“We’re fine. Great, really.” Margot felt the heat of guilt flush her cheeks. She wanted so badly to tell her friend what had transpired over Christmas, but her promise to Adam kept her from it. “Really.”
“Say any more reallys and I’ll think you’re lying to me.”
Margot forced a grin and looked back at her menu. “We’re doing re—well.”
Tamera remained quiet, but Margot knew she was curious. And of course she would be, but Margot had to console herself with the reality that her friend would know just as soon as they were able to tell everyone. Margot would make sure of it.
The women ordered their entrées and talked about how their holidays had gone, what had transpired in Oregon with Margot—minus the engagement story—and how Tamera and George were considering a cruise to Jamaica to beat the lingering, icy fingers of winter.
When they had scraped the last bit of the tiramisu off of their shared plate, they stood and embraced like sisters.
“I think we need to make this at least a monthly thing,” Tamera said, entwining her arm with Margot’s as they walked to the front door.
“I agree.” Margot waved good-bye to Antonio and they exited into the cold night air. “Tell George I said hello.”
“I will. Same to Adam—when you see him again.” Tamera’s wry smile said she was teasing and Margot grinned. They parted with a little wave and Margot made her way to her car, parked near the back corner of the lot. She was full in a satisfied way and thankful she hadn’t spent the Friday evening at home alone. It was always much more enjoyable with friends.
The minute her car engine roared to life, she cranked up the heat, knowing it would take a few minutes to warm enough for her satisfaction. Then she pulled out of the lot, glancing to the right and the left as she maneuvered through the quiet streets.
Bright white lights pulled in line behind her and she startled. Where had that car come from? She’d been the only one to drive out of the parking lot after Tamera, and there had been no one driving on the street behind her.
Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach, but she tried to push it away. She was borrowing trouble, as her grandfather had always said. She refocused her attention on the road, making a few turns as she wound through the quiet city toward her home.
After a few blocks, she noted the car was still there, mirroring her moves. Or was she being paranoid?
On a whim, she turned down a side street and then another, knowing exactly where she would come out. As she eased back onto the larger thoroughfare, she spotted the car ahead of her, just as she’d planned. It was dark and the lights that usually illuminated the license plate were out. As if realizing his mistake, the driver took the next left and sped off into the night.
The one thing she was able to make out was the dark blue color of the car and a silhouette from the driver’s side that looked suspiciously like a cowboy hat.
Margot tried to shake the unsettled feeling that had come over her the night before. She’d been extra careful the rest of the way back to her row house. Then she’d double and triple-checked the area before leaving her car and rushing up her steps, key in hand. Once inside, she locked and bolted the door, her heart pounding a little faster than normal.
Sleep had been elusive, but she’d finally managed to drift off, only to jolt awake at five o’clock without thought or hope of going back to sleep again. It was late for her—her normal ‘baker’s hours’ starting somewhere around three in the morning on a typical day—but it was one of her days off, so she accepted it.
Now, with her coffee in hand, she sat curled up in the corner of her L-shaped couch, her favorite spot, with a blanket and her laptop. It was time to do some investigating for Bentley.
Thoughts of the blue sedan crept up on her, sitting at the back of her mind but edging closer as she opened her computer. Had she been followed? Or was the car a creation of her imagination—that was, the car following her. Wasn’t it possible it had just been going in the same direction as her?
She set her mug down on the coffee table and tapped in the name of Bentley’s ex-wife.
Lucy Wolfe.
Search results filled her screen and Margot chided herself. Of course she’d need more than that to narrow down the search. She referred to the notes she taken from her conversation with Bentley and added Lucy’s birthdate. The top result was an obituary dated a week prior.
Margot clicked on it and began to read through the short paragraph about Lucy Wolfe. Bentley, not surprisingly, wasn’t even mentioned. It stated that she had suffered from dementia and succumbed to illness. It went on to say that Lucy’s relatives were unavailable for comment and that she was survived by a son—name withheld.
With the additional information she could gather, she continued her search. The only other facts she could glean were that Lucy had resided in Texas for the last twenty years of her life and that she had never married. Margot thought about her marriage to Bentley and wondered how that had been kept out of public record. Then again, she had a feeling most obituary writers weren’t going to overzealously research a woman who died without family available for comment.
When the last sips of her coffee and her search had gone cold, she put her laptop away. The only answers she’d be able to give Bentley were the fact that the letter had likely come out of the woman’s dementia and that he had nothing to worry about.
Still, a thought niggled at the back of her mind. What had Lucy not told Bentley? Was it some deep, dark secret? Something foolish like she’d borrowed a handkerchief and never given it back? Or something more…life-changing? Did it involve Bentley? Or, in her altered state, had Bentley just been the first person she thought of?
And then there was the fact that she’d gotten a letter to Bentley. How? If they hadn’t been in touch since their divorce, it was unlikely that she would have had his mailing address. And it had been addressed to Bentley at the senior living complex. That meant she’d had to have gotten that information from somewhere.
With more questions than answers, Margot got dressed for the day and began her Saturday morning cleaning routine, firing up the vacuum and playing music through her earphones.
Her thoughts continued to circle around the strange appearance of Lucy’s letter. She even considered calling Dexter and asking for his help. His expertise in tracking down cyber information was unparalleled, but she hesitated. Not only was he working at the bakery that morning, but this was also likely her imagination getting the best of her. Why drag in an expert and former FBI asset to do something she’d already done with Google? There couldn’t be much more out there on Lucy Wolfe. Could there?
She jolted to a stop, dust-cloth in hand, when her music was interrupted by a call. Looking at her phone screen, she noted Dexter’s name.
“Funny, I was just thinking about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” Dexter said in response.
“Always. What’s up?”
“Well…” The way he said it made Margot’s worry rise to the surface.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve burned down my precious French bakery.” Margot’s tone was teasing, but there was an air of caution to it.
“Nope. I can say with certainty that The Parisian Pâtisserie is still standing.”
“But?”
“But we just got a massive Valentine’s Day order that I probably should have said no to and then the Saturday afternoon pastry crowd hit and…we need help.”
Margot smiled, feeling relieved. Dealing with burning buildings was one thing, but coming to the aid of her two very talented baking assistants was something she could definitely handle.
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“I know.”
He hung up and Margot swiped the cloth across the top of her television one last time. She’d finish the chores later, but for now, she’d go stick her fingers in dough and laugh with Julia and Dexter as they teased—and flirted—their way thr
ough a chilly Saturday afternoon. Thoughts of Lucy and her secret would have to wait until later.
3
Margot awoke from a nap as darkness descended over North Bank. She, Julia, and Dexter had worked well into the late afternoon on that order and she’d come home when they left to deliver it, only to slip into pastry-induced sleep several minutes after sitting on the couch.
Now, eyes bleary and joints stiff from the extra work, Margot sat up and looked at the clock. Her stomach rumbled in response and rather than force herself to make something for dinner, she ordered a vegetarian pizza from a local shop a few blocks away. Turning on the television to the Home Improvement Network, she pulled on sweatpants and settled in with a cup of tea to wait for her dinner to be delivered.
When the doorbell rang, she pulled cash from her wallet and met the boy at the door. He smiled and offered her the pizza. She handed over the money and went to close the door, when a streak of dark blue caught her peripheral vision. Fear clenched her chest as she realized it was a dark blue sedan that had just pulled away from the curb.
Locking the door, she leaned against it, the pizza box sending up tantalizing scents even as her stomach clenched in fear. Had it been the same car? Was someone…stalking her?
Propelled into movement, she deposited the box on the kitchen table and reached for her phone. The senior living complex was one of her preferred contacts and she tapped the number to put the call through. Two rings and she was greeted by a cheerful voice.
“Hey, Jan, this is Margot.”
“Hello, Margot,” Jan said. She was the part-time residents’ assistant who often answered when Margot called and was trying to reach Bentley if he wasn’t in his apartment. “Looking for Bentley?”
“Actually, no. I…” She paused, biting her lip. It couldn’t hurt to dig just a little, especially if Felix Lynch really was following her. “Can I speak with the person who does the maintenance hiring?”
“Sure thing. Looking for a gardener? Al gets the best guys to do our lawn here. I’ve gotten recommendations from him before.”
“That would be great,” Margot said, without clarifying why she had called.
“Normally, I would say you’re out of luck at a time like this—Saturday night and all—but I just saw him come in a half an hour ago to fix a leaky sprinkler head or something. Just give me a few minutes to locate him.”
Margot held the phone to her ear as quiet elevator music played while she waited. What a stroke of luck she’d called when Al was there. She hadn’t even considered the time or the day when she’d placed the call, her nerves fueling her to find out more. Now, as she paced back and forth, she double-checked that the front windows were covered.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Al? This is Margot Durand.”
“Hello, Missus Durand,” Al said, his deep voice kind and professional. “Mister Anderson has spoken of you often.”
Despite the situation, Margot felt a smile tug at her lips at the mention of her friend. “Hopefully good things.”
“Of course,” the man said with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”
“This may sound strange, but I was visiting Bentley yesterday and I ran into a new hire of yours.”
“New hire?” Al sounded confused. “What do you mean?”
“I hadn’t seen him on the grounds before. His name is Felix Lynch.”
“I’m sorry, Missus Durand, but I haven’t hired anyone new in the recent months. It’s not really the time for it,” he said with a light laugh. “But, aside from that, I know for a fact we don’t have a Felix Lynch on staff here at the complex.”
Margot’s blood ran cold. He’d been wearing a uniform for the complex, she was certain of that, but where had he gotten it? And had he been following her?
“Uh, Missus Durand?”
“Sorry.” She blinked back to the present. “How odd. I could have sworn he worked there.”
“I don’t know what to tell you—” Margot heard frantic talking in the background before Al came back on the line. “Sorry, that was Jan, she needs to speak with you when we’re done.”
Margot was at a loss for what else she could find out from Al, so she thanked him for his time and asked to be transferred back to Jan.
“I’m so glad I caught you before Al hung up.”
“What is it?” Margot asked, wondering if something had happened to Bentley during the time she’d called.
“It’s Sally and Lynellen. They are desperate for some of your French pastries for their World Dinner Night on Monday. It’s Valentine’s-themed, of course. Can you help them?” Jan’s tone slipped into pleading and Margot almost laughed.
“Tell them I’d be delighted. I’ll whip up a few things, hearts and all that, and bring them over late Monday afternoon.”
“They will be thrilled. Thank you!”
Margot thanked the woman in return and hung up, setting the phone on the table. She hadn’t found out much, but what she had uncovered was unsettling. Felix Lynch was not—nor had he ever been—an employee of the senior living complex. So what had he been doing in one of their uniforms? More than that, was he the one following her? Or had she merely seen cars that looked like his? And were they following her or was she being overly paranoid after a few months of quietness from the last startling case she’d fallen into?
Letting out a sigh and then drawing in a deep breath, the tantalizing smell of the pizza made her stomach rumble with renewed hunger. She decided to put thoughts of being followed and a mystery man named Felix out of her mind. Her home was secure—Julian had made sure of that when they’d first moved in all those years ago—and she would enjoy her pizza and a new decorating show before going to bed early. Things always had a way of working themselves out in the morning light.
She just hoped that would remain true.
Margot had gone a whole day without the specter of a blue car following her or any other kind of worrisome happening. She was finally beginning to relax again as she stepped into the busy kitchen midmorning on Monday.
“Boss, what are you doing here?” Julia said, flour dusting her dark blue apron. “It’s Monday.”
Margot grinned and nodded a greeting to Dexter, who was on the phone with a customer. She pulled her apron from the rack in the back and tied it behind her.
“I know, but I’m making a few things for one of the World Dinners up at the senior center tonight.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of those. I really want to take Nick to one.”
“He’d love it,” Margot said, thinking of Julia’s five-year-old son, who seemed more adventurous than some adults she knew. “I feel like he’d go around sampling everything, no matter what part of the world it was from.”
“You’ve got that right. That kid loves to eat.”
“Maybe he’ll be a chef?” Dexter said, joining the conversation. “Or a baker like his momma.”
Margot noted the blush on Julia’s cheeks at Dexter’s attention and wondered how the two were doing. After a few frantic conversations with both of her workers—at separate times—she had been pleased to find out that Dexter had asked Julia out for New Year’s Eve. Julia had agreed, and they’d gone out on a borrowed boat for the evening.
While Margot wasn’t one to pry, she had found out through bits of conversation with Julia that things were going well between them. Dexter had been more tightlipped about the whole thing, but Margot knew he would talk to her when he needed to. Until then, she wished them the best and was even more thankful for the fact that they had stopped their endless bickering at the shop. Now it was more of a playful banter, most of the tension gone, which made life much more enjoyable for everyone.
They settled into a working routine, Margot taking over the back counter while Julia worked at the island. In between, Dexter ran the front so that Rose Mae could have the morning off. The clock hit noon and Margot slipped her last pan of croissants into the oven.
“It’s great that you do this for the center
,” Julia said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Maybe I can help sometime if they need extra hands.”
“They would jump at the chance to have more volunteers. It’s sad to see how little the younger generation is involved in helping at the senior center.”
“Is it really that bad?” Concern creased the woman’s brow.
“It depends on the season. We have an older community here in North Bank anyway, all of the younger generation wanting to head up to the District to ‘seek their wealth’.” Margot laughed at how much she sounded like an old storyteller.
“I know what you mean. I grew up going over to my grandparents’ house frequently. I loved spending time with them and am so happy Nick gets to spend so much time with my parents now.”
Margot knew that Julia’s parents watched Nick whenever she needed to work. They seemed more than happy with the tradeoff.
“I think it’s a wonderful thing for him. He’ll grow up with a respect for the older generation that can only be learned, not taught.”
“I agree. Maybe I can start bringing him around to the center.”
“That’s a great idea,” Margot said. “And take that big kid with you,” she said, laughing as Dexter came in with an empty bakery box on his head.
Both women laughed as Dexter ducked his head and caught the box. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing at the waist as if receiving applause from an audience. “And for my next trick, I will make Julia Hageman disappear.” He reached for her hand, which she offered willingly.
“Now that Rosie’s back, we’re off to lunch,” Julia said with a giggle.
Margot marveled at the change in her from when they’d first met, but kept her thoughts to herself. Instead, she nodded and waved them on. “Have fun!”
“You and Adam can join us if you want,” Dexter said, stopping at the door.
“Oh, he’s in D.C. at the moment. I'm not sure when he’ll be back.”
“Is…everything all right?” Dexter asked, peering at her more closely than she liked.
A Deadly Engagement (Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Book 9) Page 2
