“That would be why we brought her in and asked the same thing.”
I sat and stared at him.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Waiting?” I smiled sweetly.
“Since you were one of the victims, I have to keep you out of this.” Greg leaned forward on his elbows. “It has to be by the book.”
“I understand,” I whispered. “But he put one of my favorite humans in a coma, Greg. You and Jake are both calling her Gran, as well. She’s family. I’m not going to sit around and wait for whoever it was to come back and finish off the job.”
He frowned. “The killer is probably long gone by now. They’d be an idiot to stick around town.”
“I don’t see it that way. There are possible witnesses who saw the killer. Why would they leave them alive? And did that look like a professional killer to you? My brain is still hazy about what I saw but there was a lot of blood, and his head was bashed in pretty good. What did the killer use? I don’t remember seeing anything.”
Greg leaned back in his chair. “A large iron skillet. Kane says the victim didn’t die from the first blow, but it appears he hit that steel table on his way down, and it cracked the skull into several pieces.”
Gross. The churning in my stomach intensified. I hadn’t been worried about anything until I’d spoken my fears out loud. What if the killer hung around? Had they seen me go in the bakery that night?
“Did Mrs. Whedon get hit with the pan?”
He shook his head. “Kane says it looks like she was pushed into the freezer, and tripped over Becky. As she was going down, she hit her head on the marble slab in there.”
That slab was what Lizzie rolled out her pies and cookies on. She said it helped the dough stay more pliable, for longer.
“What about Becky?”
“We interviewed her at the hospital. She’d gone back to the bakery because she wanted to get everything ready for the next day. That way she could sleep in a little longer.
“At least, that’s what she said. She can’t remember if she locked the back door. She remembers someone grabbed her and she screamed. That’s it. Until she woke up and found Mrs. Whedon on top of her and freaked out. It took two EMTs and three of my men to get her to calm down.”
“Who wouldn’t freak out if they woke up with a body on top of them in a freezer? Did she have a head injury?”
He nodded. “Lucky for her, she hit the shelving in the freezer, so her injuries weren’t as bad. We thought she might be faking the amnesia, but the psychiatrist says it’s common with that sort of head injury. She hit the shelf right at the temple. As for Lizzie’s ex, between the heavy frying pan and the ledge of that hard steel table, he didn’t have a chance.”
I shivered. What a horrible way to die. At least Becky was okay. She was a sweet girl and always so cheerful. Since Mrs. Whedon couldn’t talk, Becky would be my next stop. Maybe she’d remember something she’d forgotten to tell the police.
“I see those wheels turning. I told you all of this so you can see we are working with the case. We don’t need any interference. And there are rules about you being involved.”
“Yes, but technically, I’m not a victim. So, there’s that.”
“Do you remember seeing anyone before you walked in? Maybe just outside the bakery?”
I shook my head, and then it hit me.
“What? You have that look, Ains.”
“I took George for a walk. A jogger ran past us and my dog went berserk. Like, nearly pulled my arm out of the socket because he was trying to get that person. He’s usually friendly with strangers. It was weird.”
Greg grabbed a pen off the desk. “Where is George?”
“He’s hanging out with Jake at his place. He’ll bring him in when his shift starts. I stopped by the hospital first to see Gran, and he’s not allowed in there.”
“That reminds me, what happened to George the night I passed out? There’s no way Jake left him in the truck.”
“Don’t you remember asking about that before? But you’re off topic,” he said. “You saw a man. Tell me about it.”
I stared at him. It wasn’t that I was playing any sort of game, I just couldn’t remember any details. The night was still a blur.
“Jake took him into the hospital. It caused quite the uproar from what I understand. But no one could pull your dog or Jake away from you, until Mike showed up. It’s a good thing he’s strong.”
I smiled. Awww. My guys really loved me.
“Focus, Ains. I have no leads right now. Anything you could tell me would be helpful. Close your eyes and run me through what you saw.”
I’d done this more than a dozen times with people I’d interviewed. And Greg had done it to me way more than that. Trouble always seemed to find me.
After a deep breath, I closed my eyes.
“Look at your paper. You’re harshing my brain vibe.”
He snorted. “How do you do that?”
“You give off an intense vibe,” I said.
I tried to focus again. “It’s dark in that part of the park and the person ran fast. The big trees hide the streetlamps and it’s hard to see much of anything but shadows. George likes doing his business there because he thinks no one can see him.” I wouldn’t have been in that area if George hadn’t been with me.
Greg snorted.
“Didn’t the cameras from the park or Lizzie’s security system see something?”
He shook his head. “That row of magnolia trees the mayor insisted on block the one camera we have at the park that faces that way. And Lizzie’s system only works when she arms it.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Oh, thanks for my new phone,” I said. It had been waiting on the kitchen bar downstairs this morning. “I’m not sure how you were able to transfer all my contacts without my password, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I guess he wasn’t going to explain how he’d done that. “Come on. Stop stalling—I need info.”
I rolled my eyes, though they were still closed so he didn’t see. “Fine.” I took a deep breath again. “Air on my face, the person was so close. Maybe they didn’t see George until he lunged. He was barking like crazy and I was embarrassed. I was more focused on making him calm down.”
“Think. Maybe you saw something out of the corner of your eye.”
I had glanced that way to see what my dog was going nuts over. “Black ball cap. Short hair, or it was tucked underneath. Black short-sleeve T-shirt but I can only see the end of the sleeve to the elbow. I think it’s a man, but I’m not sure.”
“That’s good. How tall?”
“Over six feet. Jake’s height maybe.”
I moved my eyes down. Oh. My eyes popped open.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“Jeans,” I said. “Not a jogger.”
Greg sat back. “But maybe a killer running from a crime scene.”
A shiver ran down my spine again, and not the good kind that Jake gives me whenever he kisses me.
“Yep.”
Chapter Five
Finding the one witness who was conscious, besides me, wasn’t easy. It didn’t help that I had no idea where Becky lived. I drove by the bakery, which was closed. It always was on Sunday and Monday, but I wondered when Lizzie would open for business again. There had been quite the mess in the back of that bakery, and she might be mourning her ex-husband.
The one she’d never mentioned.
I pulled in behind Shannon’s coffee shop. Since she and Mike had married, she lived full-time out at the winery. Lizzie rented the apartment upstairs now. It was a convenient arrangement since the bakery was only a little ways down from it.
I climbed the stairs, and then knocked on the door.
“Just a minute,” Lizzie said.
When she opened the door, it was obvious she’d been crying, and she was covered in flour. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay. I was going to come to see you this afternoon, but look at you ou
t and about.” She glanced around behind me, as if she were looking for someone, and then pulled me inside. After shutting the door, she locked it.
That wasn’t something most of us did here in Sweet River. There wasn’t much of a need. Though, after everything that happened, her nervousness was understandable.
“How are you?” she said, as I followed her to the sofa.
“I’m fine. Shannon told me you guys were there waiting for me to wake up, but that Greg told you to leave.”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t mean. We were at the hospital and Jake promised us that you were okay. Shannon went home to check on George. He was quite the famous guy at the hospital.
“Greg asked if we could have an informal conversation, and if I would come down to the station the next morning. I was frazzled. Becky was doing better and I’d offered to drive her home, but she’d called her parents. I’m sorry for everyone involved. Truly. You have to know that. I don’t understand why he was there or—your brother took me to the bakery. His body was gone but the blood. Oh. Ainsley, it’s all just too much.”
She put her head in her hands. “I wished I’d stayed with you and never walked back into the bakery. I will never get that image out of my head.”
I frowned. Usually, Greg had a cleanup crew who took care of the blood and any evidence of a crime once forensics had what they needed.
That he’d forced her to go in there—my fists tightened. He wanted to see how she would react. It was manipulative and unnecessary. My brother and I would be having words.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get the sight of all that blood out of my mind. The very idea of going back to bake in there turns my stomach. I love that place, but now…”
“I can imagine,” I said.
She shook her head. “Of course, none of that is as bad as what happened to you, Mrs. Whedon and my poor Becky. Have you heard any news about Mrs. Whedon? I’ve gone up a few times to check on her, but no one will tell me anything.”
Lizzie always seemed so cheerful and chill, but she was wringing her hands.
“I’m fine. It was a blood sugar thing, which you probably heard from Shannon. And Gran is holding steady. I’m sure she’s just staying in that coma so that we’ll all worry about her.”
“I’ll feel better when she wakes up,” Lizzie said, and then pulled a throw pillow toward her stomach. “We all will.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. “That was your ex, who was murdered.” I didn’t mention the part about her never telling any of us about him.
She blew out a breath. “I—it’s so confusing. He’d mentioned he was coming to town on Sunday. I don’t know what he was doing here early, or in my bakery on Friday night. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember our last conversation.”
“Were you close?”
She shrugged. “We’ve been divorced for ten years. We were teens and…it wasn’t a happy marriage. He couldn’t keep it in his pants. I knew he was cheating on me but I was young and dumb. He had a great job working with his dad, and we had a nice house. That’s when I taught myself how to bake—you know, to keep my mind off things.”
“When I turned twenty-one, he came in one day and said he was gay.”
“Oh.” I did not see that coming.
“Oh, is right. He felt so guilty about deceiving me that he gave me all the proceeds from selling the house and insisted on paying alimony.”
“That must have been a rough time for you.”
She bit her lip. “It was and it wasn’t. I was so relieved that his going out at all hours wasn’t really my fault. I thought I was a complete failure as a wife. I think a little bit of that doubt is still in my subconscious somewhere and that’s why I never date. I say it’s about work, but I’m not sure sometimes.”
I used to be the same way until I met Jake. Work had always come first because men were a constant disappointment. Until Jake.
“It took about a year and half, but we became great friends. We did have a lot in common and we even went on vacations together through the years.” She sobbed.
I scooched forward so I could wrap my arms around her. She cried on my shoulder for a few minutes. When she pulled away, she grabbed several tissues from the box on the coffee table.
“I’m a mess. Just before you got here, it sort of hit me that he’s really gone. We’ve been in each other’s lives since we were in elementary school. We grew up together.” She pushed the wad of tissues to her nose.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I feel guilty about him dying in my shop. What if he was just stopping by to tell me he was early, and a robber killed him?”
“Is that what the police think happened?” I didn’t want her to know I’d spent the last hour with Greg.
She shook her head. “I have no idea what’s going on or what they think happened. Greg is great but he was pretty hard on me. And I felt kind of dumb because I had no answers. I’m so confused. And Morton’s mom will probably have me killed in my sleep. She will blame me for this. She hates me.”
She cried again. “I loved him. I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s been such a great friend to me through the years. He’s the one who encouraged me to work at bakeries all over the country, so I could hone my craft. And he pushed me to open up my own when he thought I was ready.”
“Why would his mom think you had something to do with it?” After I said it, I realized how rude the question was.
“His mom thinks I turned him gay. Can you imagine? Every time she sees me, she makes an offhand comment like, ‘If you’d been a better wife, he wouldn’t have turned to the other side.’ As. If.”
“Um.” The idiocy of people never failed to surprise me.
“Right? Like I had a choice in the matter. I swear the only reason he came out was because he knew how miserable he was making me. I think he half thought I would stay with him so he didn’t have to tell his parents. But his mom couldn’t be mad at him. He is her—or was her—little pumpkin. So all the blame went to me.”
“I’m sure Greg brought this up, but what if it wasn’t a robbery? Since you two were close, do you know if he had people who were angry with him? Anything to do with his work, maybe?”
She sighed. “He said he needed to talk to me about something. He was working through a problem, but I don’t know if it was relationship stuff or work. Like I said, I’ve known him a long time and we are each other’s sounding boards.”
She hugged herself and leaned back on the couch. “I can’t believe he’s gone. My heart actually hurts. Our past sounds like something out of a soap opera, but except for that short time after the divorce, we’ve always been best friends. If he hadn’t pushed me, I would have never realized my dreams of owning my bakery.”
Lizzie sat up straighter. “Ainsley, Shannon explained how you’re a world-class detective. I need to know who did this to him, and who hurt our favorite grump, Mrs. Whedon. I’ll help in any way I can.”
I smiled, and then put a hand on top of hers. “World class is quite a stretch. I’m nosy, and I like following clues. I’ll be honest, I’m lucky most of the time. But I would do this whether you asked or not, because they hurt someone I love, too.”
She nodded. “Tell me what you need.”
“Let’s start with Becky’s address.” I had some questions for the only witness who could tell me what happened.
*
A half hour later we pulled up in front of the apartment building directly across from the college. I was familiar with the building, as several of my students lived here during the school year.
It had good security, it was well kept and cheap, just the kind of place parents felt safe dropping their kids off for their first year. It was a huge complex with several buildings and it basically served as a dorm, as the college had limited space for on-campus living.
“I had no idea this place was so big,” Lizzie said. She’d insisted on coming with me. Since the incident, she hadn’t been able to get in t
ouch with Becky and she was worried about her.
I explained to her about it basically acting like a dorm for the school, but others lived there as well.
“It looks like she’s on the second floor,” I said.
Lizzie knocked on the door.
No one answered.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
The door next to Becky’s opened a small crack. “What do you want?”
“It’s Lizzie, Becky’s boss. I just wanted to check on her.”
“She’s not here,” the voice said. “I haven’t seen her. I told the cops I didn’t know where she was.”
I frowned. Greg hadn’t said anything about following up. Though, he wasn’t telling me everything.
“Do you know where she is?”
“You’re strangers. I’m not sharing anything. Maybe she’s with her boyfriend or something. Now, go away.”
I glanced at Lizzie, who seemed confused.
“Okay, thanks. If she comes home, can you ask her to call Lizzie? We just want to make sure she’s okay.”
The girl slammed the door.
“I take it you had no idea about the boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “It’s strange that she never mentioned him, and I’ve never seen anyone around the shop. But now I’m scared.”
“Why?” I asked as we headed downstairs.
“She is never without her phone. It’s my only complaint about her work ethic. What if the killer has kidnapped her?”
I stopped at the end of the stairs. “Greg said that was unlikely. He thinks the killer is probably long gone.”
“Probably?”
Since I couldn’t convince myself, I didn’t bother forcing the issue.
“And that isn’t usually how it works. Like murderers don’t normally do kidnappings. Normally. I think it’s more likely she’s scared and hiding out somewhere.”
At least, I hoped so.
“We need to find the boyfriend. Was he there that night? Are you sure you can’t remember anyone hanging around the shop and talking to her?”
We moved toward the car, and then she stopped. I almost ran into her.
A Case for the Cookie Baker Page 3
