German Chocolate Killer (Cupcakes in Paradise Book 11)

by Summer Prescott

  “Precisely, and we still haven’t spoken with Harley Donaldson.”

  “Are you going to the bar tonight, or am I?”

  “We’ll both go,” Chas replied, lost in thought.

  “Gotcha. Hey, wait a minute…” Spencer had been flipping through the interview notes for Brock Treadworth.

  “What?”

  “In the crime scene photos, there’s a floral arrangement and a box of candy on the kitchen counter,” Spencer pointed out the photo.

  “Yes. So…?” Chas frowned.

  “So, in Brock’s statement, he said that he stopped at the crystal shop after work because he hadn’t had a chance to get Leigh a present. If those flowers and candy didn’t come from Brock…where did they come from?”

  “Isn’t there a photo of the card in the file?” Chas asked.

  Spencer flipped through the photos and pulled one out. “Here it is. The card says, ‘From your loving husband.’”

  “Why would he lie about not having done anything for his anniversary?”

  “Because he needed a reason for his alibi,” Spencer guessed.

  “So, I was bored,” Ringo barged into the office without bothering to knock. “And I noticed the name on the file on your desk and thought I’d do a little exploring,” he plopped down into the chair next to Spencer, taking a large bite from a strand of black licorice.

  “Exploring?” Chas asked. He and Spencer exchanged a look.

  “Yeah, the dude whose wife got murdered. He’s a politician, so I was naturally suspicious and decided to go on a cyber joyride to check him out. I saw in the file that he said he went to a crystal shop and then went home, but that isn’t what his credit card statement says,” Ringo grinned, his teeth appearing slightly grey from the licorice.

  “Oh?” Chas sat forward and picked up his pen.

  “He bought something at a jewelry store sometime Friday night.”

  “How do you know it was Friday night and not Friday morning or afternoon?” Spencer challenged.

  “Because the charge didn’t post until the next day. I’m guessing he didn’t mention that little tidbit to you,” Ringo stuffed the rest of the strand in his mouth and chewed noisily.

  “What’s the name of the store?” Chas demanded.

  Ringo told him.

  “Oh, and since I’m here, I thought you might want to know that your Motorcycle Man is back in action, and he’s pretty close to the address of the murder right now,” the hacker announced.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Spencer blinked at him.

  “Cell phone locators, bro. It’s like magic,” Ringo shrugged.

  Chas flipped his file folder shut. “Ringo, do you have his current location?”

  “Yep, he’s right next door to the scene.”

  Chas and Spencer both stood, and moved immediately toward the door.

  “Wow, I know how to clear a room,” Ringo commented, chuckling as he meandered down the hall after them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  “Harley Donaldson?” Chas asked, approaching the landscaper as he knelt in front of a pile of mulch in Agnes Quisenberry’s garden.

  “Yeah?” the young man sat back, brushing mulch from his hands.

  “Detective Chas Beckett, Calgon PD,” Chas flashed his badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure, shoot,” Harley stood, pressing his hand into the small of his back to stretch and wincing a bit.

  “How did you injure your hand?” Spencer broke in, indicated Donaldson’s bandaged finger.

  “Occupational hazard,” Harley shrugged. “I don’t usually wear gloves when I’m working and I pretty much get cuts and scrapes every day.”

  “Can you describe the nature of your relationship with Leigh Treadworth?” Chas jumped right in, while Spencer scanned the garden area, heading specifically for the rose bushes.

  “We didn’t really have a relationship. I went to high school with her. She was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Did you have a disagreement with her recently?” Chas probed.

  “A disagreement? Heck no. That woman didn’t have a disagreeable bone in her body,” he shook his head. “I still can’t believe that she’s gone.”

  “Where were you on Friday night, between six and ten o’clock?”

  “I was at home. I live a pretty simple life. I’m at home every night except for Wednesdays. It’s half price pizza night at Atomic Pizza, so I go down there and eat a pepperoni pizza and have a couple of beers.”

  “I hear you’ve been spending quite a bit of time at the Alley Kat these days,” Chas remarked casually.

  “Yeah. Ever since I heard about what happened to Leigh. It’s so awful, it just threw me, you know?”

  “Why didn’t you show up here on Saturday?”

  “I start my morning out by reading the paper and having a cup of coffee. When I opened the paper on Saturday, the first thing I saw was that Leigh had been murdered. It freaked me out. I couldn’t function. So I just went on a drinking binge that lasted for a few days,” Harley explained, averting his eyes.

  “Just a minute ago you told me that you didn’t really have a relationship with the victim. If that’s the case, why did her death impact you so profoundly?” Chas drilled him.

  “First, because she was such a sweet person, and didn’t deserve that, and second because we were classmates. It freaked me out that someone who I actually knew got killed. I mean, I’ve seen her at least once a week since I started working for Mrs. Quisenberry a couple of years ago. It messed with my head.”

  Chas saw Spencer don gloves, pick up a pair of small pruning shears and approach the rose bush, first taking a photo, then reaching into the plant.

  “Excuse me,” Chas said absently, making his way over to where Spencer had just snipped a section of the rose bush. “What have you got?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Look at this,” Spencer held the thorny branch carefully and pointed to a large brown splotch.

  “Blood,” Chas nodded.

  “Chances are it could have come from Donaldson working out here, but, we can test it anyway. The killer placed a rose petal under the victim’s tongue. The rose petal may have come from this bush. My thought is that since Harley is a pro, he’d know not to just grab a thorn, leaving blood behind,” Spencer spoke softly enough so that the gardener couldn’t hear him.

  “Good call,” Chas nodded. “We need to check out his alibi. Talk to his neighbors, see if he’s being honest about his habits.”

  “Sounds like a good task for Robeson,” Spencer suggested.

  “That was my thought too,” Chas nodded. “I’m going to check out the jewelry store where Brock Treadworth stopped on Friday night. You get back to the office and see if Ringo found out anything else while he was bored. Take him some donuts or something.”

  “You got it,” Spencer nodded, heading back to the car while Chas gave Harley his business card and the directive not to leave town until further notice.

  “Where am I gonna go, man?” was the dejected reply.

  **

  Chas was ushered into the plush interior of Brock Treadworth’s law office and found Brock to be as prickly and cross as usual.

  “I’m hoping you’re here to tell me that you’ve finally arrested someone for murdering my wife,” his tone held more than a hint of annoyance.

  The detective’s direct response shattered any pretense of civility.

  “Mr. Treadworth, you lied to me and I want to know why,” he leveled him with a gaze.

  “That’s preposterous,” Brock sputtered, his face flushed. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Save the blustering for politics. I want a straight answer or you might just end your campaign sitting in a jail cell,” Chas wasn’t thrown off in the least.

  “Detective, I will not sit here and listen to you making slanderous accusations. If you have something to say, say it, othe
rwise, get out,” Treadworth ordered.

  “You told me during our initial interview that you hadn’t gotten anything for your wife on your anniversary, which is why you left work. Does this photo look familiar to you?” Chas tossed the picture of the floral arrangement onto his desk.

  “I didn’t get that. My secretary had it sent on my behalf, you can ask her yourself. I knew that once Leigh saw the candy that came with it, she would know that I wasn’t the one who ordered it, so I had to get something on my own.”

  “Why would she have doubted that it came from you?”

  “She thought that she was fat, so she’d know that I’d never send her candy,” Brock shook his head.

  “Did she think she was fat, or did she think that you thought she was fat?” Chas challenged.

  Brock gave him a blank stare.

  “Did you criticize your wife’s figure, Mr. Treadworth?” Chas asked.

  “I’d let her know when she started to let herself go, sure. She told me that she appreciated the feedback.”

  “She appreciated it so much that her body showed early signs of starvation, according to her autopsy.”

  “That’s ridiculous, she wasn’t that thin,” Brock made a face.

  “Who was the jewelry for?” Chas changed the subject to catch Treadworth off guard.

  “What are you talking about?” the politician squirmed in his chair and folded his hands in front of him, twiddling his thumbs.

  “The second lie that you told me was that you came home directly from the crystal shop, but you didn’t, did you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brock avoided the question.

  “I reviewed the footage at the jewelry store which showed you buying a pretty expensive necklace. The necklace strangely didn’t turn up in the inventory of contents gathered at the crime scene.”

  “It’s none of your business,” Brock muttered.

  “It’s very much my business, Mr. Treadworth, and if you’d like to explain it to me down at the station rather than right here in your office, that can be arranged,” Chas stared him down.

  “I have a daughter. She turned five on Saturday, so I was buying her a gift,” Treadworth admitted with a sigh.

  “Weren’t you celebrating your fifth wedding anniversary?”

  “Yes, now you understand why I didn’t want to discuss my daughter,” Brock flushed again.

  “Who’s her mother?” Chas asked quietly.

  “I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Treadworth grumbled.

  “Sorry Counselor, but this isn’t a court of law. I decide what’s relevant. Who is your daughter’s mother?” Chas repeated.

  “Teresa Kimbrel.”

  “Your opponent’s wife.” It wasn’t a question. “You have to know how this looks,” Chas commented.

  “I know, but it’s all just a strange coincidence,” Brock protested. “Bart doesn’t know that she’s not his kid and Leigh didn’t know that I had a daughter.”

  “What if she found out?” Chas challenged.

  “I would have handled it,” Brock shrugged. “She always wanted kids.”

  “I’m guessing that it would look pretty bad for a politician to be divorced and have an illegitimate kid. A widower would garner sympathy from his constituents, but a philanderer is a whole other story,” Chas mused.

  “Why don’t you try doing your job instead of hounding me, and by the way, you need to call off your partner, the tall amazon chick. She’s been harassing the daylights out of me on a daily basis. Oh, and nice move sending your wife in, by the way,” Brock growled.

  “My wife?”

  “Like you didn’t know she brought me sympathy cupcakes,” Treadworth rolled his eyes, seemingly glad for a change of subject.

  Chas was thrown for a moment, but recovered quickly. “When did you last speak with Teresa Kimbrel?” he changed the subject.

  “Friday night, when I dropped off the necklace. It was a brief visit because Bart was on his way home.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Brock’s exasperation was evident. “Do you know anyone who constantly tracks their every move by the clock? I sure don’t. What time did you brush your teeth this morning, Detective?” he demanded.

  “Precisely 5:46,” Chas shot back, not missing a beat. “I would think that someone running for public office might be more careful and would keep track of his time. We’re done here for now, Treadworth, but I’ll be back.”

  “Oh yay, I can’t wait,” the lawyer snorted.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  “Chas, where’s Kaylee?” Missy ran out of the toddler’s room, her face ashen.

  “She went to get ice cream with Mattie and Spencer,” her husband informed her, his face entirely too grave.

  “Oh,” Missy frowned, confused. “Well, we could have taken her.”

  “I asked them to take her because I needed to talk to you,” he led her to the couch in the upstairs den. “Have a seat.”

  “Is everything okay? What’s wrong, Chas?”

  “I paid Brock Treadworth a visit at his office today and discovered that you had been there before I had.”

  Missy gulped and twisted her hands in her lap, not knowing what to say.

  “Are you mad?” she asked finally.

  “I’m concerned,” Chas sat next to her, his knee rubbing against hers. “What were you thinking? This man is being investigated in connection with a murder. You could have put yourself in danger,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, Echo said the same thing,” Missy sighed.

  “You dragged Echo into this too?” Chas shook his head. “This isn’t like you, honey. What’s going on here?”

  “I just wanted to help,” her eyes grew moist and Chas gathered her into his arms.

  “While I appreciate the sentiment, I really want you to let the trained pros deal with suspects, okay?” he kissed the top of her head as she leaned into his warmth. “It makes my job more difficult if I’m distracted by worrying about you, and I can’t afford to be distracted when I’m dealing with a homicide, sweetie.”

  “I know,” Missy sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he tilted her chin up so that he could gaze into her stormy grey eyes.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just want to do brave, exciting things while I still can,” she admitted, her cheeks turning crimson. “Isn’t that awful of me?”

  “No, it’s not awful, I understand that your life is going to change dramatically. Mine will too, but not to the same degree. But sweetie…there’s something you need to realize,” he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Motherhood is one of the bravest, most exciting things that life has to offer. You’re going to be a mommy ninja,” he grinned at her.

  “But, what if I’m not?” she bit her lip. “What if I’m tired and cranky and boring all the time?”

  “Well…Echo had a baby. Is she tired and cranky and boring all the time?”

  “Of course not, but Echo is…bold, feisty, determined,” Missy pointed out.

  “Yeah, I don’t know anybody like that,” he teased, making her smile. “Melissa Beckett, you are one of the smartest, bravest, most amazing humans that I know, and you’re going to be a great mom. I’ll be here by your side, the whole way, and we’ll rock this parenting thing,” Chas assured her with a tender smile.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Now, how about a swim before our favorite nanny and P.I. get back with our daughter?” he proposed.

  “A swim sounds perfect,” Missy agreed, feeling better than she had in quite a while. She couldn’t wait to have this baby and get her hormones back in line.

  “And no more stealth sleuthing.”

  “I’ll try,” she bit her lip, making Chas laugh.

  “I’ll take that for now,” he shook his head and led her from the room.

  **

  Spencer lifted Kaylee down f
rom his shoulders so that they could order their ice cream.

  “Okay, do you want chocolate or vanilla?” he asked.

  “Nilla,” Kaylee clapped her hands with delight.

  “Nilla it is,” Spencer grinned, then turned to Mattie. “How about you?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “Uh…I don’t think I’ll have anything, thanks.”

  Her cheeks flushed, making Spencer wonder if she was too warm in the Florida heat.

  “Are you sure? The frozen custard here is out of this world,” he tried to catch her gaze.

  “I just…I don’t usually eat sweets,” she shrugged.

  “Well, I don’t either, but this is a special occasion, so I’m getting a triple,” he grinned, feeling strangely carefree.

  “My mama always said if I don’t watch my figure, no one else will,” Mattie barked a nervous laugh.

  “Matisse, I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about in that regard,” he eyed her appreciatively.

  “Oh please,” she rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being nice. I know I’m a little chubby and I’m okay with it, I just don’t want it to get out of hand.”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I never say anything just to be nice,” Spencer chuckled. “I happen to find you very attractive, just the way that you are.”

  Mattie blushed to the roots of her hair, and her mouth gaped a bit as she stared at him in disbelief.

  “You do not,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve been trying to date you for a couple of weeks now and you keep throwing me into the friend zone. I’m not giving up though. Chocolate or vanilla?” he asked with a devilish grin, full dimples.

  “Chocolate,” she stared at him, still beet-red.

  “A double?”

  She nodded and he turned to place their order.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Annoyed when his work phone buzzed in his pocket, Chas glanced at the screen and reached for his keys. By the time he reached Bart Kimbrel’s accounting office, he found the florid, sweat-soaked accountant on the lawn in front of the office building, struggling with an infuriated young man. The candidate for Treasurer sat on the young man’s back, keeping his wrists trapped between his shoulder blades.