"You called the police on him, right?" I asked.
Mrs. Carlton sat up straight and rigid. "Of course I did! And I had every right to."
I smiled at her and placed down my cup. "Of course you did. You have every right to enjoy your peace and quiet in your own home."
"I certainly do!" There was a bit of an edge to her voice now as she pushed the hair out of her eyes that had fallen there. "They ought to be arrested for some of the noise they make!"
A little bit extreme, sure, but I nodded vigorously as though I was completely agreeing with her.
"I bet that young Oscar, with the weird hours he kept, working at the bar, was the worst offender of them all," I said, not as a question but as a statement.
Mrs. Carlton couldn't agree with me firmly enough. "He used to play his music at all hours of the night, with no cares about who he was disrupting or upsetting!"
She was angry, sure, but the more she ranted about Oscar and his noise the less confident I was starting to feel.
I glanced at Pippa. A dispute over loud music was hardly something to kill over. And this woman wasn’t five foot tall, barely a hundred pounds, and almost seventy years old.
Pippa shrugged at me before she stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Carlton, but I am not feeling too well. We ought to be going."
I frowned at her and quickly stood up. I didn't think this was a 'using being pregnant to get out of awkward situations' moment. I thought she really needed to leave.
I thanked Mrs. Carlton profusely for the tea and scurried out the door, wondering if the whole thing had been a waste of time.
I sighed as we left her house. "Definitely barking up the wrong tree there," I said, keeping my voice low. "How could she move the body of a grown man?"
Pippa turned back and gave me a look, then said in a low voice, "I'm not sure," she said. "But I did notice one thing. That library card sitting on her coffee table."
"I don't think scary movies are the best choice right now," I said as Pippa flipped through the different stations. It was network after network of horror movies and Halloween specials clogging up every inch of air time.
"Well, it is Halloween. That's pretty much all you're going to find this time of the year."
"Maybe it's time I headed to bed then." I'd been avoiding doing so. As much as I was trying to keep a clear, steady head, little voices were creeping in. What if Pippa is right? During the day, it was easier to think straight and logically; when the sun was out, it was easier to not be scared. Nighttime was a different matter.
But when Pippa changed the station again and a slasher film flashed onto the screen, blood splattering everywhere, I decided that bed was definitely the less scary option. "Maybe I will read for a while," I said to Pippa. "Let me know if you need anything. Or if you finally go into labor."
Pippa sighed. "I think I might be giving birth to Rosemary's Baby at this point. Hey, I wonder if that movie is on."
I didn't really love the Rosemary's Baby joke. Or the way that Pippa seemed to find the whole situation little more than a joke, actually. Like we were all just staring in a horror movie and she was the one wryly watching, knowing everything that was going to happen before it actually played out. She was reveling in it.
I sighed and left the room. No point bringing up my grievances right then.
But when I finally got to my bedroom and tried to lay down, every little noise and creak had me jumping. I was suddenly regretting choosing the bedroom so close to the street.
Don't let this get into your head. It's all a lot of silly superstition.
I was trying to read under the lamp when Pippa stuck her head in the door. I almost jumped out of my skin, holding my hand to my chest.
"Hope you're sleeping with a knife under your pillow," she said with a grin.
Great. There she goes again. Joking.
"Rach?" She tried to laugh a little. "Did you hear me? Oh come on, I was only joking."
"It wasn't funny." I picked my book up again and tried to focus on the text, but I was quietly fuming and finding it difficult to concentrate.
"Rach? What’s the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm just trying to read."
I caught her rolling her eyes in the doorway. "Geez, Rach, it was just a joke. I think you need to chill out."
I put my book down and slammed the cover shut.
"One moment you are telling me a crazed serial killer is out there, after me, and the next moment, you're telling me to chill out. Which is it?" I hadn't meant to yell, but days of biting my tongue and swallowing down my misgivings had finally caused a volcanic build-up that was about to erupt. I took a deep breath and tried to pick my book back up.
"Wow. I didn't realize you were so uptight about all of this, Rachael."
"Uptight?" I shook my head. "I'm just trying not to rock the boat. Maybe you should leave and try to get some sleep yourself, Pippa."
She sighed, offended. "So, you want me to go? Why are you being so rude to me, Rachael?"
"Because there are things I don't want to say to you right now, okay, Pippa? It's just not the time."
"Why, because I'm pregnant? Because I'm about to give birth?"
"Yes, actually." I threw the book down. "That's exactly it."
"I'm not that fragile. I can handle whatever it is you need to say to me."
"I'm not sure you can, Pippa. This is a subject you seem to get overly sensitive about, for some reason. I know you're enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame, but have you ever considered that you might actually be wrong? That you might actually be affecting people's lives? This isn't a game to me."
Pippa looked hurt. I hadn't meant to be so mean with my “fifteen minutes of fame" comment, but I knew it had come out that way. I was acting as mean and petty as Tegan, but I didn't want to admit it.
"So what, you think I should just stay inside and not talk to anyone? Not try and warn anyone? Not try to save lives?"
"I think you're being ridiculous," I finally said. "And I think you're acting ridiculous with all this talking to the TV cameras thing and trying to brand yourself as some sort of 'paranormal expert.' There, are you happy?"
She was clearly anything but. I saw tears in her eyes as she shot me one final hurt, dirty look and left me there, reeling from my own cruel words. I heard her bedroom door slam.
Hours later, I finally got some sleep.
"Thank you for meeting me," I said quietly as we slipped inside the doors of the quiet cafe downtown. We were far enough away from both the bakery and our house that I hoped we wouldn't be spotted by anyone that knew me. "Not a lot of people are daring to be out and about at the moment."
Kenneth shrugged a little and sat down on a seat opposite me. I'd noticed he'd walked to meet me and on that day, I had as well. I'd needed a long walk to clear my head. Fragments from my fight with Pippa were still floating around in there. "I don't take a lot of notice of things like that," he said. "Besides, it takes a bit more than a silly rumor to scare me."
That made me really like him, and I couldn't keep the little smile from forming on my lips. He was kind of hot as well, I thought, glancing at him quickly while he took his coat off, revealing the tattoos on his arm. A waitress came to take our order. Quick service, due to the cafe being almost deserted. I ordered a latte and Kenneth ordered a short black.
"How's the cake decorating business?" I asked, surprised at the way I was making small talk. I'd called him down there to let him know that his life was potentially in danger, and now I was avoiding the topic. I realized I didn't want our meeting to be over so quickly. I wanted to keep him sitting at the table.
He grinned at me. "A little slow right now, but I'm sure it'll pick up again." Our coffees arrived and Kenneth downed his short black in one go. Darn it. I wished he'd ordered a drink he actually had to nurse for a while.
I smiled to myself when he ordered another one right away. "How's the bakery?" he asked me.
I was a little surprised. "Yo
u know I run a bakery?"
"Of course," he said, still with a grin. "I did make an effort to check out the competition before I considered going into business."
Hmm. I thought he and Oscar had only ever been in talks, that nothing had ever been decided, but I let the comment slide. "It's a little quiet as well right now. Just like the rest of the town."
Kenneth stared right at me. He had piercing blue eyes. "And do you believe the stories?" he asked.
I gulped. "Actually, Kenneth, that's the reason I called you to meet with me today. I feel like I need to warn you."
"That sounds ominous. I thought you just wanted to ask me out on date."
I let out a little laugh and stared into my latte, wishing more than anything else at that moment that the two of us were just there on a date. That things were simple, not terrifying. He was charming and easy-going, and I was about to ruin the vibe completely by telling him that he might be the next victim of a crazed serial killer.
I cleared my throat. I was nervous. "I just want to say that I don't believe the stories, personally."
"Well, that's good to hear," Kenneth said with a wide grin as his second espresso arrived. This time, he just let it sit without drinking it. "You don't seem like the kind of girl who believes in silly superstitions."
Great, so now I was about to ruin his opinion of me as well. But I was doing the right thing, wasn't I? Even if there was only a one percent chance that history was repeating, I had to warn him, didn't I? A life was worth more than the preservation of a little dignity.
I just spat it out. "I'm worried that you might be next."
He let out a laugh, throwing his head back with mirth. Then he stopped once he'd seen the look on my face. "Oh. You're serious."
I had to keep my calm, even in the face of serious mocking. "The original killer targeted bakers," I said. I'd been avoiding looking him directly in the eyes, but I did now. I had to make sure he'd heard me. Really heard me.
His face changed a little. "Right." He still managed a small laugh. "I suppose that is a little troubling, isn't it?"
"I-I just thought it was my duty to warn you. I don't want anything to happen to you."
A little smile curled on his lips. "You don't? We’ve only met once before, Rachael. I didn't realize we were so close."
I gulped. "I mean... I don't want you to die." I sat up straighter in my chair, still gripping my latte. "And I didn't want your blood on my hands, so to speak."
"Well, I appreciate your concern." Kenneth frowned for the first time.
"I haven't worried you, have I?"
He shook his head, but I wasn't entirely convinced. I started to second guess myself. Maybe Kenneth had been better off not knowing. I wished I'd never known. I mean, what was he going to do, leave town?
He downed his second shot of espresso. "Maybe I should be sleeping with a knife under my pillow."
I let out a wry laugh. "That's what my roommate suggested I should do. Pippa. You met her the other day."
"Where is she today?"
I took a nervous sip of my latte then tapped my fingernails against the half-empty glass. "She doesn't exactly know I'm here."
"And why is that?" Kenneth asked. He sat back and narrowed his eyes for a moment.
Because she thinks you're the killer. And she would think I am crazy for meeting up with you.
Was I?
I umm’d and ahh’d for a second while I tried to find a suitable explanation for Pippa's absence. "We had a small fight. Nothing to worry about."
Eventually, Kenneth just flat out asked me. "She thinks I did it, doesn't she? She thinks that I killed Oscar."
I tried to shake my head convincingly. "Of course not."
"You're not a very good liar, Rachael." I knew that. It had gotten me in trouble many times before. Pippa was the far more convincing liar of the two of us. Maybe I should have brought her along for backup, even if we weren't currently on speaking terms. She also knew far more about the original Pumpkin Killer than I did. I was feeling way out of my element. I came here to warn Kenneth, but to warn him of what?
"And what about you, Rachael?"
"What about me?" I asked, almost choking on my coffee.
"Do you think I did it?"
I was a little transfixed by his bright blue eyes. "No," I said. Just because it was the polite thing to say, wasn't it? I could hardly say to this man I barely knew, "Yes, I think you are a crazed copycat serial killer. Or maybe you've been possessed by one." That would go down really well.
"That's all that matters then," Kenneth said, before finally finishing off his coffee. But some of the gleam had gone off our meeting. It wasn't casual and flirty anymore, it was tense and awkward. I couldn't help feeling a little bit offended, actually. He should be thanking me for trying to warn him, for trying to help him.
Oh, boy. I was starting to sound like Pippa.
"Listen," I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Maybe we should all just leave town until this all dies down. All us bakers, I mean. We've got to stick together."
Kenneth suddenly looked concerned. "You don't sound like you're joking, Rachael."
Outside, brown and gold leaves were falling to the ground in the gentle breeze. The streets were still deserted. "I guess, it's just... I mean, just humor me here for a second, Kenneth. If you're next on the list, then that will only leave me. Maybe we are both in danger," I murmured, staring out of the window.
"Look, Rachael, I don't believe in any of this." It was a relief to hear him say that. "But I do want to see that you're safe." He did? "Come on, I'll walk you home."
Chapter 8
"I don't usually walk," I said as we stepped out of the cafe. I noted the black clouds and shivered. "I really only did it on a whim, to try and get some much needed exercise. I'm starting to regret it now." I shot Kenneth an apologetic look. "And you might regret it as well." I told him just how far away I was, through the park and across the freeway before you entered mine and Pippa's neighborhood. But Kenneth insisted he didn't mind the walk. From the looks of him, he seemed pretty fit. He was well built, muscular without being too over the top. He probably worked out fairly regularly but wasn't obsessed with it.
Rain started to fall in heavy drops. I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time.
"Oh, great, it's dead!" I said as the rain started to fall more heavily.
"Hey, my apartment is far closer than yours," Kenneth said. "Why don't we duck in there for a while until the storm passes? I've got a fully stocked fridge. Plus, you can finally get to see where all the magic happens. The baking magic, of course," he said with a wink.
I checked my dead phone, just in case it had magically come back to life. Was this the best decision? To be alone in this guy's house with no way of being contacted, or able to contact anyone else?
I stood still for a second, wondering what Pippa would advise me to do. She'd probably tell me, better to be drenched than to end up dead. Then again, she was also the sort to take a risk. And at least I'd get a chance to snoop around Kenneth's apartment. Just in case he really was hiding something. Covertly, of course. I couldn't let him catch me, let him realize I still had that little nagging one percent suspicion in the back of my mind.
The apartment had stunning lake views and was decked out in modern white decor with high glass ceilings. Very impressive.
"Hmm, how does a cake decorator afford a place like this?" I asked with a little wink of suspicion.
"Ah, you're just not charging enough for your own work," he said, taking off his jacket. He showed me the space where he worked, a seven-foot long bench filled with every cake decorating tool and design sheet that existed.
"But where are the actual cakes?" I asked him.
He shot me another wink. "In a temperature-controlled room. They need to be stored at a very precise temperature so as not to destroy the integrity of the frosting."
Right. And where was he hiding that, exactly? I looked around the apart
ment anxiously.
It was clear that Kenneth considered what he did to be art. He'd also filled his space with expensive looking paintings and statues, and the furniture was all sleek and black with white cushions. There was nothing mismatched or tacky in the apartment; it was all modern and perfectly designed. I wondered what Kenneth would make of my disastrous home.
"Do you want a beer?" Kenneth asked me, his hand on the fridge.
Hmm, bit early in the day for me. And another coffee straight on the back of that latte would have been too much. "Do you have any tea?" I asked. "Honey in it would be good as well, I've got a bit of a sore throat."
"Yes, your majesty," he teased.
He fetched himself a beer and placed a kettle on the stovetop. Pretty soon it was whistling and the steam rising up while the rain poured outside made me feel all warm and cozy.
I wandered over to the window while Kenneth took care of the boiling kettle, and I noticed something strange. "Hey, you live right next door to the library."
I immediately wondered if I should have called attention to it. I was starting to get a strange little tugging feeling in my stomach.
Kenneth looked up in surprise. "Uh, yeah, I guess I do," he said with a little shrug as he came over and stood beside me at the window, tea cup in one hand and the kettle in the other. "I don't take that much notice of my surroundings."
I looked up at him in surprise as he handed me the freshly brewed tea. "You work from home though, right?" I asked him. "So you're here all the time."
"Yeah, and I actually work," he said teasingly. "As in, I am always pretty immersed in my work. I'm not just sitting here gazing out the window all day."
Fair enough. It still seemed strange for him to never have taken notice before.
"Have you checked out any books at the library lately?" I asked uneasily as I looked at his bookshelf. It was quite scarcely populated, with just a few books on the subject of cake decorating on the top shelves, as well as a couple of sketchbooks littering the bottom.
The Pumpkin Killer: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 5
