Cake Tastings and Killers

by A. R. Winters

  "And it's all lies," Reid said. "I've been asking around about Charlie too, and I keep hearing the same story. The website, the brilliance, the success, it was all for show. Most people say Charlie Porter was the meanest person they'd ever met. A few even used the word bully."

  The microwave chirped as the timer ran out. I popped the door open and pinched the mug handle to test the heat.

  "None of these are questions, Detective Reid." The handle was cool. I turned to face Reid and found he had been watching me the whole time. "You're not going to drink this coffee, are you?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

  "You didn’t drink the tea I made you that night either. Why do you keep asking for things you don't intend to drink?" It took every ounce of willpower I had, but I resisted the urge to slam the mug on the counter. This was not the time to indulge my temper or waste coffee.

  "I haven’t asked you for a drink yet, Ms. Fisher," he said. "You keep offering."

  As much as I wanted to argue, the detective was right. "Fine. Why do you keep accepting it?"

  He shrugged. "You learn a lot about people by watching what they do when they're nervous."

  "Why should I be nervous, Detective Reid? The only person who thinks I'm a suspect is you."

  "So answer my questions. Let me rule you out."

  "You haven't asked me one." I took a breath, willing myself to stay calm. The more emotional I got, the more it would look like I had something to hide.

  “I asked you a question the night Charlie Porter died. Did you and the deceased have a history?”

  I took a deep breath. My hands gripped the side seams of my pajama pants twice before I accepted that there were no pockets for me to shove them into. It should have occurred to me Detective Reid would ask that question again, but I felt totally blindsided.

  “We dated in high school for about a week in the spring of senior year. It didn't end well.”

  Detective Reid nodded and slid his hands into his pockets. “Define not well.”

  I laughed bitterly. "You must not be from the area."

  "Guilty. Moved down here a few years ago."

  "Paraiso seems like a big place because of the tourists. It isn't. Charlie told a lot of stories about me. Some true, most not. By summer break, everyone knew."

  "What did you do to Charlie in return?"

  I shrugged. "Nothing, Detective Reid. I spent the summer saving every dollar I could, and when fall rolled around, I walked away. Well, I drove away."

  "And that’s how you ended up in Seattle."

  "There was an open photography job there." I turned my back on the detective and went back into the living room. If we were going to take a tour of my worst hits, I needed a sip of coffee. "And… I wanted to be away from it all."

  Reid followed. As I predicted, he left his mug of coffee behind. "Away from the gossip or away from Charlie Porter?"

  "He broke my heart, Detective Reid. I wanted to get away from both."

  "Were you still attracted to him? Is that why you and Charlie had words the afternoon he died?"

  "Like you said, Charlie was a bully." I took another sip from my mug and set it back on the table. "We had words because he took what should have been a great day for Caroline Delany and ruined it not once but twice. I just… felt like someone had to say something. Money isn't a license to treat people that way."

  Detective Reid raised an eyebrow. "Did you say twice? What happened the second time?"

  "Actually, it was the first. Paige left after Charlie upset her, but before that, he and Jason had a showdown over a cupcake."

  Reid blinked. "A cupcake?"

  I told him the story of Charlie, Jason, and the key lime abomination with espresso filling. "None of the others told you about that?"

  When the detective pulled his hand out of his pocket, he was holding his notepad and pen. “They didn’t, but to be fair neither did you.”

  "I… guess with everything that came after, I forgot about it."

  Reid scribbled on the paper. “Is there anything else you forgot to mention?”

  The events of that day flashed through my mind. The cleaning, the tasting, Nicholas Lloyd, Charlie's vacant eyes, and Jason Delany on the front porch. Everything would be fine, he had insisted, because of how the company handled high-ranking employees.

  “Did you know Simon Lambert had an insurance policy on Charlie?”

  When the detective blinked in surprise, I felt a genuine surge of satisfaction.

  “I did. How did you know that?”

  “Jason Delany told me the night Charlie died. He said it would cover their losses if they decide not to use our venue.”

  I reached for my mug again, this time to have something to do with my hands. Detective Reid was as careful with his body language as he was with his tone of voice, but he was too busy connecting the dots to hide everything. Either Jason or Simon had just become a suspect. Maybe both of them had.

  Reid finished his notes and stowed the notebook back in his pocket. "Those are all the questions I have for right now, Ms. Fisher. My boys are taking samples from the fertilizer in the shed. Once we get that, we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out? It might not look like it, but I had plans today.” I grabbed the remote and went back to changing channels.

  I didn’t stop until I heard the door shut.

  Chapter Nine

  Detective Reid and the crime scene crew worked for less than half an hour. I tried to ignore them and focus on the title blocks of the TV menu, but I couldn't concentrate. Charlie, Paige, the Delany-Lambert wedding. There were too many things competing in my brain for attention. And far too much of daytime television programming included cop show reruns.

  I finally settled on a harmless sitcom about a young group of friends to spare myself the repetitive motion injury. During the commercial breaks, I eyed my breakfast plate and thought about heating it up again. At the very least I figured I should put it in the fridge.

  But I couldn't make myself move. The couch was soft. The couch was safe.

  Halfway through the first episode of my sitcom marathon, the front door swung open. Danielle rushed in with the baby balanced on her hip and a look of sheer panic on her face.

  "There’s nobody around outside." She gasped to catch her breath. "Is Detective Reid gone?"

  I sat up. "Maybe? I haven't heard any noise from outside in a while." I went to Danielle and took Benjamin, holding him in one arm and wrapping the other around my sister. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

  Danielle nodded. My heart sank. Was it Andrew? Was it Granny?

  "How many more times he's going to come here," she said. "When is this going to end? We can't just have the police searching the property every few days!"

  No disasters. Well, no new disasters. I led Danielle to the couch. She sat down without argument and waited until I was situated with Benjamin nestled in my lap.

  “I just got off the phone with Senator Galvino,” she said. “The senator heard about… Charlie... somehow.”

  The name didn't ring a bell, but I hadn't followed Florida politics in years. It was the position that was important. Political weddings didn't have the clout of celebrity or royal weddings, but they still got decent coverage. Photographs in wedding and local interest magazines. On a slow day, it might even draw news coverage.

  “He was a Porter," I said. "The senator probably knows the family.”

  Danielle shook her head. "Not the senator's personal assistant. The senator. And she didn’t know who it happened to. Only that a body had been found on our property and the investigation was still open."

  I put a hand on her shoulder. "Okay… what did she say?"

  "That if the death was connected to the Paradise she wouldn't be able to use us." Danielle held her head in her hands. "She said the legacy she and her future husband are building is too important to be associated with scandal, no matter how distantly."
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  “Then we’ll be fine.” I wanted to believe that. No, I needed to believe it. “It’s not connected to us.”

  Danielle looked at me with teary eyes. “Nobody’s gonna believe that, Laura. The senator didn't.”

  I wanted to say something to comfort her, but the right words wouldn't come. The more time passed after Charlie's death, the less control we had over the gossip. We still didn't have any guests booked.

  “We'll figure this out,” I said.

  Danielle sobbed. “We're gonna have to sell, Laura.”

  "Not as long as I'm here." I didn't have a way to back those words up, but my little sister needed to hear them.

  The fire was starting. I pulled Danielle close with my free hand and hugged her. I didn't know what else to do.

  Granny sauntered in through the door and kicked it shut behind her. "Why’s the front door open?"

  Her stick-straight white hair had been rearranged and set into a perfectly curled hair helmet. She paused when she saw Danielle and I huddled on the couch, and sighed.

  “Sorry, Granny,” Danielle said. “It's been a rough day.”

  “If it's as bad as all that, I'll take my dinner shift tonight.” Granny put her purse on the table and marched into the kitchen to get to work.

  Danielle wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “And on top of everything now, it's tuna fish casserole night,” she whispered.

  I laughed and kissed her forehead. Benjamin fussed at the shift in position. Apparently, babies preferred their human cushions to stay still. A whiff of sour air hit me in the face.

  "Think little man here needs a new diaper," I said.

  "The bag’s back at the office. I’ll be back." Danielle scooped the baby into her arms, flashing me a small smile.

  Once she was gone, I slumped back against the couch again, stifling a groan. If the senator was worried about her legacy, she might use her influence to dig deeper into Reid's investigation. How long would it take for her to get a list of suspects?

  I reached for my coffee mug again and took a big gulp. It was cold, but the caffeine would work just as well and I needed the jolt. I had to do something to fix this, but I couldn't remove myself from the suspect list. The only thing I could do was remove myself from the Paradise. From Paraiso Island.

  I'd done it once when the wildfire gossip on the island got too hot. But I was a kid back then. Now I was thirty-three with the odd gray hair and softening midsection to prove it.

  At a certain point in your life, you just have to stop running. Waiting for Detective Reid wasn't getting me anywhere. Maybe it was time to improvise.

  There were two suspects on the list. Maybe three. I just needed to find a reason to eliminate one.

  I went upstairs to my room, changed out of the pine cone pajamas, and grabbed my camera and phone.

  When I got back down to the first floor, Granny was at the kitchen counter with her back to me. A pile of onions, garlic, and bell peppers lay in front of her. "Do I want to know?"

  "Detective Reid is taking too long," I said. "So I'm gonna help."

  Granny paused. She turned to look at me, a wide grin spreading across her face. "That's my girl. Where do we start?"

  "Charlie's business. Maybe there’s something there they missed." I had no idea what that something might be or how a professional detective might have missed it, but I would figure that out later.

  I didn’t know where Charlie and Simon worked either, but that was just a matter of a quick internet search. The next two suspects on the list just happened to work there.

  Granny wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “Let me grab my pocketbook.”

  “You're making dinner for Danielle.”

  She frowned, glancing back at her mountain of vegetables. Granny smelled an adventure, but family came first. “Well… tomorrow I'm going with you. Right after I get my nails done.”

  Chapter Ten

  One hour and forty-five minutes later, I stood in front of an office building in Key West. Its blocky shape, made of gray concrete and smoked glass, reminded me of a commercial printer. It seemed appropriate for an office building. The efficient and understated exterior didn’t seem like Charlie, but according to the website, the corporation he owned with Simon Lambert had offices on the fourth floor.

  The interior of the building wasn’t much better. The front lobby was an endless wasteland of beige tile punctuated by two potted trees leading to a hallway of wooden doors. Both of the trees were covered in a thick layer of dust. There was no security guard, no apparent restriction on who came and went. There wasn’t even an occupant directory.

  Things were different on the fourth floor. Everything from the walls to the tile leading away from the elevator looked brand new. Instead of a hallway of doors, the path led to a glass wall that stretched the width of the hallway and gave a full view of the receptionist’s desk in front of a blank white wall with another glass door. The beiges and greens of the lobby had been replaced with glass, white paint, and chrome.

  Now this was Charlie.

  The woman at the desk wore a faux-silk sundress with a sunflower pattern. Her immaculately colored hair hung in loose beach waves around her shoulders, perfectly framing a fully made-up face. Everything about her seemed more suited to girls-night-out than an afternoon in the office. Meanwhile, I’d only changed into a pair of jean shorts without holes and put on a clean button-up.

  She looked up at me and did a double-take. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

  I plastered a smile on my face and went to the receptionist's desk. "Hi, is Mr. Lambert available?"

  "He's in a meeting right now," she said. "May I ask what this is regarding?"

  "My name is Laura Fisher. I'm an event rep at the Paradise Bed and Breakfast. I just wanted to confirm a few details about the schedule that day." The lie came out easily. It should have; I spent most of the drive down practicing it.

  The receptionist’s eyes widened. "Oh! Take a seat, Ms. Fisher. I'll let Simon know you're here."

  Yikes. Any reaction would have been better than that one. No reaction at all would have been perfect. I figured I could offer Simon a groom's suit photo shoot for free to talk my way into the room. Now I was worried I'd given him an easy way to fire us.

  “Laura? What are you doing here?”

  I turned around. Jason Delany smiled and shifted the tray of take-out coffee in his hand to wave. On the drive down, I had figured I was more likely to find Simon. I didn’t have a plan for Jason. Time to improvise.

  "Nice to see you again, Mr. Delany. I'm sorry for your loss.”

  Delany waved his free hand dismissively. “Jason, please. Don't cry for people like Charlie, Laura. My granddaddy would say you’ll be crying all day.”

  “I… don't know about that––”

  "Then you didn't know Charlie the way I did." Jason grabbed a coffee cup from the tray and blew into the mouth hole. "You got his number that day. It was no more than he deserved for how he treated people.”

  I’m sure there's a smooth and totally casual response for when a man you barely know runs his dead business partner’s reputation into the ground, but I couldn't think of it.

  "Anyway, what can we do for you?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  "I was hoping to speak to Simon about the wedding."

  Jason clicked his tongue. "We're meeting with a supplier today. He's been planning this launch for months. But if it's about the wedding he'll probably want to hear it." He pursed his lips and looked over my shoulder at the receptionist. "Jean, go give him a tap on the shoulder and let him know who's here."

  "Mr. Lambert said he didn't want to be disturbed," Jean said. "Like you just said, the C-Suite has been planning this launch for months."

  "And I'm telling you he'll want to hear this." Jason lowered his chin. "Go get him. Please."

  Jean blinked. It took her a few seconds, but she turned her chair around, marched to the door, punched in a key code, and disapp
eared behind the white wall.

  "One of Charlie’s hires," Jason said. "He had a type, our Charlie. Easy on the eyes, short on the charm. But then you don't need charm to work our desk. In our industry, people don't usually drop in without notice."

  "You never mentioned what business you all are in." At first, I couldn’t figure out what miracle had made Jason Delany so chatty. Then it dawned on me: he liked me.

  He smiled and leaned against the reception desk. “E-commerce. You name it, we sell it now or did at some point. Remember those toys that were big for burning anxious energy a few years ago? Simon and Charlie supplied half of the kiosks in Key West.”

  "So you just pick something popular and put it on a website?" I wasn't a stellar businesswoman, but that model didn't sound stable to me.

  “No, there's way more to it than that,” Jason said. He took another sip of coffee and continued. “That was just us catching a wave. Usually we do a lot more work finding out what motivates our customers. That's basically what I do. Well… what I do for now.”

  "Are you switching jobs?"

  Jason shrugged. "Simon hasn't said anything official with an office vacant, but someone will have to take on more responsibility, and I've been covering for Charlie for years. He came to work loaded out of his mind half of the week."

  "Charlie?"

  "And I'm being conservative." Jason tilted his head. "Your sister said you and Charlie went to high school together. Wasn't he the same back then?"

  "We didn't travel in the same crowds." If Jason somehow didn’t get the memo about my sordid history with his deceased former boss, then I was happy to leave him in the dark.

  Besides, it was mostly true. Aside from the week we dated, Charlie Porter and I had lived completely different lives. We didn't share friends or extracurricular activities. He was a star tennis champion whereas I'd sworn off sports altogether after nearly breaking my ankle at a tryout for the track team our freshman year. There were wild parties, of course, but I wasn’t high enough on the social hierarchy to get an invitation. Most of the time I didn't know they'd happened until I heard about Charlie's drunken antics.