Cake Tastings and Killers

by A. R. Winters

  Reid scribbled another set of notes and then closed his notebook and set it aside. "Thank you for the information, Ms. Fisher.”

  "What I found out might help?" I asked.

  Reid nodded. "But going forward, I have to advise you that it’s best not to speak to me without an attorney present.”

  A weight settled on my chest. "Excuse me?"

  "Do you have an attorney?" he asked. "If not, I would recommend speaking to your brother-in-law. If he can't handle it, he can recommend someone."

  "No, stop. What are you saying?" I leaned back in the chair, trying to catch my breath. He couldn't mean that the way it sounded, right? "I just told you Simon Lambert and Jason Delany both had reasons to want Charlie gone."

  "I've noticed how far out of your way you've gone to point suspicion away from yourself, Ms. Fisher," he said. "From where I'm sitting, it borders on obstruction of justice."

  I blinked, too flabbergasted for a second to form a response. "When have I obstructed anything? All I want is to figure out who killed Charlie Porter on my sister's property. The same as you."

  Reid tapped the envelope he'd brought into the office with his finger. Then he opened it, pulling out a single sheet of paper with lots of lines and numbers neatly printed on it. "The problem is the evidence says something different. Do you know what this sheet of paper says?"

  "I barely passed high school chemistry," I said. In fact, I was failing the course most of the semester, though not for lack of trying. The teacher had been impressed with my effort––or else she took pity on me––and gave me just enough of a boost to pass the semester.

  "It's an analysis of the fertilizer in your grandmother's shed," Reid said. "Positive for arsenic."

  My shoulders slumped. "So I'm still a suspect. Even after what I found out?"

  "It's all hearsay, Ms. Fisher," he said with a shrug. "I’ll ask around their social circle, but in my experience, people like that don't share their dirty laundry with people like me at times like this. Not if they can help it. To be frank, I’m not sure why she was so honest with you."

  I had an idea, but my pride wouldn’t let me voice it to Detective Reid.

  To Caroline, Simon, and Jason, Conner Reid was an authority figure. They wouldn't want to share their depraved secrets with him. But to Caroline Delany at that moment, I was her wedding planner. Essentially a highly specialized personal assistant Caroline had hired for free. May as well share the secrets with me upfront. I would see them all before she left for her honeymoon anyway.

  The energy from my syrupy iced coffee drink rushed out of my body. I leaned forward, bracing my elbows against my knees. "I didn't kill Charlie Porter, Detective Reid. Not with fertilizer from my grandmother’s shed. Not with anything else."

  His eyes locked on mine. I knew how intense Reid's gaze could be, but I had never until this exact moment noticed the color of his eyes. They were gray and slightly bloodshot.

  "I believe you," he said with a soft exhale. "But if you don't stop playing detective, I'm going to have to do something we both regret."

  "My sister's business is going up in flames and after over a week you still think I killed someone. What else is there?"

  Reid climbed to his feet and smoothed his tie down. "I could arrest you for witness tampering. But I don't want to do that, Laura. So please, I'm asking you, I'm begging. Back off."

  I wanted to argue with him. To explain everything that was at stake. Danielle and Andrew's business. The Loper family legacy. Baby Benjamin's inheritance. Granny's comfortably active retirement. The safety and security of my family. It was all at risk, and Detective Reid was asking me––no, ordering me––to let the chips fall where they may.

  Even if it meant disaster.

  "Understood," I said, standing on shaking legs. "Thank you for meeting with me."

  "I can walk you to your car, if you like," he said, concern visible on his face. Had he ever shown an emotion when looking at me?

  I shook my head. Under any other circumstance, it would have been a sweet gesture. But I wanted to be as far away from Detective Reid and the sheriff's department as I could manage.

  "I'm fine, thank you."

  "You don't look fine." Reid came around his desk and reached out to take my arm.

  For some reason, that was the last straw. I could stand him lecturing me about playing detective, in part because I knew he was right. I could take him being condescending about my efforts to fill out the story of Charlie Porter's last days.

  What I couldn’t stand was Conner Reid being kind to me while his investigation was ripping my world apart.

  I glared at him, feeling heat lick the sides of my temples and sting my eyes. "That’s because I'm not. You just told me you believe I'm not guilty, but I have to sit back and get dragged through the dirt anyway. That's not okay."

  Detective Reid opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't give him the chance. I turned my back on him, striding back to my car as coolly as I could while fuming.

  I drove back to the Paradise in a daze. What was I going to do now? It wouldn't look good if I called Caroline and withdrew my offer to help plan her wedding right after I'd made it. And I couldn't stop her from telling me how she felt about Charlie and the things he'd done to her. I had to lock it all away and hope for the best.

  Since there was no rush and I was feeling down, I took my time walking the path from the parking lot to Granny's. A gentle breeze caught the leaves of the royal poincianas. On a whim, I changed direction and walked toward them. It was a bit late for a nature shoot, but I wasn’t above sitting beneath those leaves. Come summer, they would be covered in red flowers, and the guests would take all the prime lounging spots. But for now, they were mine to savor.

  On my way to the poincianas, I saw a puff of orange wiggle into the bushes that lined the path. I paused, blinked, and crept over. A tiny ball of fluff about the size of my palm lay curled around the base of a coral bean shrub.

  The kitten looked up at me, letting out the weakest little meow I'd ever heard.

  "Hey, little bit," I crooned, reaching out slowly to let it sniff my hand. "Did you lose your mama?"

  The kitten looked at me again with big, frightened eyes.

  "I know the feeling. But I promise I won't bite."

  It sniffed my fingers gently and, apparently deciding I meant it no harm, nuzzled my thumb. After a few minutes, the kitten crawled into my hand.

  Its raspy tongue licked at the exposed skin at my neckline. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a stray on the grounds. The poor little guy must have been starving.

  "I'll take that as permission to take you home," I whispered, smiling as I hugged the small animal to my chest.

  Maybe I wasn't qualified to solve a murder investigation, but a hungry kitten I could handle.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Quit complaining, you little rascal," Granny said as she ruffled the kitten's head with a dishtowel. "If you'd stop getting into the garbage you wouldn't be gettin' so many baths!"

  The orange kitten wriggled in her hands, sliding her paws out of the towel and hauling her body forward. She was ready to make a break for it. Not on my watch.

  "Tsk tsk. No, you don't." I grabbed a free corner of the towel and pulled it over the kitten's head. "Granny's right. I'm sick of combing coffee grounds out of your fur."

  Life continued much the same for the next two days at the Paradise Bed and Breakfast. Granny and Danielle rushed the kitten as soon as I brought her into the house, smothering her with coos and ear scratches as we bathed and fed her.

  Baby Benjamin was confused by the sudden appearance of a living, definitely not-human creature in his world. After their first few introductions, Ben regarded the kitten with the same erratic interest he did everything else.

  But the kitten adored Ben. If Granny and I let her wander while Danielle was over, which we only did carefully because she was so small, within minutes she would climb all over whoever was holding Ben. Half th
e time, she would perch on our shoulders. The rest of the time she curled up in our arms, pressing her body against his.

  All in all, the little kitten's adoption of our family was going well. And the confirmation that Caroline and Simon's wedding would still happen as scheduled was just the good news we all needed. It was like a burst of energy that radiated through all three of us, which made the reality of the situation easier to stand.

  "That's the Harper-MacKenzie wedding off the schedule," Danielle said, tossing her cell phone onto the sofa beside her.

  "They called?" I asked, frowning.

  "Not today," she said, kicking off her sandals and pulling her legs up onto the couch. "They called last week asking if there was a murder investigation involving the Paradise."

  "And you told 'em the truth?" Granny stared at Danielle like she'd sprouted an extra head. The kitten wrestled itself free of the kitchen towel, hopped onto the table, and used a dining chair as a springboard to freedom.

  "I didn't have a choice, Granny," Danielle said. "Technically, it doesn’t involve us, so I don't have to tell anyone unless they ask. But if they ask, I can't lie."

  When Danielle started arranging herself and Ben to nurse, Granny and I exchanged a look.

  “I’m going after that darned cat,” Granny said, shaking her head. “Don’t want her clawing at my bedpost.”

  "If they didn't call today, what makes you think they're canceling?" I asked.

  "I spoke to Paige Hawkins to confirm the dessert details of the Delany-Lambert wedding," Danielle said. "Thanks again for saving my butt on that, by the way."

  "You can pay me back by never hiring me out as a wedding planner again." It had only been two days, and Caroline Delany had already buried me in social media posts and photo texts.

  She had confirmed the desserts with Paige's bakery, but she still had to choose between three centerpiece arrangements so I could send those details to the florist. And likely give them a panic attack as they rushed to make all of the centerpieces in time.

  Having Charlie in the wedding party must have caused more chaos than Caroline had hinted. She didn't strike me as someone who would be comfortable leaving any details of their wedding to the last minute.

  Danielle sighed. "If something doesn't change soon, I don't think there’ll be many more weddings. Not here. Somehow, word is getting around. I know it is."

  I went over to the couch and looped an arm around Danielle's shoulder. I'd have given anything to tell her she was wrong, but I couldn't lie to her.

  "Maybe not. Simon and Caroline wouldn't want word getting around any more than we do."

  How long would that be true? Would the new Mr. and Mrs. Lambert care if people found out someone they knew had died where they got married? For the Charlie Porter I knew, a tidbit like that would have become an ice breaker.

  "I know it sounds horrible… but I just want this whole thing to be over," Danielle said. "It's awful not being able to move on."

  "We all feel that way," I said. "Even Simon and Caroline. You're not a bad person for wanting your life back the way it was."

  Danielle nodded in agreement, but she didn't look convinced. There was an additional layer of anxiety for her that just didn't exist for Simon or Caroline. By Jason Delany's account, Simon and Charlie hated each other. None of them had seemed any sorrier than we were the day he died. But only our livelihoods were tied to the case. Nobody was going to stop making deals with Simon to sell their products just because his partner had been murdered.

  Unless, of course, Simon had been the one to kill him.

  There was a chance he had. The aftermath of Charlie kissing Caroline proved Simon wasn't afraid of a public altercation, but was he capable of murder?

  I needed more information; there was no way around it. There was just one problem: Detective Reid had already threatened to arrest me once. Something told me Conner Reid wasn't the type to make a threat idly.

  Granny came out of the bathroom carrying the orange kitten in her arms. It had curled up into a happy little ball, with a tiny smile on its lips.

  "How'd you catch her?" Danielle asked, holding her hands open and beckoning for Granny to pass the cat over.

  Granny took one look at Danielle's expression and handed her the kitten. "Didn't. Little goober curled up on my pillow and fell asleep."

  "At least she stayed away from the garbage can." I reached over and gave our "little rascal" a gentle scratch between the ears.

  "It's like having a toddler in the house." Granny flopped down in her easy chair, kicked off her shoes, and pulled the level to make it recline.

  I stuck my tongue out at her. "Don't let her fool you, Danielle. I caught the two of them snuggled up on the couch this morning."

  "That's only because the little devil tried to smother me in my sleep!" Granny huffed. "Woke up with her on my chest."

  "Granny, she can't weigh more than two pounds," I said.

  "She needs a name," Danielle said, smiling down at the kitten. It had wiggled out of her hands and squished itself between her stomach and Benjamin's side. Baby Ben didn't seem to mind.

  "Don't look at me," I said. "The reason I work under my name and not a brand is I'm so bad at naming things."

  "You said you found her in the coral beans?" When I nodded, Danielle smiled. "How about Coral?"

  I looked at Granny to get her opinion. Because as much as she fussed, I knew she adored that cat. The second I brought her into the house, Granny's face had lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. The cat was barely mine. Mostly, it was Granny's.

  Which suited me fine. My apartment in Seattle didn't allow pets, and even if they did, I wouldn't want to subject a cat to a cross-country trip.

  Whenever I went back, the cat could keep Granny company.

  “Coral...” Granny smiled. “Yeah, that'll do just fine.”

  We sat together for an hour. Granny turned on the news and, when that got boring, a legal drama. Danielle alternated between stroking Coral's toe beans and Baby Benjamin's feet. It was Granny's night to cook dinner, which she mostly did during commercial breaks. How she developed the ability to flow back and forth effortlessly between the kitchen and the living room, I still hadn't figured out. Any time I tried, I ended up with burnt eggs and pots of water completely boiled away.

  After an early supper of fresh conch fritters and homemade french fries, Granny and I huddled in the doorway and waved to Danielle as she walked back to her apartment.

  "I don't like her up there all alone," Granny said once Danielle had disappeared from sight. "Not with everything going on."

  Having said her piece, Granny went back into the kitchen and started gathering the remains of dinner.

  "It's just the other side of the grounds," I said, pulling the stack of plates from her hand and taking them to the sink.

  "And that boy was only outside," she said. "Doesn't take somebody long at all to end a life if they're determined."

  "Charlie and Danielle are nothing alike. He hurt everybody he came across. Danielle doesn't have a mean bone in her body."

  Granny didn’t respond, instead pouring two glasses of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge. She set one on the counter next to me and then went back into the living room. After a few seconds, the quippy dialogue of the legal drama cut off abruptly, replaced by a reality singing competition.

  I turned back to the dishes and left Granny to cuddle with Coral and decompress. It wasn't that I didn't share her worry. I didn't like Danielle being so far away any more than Granny did. But I didn't think Charlie Porter met his end at the hands of a serial killer.

  Reid was right, it was far more likely one of the many people Charlie hurt finally had enough. It was just a matter of which one snapped first. And Reid was simply taking too long to figure it out.

  "Think I might go back to Key West tomorrow," I said as casually as I could. "Would you be all right watching Coral?"

  "Not before you tell me what you’re scheming."

 
I looked over my shoulder to find Granny staring at me with the same unimpressed look she'd worn whenever I tried to sneak one past her in high school. With a mere lowering of her eyebrow, Margaret Fisher could convey with perfect clarity that you didn't, wouldn't, and could never hope to fool her.

  "Somebody at that office knows something. And I'm betting if it isn't Jason Delany, I can get his lips loose enough for him to tell me who it might be."

  Granny tilted her chin down and cocked an eyebrow. Then, slowly, a mischievous grin spread over her lips.

  "You'll need to wear something pretty," she said. "But not too forward. And don't forget to put some color on your cheeks and lips. Men like that."

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the dishes. "I’m just gonna talk to him, Granny.”

  "Which is the last thing a woman like you would say if she were really going after a man like him."

  When I turned to look at Granny again, she'd turned back to her show. Every now and then, she stroked Coral’s back, but she didn’t look back at me. As usual, once Granny weighed in, she didn't think there was any more to say.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but Granny was right. I couldn’t just pump Jason Delany for information. It would be more of a game if I behaved like I was interested in him but was trying to hide it so as not to scare him off.

  Personally, I hated playing the dating game. I would much rather have a real conversation with a man over a pizza and beer than go through all that preening and posing.

  But to keep my family safe and happy, I was willing to do whatever it took.

  After I finished cleaning up, and kissed Granny and Coral goodnight, I went up to my room and flicked on my closet light. Thanks to a poorly timed purge I'd made with plans to build a capsule wardrobe right before I left Seattle, my supply of flirty clothes was even lower than usual. I tried on everything that looked even remotely up to the task.

  Half an hour and aching arms later, I had a midi skirt made of denim just light enough for the Florida heat and a low-cut V-neck shirt I'd somehow missed in the great purge. That was it.