“I’m no private investigator, Dexter. You know that! I'm a baker. Besides, I don’t track down people. I happen to solve crimes that occur around me.”
Dexter nodded, as if he’d already considered all of this. “I know. But I think there’s more going on in this town than meets the eye. Honestly, I need another set of eyes on this and another set of hands in the bakery.”
Margot nodded, finally seeing the fullness of his plan. “Bring me up here as a baker, and then I can snoop where you can’t.”
“Look…” He leaned forward, setting his tea on the coffee table and folding his fingers together. “I know this is taking time away from your own shop, and it’s out of your normal purview, but I need you, Margot. I need someone…”
Her heart clenched at the look of loss on the young man’s face. He was alone in a world where he’d thought he’d found family only to have them taken away. Where he’d felt safe only to have that safety ripped apart. She couldn’t leave him in this by himself.
“I’ll help.”
“You will?”
“Yes, on one condition.”
He licked his lips before nodding. “Okay.”
“You tell me your secret to the lemon filling on your tartlets. The ones with the spun sugar on top.”
He tossed his head back and gave a hearty laugh. “If that’s all you’re demanding then yes, I can definitely do that.”
She smiled warmly at him. “I’m here for you, Dexter. And I mean that.”
“I know.”
“Besides—” She smiled again. “—my new assistant is rather competent.”
He feigned hurt. “You’ve already replaced me?”
“You did leave me in a lurch, you know.”
He nodded, looking out the window again. Was that a sheen of tears in his eyes?
“I had no choice.”
The clock read well past midnight and, as much as Margot wanted to know more of the story, she also knew that they would have to wake up early to begin their baking.
“Why don’t we talk more in the morning? I’m assuming we’ve got some baking to do.”
“You can sleep in. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“No, sir,” she said, standing and depositing her empty mug on the counter by the small sink. “We’ll bake together so that we can both get a little extra sleep.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He stood as well. “Thank you, Margot.”
She saw the weight of his gratitude filling his eyes and almost couldn’t bear to look at him. The depth of her care for him, as much as she’d care for her sister, filled her chest and, rather than risk speaking, she nodded and left.
They had much to accomplish in the week that she would be in Bath. She only hoped they could make headway in not only finding his sister, but uncovering whatever was going on in this small, seeming inconsequential town on the eastern seaboard.
Chapter 4
The feel of dough beneath her hands and Dexter opposite her on the other side of the metal table felt right. They had spent many mornings like this and she’d forgotten how nice it was to work with someone who could anticipate your needs. She’d spent time with Julia, but they were still in the beginning stages of getting to know one another around the kitchen.
This was different, though. Yes, it was a foreign kitchen, but Dexter had set it up—or was that Danielle?—to almost mirror her own kitchen.
“This is a really nice space.”
She looked around, now able to admire the interior of the kitchen as well as the pass-through that led to the main front area. It was filled with bright morning light, though the streets remained empty at this early hour.
“Danielle really has an eye for natural light. When she saw this place was on the market, I told her she was crazy. It was a former café without a real kitchen. I told her it would take too much work, and yet she did it.”
Though one of the front doors still had cardboard closing it off from where the glass had broken, it didn’t do anything to stifle the natural light.
“I like that she’s added that gift shop section over there.” Margot indicated the far corner, where two large bay windows brought in the light. One contained a display ready to house fresh baked goods, or fake ones should the occasion call for it, while the other offered a display of what Margot assumed were creations of local artisans. Clay mugs and bowls, candles, felted hats, and a few prints of the area with fall foliage dotted the window in an artful arrangement. Then, on the inside, a few tables, cabinets, and stands offered the goods for tourists to shop through.
Near that area were small, round tables for guests to sit at while the other side boasted the long glass cases to house the pasties. This bakery wasn’t French in origin though and boasted loaves of hearty wheat breads, delicious muffins, and an assortment of cookies.
“The folks in this area love it here. You’ll see the regulars soon, but we also get a fair amount of tourists as well as factory workers because of the ironworks facility not too far away. Danielle thought that expanding some of her business to host local artists could really draw a community feeling.”
“I think it’s great,” Margot said, pushing a measuring cup out of her way. “Sometimes I wish I had more space at the bakery, but I do like how cozy my shop is.” She thought of Julia wading through the rigorous morning and pushed away the urge to call her. She was a competent baker and would do a good job keeping the shop afloat.
“Don’t change the Pâtisserie. It’s perfect as is.”
Margot smiled. She loved her bakery, The Parisian Pâtisserie, and wouldn’t really change it. “I won’t, don’t you worry.”
Just then a knock sounded on the other glass front door.
“Oh, let me get that.” Dexter quickly rinsed his hands at the sink and then went to the door.
Margot shut out their conversation as she focused on the task at hand, but her mind soon wandered to Dexter’s sister. She didn’t know enough to even speculate about where she might have gone, but it took a lot to leave your home and your shop without telling anyone. It took forethought and at least a little bit of preparation.
She’d have to ask Dexter, but there had to be things that were missing—things she took with her. And was it possible there was someone she’d gone to stay with?
“Margot?”
Coming out of her thoughts, her attention shifted to the two men. One was the detective from the night before.
“Be right there.”
She washed her hands as well and met the men at the front, reminding herself that it was Hector not Dexter.
“Hello again, Detective Graham.”
“Peter,” he offered with a kind smile.
“Peter was just saying that the man still remains unidentified,” Dexter said, looking uneasy.
Now that Margot knew more of the story, she wondered if this man had anything to do with Danielle and her disappearance. Had he been looking for information on the woman? It seemed like a bit of a coincidence for him not to be. Then again, why would a man break in to a bakery if he was trying to uncover something? Why make all that noise? And the question remained: had his death really been an accident?
Then again, was it possible that she hadn’t disappeared on purpose and someone had seen to it?
Too many questions assailed her and she tried to refocus on what the detective was saying. “—nothing to worry about. Accidents like this happen, especially in this area. There is a large homeless population, more than you’d expect.”
Margot found this hard to believe, especially thinking about the weather conditions. And the man. There had been inconsistencies about him. Like the fact that he hadn’t smelled bad at all, though he looked as if he’d been on the street. Had it been genuine or was the appearance due to something else? Possibly someone dressing him up to look like that? That was a stretch and she had nothing to go off of, but it was something to consider.
“Well, thanks for stopping by, Pete. Muffin for the road?”
“Sure thing. I can’t resist the blueberry ones.”
“You bet. Let me wrap that up for you. Cup of joe too?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
Dexter left to get the man’s order and Margot turned to look at him. Today, the detective was dressed in a suit, expensive by the cut of it, and his dark hair was slicked back in a trendy style. Much too trendy for this small town, but she’d already established that he wasn’t from around here.
“I hear you’re a baker then?”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m up helping D—Hector for a little while.” She bit the inside of her cheek at the fact she’d almost said Dexter. The detective’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly.
“That’s great. I wish Darcy were still around. She makes the best pastries I’ve ever had.” The was something in the way the man spoke about Dexter’s sister. Almost a type of familiarity.
“Yes, I hear she’s been gone a while now?” Margot tried to tread carefully, unsure of what Dexter had told those in town about his sister’s disappearance.
“Yes. About two weeks now.” A shadow crossed over the man’s eyes. “Some type of business she had to take care of.”
Margot was about to ask where she’d said she was going and whom she’d told when Dexter came back.
“Here you go. And a chocolate muffin for that partner of yours.”
Peter held up the coffee in a salute. “Thank you kindly.”
Margot’s gaze followed him as she left, a hundred questions haunting her. Like what Peter Graham knew about Danielle, because she was certain he knew more than he was letting on.
“This is where I found the car.” Dexter pulled his massive truck to the side of the road.
Margot took in the area. Thick foliage covered the surrounding landscape and the scent of the ocean hung on the air. She spun in a slow circle and then turned her gaze to the ground.
“Someone picked her up.”
“What?” Dexter turned to her from where he’d been walking along the edge of the clearing.
“See?” She pointed at the ground. “These are obviously your tire tracks, and then these here are different, and then one more set. Granted, it was a few weeks ago, but if you haven’t had rain and this isn’t a busy part of town…” She trailed off.
“Not busy at all. In fact, this is land a friend of mine owns.”
“So then, I’d assume she drove here and, there—” Margot took a few steps forward. “—went that way.”
“Margot, that’s incredible.”
She shrugged. “Not really. I just happened to notice the distinct tread on your truck tires and then started to analyze the ground. I could certainly be wrong, though. But, if I’m right, then we need to consider the fact that she went that way—” Margot pointed. “—and was picked up, which means she had someone help her. Or…” She pressed her lips closed, unwilling to voice the idea that she had been kidnapped. It was looking more likely that she had left voluntarily though.
“That is significant.” Dexter looked hurt. “Why wouldn’t she tell me that she was leaving?”
“I'm sorry, Dexter.” Margot felt the weight of his sadness as if it hung in the air. “I don’t know, but there has to be a reason. What’s in that direction?”
He looked up the road and frowned. “If you go far enough, you’ll end up at the highway. From there, you could pretty much go anywhere.”
“Did she talk about any other friends she knew? Someone she would trust?”
“Not really. I mean…” Dexter rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t think she went back, do you?”
“Back?”
His eyes opened wider and he shook his head. “I…may have left a few things out.”
“You need to tell me everything,” she said, her head tilting in a manner that bartered no argument.
“Right. Yeah. Okay.” He turned back to the truck. “Let’s go back to my place.”
Margot kept her lips pressed together as they drove back to the bakery, knowing that Dexter wouldn’t want to talk until they were in his secure location. Now, when they drove past the bakery, she knew what to look for and could see the cheery outside, decorated for fall. It was closed now, the employees having cleaned up and headed home, and everything seemed to be in order aside from the cardboard still attached to the door. Someone would have to do something about that soon.
They walked up the stairs and, when Dexter’s security measures were in place again, she tuned to face him. “Please, tell me everything so I can help you.”
“Right.” He rubbed a hand through his hair and slumped into the only chair while Margot took up a position on the couch.
“I should have told you this before. Before I found Danielle, like I told you, she was mixed up with The Queen.”
Margot felt her stomach clench. “As in The Queen.”
“Yes.”
At Dexter’s affirmation, Margot’s mind filled in the gruesome information on the supposedly all-women con gang that had turned dark. They hard started out as a harmless con group—if you could call a group of cons harmless—but then something had happened and suddenly their MO had changed. They left a body at a crime scene and since then, the body count had only risen.
“But don’t they operate out of Atlantic City?”
He shrugged. “Anyone’s guess was as good as the next person, really. I believe their home base is—or was—there, but they sent out teams up and down the East Coast to extend their reach.”
“So the FBI was asking you to work on the case to find them.”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to volunteer the information that my long-lost sister had once been involved with them, especially since she’d gone off the grid and become Darcy a long time ago…” He shifted nervously in his seat. “But they found out. I’m not really surprised—they are the FBI.” He gave a mirthless laugh.
“You had to know that they would.”
“Let’s just say that I’d made it so they couldn’t find that, unless they were really, really good. And, at the time, they weren’t. But things changed.”
“And they found out.”
“Yes. Which is why they called me back,” he continued.
“And why you disappeared.”
He grimaced. “I did come up here initially to talk to Danni to make sure she was all right and that she wasn’t involved. As you can imagine, that conversation didn’t go well.” He sighed and leaned back. “But after I explained what was going on to her, she wanted to help. She said she wanted to contact the FBI and be the witness they needed.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. I thought she was crazy. Eventually, I thought I’d convinced her that it wasn’t the right move—at least not yet.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I had a feeling they have an inside man—or, er, woman.”
“The Queen?”
“Yeah.” Dexter met Margot’s gaze. “There’s no other way they could operate the way they do. I figured it was someone pretty high up in the FBI or something in order to misdirect the information and stay ahead of them as much as they did.
“Danielle thought she might know who it was, too.”
Margot shook her head. “This is more complex than I initially realized.”
“Yeah. I mean Danielle was careful though, so it bothers me that you think she was working with someone. Who could that be? And why go now? I mean, she was bothered when I said I wanted to investigate on my own, but I shared everything I could with her.”
“She must have felt as if her being here somehow endangered you.”
“That wasn’t a good enough reason.” He sounded more like a petulant child now than a man whose sister was missing, but Margot knew it came out of frustration. “She should have at least told me.”
Margot leaned back, contemplating, when her phone rang. The screen read Adam.
“I’d better take this. It’s Adam.”
Chapter 5
Dexter nodded and she stepped into the hall and made her way to the room she was staying in.
“Hello?” she said, stepping to the window.
“Hey.” Adam’s deep voice was reassuring even from over six hundred miles away. “What have you been up to?”
“Baking,” she said honestly, not sure that she wanted to admit to having found a dead body late the night before or that she was now in search of their friend’s sister who had mysteriously disappeared and was likely once affiliated with The Queen criminal network.
“Um hum,” he said, his tone bordering on disappointment. “And here I thought you’d be out sightseeing.”
She laughed, knowing he had never truly thought that.
“Oh, we saw…some things today.”
“I see.” He let the line go quiet for a moment. “I was just calling to see if you needed, I don't know, help with…anything.”
While she hadn’t specifically said why she was making this visit, and he hadn’t asked, Margot had a feeling Adam knew she’d left to help Dexter with something more than just baking. She also now wondered how much he knew about the case Dexter had been called back on. If Adam knew where she had gone—which he did since she shared her flight information with him—was it possible he had told the FBI contacts that he had?
Then again, Adam wasn’t one to share information that wasn’t required of him, if the circumstances were right.
“At the moment? No.” She opened her mouth to say more, but Dexter’s warning about safety kept ringing in her mind. Was it possible speaking on the phone wasn’t safe?
“Are you sure?” Adam’s tone now hinted at worry, the worry he was trying but failing to keep her from recognizing.
“Yes,” she said more firmly. “I will email you should I need something.”
He hesitated and she hoped that meant he understood her unspoken warning: phone calls aren’t safe.
“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely a good idea,” he said, sounding more chipper than before. Was it forced?
Murder in Maine (Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 3
