Pippa didn't speak to me again until the next morning when she had to inform me we were out of milk because she had drunk it all. I don't think she was really informing me so much as rubbing it in that I would have to drink my coffee black, which I hated and she knew it.
"So are you being charged?" Pippa asked.
I wanted to say, what do you care, but I didn't.
"Trespassing," I said as I sat down to sip on my bitter black coffee. I would have to show up in court for it in a couple of months, but a trespassing charge didn't faze me at all right then. I was more focused on making sure I stayed away from a murder charge.
And I had gotten lucky in one respect: Angel Styles had never gotten a good look at me. That meant that the next part of my plan was still able to come together. If I could just convince Chloe to come with me on one last task. I figured she'd be a little gun-shy after the previous night, so I was surprised to get a call from her before I'd even managed to choke back my black sludge.
I shot a large grin at Pippa. "It's Chloe," I said. "Must be something about the case."
I left her to stew on that while I took the phone call, not even bothering to leave the room this time. Let Pippa hear the details, I thought.
"Sure, Chloe," I said loudly, while Pippa rolled her eyes. "I was just thinking the same thing. You'll have to give me an hour or so to get ready, though. We're going to have to get pretty dressed up for this... It's a very important event!" I said, emphasizing the words important event. I knew I was being an annoying brat but I didn't care. It wasn't often that Pippa and I got into a fight and I was taking a moment to revel in winding her up.
I hung up and took a deep breath. "Looks like Chloe and I are going to a party," I said.
"What, at midday on a Tuesday?" Pippa asked, taking the bait even though she immediately looked annoyed at herself.
"Chloe did a little digging. She's good like that," I said with a sly little smile. "Angel Styles is graduating today, and in spite of everything, she is still apparently attending the big party."
Pippa sat up a little straighter. "That sounds suspicious," she said, narrowing her eyes. "She's attending graduation a few days after her mother died? I would‘ve thought she'd have a few bigger priorities right now...or be too devastated to attend."
"Exactly," I said, dropping my bratty attitude by accident. "It's very suspicious, isn't it?" I stopped talking and we both just looked at each other.
"But of course you don't need my help, or any of my opinions on the matter," Pippa said haughtily, returning to her cereal, which I noticed for the first time was drowned in far more milk that she actually needed.
"No, I don't," I said, pouring the rest of my coffee down the drain and placing the empty mug in the sink with a pointed thump. "I'll be just fine with Chloe."
Chapter 7
The courtyard was filled with dappled sunshine, the weather clear for the first time in days, and it was also filled with incredibly good-looking eighteen-year-olds. I suppose private school attracts a certain type. I suddenly felt extremely old. And extremely poor, next to all these wealthy teenagers.
We'd only managed to sneak into St. Michael’s Private School by saying that we were the older sisters of a graduating student, and luckily no one had asked us to show any hard proof of that. But we did have to wear nametags. Chloe had given the name "Bridget" and I'd gone with "Diane."
We each grabbed a flute of champagne (real as well, these private school functions didn't spare any expense) and started to do a lap of the sandstone courtyard.
"I wish I'd gone to school at a place like this," Chloe mused. "I just went to the local public school. We had steel bars around the perimeter, not sandstone."
"You should have been born a politician's daughter then," I said, taking a swig of my champagne. It was a little strong for my tastes. I actually preferred the weaker, sweeter taste of sparkling wine.
"There she is," I hissed, grabbing Chloe by the arm. "There's Angel." I stood very still, stepping back behind a sandstone pillar as I watched her. Her thin frame was wrapped in a black graduation gown, which made her look like she was in heavy mourning. The people surrounding her, patting her gently on the arm with sympathetic looks, added to look. She looked positively downtrodden.
"It's still strange that she's here, though," I murmured. "How deep in mourning can she actually be if she can leave the house to attend graduation?"
Chloe took a deep breath. "Well, it's now or never. You need to go talk to her. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"
I nodded and took another sip of champagne before I readied myself. We started to cross the manicured, bright green lawn to where Angel stood, surrounded by well-wishers.
"You should be doing this, Chloe," I said. "I mean, Bridget," I corrected myself, looking at her nametag. "You're closer to her age than I am."
Chloe looked me up and down. "You're only thirty, though. That's not that old."
I just stared at her. "I'm twenty-six."
She went bright red. "I'm sorry, Rachael, I didn't mean anything."
But there wasn't time to worry about that then, or to take any offense. I'd probably just stew on the comment later.
I had to do this before I lost my nerve.
I finished off my champagne and headed straight towards Angel Styles while Chloe hung back a bit.
She smiled a little uncertainly as I approached her. It was my intention to appear as though I knew her, like we'd met before, and I figured she'd be too polite and too well raised to question it, at least to my face.
"Hi there, Angel," I said warmly, as though I was greeting an old friend.
She nodded and kept the smile on her face as she glanced nervously at my nametag. "Hi...Diane," she said, before I reached out to embrace her.
"It's good to see that you're looking so well, after everything that has happened," I said, pulling away from her, but with both hands still on her shoulders. "I'm really sorry to hear about your mom," I said. "She was a wonderful woman."
"Thanks," Angel said. She kept looking around nervously for someone to save her from this awkward encounter.
"I'm Andrew's sister," I said. "Do you not recognize me?"
"Of course I did," Angel said. So, she was polite. But was she a murderer?
I tried to look around to find Chloe for some help. She was younger, closer to Angel's age. She might know what to actually say to a teenager. I was stuck there feeling old and awkward.
I took a sip of my champagne to bide some time while I thought about how to get the info out of her.
I needed to find out whether she'd snuck into the bakery while her mother had been in there.
I wasn't quite sure how to casually work it into the conversation, especially since our conversation hadn't been casual at all. Polite and well mannered as she was, I could see her eyes darting around, looking for an exit strategy. I could tell she was about to excuse herself to go talk to someone with better social skills. Or at least someone she didn't have to pretend she knew.
"So how are you coping?" I asked quickly, desperate to keep her in front of me. If I lost her now, I'd never get her back.
She blinked slowly a few times. "It's been tough," she said quietly. "Just trying to make it through today, you know?"
I nodded. "I know you wish your mom was here," I said. "I bet she'd be really proud of you to see you graduating."
"It's just high school," she said, looking at me a little strangely. "Kind of the least that my mother expected of me," she said, a little bitterly. She took a sharp breath. "I didn't get into the college she wanted me to," Angel continued, looking into her own champagne flute, which I stared at as well for a second, trying to figure out if it was non-alcoholic. "We were arguing about it the night before she died," Angel went on candidly. "She was furious at me." She shook her head and took a large swig. There were tears glistening in her eyes as she drank. "She was threatening not to pay for my college at all, saying she was going to cut me off for atte
nding what she considered an inferior college."
Huh. This was interesting. Very interesting indeed. That definitely spoke towards motive. Money was a very powerful motivator in murder cases—I'd learned that already. I couldn't believe how lucky I was getting, how Angel was just opening up to me like this. Maybe it was because I was older. Maybe I reminded her of her mother.
"I'm sure your mother knew that you loved her, though," I said, placing my palm gently on her forearm, trying to be comforting. I watched her face closely for signs of strain, signs that she was faking this grief.
I cleared my throat. "And I'm sure you tried your best to make it right with her," I said, fishing for more info.
She nodded. "At least, I tried to," she said sadly. "I knew the bakery she was meeting her friends at that day," she said, a dark look coming over her face as my heart skipped a beat. Was she about to confess that she had been there? Her face took on a very strange expression. "That place has never been good in my opinion," she said, shooting me a look. "It's the worst bakery in Belldale."
My mouth dropped open a little and it took all my strength to change it back to a neutral expression. I had to remind myself that she was talking about the place her mom had died. "Well, yeah," I said. "I suppose you hate it now."
She shook her head. "No. It's always been terrible."
Keep your face neutral, Rachael.
Angel sighed heavily. "Anyway, I didn't like that she was going there, but I planned to drop by and surprise her anyway, after our fight."
My heart started beating a little faster. "And?"
Angel shrugged a little. "I sent her a text, and she replied back letting me know that she was still angry at me. So I didn't end up going in. I didn't want her to yell at me in front of her friends. Again." She finished off her drink.
My heart sunk. Still, I clung onto a little bit of hope.
"So, had you seen your mom at all the day, well, you know, the day it happened?" I asked, my face scrunched up in sympathy.
Angel shook her head vehemently. "No," she said, nodding towards a friend nearby with pale blonde hair, who was nearly as skinny as Angel. "Anna and I decided to get the heck out of town. She'd also disappointed her parents by not getting into any college at ALL, not even her backups, so she was happy to skip town. We loaded up our trunks and started driving upstate to Sherman." I knew the town well, but my face must have entirely fallen because Angel stopped and asked me what was wrong.
"You were out of town the whole day?"
"Yes," she said. "Well, until we heard about Mom. Then we turned around and drove back." She frowned. "What is it to you, anyway?" she asked, her polite facade cracking for a moment.
"I just..." I looked over at this so-called "Anna" girl. "Can your friend confirm that you were out of town the entire day?"
Angel crossed her arms. "What are you asking that for?" she asked. "What are you, a..." she trailed off, something catching eye over my shoulder. "Speak of the devil," she whispered.
I spun around to see what she as talking about. My heart stopped. Jackson Whitaker. Wearing his detective badge. He was headed straight for us. But was he heading towards me? Or Angel?
"Rachael Robinson?" he called out.
I gulped. Guess that answered my question then.
"Rachael Robinson?" Angel said, looking surprised and worried as she stared back at me and looked me up and down. "I thought your name was..." She looked at Jackson then back at me with a suspicious expression as she backed away. "Who the heck are you?"
Jackson kept striding towards me. "We need to speak to you. About the Olive Styles investigation."
Angel shook her head and backed away until she was huddled in a corned of the courtyard with Anna, the blonde girl who was Angel's alibi. I was so focused on them for a second that I didn't even respond to Jackson. When I finally saw the look on his face, I realized that whatever it was, I was in big trouble.
He cast me a long dark stare. "What did I tell you, Rachael, about doing things that make you look guilty?"
I had no idea what he was talking about. Unless he meant me stalking Angel. Oh right, that probably didn't make me look great either way. "I'm here to support a friend of mine. He’s graduating today," I said meekly.
Jackson shook his head and cast a furtive look in Angel's direction. "I know you're here to speak to Angel Styles."
My stomach dropped. "Jackson, I..."
"And after arresting you at her home, I cannot believe you are anywhere near the girl," he said, almost wearily. "But believe it or not, that's not why I am here, Rachael."
I just blinked a few times. "I've done something else that makes me look guilty?" I asked, incredulous. I was aware of the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes staring into my back. I wished we weren't causing such a scene. I glanced around to check for Angel and found her whispering to Anna. When she pulled away from Anna's ear, I saw that her eyes were full of betrayal as she stared back at me and I felt so guilty for betraying her trust, even though I had just met her. But I knew that she'd trusted me, thought she was someone she could open up to.
Then I saw something else in her eyes. Suspicion. Hatred.
It hit me in the pit of my stomach. She thinks I did it. She thinks I killed her mother.
I felt like I couldn't break her stare for a few seconds. I wanted to call out to her—heck, I wanted to run over to her—to scream, "I didn't kill your mother, Angel!"
"Rachael," I heard Jackson's voice say. "This is serious."
I turned back to him. "I didn't do anything," I mumbled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jackson."
His eyebrows were raised. "So you didn't go inside and tamper with the crime scene?"
"Tamper?" I asked, shaking my head. "No, of course I didn't."
Now it was his turn to blink slowly. "So I suppose you can't tell me why there is now a smashed bottle of chocolate syrup on the floor of the bakery? One that was definitely not there when we first did a survey of the scene?"
Oh shoot. "The wind could have knocked it over," I whispered. "You don't know that I did it."
He just gave me a steady look. "Plus the sign was turned around. From Open to Closed."
"Well, I didn't want anyone to think we were open, did I?!" I snapped, accidentally revealing too much emotion. I saw Angel's eyebrows shoot up and I cringed. Stay calm, Rachael.
Jackson glanced around. "Maybe we should do this somewhere else."
"So you think I'm guilty?" I asked him. He had one arm extend, ready to place it on my shoulders to escort me out of the courtyard, but it was frozen in midair. "You think I killed Olive Styles, don't you?"
His voice was very quiet. "Not intentionally. Rachael, it will be all right."
I backed away from him. My mouth was open. "Not intentionally?" I repeated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What are you saying then, Jackson?"
"I'm saying that you've been under a lot of stress lately, Rachael. Maybe your mind hasn't really been on the job."
I was completely offended. After everything we'd been through, how could Jackson stand there and accuse me of killing a customer, accidentally or otherwise?
But there was a terrible thought in the back of my mind. Could he be right?
Chapter 8
I needed Pippa. I really wished she was the one with me instead of Chloe.
Chloe, who had been hanging back and watching the whole thing from a distance, suddenly chased after me as I charged towards my car. "Rachael, where are you going?"
"Home," I snapped back. I didn't mean to take my anger out on her, and I knew it wasn't her fault that she wasn't Pippa, but at that moment, I resented her for that very fact.
She looked dumbstruck as I climbed into the car and started the engine. "Well, are you at least going to give me a ride?" she asked through the window.
Right. We'd arrived together. I nodded and took a few deep breaths. "Sorry," I said as she climbed into the passenger side. "I'm a little stressed out."
&
nbsp; "What did you find out about Angel?"
"A dead end," I said, gripping the steering wheel even though we weren't actually moving yet.
"And that detective?" Chloe asked unsurely, like she was nervous I was going to snap at her again. "What did he want?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Please, I just want to get out of here."
"Pippa!?" I called out as soon as I entered the apartment. I desperately needed to speak with her, but I wasn't sure she was even awake, let alone ready for a full on chat.
I wasn't sure she was even still speaking to me after the fight we'd had.
I stopped when I heard music blaring from the kitchen. It sounded like she was awake, at least. Whether she was still angry with me was another question, though. I raced in to find her bopping around, baking up a bunch of brownies.
"Gluten-free!" she called out with a wink. "So you can eat as many as you want." She gave me a guilty little smile. "My way of apologizing for being a little brat earlier."
I smiled at her and nodded. "Apology accepted. As long as you accept mine as well."
She kept dancing around to her music as she dumped three eggs into the batter and started mixing.
"Wow," I said. "You look a lot better, Pippa."
Pippa was practically jumping around, she was so full of energy now. "I think I've finally recovered." Her grin was wide and her face was full of relief. "I don't know what's been wrong with me the past few weeks.
I smiled. This was about her, not about me. Maybe it was the wrong time to bring up my troubles. I didn't want to spoil her fun. "Well, I'm very happy for you."
She stopped bopping around and frowned at me. "You don't seem that pleased, Rach. What's going on? Are you still mad at me?" I could see her suddenly become worried.
I shook my head and threw my purse down on the coffee table. "I'm not mad at you anymore. I'd totally forgotten what we were even fighting about, to be honest. I'm glad, Pips, don't worry. I've just had a day, that's all."
The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 5
