Killer Wedding Cake (Daphne Martin Cake Mystery)

by Gayle Trent

  It was then that China drove up. She pulled into Myra’s driveway, cut her engine, and came to sit with us on the porch.

  “Heard about what happened over the police scanner. I was going to go to Daphne’s, but then I saw the two of you sitting here.” She nodded her head toward the house. “Everything all right?”

  “As far as we know, it is,” I said.

  “We’re waiting for the menfolk to get back.” Myra pretended she was holding a hand fan and fluttering it in front of her face. “You know we weak little ladies can’t handle such excitement as a possible intruder.”

  “I’ve got the shotgun in the truck if you need it,” China said. “But I’m guessing nobody is in there and that nothing in the house has been disturbed. I’m thinking the killer left that calling card to scare you, Daphne.”

  “It worked.”

  She patted my forearm. “I imagine it did.”

  “So what’s your take on why this guy wants to scare Daphne?” Myra asked. “He’s killed off his partners. Why doesn’t he simply leave town? Why bother her?”

  “Maybe he believes she still has something he wants,” said China.

  “Like what? Money?” I shook my head. “They took that.”

  “I wish I knew.” The rest of China’s thoughts were unspoken because we saw “the menfolk” heading back.

  “Well? What’d you find?” Myra strode through the yard to meet the men. China and I stood, but we let them come to us.

  “We didn’t find anything,” said Hayden. “I imagine that whoever left that card in your door did so to frighten you, Ms. Martin. We will check the card for fingerprints, but there weren’t any on or around the door.”

  Ben put his arm around me. “And it doesn’t appear that anyone went inside. The lock wasn’t jimmied on the side door or the front door either. The windows were okay too. Everything looks fine.”

  “Sally and Sparrow are okay?” I asked.

  He nodded. “They’re great. Sally met us at the door, and Sparrow went running.”

  “They’d been in the same room then?”

  “It appears so.” He grinned. “They must be making progress.”

  “Must be.”

  “Ms. Martin, I’m heading back to the station now.” Officer Hayden handed me his card. “Call us if you have any more trouble.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  When he left, China once again offered her shotgun. “I’ll be happy to leave it here for you if you think you’ll need it. It’s got quite the recoil, but you don’t have to be too awfully accurate for it to save your life.”

  “I’m afraid I might be in more danger with it than I would be without it,” I said. “Still, I appreciate the offer.”

  “All right.” She turned to Ben. “My friend Martha over at the paper says young Neil is sure feeling his oats. She said he’s really looking forward to taking over in your absence.”

  “Yeah. I get the feeling he’d be happy to take over for me period. He was really hoping I’d take that job in Kentucky earlier this year and leave the editor position to him.”

  Ben had been approached—by an old flame, no less—to leave Brea Ridge and work for her start-up magazine in Kentucky. I was glad he turned down the offer…for more than one reason.

  I hugged him tightly. “I, for one, feel that we’re all right where we belong.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Monday morning over breakfast, I asked Ben what he’d be working on today.

  “Well, Mark is following up on a lead about another of Todd’s associates, and—”

  “I’m talking about your Chronicle work,” I interrupted.

  “Oh, yeah, trust me. I have plenty I can do from here.”

  “You need to go into the office today, Ben. From what China said last night, I get the feeling that Neil is getting way too comfy in your chair.”

  “So what? He’ll be running the paper next week anyway.”

  “And if you’re out this week, he’s running it now too. You need to go in and show your staff that you’re still in charge.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” He sipped his coffee and then put down his cup and smiled at me. “You’re serious.”

  “I am. I don’t know why, but I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

  “Gee, I can remember a beautiful woman—she looked an awfully lot like you—telling me to give Neil more responsibility. ‘You work too hard,’ she said. ‘Trust Neil to do his job so that you can take more time off,’ she said.” He frowned. “I could’ve sworn that was you, come to think of it.”

  “That was different. That was when you were working yourself to death and not letting anyone help you at all.” I huffed. “That was when you didn’t feel it was necessary to be my bodyguard.”

  “I like guarding your body.” He gave me an appraising look. “It’s a great body.”

  “You’re trying to get me off track. I’ll be fine. Please go into the office today.”

  “You were just threatened again last night. Do you honestly think I’m going to leave you?”

  “I wasn’t threatened,” I said. “Not really. Would it make you feel better if I called China and asked her to bring over her shotgun?”

  “Um…no, it would not.” He sighed. “All right. I’ll go in—for a little while. Promise me you won’t open the door for anyone and that you’ll call me if you need me.”

  I got up, went around to the back of his chair, and slid my arms down his chest. “I’ll need you.” I kissed his neck. “I always need you. But I’ll just have to wait until you get home.”

  “Keep that up, and I won’t go anywhere.”

  * * *

  I’d just put two tiers of our wedding cake into the oven—the ten-inch and six-inch chocolate layers—when there was a knock at the side door.

  I went to the door and immediately recognized Jeff, the young man who worked for McElroy Haynes. I opened the main door but left the storm door closed and locked.

  “Hi. Don’t tell me Mr. Haynes sent you back to check that element again.”

  He smiled. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, that’s good because I’m using the oven right now.”

  “Like I said, that’s not why I’m here this morning.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I came to ask you on a date,” he said.

  I thought that was ridiculous—the man was at least ten years younger than me. As he stood there with his aw, shucks persona, I wondered if there could be more to Jeff than met the eye.

  “You didn’t happen to come by here last night, did you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Someone stopped by and left a business card in my door.”

  Jeff frowned. “I didn’t know McElroy even had business cards.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t Mr. Haynes’ card,” I said. “It was a card from…someplace else.”

  “Well, I do a little moonlighting here and there, but none of the places I work for have fancy cards.” He smiled again. “So, what do you say?”

  “To what?”

  “To the date. Dang, you’re pretty but a tad slow.”

  “I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate my going out with another guy.” I laughed. “In fact, I’d better let you be on your way. I need to check on our wedding cake—that’s what’s in the oven.”

  “Oh, well. Congratulations.” He turned and left.

  I closed the main door and locked it. I realized my hands were trembling, and I went into the living room and sank onto the sofa. That young man was probably harmless, but I was looking for murderers around every corner.

  * * *

  I’d gotten the cakes out of the oven and had put them on wire racks to cool. I had one tier left—the eight-inch vanilla—and I’d bake it tomorrow.

  I went into the office and booted up the computer to look for ideas on decorating the cake table. As a decorator, I was used to concentrating on the cakes. The only time I’d really prepared a cake table dis
play was for the cake competition I’d taken part in this past spring. Typically, I designed the cake, and the caterer or event planner took care of the display.

  There was the beautiful white cake stand I’d already planned to use. Plus, I could drape the table with dark pink tulle and a white lace underskirt. But I wanted a little more oomph.

  Scrolling through the images I’d located through a search engine, I saw that some people put photographs of themselves or their parents on the table. That was a nice touch, but I didn’t know how big the cake table was going to be. I needed to check with Myra or Belinda on that.

  Another display I particularly liked had a glass top for the cake with roses and orchids between the glass and rest of the table. I could do something like that. I doubt I could afford the orchids, but white and pink roses would be beautiful.

  A message popped up telling me I had a new email. I checked my inbox and found that the message was from Bonnie.

  Are you stressing out? You sounded a little on edge when I spoke with you the other day, and I just want to make sure you’re all right.

  Rather than respond in writing, I gave her a call. I realized she was at work, but I wouldn’t keep her long.

  “Chilton Housing Authority, Bonnie speaking.”

  “Hey! It’s Daphne. I just got your email and wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Is everything okay? You sounded stressed the other day.”

  “Believe me, I have been stressed.” I told her about first finding Todd in my kitchen and then learning that he’d been murdered.

  “Murdered? Oh, my gosh. That’s terrible.”

  “I know. And I had to identify him for the police.”

  “Oh, Daphne. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. I just need to put it behind me. But I wanted you to know why it sounded like I was freaking out when you called.”

  “It’s because you were,” she said. “I’ve been debating on whether or not to tell you this, but Todd contacted me a couple of weeks after he got out of prison.”

  “He did what?” Her revelation made me lightheaded. Why hadn’t she contacted me as soon as this happened? Why had she kept this from me?

  “I didn’t even know who he was when the receptionist asked to put a call through from Todd Martin. I thought he was a loan client or something. And then he explained everything to me.”

  “Explained everything?” I imagine I sounded like a parrot, but I was so floored that I didn’t know what to say.

  “He told me he was your ex-husband—actually, he said that at about the same time that I made the connection myself—and asked if I knew where you were living now,” said Bonnie. “I told him that the last I heard, you’d moved to somewhere in Virginia.”

  I breathed a little easier. At least she hadn’t told him I was in Brea Ridge. Of course, Mom had taken care of that.

  “He started going on about how he wanted to make everything up to you,” she continued. “He even told me about getting down on one knee and proposing to you with his grandmother’s engagement ring. He said it was the best night of his life. I didn’t buy it, though, and I merely wished him luck on his quest.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me about this before?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you. I knew you and Ben were getting married soon and that the last thing you wanted was for Todd to come back around and try to ruin everything.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve called and warned you that he was looking for you.”

  I was silent while I digested what she’d said. His grandmother’s engagement ring. Could that be what Todd had been looking for? I had no idea what it was worth. And Todd hadn’t talked as if he’d been particularly close to his grandmother. But I’d sent that ring to his mother via certified mail after we’d divorced. How did he not know that?

  “Are you angry?” Bonnie asked.

  “No. I’m just trying to figure out what it was Todd really wanted. He didn’t contact me in all the years that we were apart—not once. And then he came here to Brea Ridge trying to act like he loved me and wanted to get back together. I knew that was fishy from the start. And I think I know now why he was here.”

  “Why?”

  “To get his grandmother’s engagement ring,” I said. “He’d been talking to Mom and crying hard times to her. She even offered to help him relocate in Roanoke.”

  “What?” Bonnie’s voice reached a volume and pitch that seared through my brain.

  “Yeah, well—anyway, I think now that he needed money and wanted to pawn that ring. But I returned it to his mother years ago.”

  “Too bad he didn’t know that before coming to Brea Ridge. What do you think got him killed?”

  “I believe he must’ve gotten mixed up with some criminals—either while he was still in prison or as soon as he got out,” I said. “It’s possible he owed one of them money. But, then, why would they kill him? All the cop shows say criminals don’t kill someone who owes them money because dead people don’t pay.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t trying to get money to pay back to someone he owed. Maybe he was going to use it to try to start a new life somewhere—somewhere other than your mom’s neighborhood.”

  * * *

  After talking with Bonnie, I called Myra.

  “Do you know what color table linens we’ll be using for the reception?” I asked.

  “Belinda said she’d have her staff simply use what they always used for garden parties—white linen tablecloths and napkins. Is that all right?”

  “That’s great. For the wedding cake display table, I’d like to have a smaller table just to highlight the cake. We’ll have the cake, the server, two small plates, and napkins for Ben and me to use after we cut the cake and feed bites to each other.”

  “Okay. What else do you need?”

  “I want a white lace tablecloth, and then I want to drape the table in dark pink tulle. You think we can get those at a craft store in Bristol or Kingsport?” I mentioned my idea of having a separate glass tabletop with flowers beneath it. “Do you think we can do that?”

  “I’m sure we can. Maybe we can head out to the craft stores tomorrow.”

  “Good. And I’ll need to call Steve Franklin,” I said. “He told me he could help me get the flowers at wholesale price, and I also want to put pink and white roses beneath the glass.”

  “That’ll be beautiful.” Myra giggled. “I’m so excited.”

  “Me too.” I’d said that to Leslie, but this time it was truer. I was starting to get excited about the wedding again. It would be wonderful to put all this business with Todd behind me and move forward with my life.

  “By the way, did you know that Monty Larson had a girlfriend?”

  “No.” I scoffed. “I guess she was supposed to have been my pianist?”

  Myra laughed. “Probably. Or, more likely, your kazoo player.”

  “I cannot believe I was so taken in by that man.”

  “Now, don’t worry about that. The past is the past. Let’s move forward. The only reason I told you about the girlfriend is because she’s still here.”

  “Here?” I exclaimed. “In Brea Ridge? I need to talk with her!”

  “Actually, Mark is on his way to do just that.”

  “You and I need to talk with her too, Myra. Where is she?”

  She was quiet long enough for me to realize that she was debating whether or not she should tell me.

  “You know that you and I can reach her better than Mark can,” I said. “I mean, I realize Mark is a wonderful interrogator, but he’s still a man. She’ll identify better with the two of us.”

  “That’s exactly what I told him when I tried to get him to take me with him in the first place. He said it might be dangerous and that I should stay here.”

  “But it won’t be dangerous if both of us are there.” I knew it wouldn’t take much to push Myra over the edge. “Am I right?”

  “You’re absolutely right. He’s buying her a cup of co
ffee at that little diner in town. You want to drive, or you want me to?”

  “I’ll drive,” I said, already getting my purse and keys and heading for the door. “I’ll be to get you in about two minutes.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “It’s a good thing for me that you’re slipping,” I told Myra on the drive to the diner. “If not, you’d have gone with Mark in the first place, and I wouldn’t have even known about this visit with Monty’s girlfriend.”

  “I am most certainly not slipping. If I’d gone with Mark, I’d have missed the last fifteen minutes of The Young and the Restless, and it was an exciting episode. Besides, I get some of my best detecting tips from Paul Williams.”

  Paul was one of Myra’s favorite characters on the soap opera. He’d been on the show and been portrayed by the same actor for more than thirty-five years.

  “I know, I know. I just hope we’re not too late to get in on this interrogation,” I said.

  “We won’t be.” Myra took a compact from her purse and powdered her face. “I don’t know how much this woman will be able to tell us.”

  “Neither do I, but I don’t want to miss any of it.”

  The diner wasn’t terribly busy at this time of day, so I found a parking spot easily. When we walked inside, Mark’s eyes widened in a what-are-you-two-doing-here expression that both Myra and I ignored.

  The pair was seated at a booth. We joined them—Myra sliding onto the bench beside Mark while I sat with Monty’s girlfriend.

  “Hi.” Myra reached across the table to offer her hand to the mousy young woman. “I’m Myra Jenkins.”

  The girlfriend shook Myra’s hand. “I’m Lila Canter.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Daphne Martin.” I decided to forego the handshake. “I’m Todd’s ex-wife. Did you know Todd?”

  Lila nodded. “He was friends with Monty.”

  Mark cleared his throat. “Lila and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

  “Would you please bring us up to speed, darling?” Myra asked, tilting her head to give her beloved a sidelong glance and coquettish smile.

  I’d have to ask her if she’d watched Gone with the Wind lately because that was a Scarlett O’Hara move if I’d ever seen one.