Mel wondered if she should wake him up. But somehow it just seemed cruel, given how tired he was. She knew this case was giving him trouble. The defense attorneys were charging that the evidence had been tampered with, and they were out to discredit Joe’s best witness. In sleep, the man had some peace. How could she disturb that?
She turned and went back to the bathroom, where she changed into her comfy pajamas. Then she went back out to the living room and pulled out the futon, shifting Joe as necessary. When she climbed in beside him, he wrapped his arms about her, and Mel smiled. Suddenly, she didn’t care what anyone else thought. She and Joe had all the time in the world.
Mel awoke to a hot cup of coffee on the table by her head and a note. It was short and sweet, but it sent shivers down to her toes. Joe had better be able to put this shooter away and soon, or she was afraid she’d have to shoot him herself.
Fourteen
“You’re going to have to fire her,” Marty said. He was wearing a blue Fairy Tale Cupcake apron and wiping down the tables after a group of older ladies had flirted outrageously with him and eaten a dozen cupcakes.
“I can’t fire my business partner,” Mel said. “She’s just late. She’ll be here.”
“She leaves early, shows up late or not at all,” Marty said. Without his toupee, the remaining wisps of his hair stood up in indignation. He looked every inch the cranky old man. “What kind of partner is that?”
“She’s going through something,” Mel said. “We just have to give her some time.”
He heaved a put-upon sigh. “She’d better get it together quickly. You’re not going to have my free labor to bail you out after the contest.”
“I appreciate your help,” Mel said. “Angie will come around. You’ll see.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and in strode Angie. “Sorry I’m late!”
“Two hours late, little missy,” Marty chided her. “You’d better have a good excuse.”
Angie looked from him to Mel. “I’ve been replaced?”
“Marty’s helping me out for free raffle entries.”
Angie glanced at the box. It was stuffed with slips.
“Wow, that contest was a good idea,” she said. “Let me dump my stuff, and I’ll grab the front. I know you need to prep for class tonight.”
“Thanks,” Mel said.
Angie vanished, and Marty plunked his hands on his hips and gave Mel an outraged stare. “You’re not even going to ask her where she’s been?”
“She’ll tell me if she wants me to know,” Mel said.
“You know she was with that musician,” Marty said.
“Maybe,” Mel said.
Marty lifted off his apron and tossed it down on the counter. “I’m late for yoga.”
“So, you’re just going to make like a vrksasana and leave?” she asked.
“Ha! Yoga tree pose . . . leave . . . very funny,” Marty said. “How long have you been waiting to use that?”
“A while.”
Marty ran a hand over his shiny dome. Mel guessed this was the first time he’d been to yoga without his rug.
She suspected he was nervous.
“You look fine,” she said.
He scowled at her. “I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”
He shuffled to the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Mel called.
He gave her a curt wave and let the door bang shut behind him.
“Real ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Angie asked as she reentered the kitchen.
“He’s growing on me,” Mel said.
“Like fungus?” Angie asked.
“Hmm,” Mel hummed. “So?”
“So what?” Angie asked. She stepped next to Mel and began off-loading cupcakes from a tray into the display case.
“Why were you late?”
“I slept late,” Angie said. “Roach and I drove up to Jerome last night.”
“Jerome?” Mel asked. “That’s almost two hours away, and it’s cold up there.”
Angie grinned. “Yeah, it was so romantic. We ate dinner and then caught a local band called the Cartwheels at the Spirit Room.”
“Sounds nice,” Mel said. She was happy for Angie, she really was, but there was a part of her that was jealous of the unimpeded romance that she and Roach had going. It felt as if she and Joe had never had that opportunity.
Angie must have sensed what she was feeling. “Don’t worry. As soon as Joe’s case wraps up, you’ll have this sort of time together.”
“Maybe,” Mel said. She was unconvinced. What if Joe’s life was always this hectic? The thought was depressing.
“Shake it off,” Angie said. “It will get better, I promise.”
Mel shook her head. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“Okay, so what are we cooking for our couples’ class tonight?”
“A raspberry white chocolate cupcake that I call Cupid’s Bliss.”
“Did you just make that name up?” Angie asked.
“Yeah. Too much?”
“Normally, I would say yes, but it is the season of love,” Angie said. “The cornier the better.”
“I didn’t think it was corny, exactly,” Mel said.
“Well, it is,” Angie said. “Still, white chocolate and raspberry, what’s not to love?”
“Exactly,” Mel said.
They set to work. Because of the high sugar content in the white chocolate, Mel decided to make smaller cupcakes and bake them longer at a lower temperature. Twenty minutes at 325 degrees kept them from over-browning, and the tops came out flatter, which worked out fine. Using a star tip, Mel piped white chocolate-cream cheese icing around the edge of the cupcake, connecting one end of the circle to the other.
Angie carefully placed fresh raspberries inside the white chocolate ring, making sure the bottoms were all facing up. Mel then drizzled a red raspberry glaze over the berries and the white chocolate icing.
“Oh, wow. Can I have one?” a voice asked from the doorway.
Mel turned and there was Detective Martinez. He looked as buttoned-down as ever in charcoal gray slacks and a white dress shirt. Today, he was even wearing a tie.
“Sure, Detective,” Mel said. She plated one of the cupcakes for him and gestured for him to sit down.
Angie glanced between them and then hefted the tray of remaining cupcakes and headed for the walk-in cooler.
“So, how was that concert?” he asked.
“Concert?” Mel asked.
“The last time I was here, you and your partner Tate were headed for a concert.” He tucked his fork into the cupcake and scooped up a bite with cake, icing, and a raspberry.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. She glanced nervously at the cooler. What would Angie make of this? “We went to see the Sewers. It was great.”
“Brian Malloy is in that band, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” Angie said. Obviously, she had heard the entire conversation from the depths of the enormous refrigerator. “And yes, he is Baxter’s son, and yes, they were estranged, and yes, I am dating him.”
Martinez looked surprised.
“Oh, you didn’t know that, did you?” Angie asked. Her face grew red, and she fidgeted with her apron pockets. “We just started dating a few days ago.”
Martinez took another bite of cupcake. “This is amazing.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. Her throat felt dry, and she coughed. She had a bad feeling about this conversation.
“How did you two meet?” Martinez asked.
“He came here to talk to Mel,” Angie said.
“He thought I was my mother,” Mel explained. “He thought I had something to do with his father’s death.”
“Why would he think that?”
Mel shrugged. “He was angry. He thought I was a gold digger.”
“How did he react when he found out you weren’t the one dating his father?”
“He was embarrassed and apologetic.”
Martinez
finished off the cupcake.
“How did you come to be dating him?” Martinez asked Angie as he took his plate to the sink and rinsed it.
“He asked me,” she said.
“You are aware he’s a murder suspect.” Martinez turned away from the sink and studied Angie with concern.
“He didn’t do it,” she said. “He’s a musician, not a killer.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Martinez said. “I once had a case where a Sunday-school teacher chopped up her husband and put him in the freezer because he kept leaving his underwear on the bathroom floor.”
“Well, that would grate after a while,” Angie said.
Martinez frowned. The jangle of the bells on the front door sounded from the front room, and Angie said, “I’ll get that” as she hurried out of the kitchen.
“Do you think Roach is guilty?” Mel asked. She wondered if she should mention what the roadie, Carl, and the manager, Jimbo, had said, that Roach hadn’t been rehearsing on the night of his father’s murder. She wondered if she should tell him that Roach had lied to them. Had he lied to the police, too? If Martinez said yes, she was so going to tell and pull the plug on Angie’s new romance.
“I don’t know,” Martinez said. “He certainly had motive.”
“Who had motive?” a voice asked from the door.
They both turned, and Mel started in surprise when Steve Wolfmeier strode into the room. Wearing a perfectly tailored Brook Brothers suit and Gucci loafers, he reeked of high-profile attorney, and Mel knew just from looking at Martinez’s face that he knew exactly who Steve was: the most successful defense attorney in the Valley of the Sun.
“Hi, Melanie,” Steve said. “Long time, no see.”
Martinez glanced from her to Steve and back again. He did not look happy.
“Hi, Steve,” Mel said. “What brings you here?”
“Cupcakes, naturally,” he said. He opened his hands wide in a trusting gesture she was sure had been well rehearsed before hundreds of jurors. She noticed that the lower button on the jacket of his pinstripe suit was unbuttoned as if he were a male model and she wanted to laugh. The man simply had no self-esteem issues. Not a one. “Why else would I be here?”
“Why else indeed,” Martinez said with a shake of his head. He turned and looked at Mel. “Thanks for the cupcake. I’ll be in touch.”
They watched as Martinez strode out of the room.
“Oh, don’t tell me I chased away the good-looking detective?” Steve asked.
“I think he might be allergic to you,” she said.
“They all are,” he said with a grin. “But seriously, what’s with the stiff? I thought you were dating DeLaura.”
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“I have my sources,” he said. “So, are you or aren’t you?”
“I am,” she said.
“Pity,” he said. He glanced at her from beneath his lashes.
“Yeah, right.” Mel couldn’t help but laugh. “So, why are you really here?”
“I read about your mother’s unfortunate situation in the Republic and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.” He ran a manicured hand through his short, prematurely gray hair. Instead of making him look older, it made him look distinguished, and Mel was pretty sure he knew it.
“Really?” she asked. “Is business that slow?”
“Ouch,” he said. He put a hand over his chest. “You cut me to the quick.”
“Sorry, just trying to cut through the BS.”
“You don’t like me much, do you?” he asked as he leaned against the table.
“I like you fine,” she said. “I just don’t trust you.”
“But you do like me,” he said with a wicked grin. “That’s an excellent start.”
Mel found herself laughing again. Steve Wolfmeier was known as the best defense attorney in town because he generally left his opponent in shreds. Nice to see he had an equal amount of charm to offer.
“My mother isn’t going to need an attorney,” she said. “She’s innocent.”
“Ah, but now your best friend is dating the prime suspect,” he said.
“Again, how do you know these things?”
“I told you, I have my sources,” he said. “And I was eavesdropping.”
“Now it’s all coming into focus. You’re hoping we’ll hook you up with Roach Malloy?”
“Big celebrity, very high profile. You still have my card, right?” he asked.
“Unbelievable.”
“I know. Now, let’s talk cupcakes,” he said.
He left just before Mel’s class was to begin with a dozen cupcakes, one in every flavor.
Fifteen
Per usual, the Bickersons arrived first. Irene huffed into the kitchen, obviously put out with Dan—again.
“A gentleman would open a door for a lady,” she berated him. “Not let it slam in her face.”
“It slipped,” Dan said.
“Well, it wouldn’t have if you’d let me go first, like a person with manners and not some barnyard animal.”
“If the sow fits,” he returned.
Irene puffed out her cheeks. Her chubby face was becoming an alarming shade of red, and Mel and Angie glanced at each other, wondering how to head off the impending ruckus when the kitchen door swung open and in walked the rest of the class.
The Felixes, the Dunns, and the Koslowskis arrived, followed by Jay and Poppy Gatwick. As they greeted one another, the atmosphere in the room began to mellow, and the red receded from Irene’s cheeks.
Angie worked one side of the table while Mel worked the other. The white chocolate batter was scooped into the industrial-size cupcake tins and placed in the oven.
The class took a short break while the cupcakes baked. Most of the couples went out the front door to stretch their legs and window-shop in Old Town. Poppy ducked into the shop’s small restroom while Jay waited.
Angie’s cell phone rang with a song from the Sewers and, with a big grin, she slipped out the back to take the call, which was undoubtedly Roach. Mel wondered what level their relationship had gotten to, since Angie had changed her ringtone for him. That seemed awfully serious, and she couldn’t help but acknowledge she had never done that for Joe.
Mel took the free time to clean up the dirty bowls, cooking implements, and batter splatters before they started on the icing for the second half of the class.
“How’s your mother, Melanie?” Jay asked as he helped put the bowls in the sink.
“She’s all right,” Mel said. “My brother is in town, and that’s keeping her occupied.”
“Good,” he said. “Poppy has been so distraught. She seems to think there is a strangler on the loose and is afraid to be alone. I tried to tell her it wasn’t a random act of violence, but she’s still afraid.”
A vision of Baxter Malloy’s body crossed through Mel’s mind, and she had to agree with Poppy. The thought that someone was capable of strangling another human being to death was horrifying.
“I don’t blame her,” Mel said with a shudder.
“I want you to know,” Jay said, “that I’ve been listening for any snippet of information that might be of help.”
“Have you heard anything?” Mel asked. She put her bowls in the sink and turned to face him. She knew it would relieve her mother’s mind if there was a solid suspect out there.
“The list of people who lost money in Baxter’s scheme is daunting,” Jay said. “And yet . . .”
“Yet?” Mel encouraged him.
“I keep coming back to the Hargraves,” Jay said. “Can you imagine what it must have been like to lose billions?”
“No, I really can’t,” Mel said. She felt terrible for the older couple, truly. “But you don’t think Lester could have harmed Baxter do you? The man must be at least eighty.”
“He’s eighty exactly,” Jay said. “A depression baby, going out the same way he came in. That has to be tough.”
“But woul
d he have the physical strength to strangle Malloy?”
“If he had help,” Jay said. “Maybe from a former baseball star who recently lost everything.”
Mel gasped. “You think the Hargraves were working with Scottie Jensen?”
“And maybe others,” Jay said.
“A conspiracy then?” Mel asked. “Malloy certainly made enough enemies. I wonder if the police have thought of this.”
Jay shrugged. “I’m just glad I didn’t have anything invested with him. Messy business.”
Mel nodded in agreement.
Just then Poppy came tottering out of the restroom and looped her hand around Jay’s elbow. She gave Mel a look that clearly said mine.
“Come on, let’s go buy me something pretty,” she said.
Jay smiled indulgently. “Of course, darling. We’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Mel said. The cupcakes would be done in five minutes, but then they’d have to cool.
She saw Mr. and Mrs. Felix in the main part of the bakery. She knew they had been banking on Baxter Malloy’s investment for their retirement. She wondered how they felt about him now.
“I love your bakery, Mel,” Mrs. Felix said. She was examining one of the cupcake potholders Mel sold on their rack of cupcake kitsch in the corner. “It has such charm.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Mr. Felix, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Baxter Malloy’s investment scam. I hope you’ll be all right.”
Mr. Felix gazed at her with such sad eyes that Mel instantly regretted saying anything.
“I can only hope he is burning in the fires of hell,” he said. His eyes may have been sad, but his voice was so full of anger it shook, as if he barely had a handle on it.
“Let’s not talk about this,” Mrs. Felix said. “You’ll just get all worked up again, and the doctor told you to be careful about your stress level. You can’t afford another heart attack.”
Now Mel really felt bad. She was only asking because she was worried about her mother, and here she was causing someone else untold grief.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
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