by Harper Lin
“Yes. I do.” Amelia pouted. “I think the kids do, too. But I’m the one left holding the bag. I’m the one who has to tell them that… that their father has moved on. Lila, he was doing so well. We were doing so well. I mean, he was there for the kids every weekend, they did fun family things, we spoke to each other civilly. What in the world kind of bee got in his bonnet?”
“The tan, twenty-five-year-old kind.” Lila clicked her tongue in disgust.
“I’m telling you, Lila, I was so mad last night that I couldn’t even think straight. I was contemplating going to John’s house. I was ready to make the biggest scene in the history of ex-wives making big scenes. Cops would be involved, and I can’t promise I wouldn’t have called you to post my bail.”
“You know I would,” Lila replied with as much seriousness in her voice as if she were taking an oath with her hand on the Good Book.
“But then what would the kids do? I can’t do anything. I can’t fix this. I can’t make their hearts not hurt. All I can do is be there to pick up the pieces. What the heck, Lila?”
“Look. You’ve done some amazing things since I’ve known you. This business is keeping us both in a pleasant financial place. You’ve met a man who really seems to appreciate everything about you, and that includes those beautiful kids of yours who, when I see them, are laughing, talking, smiling. That is the real success, Amelia. Those kids are happy when they are with you.”
“But children deserve a mother and a father.” Amelia pulled out one batch of double-fudge cupcakes and grabbed the raspberry glaze. “It’s what all the television talk shows say. Even a bad father is better than none.”
“They need a father figure, Amelia, and they have one. A man who really wants to be with them.” Lila winked.
Even though she didn’t say Dan’s name, Amelia nearly burst out crying. She hugged her friend tightly and kissed her on the cheek. “Lila, you are worth your weight in gold.”
“Funny, Rusty told me that yesterday while we were enjoying a couple of beers together.”
“How are things going with you two?” Amelia felt better and no longer wanted to talk about herself. She was much more interested in her employee’s personal business.
“We actually have a lot in common.”
Aside from the red hair—Lila’s was dyed, and Rusty’s was almost all gray—Amelia couldn’t imagine an odder couple. But yet they did somehow look like they belonged together. Maybe not in a romantic way, as Lila seemed to insinuate. They were just two people who knew how to talk and carry on a good conversation.
As Lila went on about possibly taking a bike trip with Rusty to Sturgis in South Dakota next year, Amelia laid out the cupcakes for the quickly approaching factory employees. Ten o’clock on the dot was break time.
Christine approached the truck as usual and snuck around to the side entrance. “What’s going on, gals?”
“We’re plotting John’s unsolved disappearance. Care to join us?” Lila joked, making Amelia laugh and shake her head.
“I’ll take a piece of that action,” Christine concurred.
Amelia turned to her and offered her a warm chocolate-raspberry cupcake, hot out of the oven.
“Amelia, I’m going to get so fat if you don’t find another corner to work on soon.”
Lila shuffled from one foot to the other as she counted out some change to a young man from the factory across the street who’d bought three cupcakes.
“What’s wrong with you?” Amelia asked.
“Too much coffee this morning. I need to get to the bathroom, but I can’t imagine using those porta-johns.”
“My gosh, no, Lila. Come with me.” Christine offered her hand to the older woman. “Use the one in the factory. Come on. I’ll take you there.”
Amelia smiled as her oldest best friend and her newest best friend shuffled off down the sidewalk and into the building like a modern-day Lucy and Ethel. The thought made her laugh until an odd scene caught her attention.
It was that mousy woman from the other day who’d acted like Oliver asking for more gruel at the orphanage when she bought three cupcakes. She was standing at the lip of the alley, watching everyone as they smoked their cigarettes or ate their cupcakes and chatted. No one engaged her. No one except Amelia seemed to even notice she was there.
Her solitude didn’t seem to be a burden to her, either. Amelia watched as she began to mumble to herself, shrugging and shaking her head. There was a pretty intense conversation taking place, but only one participant. This wasn’t normal behavior. This was a person who was nervous about something.
While she worked, she continued to watch the woman, who poked a thin white finger against the brick wall and traced the grooves of cement between each brick.
Before Amelia could approach her, Christine and Lila came hurrying back.
“Charles was put on suicide watch!” Christine exclaimed. “I just saw it on the receptionist’s phone. They said he tried to kill himself last night.”
“That’s just horrible,” Amelia said, her eyes still on the twitchy broad at the alley entrance.
“I’m telling you, as sure as I’m standing here, he didn’t do it,” Christine barked.
“I don’t know,” Lila said. “I certainly don’t know the guy, but an attempted suicide doesn’t usually look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Christine admitted. “But I still can’t believe it.”
“Hey, Christine,” Amelia interrupted, “who is that woman?” She discreetly pointed toward the alley.
“Oh, her. That’s Penny Delmar,” Christine said, squinting her eyes. “She has been promoted due to Danielle’s, you know, no longer being with us.”
“That’s one heck of a way to get a promotion.” Lila snickered.
Christine took a seat on the metal stool at the very back of the truck.
“Really? Is she a good secretary?” Amelia asked. Would a promotion be enough of a reason to kill someone? Especially a secretarial promotion? Weird, but people have killed for less.
“I don’t know.” Christine looked at her watch. “Joyce keeps the secretarial pool at drought levels for the marketing department. I gotta run. Back to the salt mines.” She blew kisses and hurried off down the sidewalk and back into the building, as did the rest of the people, including pitiful Penny, who brought up the rear.
Chapter Twelve
That evening, the rain had returned, but not in such force as the day before. It was enough to make everyone walk a little faster. Umbrellas and ponchos were at the ready, but most of the raindrops could be outrun.
Lila had finished the receipts and left with a hint that she was meeting Rusty for a burger at the Twisted Spoke.
Amelia cleaned up to get the truck ready for the morning rush. She was contemplating what to make and was afraid that some of her creations were getting too routine. The PB&J cupcake was a blockbuster, but she wanted something new. The chocolate and bacon was a hit, too. The apple pie crumble cupcake was like a slice of Americana, but it too was a familiar taste. She was never satisfied, always striving for the next flavor. What could she come up with that was like a step back into childhood, but with a grown-up flair?
Her mind replayed some of her favorite treats as a kid and some that remained guilty pleasures as an adult. Butterscotch pudding. Caramel Cow Tales. Oreo cookies. Bubblegum. Spaghetti with meatballs.
As she daydreamed, she watched the people from Master Ketchup file out of the building. Another day’s work done. Some jumped into waiting cars, and others climbed into their own vehicles. Some headed off to the bus stop or to the train station a couple blocks down, and others walked to less-specific destinations.
That was the case with Penny Delmar. She straggled out of the revolving door like a baby bird that had landed with a thud before figuring out how to spread its wings. She didn’t get in a car or head toward the train or bus stop. Instead, she looked around nervously and headed in the opposite direction from everyone else.
&n
bsp; Amelia watched her and thought to follow her. With the skill and precision of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, Amelia quickly closed up the Pink Cupcake, locking the service window, the back door, the driver and passenger doors, still with enough time before Penny was out of sight to polish the side mirrors and wipe down the chalkboard menu to a clean black slate ready for whatever they would serve up tomorrow.
With her purse over her shoulder, Amelia jaywalked across the street and watched from a hundred paces as Penny headed toward her destination. From what Amelia could see, the girl was having a very heated discussion. Her hands were waving, and her head was tilting from side to side. Is she deranged? Does she have a mental problem? Is she dangerous?
Amelia wasn’t sure, but as a precaution she slipped her hand into her purse. Within a second she found her pepper spray and held it tightly inside her palm. The neighborhood was a little iffy when the factories were shutting down, anyway. Penny looked like she might be stronger than what she looked like at first glance.
For two long city blocks, Amelia followed Penny deeper into the industrial neighborhood. But after another three blocks, small brick bungalow homes started popping up. Yards with statues of the Blessed Virgin, flowerpots, red, white and green flags hanging beneath Old Glory, and overgrown tomato plants were the norm. There were corner grocers that advertised sales on Genoa salami and capicola, fresh calamari, homemade cannoli and tiramisu, plus t-shirts that read “Proud to be Italian” and “Italian Princess” in the same red, white and green colors as the flags hanging from porches.
Penny picked up her pace, making Amelia wonder if she lived around here. But when Penny turned to the left and disappeared, Amelia saw she didn’t go into a house or a store. She had almost broken into a run to get inside Saint Rocco’s Catholic Church.
Amelia climbed the short steps to the heavy wooden double doors, took hold of one of the thick metal handles, and pulled. The door swung open easily. Her eyes adjusted to the dark atmosphere as her hand instinctively felt for the small cup of holy water that flanked the doors to the chapel.
It was a soothing place, with the glow of candles and the smell of incense engulfing Amelia completely. There were a few people scattered throughout the pews. Some were kneeling. Some were sitting. All had the rosary beads in their hands as they recited their prayers, looking up at the image of Jesus at the front of the church.
Penny was sitting at the very end of the last pew, closest to the statue of St. Michael the Archangel. It was as though she had folded herself up and had become thinner and smaller than she was as she shuffled down the street. She was crying.
Amelia quietly walked up to the pew, genuflected as was custom, and crossed herself before she stepped in and scooted over to Penny’s side.
With wide, scared bug eyes, Penny stared at Amelia for a second. “What? Why are you following me?” Penny sniffled as quietly as possible, but her voice betrayed her, letting the anger show. She ruffled like an agitated hen.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispered. “My name is Amelia Harley.”
“You’re from that pink food truck. What are you bothering me for? Don’t you have some cupcakes to sell or something?”
Amelia couldn’t hide her surprise. She would have never pegged Penny to be so smart-alecky.
“I saw you today, and you looked… Well, you looked very upset. I thought I might be able to help.” It sounded lame, but it was the truth.
“Can you go back in time? Because that’s the only thing that will help.” Penny used the back of her hand to wipe her nose.
“No,” Amelia said sadly, sticking her pepper spray back in her purse and pulling out a tissue instead. She handed it to Penny. “Sorry, but I can’t do that. No one can. Why do you want to go back in time?”
Penny took the tissue and crumpled it in her hand. “Because then maybe Danielle wouldn’t be dead.” She sniffed as more tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You mean Danielle Wilcox? At work. Why would you say that?” Amelia scooted closer to Penny.
“It’s my fault. She’d still be alive if it weren’t for me.” Penny’s voice was barely above a whisper. It was obvious she had been holding this in since the news of Danielle’s murder came out.
“What do you mean?” Amelia spoke softly, as if she were talking to Meg at five years old.
“I called in sick that day,” Penny whispered. “I called in sick on Friday, even though I wasn’t really sick. I wanted to go to the movies with my boyfriend. He works nights as an orderly at St. Joe’s Hospital. I called in sick so I could be with him.” She swallowed as if she were waiting for the accusations to start piling on.
“So, you weren’t at work on Friday? That’s… okay. You didn’t have anything to do with what happened.”
“But I did,” she mumbled. Her eyes rippled when she looked up at Amelia. Her bottom lip trembled madly, and the tip of her nose was bright red from crying. “If I had shown up, it would have been me putting the late delivery away. That was my job. Danielle was only in the supply room because she was doing what I should have been doing. It’s because I lied. It’s no different than if I had done the killing.”
“Oh, honey, no.” Amelia slipped her arm around Penny.
For a moment, she went rigid, as if the touch from another person might give her cooties or cause her skin to turn black. But after a moment, she relaxed. Then she sighed. Then she began to weep again. “It was supposed to be me.” Penny’s voice hitched in her throat.
“No. That isn’t true. It wasn’t supposed to be you.” Amelia didn’t have to raise her voice. The slightest sound echoed throughout the church.
“They gave me Danielle’s job.” Penny tried to keep it together. Her body was starting to tremble, and her eyes no longer saw Amelia but stared ahead of her as if she were watching some scary movie.
“What?” Amelia was shocked. This didn’t sound right.
“Joyce told me I was being promoted.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t sit at Danielle’s desk or use her computer. It feels funny, like I stole it. The files are all in her handwriting. The notes and instructions have her signature. They left her nameplate on the desk. I’m afraid to get rid of it. I can’t just throw it away, right? What kind of person does that?” She leaned into Amelia and cried miserably.
Amelia didn’t understand how the human resources department at Master Ketchup could be so unprofessional. It was obvious that Penny was going through some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder due to this murder. She was cracking up. To be told that she had to take the dead woman’s place without a mourning period, without some kind of slow transition, was ludicrous.
“Penny, my friend Christine Mills works in the marketing department. Would you mind if I told her I spoke with you and asked her to help?”
“What can she do?”
“Honey, I think you are in shock over this murder. No one can blame you for it. It is a completely normal response, especially when you feel that you might somehow be at fault.” Amelia took Penny’s hands in hers. “First, your calling in sick had nothing to do with it. Believe me. We all need a mental holiday once in a while. But I don’t think the folks at Master Ketchup thought this through. You’re being asked to deal with something overwhelming. Christine will help you find the right person to talk to. I wouldn’t know who that is. Is that okay?”
Penny’s eyes lightened when she looked up at Amelia. “Do you think they’ll fire me?”
“Not unless they want a lawsuit,” Amelia barked before thinking, causing a few of the parishioners to look in her direction. “No. I’ll bet Human Resources just made a mistake.”
“It wasn’t Human Resources who sent me to Danielle’s desk.”
“Isn’t that who handles all the paperwork for promotions and raises and department numbers and stuff?”
“Yes. But I answer to Joyce Ross. She just assigned me to Danielle’s job and walked away. Believe me, I was very happy where I was in
the accounting department.”
Amelia recalled her brief experiences with Joyce Ross and thought the woman probably didn’t think things through. Perhaps she was in a state of shock, as well. Either way, Amelia was sure that Penny had nothing to do with Danielle’s death. “Okay. Well, Christine can still help, and she’ll be discreet. I’ve known her half my life, and believe me when I tell you if I ask her to keep a secret, she will.”
“Thank you, Amelia. I think your advice is as good as your cupcakes. Those are all delicious, by the way.”
Amelia thanked Penny, reassured her that everything was going to be fine, and left her in the church to finish her prayers.
Outside, Amelia saw a beautiful fiery sunset in the west that blew up the sky with rich pinks, oranges and purples as the sun reflected off the clouds that had covered the sky all day. She whispered a little prayer of thanks herself and quickly made her way back to the Pink Cupcake. As she drove home, she dialed Christine’s number and gave her Penny’s story.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day seemed calm in front of Master Ketchup. Amelia had yet to come up with a new recipe, but off-the-wall combinations like lime and cinnamon or cherry and maple kept coming. They weren’t right. She was like a writer with writer’s block, and it was driving her batty. Sales were still excellent, and it tickled Amelia as she watched Lila tell the construction workers from down the street that tomorrow would be their last day at this location.
“Well, I only come here to see your pretty face,” one beer-bellied fellow with two chins and twinkling eyes replied. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Another fellow asked her if she’d teach him how to bake, and based on the look on his face, he was quite serious.
But the best one was the foreman of the group, who told Lila seeing her sweet face made him diabetic, so she owed it to him to come back soon to make sure he hadn’t died or something.
