Gluten for Punishment

by Nancy J. Parra

“Sure.” Meghan walked her bike to the van. “This place is kind of giving me the creeps all of a sudden.”

  “Tomorrow, park your bike out front,” I suggested. “There are more people out front to see you when you take off.” I opened the back of the van and she lifted her bike inside.

  “Isn’t the front where the guy was killed?”

  I slammed the door shut. “Yes, but more people are around on Main Street this time of night. You know, date night, movies, cruising, and such.”

  “You think kids still cruise?” She laughed at me when I shrugged.

  “What, am I showing my age?”

  “A little.”

  We both climbed into the van and slammed our doors. I hit the lock button and started the van up. Suddenly, someone pounded on my driver’s window, scaring me half to death. I think I screamed or maybe it was Meghan; more likely both of us.

  A shadowed male’s face filled the window. “Open up!”

  “Who are you, and why should I?” The van was running. All I had to do was put it in gear and back out. Unless he had a gun, in that case I’d try to run him over first. “Do you have your seat belt on?” I whispered to Meghan.

  “I do.”

  “I need to talk to you,” the muffled male voice went on.

  “I can’t see your face.”

  He took a step back into more of the light. “It’s me. Ed Bruner.”

  Crap.

  “What do you want?”

  “I need to talk to you,” Ed said. “Open your window.”

  Since it didn’t look like he had a gun or a blunt instrument, I opened my window a crack and hoped I wasn’t being like one of those too-stupid-to-live horror-movie girls. You know the ones who hear a noise and go down into the basement to check it out. And everyone yells to get out of there, the killer is down there . . . right before the killer gets her.

  “What do you want, Ed? I’m late for a dinner party at Tasha Wilkes’s house.”

  Meghan leaned forward. “And I’ve got to get home.”

  “I want to know what the hell you said to Chief Blaylock. He said he’d like to examine all our bank deposit bags and hoped I wouldn’t make him get a warrant.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” which was the truth. It was Tasha who had done all the talking.

  “Now no one’s getting their bank bags distributed tomorrow because first thing in the morning the chief is taking them all in.”

  Welcome to my world, I thought but tried to keep my mouth shut. “Get a good lawyer and you’ll get them back in three to four days.” Yes, I know, I have a smart mouth.

  Ed’s face grew red and his eyes narrowed. “Goddamn it! How are people supposed to make their deposits with no bags?”

  “I don’t know, maybe walk in and give the cash to the teller?”

  “I swear to God, if I find out you prompted this—”

  “Is everything all right here?” Sam came around the van, his tool belt slung low on his hip. It startled me when he appeared suddenly, but then I was relieved there was another witness should things go horribly bad.

  “Not really.” I waved at Sam. “Ed was scaring us while expressing his concerns about being a person of interest in the murder case.”

  “Dude, you all right?” Sam leaned against the van and had his hands in his pocket. He looked calm but in control, which helped lower my heart rate.

  “Great, just great.” Ed waved his hands in an exasperated gesture. “Even better if people minded their own business.” Then he stormed off.

  I lowered the window all the way and leaned out to catch Sam’s attention. “Thanks for that.”

  “No problem.”

  “I didn’t know you were in town . . .”

  “Mrs. Becher over at the quilt shop saw my truck parked out front the other day and called. Thanks to you, I finished an easy remodel on the quilt shop bathroom.”

  “Nice.” Meghan gave him the thumbs-up.

  “I was closing up when I heard that guy shouting. Thought I’d see if everything was all right.”

  “It is now. Thanks.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I’m taking Meghan home. I didn’t think it was safe for her to ride her bike this late at night.”

  “Good choice.” Sam gave a short nod of his head. “Be safe, you two.” He stepped back and I threw the van in gear and headed toward Central.

  “Wow,” was the first thing Meghan said. “I thought Mr. Bruner was going to punch you.”

  I swallowed. “Kind of hard to do with that much glass between us.”

  “Good thing he didn’t have a gun.”

  I had had the same thought and tried not to think about it too much.

  CHAPTER 23

  I arrived bright and early at the Oiltop Police Station on Saturday morning. I couldn’t wait to have my computer back. The place looked oddly abandoned.

  “Can I help you?” The big cop at the desk narrowed his eyes at me as I stepped inside. Maybe it was the bakery box I held that caught his attention. Cops do like their donuts, right?

  “Yes, hi, I’m Toni Holmes. My lawyer, Brad Ridgeway, said I could pick up my computer and things this morning.”

  The cop looked at me for a long, silent moment. What? Was he going to arrest me for coming in to get my stuff? Maybe the thought was paranoid, but it didn’t mean it might not be true. I lifted the bakery box. “I brought pastries.”

  The big cop stood. “What kind?”

  I opened the box. “There’s cheese Danish and pecan tarts and cinnamon rolls and apple fritters.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “Aren’t you the lady with the kooky bakery?”

  “Try one.” I nudged the box toward him.

  “The cinnamon rolls do look tasty.”

  I took out a napkin, grabbed the cinnamon roll, and handed it to him. He took a bite and his eyes widened. “That’s good.”

  “Of course it is.” I placed the open bakery box on the counter. “I need my computer. You see, I have people who order online and the computer is a serious link to my business.”

  “Hold on,” he said with his mouth full. He picked up a sheet and walked through the door to the back. I waited not so patiently, tapping my fingers on the counter. It really was dead in the station.

  When he came through the door with a nice big box, my heart soared. “Thanks!”

  He handed me the box. “No problem. Take a second and check to see if all your stuff is in there.”

  I put the box on the counter and rummaged through it while he helped himself to a cheese Danish. “Looks like it’s all here.” I watched him chow down. “Here, take my card. I open at seven during the week and ten on Saturdays. I bake fresh pastries available every day but Sunday.”

  “Great.” He wiped the back of his hand across his full mouth and took the card.

  I picked up my box and had to ask, “Are you the only one here?”

  “Yep,” he mumbled through the Danish. “Everyone else is at the murder site.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “The murder site?” I hadn’t seen anyone outside my shop when I left.

  “Someone called in a new body about an hour ago.” His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “No. I had no idea. Who is it? Do they know? Where . . . where did they find the second body?”

  “The body was found in the bank drive-thru.”

  “The bank?” My thoughts went to Ed. Had he killed again? Was he turning into a serial killer? Oh, crap, the dead body could have been me and Meghan. “Do ya’ll have any leads as to who did it?”

  “No, do you?”

  I shrugged. “If a body was found near the bank, and I were the chief, I think I’d be talking to Ed Bruner.”

  “Can’t.” The big guy stuffed the last of the Danish into his mouth.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Ed is the dead body.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Ed was dead. Well, that blew a big hole in m
y theory that he’d killed George. So I was back to only one suspect and that was Todd. Back at the bakery, I decided not to mention Ed’s death to Meghan as I showed her how to mix cupcakes. I thought I’d let her find out for herself.

  It was completely creepy that we’d had an altercation with Ed the night before. Sam, Meghan, and I might have even been the last people to see him alive . . . except for the killer, of course.

  Leaving Meghan to make a fresh batch of chocolate cupcakes, I went to my office to boot up my computer. It had taken me fifteen minutes to plug the thing back in and reset the desktop the way I liked it. I have to admit, it did sort of freak me out to think someone had riffled through my computer, moving files, peeking through personal e-mails. I shivered. It was a kind of violation even if the person doing it worked for law enforcement. Even though I didn’t have anything on the computer worth hiding, it felt weird. After all, I was too busy for sexy e-mails, answering personal ads online, or visiting questionable sites. Who knew my lack of a social life would pay off?

  I suspected the boring data was the real reason I had gotten my computer back so quickly. No offense to Brad or his lawyering skills; chances were, I had put the Oiltop PD cyber hackers to sleep.

  “Hey, Boss.” Meghan stuck her head into my tiny office. “Someone slipped this under the back door.” She waved a long white business envelope.

  “Why would they do that?” I took the envelope. My name was carefully printed on the front in black ink.

  “It’s too thin for a bomb.” Meghan’s eyes twinkled. “I’d watch for white powder, though.”

  “Stop it.” The letter looked completely normal. Why slide it under the door?

  “Please, I can’t help but think bomb.” She shrugged. “I was raised with the Murrah federal building bombing and 9/11. It’s a nasty world out there.”

  “Go check on the cupcakes.” I waved her away. “That way, you won’t be exposed if there’s something deadly inside.”

  “Yes, Boss.” She saluted and closed my office door.

  I took out my letter opener and carefully sliced through the top, opening the envelope wide. Inside was a folded note on white typing paper. I pulled it out and opened it.

  Typed in black was Ed Bruner’s death is on your hands. Stop poking in other people’s business. Or you’ll be next.

  A shiver went down my spine. I dropped the note as if it were suddenly on fire, grabbed my phone, and called Chief Blaylock’s office.

  “Chief’s office, this is Mindy, how can I help you?”

  “Hey Mindy, this is Toni Holmes down at the Baker’s Treat. I received a threatening letter. Someone slipped it under my door a few minutes ago.”

  “Wow,” Mindy said. “That doesn’t happen a whole lot in Oiltop.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ll call the chief and see what he says. Hang on.” She put me on hold. Kool & the Gang played on the hold music. When had the police station last updated its hold music, 1980?

  I paced my tiny closet of an office, refusing to sit at my desk or touch the letter again. The words on the paper haunted me. How was I responsible for Ed’s death? Did the killer know I had suspected Ed? Why not let Ed take the rap? Unless Ed had known who the killer was . . .

  How could Ed have known?

  “Ms. Holmes? Thanks for holding. Chief Blaylock said for you to not touch the letter. He or Officer Emry will be down later today to take a report.”

  “Do you have any idea when they’re coming?” I asked, staring at the letter like it might jump up and bite me at any moment.

  “He said sometime this afternoon.”

  “Great.”

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Holmes, the chief’s good at his job.” Mindy hung up, leaving me alone with the eerie threat letter. If the chief were good at his job, how come there were now two dead men in town. And why was I still getting threats?

  I left the office and closed the door.

  “What was in the letter?” Meghan asked.

  “A threat.” I had to be honest. Meghan deserved to know what she’d gotten herself into by taking the job. “Did you see anyone come to the door?”

  “No, I was mixing cupcakes like you showed me. Then when I went for more sugar, I noticed the note sliding across the floor.” She pointed to the black-and-white tile nearest the door. The back door itself was solid steel with no window, but there was a peephole.

  “Did you think to look out?”

  “I checked the peep but didn’t see anyone. So I picked up the letter and brought it to you. Did it have white powder in it?” She wiggled her eyebrows and her piercing twinkled.

  “No.” I smiled at her attempt to calm me. “Just a typed threat explaining that Ed Bruner’s murder was my fault.”

  “Wait, what? The banker guy died?” Meghan wiped her hands on a towel. “The one who threatened us last night? I thought he was the killer.”

  “Either he was and someone killed him out of vigilante justice or he wasn’t but he figured out who the killer was and died for it.” I hugged my waist. “Either way, he’s dead and he left behind two little kids.”

  “Creepy.” Meghan chewed on her bottom lip. “One more death and the dude becomes a serial killer. Who knew we might have a serial killer here in Oiltop?”

  “He’s not going to be a serial killer,” I assured her. “I called the chief’s office. They’re sending someone down to look at the letter and record the threat.”

  “It’s weird, but the banker dying kind of makes me feel safer.” Meghan leaned against the double stainless steel sink.

  “Why, because of the police?”

  “No, because if the dude is a serial killer, he’d clearly rather kill men than women. I think we’re safe.”

  I patted her on the shoulder. “You keep believing that. Oh, and I’ll be taking you home from now on.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better,” Meghan said. In typical teenage fashion, she shook off the creepy conversation and asked, “What kind of filling are we putting inside the cupcakes?”

  I shook my head. “Italian cream.”

  • • •

  Officer Emry came in through the front door, scaring the two little old ladies who were enjoying scones and tea, one of whom was the antique shop manager, Celia Warren. Sigh. She gave me a wide-eyed look, and I mouthed that I’d tell her about it later.

  It was around 3 P.M. and the letter had been in the closed office for over three hours. Officer Emry shifted his heavy belt up on his hips and swaggered toward the back of the bakery.

  “Chief Blaylock says you called in a second threat?” He brushed his thin hair out of his eyes.

  “Someone slipped a letter under my back door,” I told him as I walked to my office. “Meghan saw it come under the door and brought it to me.” I opened my office and waved for him to enter. “I was in here doing paperwork when I opened the letter.”

  “That was foolish. Nowadays, everyone knows not to open any letter that’s the least bit suspicious.”

  I frowned. “Yes, Meghan told me. But I didn’t want to bother you all if it were something simple.”

  He picked up a pen and poked at the envelope on my desk. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

  “No.”

  He moved the envelope and read the letter. “Huh, sounds like someone thinks you’re involved in Ed Bruner’s murder as well as George Meister’s.”

  I rolled my eyes and hugged my waist. “For goodness’ sake, if I were the killer would I keep sending myself threats and calling you in to investigate?”

  “Killers do like to insert themselves into the investigation.” He gave me the evil eye.

  I wanted to slug him. Good thing I had some self-restraint. All I needed was for him to drag me out of here on assault charges.

  He pulled latex gloves out of his jacket pocket. “I’m going to have to take this in as evidence.” He put on the gloves and picked up the envelope and letter, carefully placing them inside a plastic zi
p bag. He opened a pouch on his heavy tool belt and slid the evidence bag inside. Then he opened his vest and took out a notebook. “I’m going to have to take a statement from you and your assistant.”

  “That’s fine.” I explained again how Meghan had come in and given me the letter, what I did as I opened it, and what I did immediately after.

  Officer Emry nodded and sniffed. He finished his notes and looked at me, resting his glove-covered hands on his tool belt. His right hand was near his gun as if he expected me to make a run for it anytime.

  “The real question is, what did you do that might have gotten the deceased killed?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “The deceased?”

  “You know,” Officer Emry got impatient, “the banker, Ed Bruner.”

  “She didn’t do anything.” Meghan stepped in to defend me. “It was Mr. Bruner who nearly killed us last night.”

  “I wouldn’t say he nearly killed us,” I corrected and looked from her to the officer. “He scared us and threatened us, but he didn’t try to kill us.”

  “Wait, you saw Ed last night?”

  “Yes, we did.” Meghan crossed her arms and looked fierce. “The guy came out of nowhere, pounded on the van, scaring us half to death and demanding we roll down the window.”

  “Really?” Officer Emry wrote something in his notebook. “What was his attitude?”

  “He was pissed off,” Meghan volunteered.

  “Why was he mad?”

  “He thought I had talked to the chief about the possibility of the bank’s deposit bag being the murder weapon,” I finished before Meghan could embellish. “He said the chief had taken all his deposit bags in for evidence, and he wanted to know what I thought his customers were supposed to do while the police examined the bank bags.”

  “What did you say?” Officer Emry never looked up from his notebook.

  “I told him they could go inside and make deposits like everyone else.”

  “That’s when he threatened to punch her,” Meghan nodded. “Luckily, Sam came along.”

  “Sam?”

  “Sam Greenbaum,” I stated. “He happened to be finishing a bathroom remodel next door.”