by J A Whiting
Claire chuckled. “There aren’t many people who have that problem.”
“What will you bring in next?” Augustus asked, his light blue eyes sparkling with interest.
“We were thinking of some custard flans. What do you think of that?”
“I adore custard.” Augustus’s eyes closed for a moment. “My dear grandmother made the most delicious custard pie. I can practically taste it just thinking about it.”
Claire took on a look of mock-horror. “You told me your grandmother was a magnificent baker. My confidence just went out the window.”
Tony called from the deli counter. “Hey, Blondie, could you bring some of those brownies over here? A few customers want to help out and give their opinions.”
Carrying the platter to the front, Claire passed the squares around to the three early morning customers and waited for their comments. An older woman gave her the idea to try using melted Aztec chocolate in the brownies.
Claire listened as the people told her what they loved and what they thought might improve the sweets. Looking up at the clock, she said, “Oh, no. I have to hurry or I’m going to be late for work.”
She thanked everyone for their input and promised more pastries to try over the next few days as she and Nicole narrowed down the item that would be their entry at the upcoming festival.
Claire said goodbye to her dogs, wished Augustus a nice day, hugged Tony, and hurried out the door into the warmth of the early summer morning. July’s white hot sun rose over the soon-to-be bustling city and the air was heavy and still.
Deciding to take a shortcut, Claire walked up a cobblestoned alley that ran behind a quiet street of brownstone houses. She took a right onto a small lane that led to the main thoroughfare that passed in front of the State House and snaked through the city into the North End.
Ingredients, recipes, and the new twists they could put into bakery items in order to produce something new and distinctive swirled around in the young woman’s mind and she thought of some suggestions to share with Nicole as soon as she arrived at the chocolate shop.
Claire noticed a small, dark, compact car parked at the corner up ahead. The lane was small and skinny and it wasn’t a good place to leave a vehicle. She could hear the car’s engine running.
A buzzing sense that something was wrong started in her chest and spread out through her body like an alarm growing louder and louder. Claire glanced around. No one was in sight. Her heart pounded.
The idea of turning around and taking a different way to work zipped in her head, but she took in a deep breath and told herself she was being foolish. She tried to convince herself it was just a parked car stopped for a minute at the side of the street.
As she got closer, Claire’s heart pounded and sweat beaded up under the hair on the back of her neck. The sense of foreboding was so strong that she crossed to the other side of the road and quickened her pace.
As she walked parallel to the vehicle, she had the sensation of a reddish light exploding in her brain like a firecracker going off next to her head. Adrenaline rushed through Claire’s body and she stopped short, turning to stare at the dark car. The street was still deserted and quiet, except for the sound of the running engine. Breathing a sigh of relief, Claire realized she must have imagined the light and sound.
Or did she?
Claire’s hands began to shake and a wave of fear gripped her. The glare on the car’s windows made it hard to see if anyone was inside.
Stepping off the sidewalk onto the street, Claire inched towards the vehicle.
One step, two steps.
When she was close to the passenger side, she bent a little at the waist to take a quick look through the car’s open window.
Letting out a yelp, her heart dropped into her icy, cold stomach as she turned her back to the car, her hand over her mouth. She shut her eyes for a moment, but had to open them right away because the awful image of what she’d seen burned in vivid color against her closed eyelids. Feeling like she might retch, Claire rubbed at her forehead with the palm of her sweaty hand.
It couldn’t be, she must be mistaken. Forcing herself to pivot around to take another look, a gasp escaped from her throat.
The young woman she’d seen on the running path yesterday sat slumped in the driver’s seat, her head at an odd angle. An angry, red bullet hole marked the center of her forehead.
Claire blinked and for a full minute, she stood weak in the street staring in disbelief, her shoulders slumped, her arms limp and hanging down by her sides.
Momentarily pulling herself out of the fog of shock, she fumbled in her bag for her phone, placed the “911” call, and waited next to the car not wanting the dead young woman to be alone.
Why did this happen? Why?
3
When the police arrived, they questioned Claire and took a statement from her. She called Ian who was at a conference in Connecticut and told him what had happened and he talked to her for a long time trying to offer some comforting words. When Claire explained that she thought she recognized the woman from her run on the trail the other day, Ian suggested that maybe she was mistaken since the fog was so thick Claire might not have gotten a good look at her.
Claire knew it was the same person, but she couldn’t tell Ian the reason she was so sure about it was because she had a strong, special intuition so she agreed with him that the dead woman probably wasn’t the person she saw running.
When Claire arrived at the chocolate shop for her shift, Nicole took one look at her friend and knew something was terribly wrong. “Now what’s happened?”
Robby, Nicole’s part-time employee, hadn’t arrived yet so the two women could talk freely about the morning’s discovery. Shaking like a leaf, Claire slumped in a chair and gave the terrible news of her unfortunate walk to work. “It’s the same woman I saw on the running path. I’m sure of it.”
Nicole let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Here we go again. We just finished the Dodd mystery and now this.” She crossed her arms and rested them on the table. “I know what you’re thinking. That you should have warned this woman you sensed she might be in danger.” Nicole cocked her head. “You know doing that was an impossibility. You can’t walk up to a stranger and say something like that.”
“What should I have done?” Claire’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Nothing.” Nicole was adamant. “Think about it realistically. There isn’t anything that could have been done. Nothing. We don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.”
Claire’s sad expression showed that she didn’t like her friend’s answer.
“People would never accept you telling them they’re in danger. You’d come off like a crazy person.” Nicole shrugged. “Let’s talk about what we can do something about.”
Claire shook herself and sat up straight. “Okay.”
“Your skill and our digging can help find the bad guys,” Nicole said encouragingly. “Most of the time things can’t be prevented, but when they do happen, we can step in and help out. The past two times, we’ve been able to help bring perpetrators to justice.” She paused and held Claire’s eyes. “Your skill can bring a measure of peace to the victims and their families. Those are the things we can do, so let’s get on with it.”
The corners of Claire’s mouth turned up slightly and she gave a nod. “Okay. You’re right.”
Nicole’s tone was all business when she said, “Tell me everything about this woman. Tell me again about the day you saw her in the fog and then tell me again about this morning.”
Claire laid out the details of her brief interaction with the girl on the running trail and then explained again about seeing the car and the woman inside of it. “We’ll have to wait for the news reports or maybe Ian will be able to tell us who she is … who she was.”
Nicole added, “And where she lived, worked, all that stuff.”
“We saw her walking by the river with that guy. Remember?”
“Yes,” Ni
cole said, “tall, slim but with a muscular build, dark blond hair.”
“Boyfriend?” Claire suggested.
“Maybe. He could be a friend or a brother, maybe a neighbor?”
Twenty-one-year-old Robby, a talented vocalist and music student, opened the door and entered the shop and when he saw Claire and Nicole sitting around instead of preparing for the day, he gave them the eye. “What’s the pow-wow about?”
“We’re going over ideas for our food festival entry,” Nicole fibbed.
“Right.” Robby’s blue eyes looked skeptical. “What’s it really about?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you the truth.” Nicole’s face was serious. “We’re discussing your recent poor performance here at work.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” Robby headed to the backroom humming a show tune.
“You want to go home?” Nicole asked Claire gently. “After the morning you’ve had, it might be best if you go home and take it easy.”
Claire stood up. “Thanks, but I need the distraction. It’s better to stay here with you and Robby and keep busy.”
They got to work and the morning flew by as a steady stream of customers came and went so quickly that Claire, Robby, and Nicole barely could catch a breath.
When Ian called in the afternoon, Claire took the call out front on the sidewalk.
“Secret phone calls?” With a raised eyebrow, Robby questioned Claire when she came back inside. “What’s the mystery?”
Claire took a glance at Nicole and her friend nodded. “We may as well tell you.”
Since all the customers sitting at the tables in the shop had been waited on, the three headed to the backroom where Claire explained what had happened that morning and how she saw the woman running the previous day.
“Well, heck.” Robby’s mouth dropped open and his blue eyes lost their sparkle.
“I was on the phone with Ian. The woman has been identified. Her license was in her wallet in the car.”
“Then it wasn’t a robbery?” Robby asked. “Her wallet was still in the car?”
“It doesn’t seem to be a robbery. The woman’s name is Ashley Smith, twenty-nine. She lived in an apartment on Beacon Hill.” Claire looked at Nicole. “With her boyfriend.”
“That guy we saw with her yesterday must be the boyfriend.” Nicole asked, “Does Ian know where she worked?”
“She was an account manager at a downtown firm,” Claire said. “Pennington Private Wealth Management.”
“The woman must have known her stuff.” Robby sniffed. “That’s a fancy pants financial services company. They wouldn’t give any small fish like us the time of day.”
Actually, Claire was well-acquainted with the management firm. Almost two years ago, she had inherited quite a large sum of money from her late husband, but only Nicole was privy to that fact having recently learned the information from Claire.
“So could this shooting be related to something going on at the firm?” Nicole asked. “Or was it purely random with Ashley being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“Good questions.” Claire’s mind raced thinking about who she might contact at the financial services firm to find out some information about the former employee.
“Does Ian know the boyfriend’s name?” Robby asked.
Claire gave a nod. “Michael Burton. He works at the same firm.”
Robby straightened. “Wait a minute. I know a Sally Burton. She goes to school with me. This guy must be her brother. I met him once at a production we were in. Michael … yeah, Sally told me he worked at that big-shot financial place.”
Well.” Nicole narrowed her eyes. “This could come in handy.”
Claire was thinking the very same thing. “Your friend probably knew Ashley, or at least, had met her.”
“Want me to text Sally?” Robby asked.
“No,” Claire said forcefully. “She might not know what’s happened. Or if she does know, she’s probably in shock. Don’t contact her yet. Wait.”
“Right. What am I thinking? I’ll see her at school. Maybe I can talk to her then.” Robby went out front to check on the customers.
“I know someone who works at that firm.” Claire kept her voice down.
Nicole smiled. “Perfect. That seems like a good place to start. Find out if there’s a sensitive account Ashley was working on.”
“If nothing else, maybe I can find out what the woman was like.” A dark frown pulled at Claire’s lips.
“What are you thinking?”
Claire lifted her eyes to her friend. “There’s an odd feeling swirling around this woman’s death. I don’t know what it means.”
“Yet.” Nicole smiled.
Claire rested her chin in her hand. “I think you have too much faith in my ability to sort things out.”
“You haven’t failed me yet.” Nicole gave Claire a playful poke.
“Speaking of which,” Claire wanted to change the subject since there didn’t seem to be anything more that could be said about the new case. “I brought some brownies to Tony’s market this morning to get some opinions on the different flavors.”
“You were very busy this morning, weren’t you?” Nicole observed trying to lighten the mood.
“There wasn’t a specific standout. Each flavor had about the same number of votes,” Claire reported. “Of course, it was a small sample size. I was thinking we should cut small pieces and have the customers here taste them for free and vote. We could set up a table in the front of the store.”
“I like it. Let’s start the taste-test the day after tomorrow. Having the customers involved will create some buzz about us being in the competition and maybe it will encourage them to go and support us.” Nicole winked. “We don’t want the wrong pastry shop to win the prize.”
Something Nicole said caused a shot of anxiety to race through Claire’s body, but she had no idea what it was and she tried to push the feeling away by asking, “Want to start with the brownies or the custard flans?”
“How about the brownies? We can gather the input and then the next day do the custards. Let’s try seven or eight days of different desserts and the one with the highest rating will be our entry.”
“Sounds good.” Claire nodded as a feeling of fatigue flooded through her muscles. It seemed that the reality of discovering the woman in her car was just starting to hit her. “I’ll start some dough for tomorrow morning, then I’ll head out to Tony’s to pick up the dogs.”
Nicole gave her friend a hug, told Claire to call anytime of the day or night if she needed anything, and then headed to the front of the store. “Try not to worry,” she said as she was about to leave the room. She knew Claire felt a heavy duty to help figure out what happened to the young woman in the car. “We’ll put our heads together. It’ll all work out.”
As Claire took the flour, sugar, and butter out of the cabinets to prepare some batter, her phone dinged with a missed call and when she saw who it was from and listened to the voicemail, her heart started to race.
It was from Bradford Bilson, a senior vice president at Pennington Private Wealth Management, someone she’d met only a handful of times. In his message, he asked her if she could meet in regards to Ashley Smith. I was very sorry to hear you were the one who found Ms. Smith this morning.
How does Bradford Bilson know I found the woman? And what exactly does he want to talk about?
4
Bradford Bilson sent a car to pick up Claire for their meeting. She had the driver meet her in front of the State House not wanting the car to come to her home even though she knew Bilson would just have to pick up a phone and ask someone at the firm to look in their files for Claire’s address. Still, she preferred to keep her financial life and her personal life separate … as much as she possible could.
Claire wore her long, curly hair slicked back into a bun and had huge, black- rimmed sunglasses on. Her black skirt hit two inches above the knee and her suit jacket fit like a glove. A crisp, snow
white shirt showed under the jacket.
Whenever she visited the firm to meet for her quarterly account updates, she dressed professionally and acted the part of a … well, the part of a person in the social class her money had landed her, but in an echelon she felt she had no business being in.
Claire had grown up dirt poor. She’d worked like a dog in school, did extremely well, and went on to graduate from a prominent law school which resulted in meeting and marrying Teddy Rollins, one of the wealthiest men in America.
Claire always felt that people in Teddy’s circle snickered at and whispered about her. Gold digger. Social climber. Moneygrubber. When Teddy died, some of his greedy business acquaintances tried to wrest the company and wealth from her, but she surprised a number of people when she battled back and won.
Teddy loved Claire and she’d loved him. He left everything to her and she made darned sure his wishes were honored.
Bradford Bilson asked Claire to meet him on his yacht in Boston Harbor preferring their conversation to have maximum privacy. Why it was necessary to talk on a boat puzzled Claire, but she agreed to it out of curiosity.
The driver pulled the silver Mercedes into a parking space and a man in a nautical-type uniform escorted Claire down the docks to the metal walkway that led to the massive three-story yacht. Claire paid close attention to the planks on the walkway so her heel wouldn’t catch and send her sprawling. That wasn’t the kind of entrance she was hoping for.
The stern of the boat had a large covered deck area furnished with teak and white cushioned furniture. The escort slid back a glass door and gestured for Claire to enter. She nodded and stepped into a fabulous sitting room with gleaming wood on the floors, the trim, and halfway up the walls.
Huge vases of fresh flowers sat on several tables scattered around the space. Glass windows on two walls looked out over the harbor, plush area rugs were underfoot, and expensive cream furniture completed the presentation of wealth and elegance.
