Caramel Crush

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Mel!” Mel turned around to see Joe and Ray hurrying toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She threw herself into Joe’s arms and squeezed him as hard as she could without cutting off his air supply.

  “I’m fine,” she said. Ray was smiling at them like a big dope and she reached over to punch him on the shoulder. “Nice timing with the cavalry.”

  “I do what I can,” he said with a shrug, but he looked pleased.

  “Joe, I got it all on video on Butch’s phone, but I had to throw it in the ball pit. We have to get it before someone steps on it.”

  “On it,” Joe said. He released her and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the area where Uncle Stan was reading Suzanne and Tyson their rights.

  “He just called Butch’s phone,” Mel said to Joe. He nodded in complete understanding.

  Joe took Tyson’s phone out of his pocket and then grabbed Tyson’s hand and pressed his thumb on the home button to unlock it. The display lit up and Joe opened his recent activity and called the number last called.

  Captain and Tennille began to chime out of the ball pit and Joe looked at Mel.

  “‘Love Will Keep Us Together’?” he asked.

  “‘Think of me, babe, whenever,’” Mel sang. She tipped her head in Tara’s direction and continued, “‘Some sweet talking girl comes along—’”

  “Stop!” Joe ordered and then sang, “‘’Cause I really love you.’”

  Mel laughed, and he drew her close and kissed her.

  “Ugh, I think I’m going to vomit,” Tara said. She waved for a couple of uniforms to enter the ball pit and retrieve the phone as she joined their group with a frown marring her features.

  “What?” Ray turned to look at her as if she had just committed sacrilege. “You don’t like Captain and Tennille? Who doesn’t like Captain and Tennille?”

  “Anyone with any taste in music,” Tara said. She rolled her eyes and began to walk away from him, but Ray was not to be deterred.

  “So, are you a cop? You don’t look like a cop. I have to say I’d let you frisk me anytime you wanted. You’re utterly adorable minus the questionable taste in music and career,” he said.

  “Oh. My. God.” Tara picked up her pace but Ray was hot on her heels.

  “That could be fun to watch,” Mel said.

  “Oh, yes, Ray might have finally met his match,” Joe agreed. He turned to Mel and wrapped her in his arms. “Just like I met mine.”

  “Ready to go home?” she asked.

  “Always,” he said.

  Twenty-six

  Butch Bordow was taken to the hospital. It seemed that when Suzanne shot at him, he threw himself to the ground and knocked himself out cold. He was going to live but with his drinking problem it was anyone’s guess for how long.

  Mel and Joe spent most of the evening at the station while Mel gave her statement. It became clear fairly quickly that Ray had been playing secret double agent on her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that but given that it had undoubtedly kept them from being killed, it was hard to hold a grudge.

  Ray had kept Uncle Stan and Joe in the loop from the moment Mel had sat him down for coffee and mocha cupcakes in the kitchen of the bakery. They’d had undercover officers in the train park the day that Mel and Ray had met Tyson Ballinger, and Ray had worn a wire during that meeting, which included the conversation where they decided to blackmail Butch.

  As it turned out, the idea was actually Uncle Stan’s, thinking that Ray and Mel could set Butch up for a takedown. No one had ever thought that Mel would go dashing into the warehouse. Luckily, they’d all been in the neighborhood, staking out the place while they waited for Butch to show up.

  “I should have known you’d throw us a curveball,” Joe said. “You always do.”

  He held Mel close and kissed the top of her head, so she knew there were no hard feelings, which was a nice change for the two of them after another dramatic episode in their lives.

  “So you’re not going to break up with me?” Mel asked.

  Joe tapped the engagement ring on her finger. “Never.”

  Once in custody, Tyson Ballinger cut a deal with the district attorney. He rolled over on Suzanne, confirming the information Mel had recorded, that she killed her brother to keep him from selling off the company when he thought it was going under.

  Suzanne, of course, had a whole different agenda in operation. Having positioned the company for great success, if her brother sold it out from under her she stood to lose millions, millions that she’d had no intention of sharing with her brother or her father. So in a fit of frustration and rage she’d killed Mike, and framing Diane for the murder of her cheating brother was too easy to resist. Diane breaking up with Mike, however, didn’t jibe with his murder—not when she was having breakup cupcakes delivered to him. Ultimately, Suzanne’s plans had been crushed by a batch of caramel cupcakes.

  Joe left bright and early the next morning to get started on the case against Suzanne. The news media hadn’t gotten wind of the story yet, so he was hoping to get as much done as he could before the office became a media circus.

  Mel watched him go, knowing that she needed to meet up with Diane and tell her what had happened so that she could make it clear that she was the one who caught Suzanne and that her debt was now officially paid.

  She took a quick shower, fed Captain Jack, and dashed out the door after only one cup of coffee, which was a small miracle given that after last night’s adrenaline-fueled moments of sheer terror, she was pretty sure she could have slept for a month and one cup of coffee was really not enough of a hit of go-juice to convince her body otherwise.

  She stifled a yawn as she parked in front of Diane’s office. This time when she approached the doors, they were unlocked. In fact, sitting in the front reception area on some squashy chairs were Diane and her mother, Cheryl.

  Cheryl was thumbing through a fashion magazine while Diane was furiously typing a message on her phone. There was no sign of Elliott. In fact, other than the two women the office appeared empty.

  “Hi, Diane,” Mel said.

  She glanced between her and her mother, wondering what could have happened that the two women seemed to have made up. If Joyce had slept with Joe— Okay, yeah, Mel couldn’t imagine anything like that happening ever, since her mother had a fully functional moral compass and Cheryl did not.

  Diane raised one finger in a gesture for Mel to wait while she finished typing. Cheryl did not even glance up from her magazine to acknowledge Mel.

  There was a pitcher of orange juice and a plate of donuts on the table between the two women, but neither of them offered Mel a drink, a donut, or a seat. She shifted from foot to foot, feeling more and more like the invisible hired help.

  After several more moments, Diane put her phone down and glanced at Mel.

  “What brings you here so early?” she asked.

  “I have news,” Mel said.

  “About who really killed Mike?” Diane asked. She looked like she was bracing for disappointment.

  “Yes,” Mel said. “The police have a suspect in custody.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, tell me everything,” Diane ordered. She turned to her mother and said, “Did you hear that? The real killer’s been caught.”

  Cheryl put down her magazine and sighed, “Well, it’s about time. Who did it?”

  Mel glanced from her to Diane. The confusion at their reconciliation must have shown on her face because Diane shrugged and said, “She’s my mom.”

  Mel knew better than to argue that point. If Cheryl was here, Diane had obviously forgiven her, which was really none of Mel’s business.

  She shook her head to get her focus back and said, “Well, it turns out that Suzanne Bordow is the one who killed her brother over his plans to sell the business.”

  Dia
ne gasped. “Little Suzanne?”

  Mel nodded. “And last night she tried to kill her father, too. Apparently she has built the company up and has it on the brink of making millions, but she hadn’t planned to share the profits with her brother or her father. Mike thought the company was failing and was looking to sell it. Suzanne couldn’t let him do that. They had a fight and she crushed his head with one of the faux pedestals they rent out. Then she tossed him into the ball pit, hoping to make it look like you did it, but when you broke up with Mike via cupcake that story didn’t work so well.”

  Diane stared at the ground as if trying to take it all in. She didn’t look sad—not even a little bit. She looked relieved, giddy in fact, that she was now cleared of Mike’s murder.

  “So,” Mel said. “I am going to assume that my debt to you is paid in full and I don’t ever want to hear that I owe you ever again.”

  “Owe her?” Cheryl said. “Whatever for?”

  “Nothing, Mom,” Diane said quickly, too quickly.

  Diane had a guilty look on her face and Mel frowned. Something felt wrong, really wrong. She looked at Cheryl.

  “Diane saved me from being the unknowing star of a frat boy sex tape back when we were in college,” Mel said.

  “Oh, those,” Cheryl said. She nodded and looked at Diane. “You made a fortune off of those back in the day. Why did you give it up? That was a solid income stream.”

  Diane closed her eyes as if praying for patience. Mel turned to look at her, feeling as if her body had just been hit with a blast of icy cold air. She didn’t have to ask to know if it was true; the answer was written all over Diane’s face.

  “You were in on it?” she asked. “You made money off of the sex tapes?”

  “In on it?” Cheryl snorted. “She was the mastermind behind it. How else do you think she paid for college? I didn’t have that kind of money.”

  “I can explain—” Diane began, but Mel cut her off.

  “This whole time I thought I owed you a favor, and it turns out it was your fault I was in that position to begin with,” Mel snapped. “My god, I could have died trying to repay a debt that is just one more big, fat lie.”

  Diane went on the defensive. “You can’t prove anything. Besides, I got you out of there. I didn’t let them film you. It was only supposed to be willing participants, but you were so uptight back then, one of the guys really wanted to get you to loosen up.”

  “So you let him roofie me?” Mel cried.

  “No!” Diane protested. “He wasn’t supposed to go after you and no one was supposed to be drugged. That guy crossed the line, which is why I smashed his equipment. It was only supposed to be drunken party-girl coeds who didn’t care if we filmed their wild nights. What are you so mad about? I didn’t let them film you. I didn’t have to stop it, you know.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Mel said. She was so angry, she was visibly shaking. The urge to put a hurt on Diane was almost more than she could resist. Instead, she picked up the pitcher of orange juice and dumped it over Diane’s head. “Just like I didn’t have to do that, but I did. Do not come near me ever again.”

  When Mel got back to the bakery, she was in a foul mood. She went right to the kitchen and began baking. It was the only thing she could think of to do that would channel all of her hurt and anger in a productive way.

  She was frosting her third set of cupcakes—more Mocha Latte ones to replace all that Ray had eaten—when the kitchen door banged open and Angie appeared looking pasty pale and wild-eyed.

  “What’s wrong?” Mel asked. “Are your wedding flowers not in season, was there another misprint on the invites, did the band fall through, what?”

  “No.” Angie shook her head. “It’s Marty.”

  “What about him?” Mel asked.

  Angie jerked her head in the direction of the bakery, her sense of panic palpable. Mel dropped her pastry bag on the steel worktable and strode across the kitchen, pushing through the swinging doors into the bakery.

  When she entered the room, she stopped short. Facing Marty across one of the bakery tables in a combative stance were two middle-aged women and one very sharply dressed man in a suit.

  “Enough is enough,” one of the women said.

  At a glance, she looked to be in her late forties but upon closer inspection, it was easy to see she had a well-maintained veneer that shaved off about a decade until you got up close and could see she was really in her late fifties.

  “We have given you plenty of time to get this whole working-in-a-bakery thing out of your system, but since you won’t end it on your own we’re going to end it for you,” the woman said. “You need to come home to Chicago, Dad.”

  Dad? She was Marty’s daughter? He never really talked about his life before, and Mel had just assumed he was alone in the world since his wife had died. She gave him a surprised look, but he was too busy glaring at the two women to pay Mel any mind.

  “It’s time, Dad,” the other woman said. Like her sister, she was immaculately dressed in a silk blouse and slacks with her hair scrupulously maintained a lovely shade of honey.

  “I’m sorry, can I help you?” Mel asked. She rounded the counter and stood beside Marty. Angie moved forward and flanked him on the other side.

  “Yes, you can,” the man in the suit spoke. “I am Pierce Henry, legal representative for his daughters, Nora and Julie”—he gestured to the two women—“and the rest of the Zelaznik family. I am here to express their concerns about the recent behavior of Martin Zelaznik and to see that the appropriate action is taken.”

  “What? Why?” Mel asked.

  The lawyer popped open the briefcase on the table in front of him. “There is a considerable fortune at stake here and my clients are concerned that their father has become incapable of managing his affairs.”

  “Marty, you’re loaded?” Angie asked.

  “I do okay.”

  “Okay?” Mr. Henry cleared his throat as he pulled a large manila envelope out of his briefcase. “Excuse me, but at the end of the day you are worth well over seven million dollars, Mr. Zelaznik, which is to say significantly better than okay.”

  Marty shrugged. “It’s just money.”

  “Did you hear that?” Nora asked Julie. “He never talked like that before.”

  “He really has gone mental,” Julie agreed.

  “I don’t understand,” Mel said.

  “They think I’m one taco short of a fiesta platter,” Marty explained.

  “But why?” Mel asked. “Is there something you haven’t told us?”

  “Yeah, aside from the whole being-a-millionaire thing?” Angie said.

  “His behavior has been erratic, unpredictable—” Nora began.

  “He’s left his home in the senior center to move in with that woman,” Julie added.

  It was pretty clear to see how they felt about Olivia. Mel couldn’t really argue the point with them.

  “Okay, questionable taste in girlfriends aside, I don’t really think there is any cause to question Marty’s mental state. He runs the counter here like a champ,” Angie said. She punched Marty on the shoulder and he gave her a half grimace, half smile.

  Mr. Henry opened the envelope and tossed a picture onto the table. It was a blurry shot of Marty, covered in garbage, linguine hanging out of the back of his pants and a tomato slice on his shoe.

  “Oh, hey, that’s when you and I jumped into a Dumpster to hide from Olivia,” Mel said with a laugh. “We stunk so bad.”

  “Hiding from Olivia?” Nora said.

  “Yeah, that was before we were a thing,” Marty said. “I lost my hair in that Dumpster dive.”

  “You did!” Mel laughed. “You look so much better without it.”

  Mr. Henry tossed another photo on the table. This one was of Marty in full cowboy gear. The photo was grainy but it
was obvious he was helping to corral a bull into a trailer.

  “Hey, that was last summer when we ran the cupcake truck at the rodeo,” Angie said. “I remember that day. Oz almost got stomped by that runaway bull. You boys were so brave.”

  Julie and Nora exchanged horrified looks.

  “Stop talking,” Marty said out of the side of his mouth.

  Another picture landed on the table. It was Marty wearing a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads, skateboarding with Oz and his girlfriend, Lupe, on a big glittery ramp. No one said a word. Another photo hit the pile and it was Marty dressed as a zombie in a casket. Not his best look to date.

  Mel wanted to say that the pictures looked worse than they were. That Marty had been perfectly safe in every instance, but that would have been a lie.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed, Dad, is that what you want?” Julie asked. Her lips were pressed into a tight thin line.

  “We’ve been watching the news; we know what happens around this bakery,” Nora insisted. “Dead bodies, murder attempts, it’s like a vortex of evil.”

  “Hey, now,” Angie said. Mel could see her temper was beginning to heat, which would be no help in this situation and would probably get Marty in deeper hot water than he already was.

  “There have been some unfortunate events,” Mel said. “But for the most part, we are a perfectly safe place and provide a wonderfully supportive work environment for all of our employees.”

  Both Nora and Julie crossed their arms over their chests and made a phftht noise.

  “Be that as it may, we are here to have Mr. Zelaznik temporarily put into the custody of a physician for a full psychological evaluation,” Mr. Henry said. He took a thick sheaf of papers out of his briefcase and dumped them on the table.

  Marty turned to Mel. His watery gaze met hers and he said, “Don’t let them take me. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life since my wife, Jeanie, died, and I don’t want to go.”