations again, Mr and Mrs McCorrson. I hope when I marry the man of my dreams, we last as long as you two have.”
Margarete swallowed with embarrassment at the raised eyebrows, cheeky smiles and sideways glances at Logan. If only she could click her fingers and disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Thank you, Margarete,” Mr McCorrson said, easing his arm around his wife in a loving cuddle. “I do think I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Edith giggled and swatted him on the chest. “Oh, you are the charmer. Margarete, I’m having a little female high-tea get-together. Here, tomorrow afternoon, around two to two-thirtyish. If you’re free, I’d love for you to come. Charlotte and Clair are in charge of the food and Cassidy is going to do a quick revamp on some decorations.”
Margarete raised her eyebrows. “Really? Wouldn’t you be worried that people will think you have a murderer in your house?”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle. They can believe what they want. I’ll have who I want in my house and I challenge anyone to tell me otherwise. Besides, Elaine, Logan’s stepmother, will be here. It’ll be a great time for you two to get acquainted.”
Margarete smiled, Edith’s last comment lodging in the back of her mind. Good friends are hard to come by in small towns and she knew she had some of the best in this very room. “I’d love to come.”
Edith clapped her hands together ecstatically. “Perfect. Oh, I almost forgot. I have some old interior design magazines here, if you’d like them for the café.”
“Yes, please, that would be wonderful.”
Kayne held his hands out, halting anyone’s exit. “One more thing before we go our separate ways. I wanted to know if anyone could fill me in on this Ryder Stone character. He’s next on my list to have a chat with.” Her gaze fell on an array of puzzled expressions.
Clair frowned. “Ryder Stone? Who is Ryder Stone?”
“Ryder Stone… You know, the man who stood up last night at the party after I informed everyone they would have to stay in town until cleared.”
Margarete gazed around at the shrugs and blank faces. It seems she was with the rest of them. “Beats me.”
“I have no idea,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t invite him, I thought Mum and Dad did.”
Edith’s voice raised an octave. “What? It wasn’t me. I have never met the man before.”
“Nor have I.” Mr McCorrson added, shock emanating in his tone. “We thought you girls must have invited him.”
All three siblings rambled at the same time.
“I don’t think so…
…Not me…
Nope.”
Could the Ryder guy be a suspect?
“So, no-one knows who this guy is?” Kayne asked.
A glimmer of hope eased Margarete’s tense body. “Thank you again for the magazines. Logan and I will get out of your hair now. Good night,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the front door.
At least the night wasn’t a total write off. Her mind just about exploded with all the new information she’d acquired.
Chapter Ten
Every muscle in Logan’s body twitched with anticipation as he pulled up outside Margarete’s house. It had turned out to be an informative evening, and her words stuck in his mind like super glue. I hope when I marry the man of my dreams we last as long as you two have. What type of man was she looking for? Would he fit the bill?
“Thank you again for accompanying me today. Apart from the murder stuff, I had a really great time,” she said shyly, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.
He smiled as he watched her blush from forehead to the base of her neck. Satisfaction warmed his chest. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only anxious one in the car.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said as he killed the engine.
“Thank you, but it’s really not necessary.”
“I know, but I want to.” He liked her company and the least he could do was finish the day like a gentleman.
Margarete’s golden eyes
sparkled like gemstones. “Okay.”
Electricity sparked as they walked side by side toward her front porch, the magazines from Edith McCorrson tucked neatly under her arm. “I would really love to have had dinner together tonight, but I promised my stepmother I’d dine with her this evening.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d think Margarete’s nervous giggle was her way of dispersing the tense situation. “Of course, as you should. She is your mother, after all.”
“Stepmother.” He corrected, watching her search her bag for her house keys. “And as stepmothers go, I know I lucked out. Elaine is pretty great, and my Dad loves her so much. As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.”
Margarete paused and gifted him with the most amazing smile he’d ever seen. “Wow, you are amazing, you know.”
“Amazing enough to want to see me tomorrow?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I think I can manage to squeeze you into my schedule.” She giggled inserting the key into the door. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Count on it,” he said, smiling as if they were communicating in secret code. She handed him her phone and he entered his number. Returning it, he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited until she’d safely turned on the hall light. “Night.”
Margarete spun and reached for him. Her lips found his in the sweetest, most delicate kiss he’d ever encountered. She moved fast, and by the time he realised what was going on it was too late.
“Night,” she said, her whisper was like the wind dancing in the nearby trees. And she was gone, leaving him longing. Longing for her touch, for her lips on his.
****
Margarete’s chest heaved as she leant against the closed door in an effort to stop her jelly legs from collapsing underneath her. “I can’t believe I just did that?” But she did. Oma always said, if you want something bad enough, make it happen. And she really wanted to kiss Logan.
She glided her tongue over her lips, the delectable taste of Logan lingering. “Oh my.” She swooned and her pulse raced over her boldness. Margarete clung to the door as her mind ran through the kiss, moment by moment. I’ll happily take more kisses from that man any day.
