"So he was running for mayor as well."
"Still is, as far as I can tell," Chloe said.
Oh, this was too good to be true. For me at least, and my chances of clearing my name. Not only was he Olive's biggest rival, Braxton Madison had been sitting and eating with her when she'd been poisoned.
Rain started to fall and Chloe and I both quickly moved in under the shop awning, but it was heavy and splashed up at us anyway. I shivered.
"So this all begs the question," Chloe said, staring at the red and yellow poser that had been so rudely imposed over Olive's face. "Just where is Braxton Madison now?"
"I have another question," I said. "A bigger one, I think. Just what exactly was Olive doing eating pie with her biggest rival?"
Chapter 4
"Come on, let's get out of here," Chloe said as the rain started to fall even more heavily. We'd parked at the bakery and walked all the way to the campaign headquarters.
"Braxton had the perfect motive," Chloe said, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, slipping a little in the rain as we hurried down the street. "With Olive out of the way, he's primed to win the election."
"Plus, he was actually there, sitting right beside her, when Olive was murdered. So he had the motive, and the perfect opportunity." No wonder he was on the run.
We were still hurrying down the road, dodging people as well as the rain as we raced to reach the car. "Do you remember seeing him do anything? Anything at all?" I asked Chloe.
"You mean do I remember him pulling out a vile of poison and sprinkling it on top of her pie?" Chloe asked a little cheekily.
"Okay, maybe nothing that obvious," I said, sticking out my tongue playfully. A man coming in the opposite direction banged into me and I bit down on my tongue. "Ow!"
I had to stop for a second, clutching at my aching mouth.
"Are you okay, Rachael?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I said, cringing when I heard there was now a weird lisp to my voice.
"Do you need to see a doctor?"
"No, it's not that serious."
The rain was pouring down. The spot we had chosen to stop at was right in the front of Bakermatic. Talk about loud shades of nauseating yellow... The Bakermatic color scheme matched the campaign signs of Braxton Madison and was already making me dizzy. "Come on, let's just pop in here," I said.
"I dunno," Chloe said hesitantly. "Bakermatic? Are you sure you want to give them your business?"
"No. But it's not like they are my rivals right now. I don't even have a bakery to run at the moment. Come on, Chloe, it's pouring rain." There was still a lisp to my voice and I just wanted to sit down for a minute.
Chloe glanced in the window and looked around like she was searching for something specific. I asked her what was wrong.
"Nothing. Just making sure there's a seat for us," she said.
"The place is empty, come on, let's go in."
Bakermatic might be bright yellow and they might sell stale, pre-packaged food, but at least it was dry and warm. I took off my coat and asked for a glass of ice for my tongue as we approached the counter and ordered some coffee. I was relieved that the manager, Simona, wasn't working. I had history with her and it was always awkward. I didn't recognize the young guy behind the counter at all. He looked about seventeen, with spotty skin, which the bright yellow paint, unfortunately for him, did little to flatter. He was very nice and friendly, though, and fetched me my glass of ice right away, promising to bring our coffees to our table.
We slid into a booth and I relaxed a little. Now that we were out of it, the rain outside was actually pretty pleasant. I smiled a little to myself, thinking about how well the day's investigating had gone so far. It couldn't have gone better, actually. Suddenly things were looking up. It wouldn't be long before this whole thing was sorted, and I was off the hook, and customers were flowing through the door again.
Chloe cleared her throat. "You seem pretty calm, Rachael, considering everything that's happened."
I shrugged. "I don't think I have anything to worry about," I said. "It kinda looks like we've already got our guy."
Chloe's face fell a little.
"You look disappointed," I said.
"I suppose…" She trailed off. "Oh, it's silly. But I was kind of enjoying the whole detective thing."
"I know the feeling," I said sagely. "But you can't let your desire to keep investigating cloud your judgment. We've figured out who did it, Chloe. That's a good thing."
She shrugged a little. "I suppose so."
The spotty kid from behind the counter delivered our coffees with shaking hands. He shot Chloe a funny look and she looked away.
"What was that about?" I asked her.
She laughed a little and took a sip of her latte. "I dunno."
"Probably just wants to ask you out on a date," I said with a little wink while I dumped a packet of sugar into my own latte. "He did seem kind of nervous after all."
"He's a little young for me!" Chloe said with a shocked laugh.
"He's only a couple of years younger, at the most,” I teased.
"I'm not sure it would even be legal." Chloe sat her latte down and looked out of the window like she was pondering something.
"So," I said. "Are you seeing anyone special then?" We'd never really had the chance to talk about anything like that at work. I hadn't thought it was really appropriate, actually. This was the first time we had ever done anything socially. I had no idea about Chloe's private life at all, but she was very pretty and I doubted she was single.
She fiddled with her coffee cup for a few seconds. "No, no one special," she said with a heavy sigh. "I was seeing this guy for a while but we broke up a couple of weeks ago—before I started working for you."
"Sorry," I said. "What happened?" I was being nosy but I wanted to know.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "I found out he was seeing another girl. Same old story, you know," she said before she picked up her coffee and finished it in one gulp. She set the empty cup back down with a thud. "I really need to call him to get my stuff back, but I don't want to."
"Speaking of guys I really don't want to call, but I have to," I said, pulling out my phone. "I think it's time to call Detective Whitaker."
Jackson met me at my car behind the station, holding up an umbrella for me. "It's been raining cats and dogs," he said as I stepped out.
"Thanks," I said, huddling under the umbrella next to him. Even though he'd been quite stern with me when he'd taken me in for questioning earlier—understandably, as he suspected I might have murdered someone—he was being sweet and kind now and I wasn't looking forward to entering through the doors of the station where the spell would be broken. And I'd be back to suspect, him back to detective.
As soon as he took the umbrella away, I felt short and exposed as I followed him into the interrogation room.
"Thanks for seeing me," I said, hoping that the lisp had gone from my voice. My tongue still ached, though.
Jackson nodded and his eyebrows shot up. "I hear you've got something important to tell me." He was hiding it, but I could tell he was smiling a little.
My face split into a wide grin. I couldn't wait to tell him all about Braxton Madison. Not only would I be cleared, of course, but Jackson could go back to treating me like a person, and not a suspect. We had a lot of history. Some good, some terrible. But recently things had been heating up between us and I knew if I could just get rid of the small obstacle of me being a murder suspect and him being a cop, then we might be actually able to go on a real date.
It had been a while for me. Six months to be exact. The thought of going on a date, especially with someone I actually liked, terrified me. But I was willing to put myself out there...just as long as Jackson was.
He sat there expectantly and I realized I'd just been staring at him for a full minute. "Right," I said, clearing my throat. "I should get on with it."
I spilled everything I knew. It was hard to read Jackson's face as
he listened to my findings. He had a good poker face and didn't give anything away, but I was certain he must be impressed with what I'd managed to find. And that he must have been just as relieved as I was that I would be cleared of any suspicion.
"So, as you can see, Braxton Madison must have killed Olive Styles." I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms, looking at Jackson expectantly.
He stared at me blankly before the slightest crease formed on his brow. "Is that it?" he asked, finally, in slight disbelief.
"Well, yes, it is," I said, confused. "Isn't that enough?"
Jackson blinked slowly a few times as though the story I had told him was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard and he needed a few moments to collect himself. "Did you really think we hadn't already figured all of this out, Rachael?" He shook his head lightly, still in disbelief. "We know that Braxton Madison was Olive Styles’ biggest rival. He was the first suspect we looked at."
I didn't get it. Now it was my turn to blink slowly. "And what did you find then?"
Jackson shrugged a little. "I shouldn't really be telling you any of this, Rachael, but nothing. We found nothing."
My mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. "How can you have found nothing? He killed Olive Styles. He was there, at the bakery..."
Jackson burst out laughing. "No, he wasn't..."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course he was. There are witnesses."
Jackson returned the same look of disbelief that I must have had on my own face. It was like we were talking two different languages, struggling to gauge the others' meaning.
Jackson took a moment to reply in a calm voice. "Braxton Madison has a solid alibi. The only witnesses he has placed him at his home at the time of Olive's death."
I shook my head in disbelief. "I saw him there with my own two eyes."
"You must have been mistaken," Jackson said. "Confused."
"I'm not confused," I said quickly. "I didn't imagine him walking into my shop with Olive Styles, and sitting down to eat with her."
Jackson leaned back. "Did you serve him?"
"No," I had to admit. "I wasn't feeling too well so I was in my office. Chloe handled the table."
"So how can you be sure it was really him?"
I hesitated for a second. He was making me second-guess myself. Had it actually been Braxton Madison in my bakery? Or was I just getting confused, seeing what I wanted to see and making the facts match my case the way I wanted them to.
"I am sure," I said firmly. "It was him."
Jackson threw his hands up. "You got any video footage?"
I sat up straight, excited. "Yes! We've got cameras in the shop!" Then all the life drained from me as I remembered. "We took the cameras down for the remodeling."
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient."
"Hardly."
I scratched my head, dumbfounded. This was not how I had expected our meeting to go at all. I'd walked in expecting to get myself off the hook, and I was going to leave feeling like I'd seen a ghost. How could I have seen Braxton Madison there if he wasn't actually there? I needed to go. I needed to talk to Chloe. She saw him as well. She would confirm that I wasn't gong crazy.
I stood up.
"Where are you going, Rachael?"
"I need some fresh air," I said. "And since you are so intent on not believing me, I think I'm wasting my time here."
"I think you better sit back down, Rachael," he said, and his tone was stern enough to make me.
I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Jackson stared at me in disappointment. "I really wish you hadn't come in here today, with this crazy story," he said. "It only makes you look more guilty." He looked away, unable to look me in the eye, but I could feel the disappointment radiating off him.
"Jackson, it's not a crazy story."
He finally looked back at me. "It looks like you're just desperate to get yourself off the hook," Jackson said.
"Of course I'm desperate to do that, Jackson! Wouldn't you be?" I shook my head and leaned back on my chair. "And I'm not pretending otherwise. I am desperate. But Braxton Madison was there, in my shop."
"You got any proof of that?"
"Chloe can back me up."
Jackson sighed. "She could have been mistaken just as you were."
"I wasn't mistaken, Jackson."
He stood up now. "I think you'd better leave, Rachael. My advice, off the books," he said, lowering his voice, "is to stop doing things that make you look guilty. And to get yourself a lawyer."
Chloe was waiting for me when I finally got back to my car. The rain had cleared and she was leaning against the passenger side. Even though she'd had errands to run, I'd texted her where I was and she was kind enough to meet me.
She must have seen the look my face because hers dropped as well. "What happened?"
I glanced up at the station. "Let's just get away from this place. I'll tell you in the car."
Once we were driving, I reluctantly told her the whole story. Reluctant because I felt completely stupid now. "Is it possible we were actually mistaken?” I asked her, glancing at her sitting in the passenger seat as we cruised down the main street of Belldale.
She shook her head. "No way. That was Braxton Madison."
"But are we REALLY sure?" I asked firmly. "I guess old guys can kind of look the same."
She shot me a look. "I waited on the guy. I know who it was."
I shook my head and turned my attention back to the road. At least I knew I wasn't going crazy, but I was beyond frustrated at the whole situation.
"This is unbelievable," I muttered. "And to think I thought this was going to be open and shut, that this would all be the end of it."
Chloe didn't seem so upset. "At least we've still got a case to work on, right?" she said, a little excited. "Now we've got to prove that Braxton Madison really was in the store that day and that he killed Olive Styles."
I pressed my foot down on the accelerator. "And we've got to figure out why the other people that were there that day are covering it up."
Chapter 5
Pippa was still unwell when I returned home late that evening, but she was well enough to sit at the kitchen table and sip on some soup that I had brought home for both of us.
"So what's happening with the case then?" Pippa asked, taking a sip of the chicken soup. "I am dying to know."
Usually I told Pippa everything. Well, actually, I didn't have to tell her everything because she was usually already there besides me, experiencing it. But today it had been Chloe there with me, and for some reason, the thought of trying to explain it all to her made me feel a bit exhausted.
I took a sip of my own soup. "Not that much to report. A few leads."
Pippa frowned. "Come on, Rach, there must be more to it than that."
I shook my head. "No, it's coming along slowly but surely, I guess."
I think one of the reasons I didn't want to tell her about what had happened at the station was that I still felt too embarrassed about it. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, and telling Pippa would only make it all seem too real. Plus, she was kind of a realist, and she always called me out on stuff. I was worried that she would react the same way Jackson had and say that I was crazy. Or just making up stories to try and make myself look less guilty.
And I still wasn't sure I wasn't crazy.
Pippa pouted a little. "I wish you would tell me what is going on, Rach."
I shook my head and placed my half-finished soup bowl on the table. "Nothing's going on, Pips. Anyway, you aren’t well. I don't want to trouble you with any of this. It's all fine, I promise."
Pippa picked up the remote control and flicked on the TV. It came blaring out at some insane volume on a music channel playing heavy metal. She shrieked a little and quickly tried to get the volume down, changing the channel until she fell on a local news station.
"Local news?" I said with a raised brow. We both felt the same wa
y about local news— boring. She laughed a little and was just about to change it again when she stopped.
"Hey, isn't that the woman that was found dead in your shop?" Pippa asked, leaning forward.
"Ugh, please, turn it," I said, bringing my face to my hands. But still I could make out Olive Styles’ glossy grey bobbed hair through my fingers. "Seriously, Pippa, I don’t want to see this." I thought we were seconds away from seeing myself named as the prime suspect, or maybe pictures of me being burned in the street, the Mud Pie Murderess who had killed Belldale's most beloved female politician.
"I think you should watch this," Pippa said, turning the volume up.
"Seriously, Pippa, turn it off."
But the volume continued to rise and even though my face was covered with my hands, I could still hear the audio. "Witnesses say the politician was seen having a serious fight with her daughter the day before her alleged poisoning."
I lifted my head up sharply. "Daughter? Fight? What was that?"
Pippa shot me a little I told you so grin. "You should have been watching, Rachael."
"Yeah, well, I've kind of been avoiding the news for obvious reasons."
"Shh," Pippa said. "Listen."
Unfortunately, we were almost at the end of the segment, but the blonde-haired anchor, standing in the front of the same campaign office we'd been at earlier that day, looked at the camera and added, "With Olive Styles’ murderer still at large, are any of us safe? And will Belldale still be electing a new mayor next Saturday?"
The two big questions, I supposed.
I blinked and sat back against the sofa. It looked like I'd missed most of the juicy details about the daughter.
Pippa turned the volume down again and stared at me. "So," she said. "That was interesting!"
The news of the investigation seemed to have cheered her up quite a bit. It even seemed to have calmed her stomach as she started heartily digging into her soup again. After taking a few spoonfuls, she looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "See, you needed my presence, my good luck to give you a break in this case. Did you know anything about this daughter, or the argument?"
The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 3
