Turnover and Die

by Tegan Maher

  Gabe raised a brow but answered her questions.

  "Lena left right after she was eliminated," he said. "At least five people saw her go, and when I called her job, they said she’d stopped by to deliver the news hours before the murder happened. Jake, on the other hand, claimed to be down at the lake, drawing inspiration from nature or some such thing." Gabe rolled his eyes. "But he doesn't have a witness to vouch for him."

  "What about Robert?" Faith asked.

  "What about him? He was next on our list to talk to, but we hadn't really considered him a suspect. He and Bella seemed to get along great," Dee said.

  "Seemed to being the operative phrase," she replied. "They were civil but not friendly, at least according to industry scuttlebutt."

  "So what was their beef with each other?" Gabe asked.

  "Property dispute, supposedly," she replied. "At one point, she'd put one of her shops up for sale. Robert was gonna buy it and had even gone to the expense of ordering signs and hiring a few staff to train at one of his other shops so the transition would be seamless. Then Bella backed out at the last minute. Rumor has it she did it because he was going to fire all her staff, but that's just what was going around. Neither of them ever confirmed it as far as I know."

  Gabe took off his hat and rubbed his face. "But the murder weapon was still in your room. There's not much I can do to dispute that."

  "Were her fingerprints on it?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Nobody's were. We couldn't match any of the smudges we found on it because of the texture of the iron."

  So they couldn't prove she did it ... but they couldn't prove anybody else did, either. I turned to her. We still had one more hole to punch in their case against her. "Are you absolutely sure you locked your door when we picked you up?" I asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. "I mean, I don't remember specifically checking, but they always slam shut behind you. I'm usually more careful than that, but I'd just planned on running to the store for the ibuprofen, then going back to my room and waiting on you guys, but you got there right as I was coming from the store and I just hopped in."

  "So it's possible your door wasn't all the way shut?" Dee asked.

  She wobbled her head back and forth. "I suppose it is. Why does that matter?"

  "Because," I said, "the door to your room doesn't latch unless you pull on the door. It looks closed, but the lock doesn't actually click. The door's off alignment just enough that it drags when the door hits the frame."

  Gabe's gaze shot to me. "You're sure about that?"

  I nodded. "We tested it ourselves. More than once. It didn't latch either time."

  He scratched his whiskers and sighed. "So basically anybody who pushed on the door could have opened it and put that skillet in there."

  It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded.

  "Let me call the judge, then," he said. "See if he'll consider the new evidence. He's fair, but just a heads up—he was friends with Bella's brother-in-law, so he's taking a hard stance on this. I'll do what I can, though."

  "That's all we can ask for," Dee said, smiling at him. "Thank you."

  He smiled back at her, and I caught the same spark that I'd seen between them for months. I was glad that he'd given us the respect to hear us out rather than shooing us off like he had in the past, because I really wanted things to work out for them.

  "So," I said, "Not to tell you what to do or anything, but are you going to talk to Robert about their dispute, or should we?"

  He honestly thought about that for a minute. "I think I'll have better luck with him. He has an arrogant streak, and as much as it pains me to say it, since this is over a woman, I might be able to good-ole-boy him into slipping up."

  "To turn that around," Faith said, "the girls would probably have better luck with Nina."

  I waited to see what Gabe would say, watching his face closely. He pulled in a deep breath, then let it out. "All right. You win. You girls talk to Nina and I'll talk to Robert."

  "There's still one person you're forgetting, though," Faith said. "Jake."

  "Let's see what shakes out of these two interviews first," Gabe replied. "If they're busts, then we'll turn our attention to him. He doesn't have an alibi, but we don't have anything else on him to pick at."

  I was making me crazy that even though we had a handful of people with motives, we still didn't have any proof.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I held my breath and cast a wary glance at Dee as I raised my hand and knocked on Nina's door. We'd discussed how we wanted to play it on the way there. Dee was going to do most of the talking since she was a baker and thus maybe somebody Nina would relate to better. With any luck, the roommate would be gone.

  We weren't going to come right out and ask her if she up and whacked Bella to death with a skillet, though, or at least that wasn't the first strategy.

  Nina opened the door a crack, just enough for it to hit the security bar.

  "Yes?" she said.

  "Nina? Hi. I'm Dee. We're in the competition together."

  "Okaaayy," she said. "Is something wrong?"

  "No, no. Nothing like that," Dee replied, giving a dry laugh. "I'm pretty sure it's already went as wrong as it can. I really want this competition to continue and I'm sort of taking an informal poll to see if everybody would be willing to continue with only Robert doing the judging. Or maybe wait a day or two 'til we can get somebody else. We could always make up the lost day or two by doing a couple double-elimination rounds."

  She snorted. "You would want this cursed thing to continue. You won the first round."

  "Yeah," Dee said, "but you and I both know that doesn't mean I won't be eliminated in the second round. Everybody has a good day, just like everybody has a bad one."

  Nina huffed a little breath out her nose. "Says the girl who had a good day."

  We hadn't thought this through very well, because when we'd played it out in the truck, Nina had invited us in. We needed to get in so Dee could worm her way into her good graces.

  "Excuse me," I said. "First, love the hat! Second, we've been on the go for the last two hours, and I've had two iced coffees. Is there any way I can use your bathroom?"

  She shut the door, and Dee and I looked at each other. Had we just been given the boot? I heaved a sigh of relief when the security bar clanged open and she pulled the door wide.

  "Sure," she said. "C'mon in. And thank you. The hat's my daughter's."

  Her tone wasn't nearly as welcoming as her words, but not as bitter as they had been. Dee wandered in behind me while I made a beeline to the bathroom.

  "So," I heard Dee say through the door. "Is this your first competition?"

  "Oh lord no," Nina replied. "I've done at least fifty over the years."

  "Wow. Then you must have had some pretty amazing experiences. How long have you been baking?"

  "Most of my life, as an amateur. I just got serious about it eight years ago, though. Better late to the game than never, right?" she gave a dry little laugh. "And yes, I've had some exciting times, both good and bad. I have to say though, this is the first time we've ever had a judge killed. That sort of takes extreme baking to an all new level."

  "I know!" Dee exclaimed, playing the part well.

  I flushed, hoping I wouldn't miss anything important, but not wanting to take so long that she'd start to worry that I was pilfering through her cosmetic bag or stinking the place up.

  Her tone became more somber. "Bella and I didn't see eye to eye, but she didn't deserve that."

  "Yeah," Dee said as I came out of the bathroom. She was watching Nina’s face carefully. "We've talked to a few people who didn't get along that well with her."

  She shrugged. "It doesn't surprise me. Bella was a hard woman and she played favorites. She was bound to make some enemies."

  "Played favorites?" Dee asked. "You mean, to the point of throwing competitions?"

  She shook her head. "No, I don't necessarily think she took
it that far, but she wasn't above manipulating the scenario to suit her purposes. And once you were outside her good graces, it was awful hard to get back in."

  Dee took a risk and went out on a limb. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

  "I am," she replied, taking a seat on the end of the bed. "Bella and I butted heads at a wedding cake competition she was judging a couple years ago. High stakes, and she disqualified me for makin' one simple little mistake that didn't make a bit of difference to the quality of my work, or to the spirit of the contest. Honestly, I should have been dinged for it, but I shouldn't have been disqualified. There was a lot of money on the line, and she'd worked privately on a few projects in the past with the woman who won."

  "Whoa!" Dee said. "What did you do?"

  She flapped a hand. "It doesn't matter. No use cryin' over spilt milk, as they say."

  "And yesterday she said your cakes were dry and lacked flavor."

  She gave a deprecating laugh. "Well, as bad as I hate to admit it, she was right. I tried them after the competition, and she was dead on. I'd been afraid to under-cook them or over-flavor them, and I corrected too far in the other direction on both counts."

  "I know what you mean. I was afraid of the same thing," Dee said, nodding. "I tend to like my coffeecake just a tad on the underdone side, so I had to make an adjustment on the fly. Plus, that stupid guy across from me wouldn't shut up."

  "Yeah, Jake," she said, rolling her eyes. "He's an idiot. He thinks he's God's gift to baking, but I've got some news for him. Sausage doesn't go in coffeecake. Just ignore him. If you keep cooking like you did yesterday, you're good to go. Remember, in these things, it's not necessarily critical to come out on top in the beginning. Just don't come in at the bottom. You'll have plenty of time to show what you've got, but you've got to make it past the initial cullings first."

  Dee smiled. "Thanks for the tip. This is my first competition."

  "Then I can understand why you don't want it to be canceled," Nina said. "I remember my first one, and I would have been crushed had it been cut short. And speaking of, I'm gonna go practice my dessert one more time just in case they decide to continue the competition. There are some tweaks I want to make."

  She pushed to her feet, and I got the feeling the conversation was at an end. "And to answer your initial question, yes, I'm willing to wait a few days for them to find another judge, but I'd rather not continue with just the one."

  Dee stepped toward the door, then paused. "By the way," she said, and I knew she was going for the Hail Mary. "CCTV over at Walgreen's didn't catch the murder because it was off-screen, but it did catch a woman entering Faith Walker's room then leavin' less than ten seconds later at just about the same time Bella was killed. She was wearin' a hat amazingly similar to yours."

  She glanced back and forth between us. "Is that what this has been about? You're trying to find out if I killed Bella?" Her face was scarlet and her eyes were shooting fire. "Get out. Both of you."

  We didn't waste another second hitting the bricks, and I was barely clear of the door when it slammed shut behind me.

  "You made that up," I said, grinning at her.

  "I did, for all the good it did."

  "I don't know," I said slowly as we skipped down the steps toward the truck. "It may still shake something loose. I think we should keep an eye on her for a bit. See where she goes or what she does. She may make a run for it.”

  I crossed my fingers that Dee's scheme set something in the works; otherwise, we were no closer to finding the killer than we were when we'd gotten there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We pulled into the Walgreen's parking lot and sat there for a few minutes waiting to see if she came out. Since she'd said she was going to the convention center to practice her dessert—or because she knew we were onto her—we expected her to bolt within just a few minutes. That didn't happen.

  "We'll give her ten more minutes," I said, but then the temperature in the truck dropped ten degrees. Not that it wasn't welcome since my t-shirt was sticking to my back, but it wasn't exactly expected.

  "Phew! It seems I've made a successful go of this transporting thing," Milt's voice said from the back seat, and I about spit my heart out onto the dashboard.

  Clasping my chest, I whirled in my seat. "Are you trying to kill me? And what's up with the instant AC?"

  He tilted his head, befuddled. "Instant AC?"

  "Yeah," Dee said, rubbing her arms. "The temperature in here just dropped like we'd stepped into a fridge."

  "Oh," he said waving a hand. "I don't know anything about that, but I overheard a conversation, and you two need to come, post haste."

  "We're sort of in the middle of something, Milt." Dee said, keeping one eye on the hotel. "Just tell us what you heard."

  He scowled at me. "Well beg pardon for solving your murder investigation for you!" He hmphed. "This is why I avoid the living. Manners and common courtesy have gone straight out the window."

  He started to flicker out, but I held out my hand, both because he was right and because, well, he said he'd solved the murder.

  "No, Milt, wait." I rushed to say. It figured that the one ghost we'd found other than Ms. Maisey was a nineteenth-century upper-crust with tender sensibilities. "I'm sorry. You're right. You went out of your way to find us when you didn't have to, and you left the conference center, which we know you're not too keen on, either. Please, tell us what you heard."

  "Indeed I did." He smoothed his waistcoat and did that gruff, throat-clearing, growly thing that seemed to be his way of expressing his displeasure, but his form became more visible again. "There's a young lady—I'd say in her mid-twenties if I had to guess—who is at the conference center cooking the most lovely dessert." He gave a huge, nostalgic sigh and patted his belly. "The entire place smells like warm banana pudding. We used to get them sometimes in a shipment, and my mama would make that to keep them from going to waste."

  "Milt!" Dee snapped her fingers to bring him back to the present.

  "Oh yes. Of course. This young woman was cooking, not a care in the world, it seemed, then somebody called in on that dreadful piece of technology you living folks call a cellular device." He actually tsked.

  "Okay, Milt," I said, "I'll bite. Who was it? Did you find out? And why is this call so important?"

  He smiled like the cat that ate the cream. "It was her mother. When she first answered, she was relaxed,holding her device between her cheek and shoulder while she kept cooking. I thought about what a shame it would be if she were to drop it into that lovely banana custard she'd just made."

  Had Milt been born in our time, I would have likely suggested he check into ADD meds.

  "All right," I said, rolling my finger to tell him to get on with it. Phone call from her mom, relaxed ..."

  "Yes. Yes, she was relaxed, but then her total demeanor changed. She dropped the spoon into the pudding and bolted around the corner to a private area, cupping her mouth around the phone so nobody would hear her." He beamed with pride. "But I heard her anyway. She told her mother she'd killed that woman for her. So she'd have a shot at winning."

  My heart, which had just slowed from where Milt had tried to kill me, sped up again. "And did you by chance get this girl's name?"

  "Why yes, indeed I did," he said. It was—"

  "Jill," Dee barked. "The girl's name is Jill. Toni, get ready to floor it!"

  She had her gaze glued to something in front of us as she pulled out her cell phone, and I whipped back around to see what she was looking at. Nina was slinging a couple suitcases into the back of an older SUV. She slammed the door, jumped in the driver's side, and within two seconds, she peeled out of the parking lot like the hounds of Hell were chasing her.

  "C'mon, Gabe, answer," Dee said, holding her phone to her ear as I fired up my SUV and slammed it into gear.

  "Yes!" she exclaimed, reaching around her to pull her seatbelt forward. "Gabe, get to the conference center right now.
We'll explain when we get there, but Jill Kastle is the killer."

  I whipped out onto the main road, careful not to let Nina out of my sight. Thank you, it's my daughter's is what she'd said when I complimented her hat. Everything tumbled into place. We'd had the right motive, just the wrong person. Jill was Nina's daughter, and she'd killed Bella, apparently thinking that with her out of the way, her mom could win. The question, though, was why winning was important enough to kill for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The conference center was on the other side of town, and that meant we had to drive right down Main Street. Several times, I was afraid Nina was going to lose control and run off the road or even hit somebody, but just out of sheer luck, she didn't. Since we knew where she was going, I didn't maintain the breakneck speed, but I did do my best to keep her in sight.

  Gabe's truck was in the lot when we got there, but was nowhere in sight. I doubted Nina would recognize his vehicle from the day he did the interviews, so at least we had that going for us—she wouldn't spook and scram.

  I thought she was going to plow right into the building, but she slammed on the brakes just in time. She was so close to the building that she couldn't go forward anymore, so I pulled in at an angle behind her, pinning her between us and the building. She'd already disappeared into the center by the time I came to a complete stop.

  We jumped out of the truck and rushed to follow her into the building. She was in such a panic that she hadn't even looked back; she had no idea we'd blocked her in or even that we were right on her tail.

  Dee and I bolted through the staging area toward the cooking stations, but skidded to a halt, Milt floating along beside us, when a high-pitched whistle pierced the air.

  "Dee! Toni! Over here," Gabe called. He was leaning against a table, legs and arms crossed, with a sullen, defeated Jill handcuffed and sitting on the chair in front of him.

  Nina had apparently heard the whistle, too, because she stopped and looked that direction. Her shoulders slumped and she began to sob as she rushed over to her daughter.