By the time we got to the top, my heart was beating out of my chest.
"I thought we were going to get caught," I said, holding my hand up against my thudding heart.
"Don't worry," Pippa said with a wink as she stood up. I didn't know where we were going, but Pippa seemed confident that she knew where Braxton's master bedroom was, so I followed her. "When I'm around, you never get caught," Pippa said with supreme confidence. "Getting you caught is Chloe's game, not mine. I'm your good luck charm, remember?"
"You are?" I asked, a little surprised. I had to laugh as I followed her into the bedroom. Pippa immediately began pulling open drawers, much to my alarm. "Pippa, are you sure you should be doing that?"
"This is what we're here for, remember?" she said. "What's the point if we're not going to take a risk?" Easy for her to say. She would be in a lot less trouble than me if we got caught. "Besides, remember, Rach—I am your good luck charm."
I still wasn't convinced of that. "As I recall, a lot of things have happened while you've been around."
Pippa put a hand up to let me know to shut up. "Rachael, look what I've found."
She pulled out a long piece of jewelry from the dresser and held it up to me.
I shrugged. "A silver necklace? So what?" I asked. "It's probably his wife's."
Pippa shook her head. "Look around," she said. "Do you see any other sign that a woman lives in this room?"
I glanced around. It was distinctively male decor. I blinked. There was only one pair of slippers on the floor by the bed. Men's slippers. I spun back to face Pippa. "What are you saying then, Pippa?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I found out a couple more things while you were off talking to your precious Chloe."
I ignored her comment. "And are you going to share these insights with me at any point?"
She nodded. "I was chatting to another caterer—a real one, I mean—who’s been at the house regularly, who told me that Braxton and his wife sleep in different bedrooms. And he told me where Braxton's was. I wanted to check it out for myself, though. Looks like it's true, doesn't it?"
I nodded and started to walk over to her. The silver necklace was still dangling from her fingers.
"So what the heck is this?" I asked, taking the necklace in my own hands.
"Turn it over," Pippa whispered.
I did as she said and turned it over. There was an inscription on the back of one of the silver plates. Initials.
O.S.
It belonged to Olive Styles.
I looked at Pippa. "We shouldn't be looking at this," I said, throwing the necklace back into the drawer.
"What are you doing?" she shouted, far too loudly. She reached into the drawer and pulled the necklace out again. "Rachael, we need that as evidence."
I could hear footsteps hurrying up the staircase. We each stared at each other. "That's what you get for yelling!" I hissed at Pippa.
We both searched around desperately for a place to hide. "Quick, get under the bed," Pippa yelled, pushing me down on the ground. But it was too late. The footsteps reached the door and it opened.
Braxton Madison, red and out of breath, just stared at us in disbelief. The necklace was still hanging off Pippa's hand.
"What the heck are you two doing in my bedroom?" he growled.
Uh oh.
Chapter 10
It was a long evening of questioning down at the police station before Pippa and I were finally allowed to speak to each other. Six hours must have passed before we finally spilled out onto the cold parking lot at the back of the station.
I was lucky they were even letting me go, and I hadn't been charged with trespassing AGAIN. Technically, I'd only been snooping, not trespassing. Braxton's event might have been invite only, but I'd still been welcomed through the door—I hadn't broken in.
Pippa looked exhausted but she brightened when she saw me.
"So, he was having an affair with Olive Styles."
"We don't know that for certain," I pointed out cautiously.
Pippa shot me a look. "Come on. How else do you explain the necklace being in his drawer?"
I nodded a little. "It also explains why he was out with her the day she was killed. And why he is so desperate to keep it a secret."
A politician trying to keep both his wife and his mistress happy. For a second, I almost sympathized with him. Then I reminded myself of what he had done.
"So... What are we thinking?" Pippa mused. "He killed her to keep his marriage intact? Or because she was his biggest threat politically?"
I shrugged. "Or both," I pointed out. "A double motive." No wonder he'd had such a vested interest in not being seen at the bakery that day. He'd probably paid off each of his dining companions, knowing that if any of them said he was there at the scene of the crime, he would look as guilty as sin.
"This is good news for you though, Rachael," Pippa said.
"Is it?" I asked.
"Of course."
I shook my head. "I know that Braxton Madison has a double motive. And I know he most likely killed Olive Styles. But there is no proof. He fled the scene. Paid off the witnesses. He's making me look crazy by even suggesting that he was there. It's hopeless," I said. If anything, finding this out about Braxton had just made me feel even more hopeless. I'd been hoping to find evidence that proved he was in the bakery. Instead, I'd found proof that he was guilty, and that he was going to get away with it. Nothing seemed clear to me. Everything just seemed foggy.
"Anyway, let's get out of here," I said, giving her a little look. "Good luck charm," I added sarcastically.
"Okay, okay," Pippa had to admit. "Maybe I'm not the good luck charm I thought I was, after all. Sorry, Rach," she said with a little pout. "Maybe I am your bad luck charm."
"Hey, it's not your fault," I pointed out. "If you were my bad luck charm, you would have been there the day Olive was actually killed. But you were sick in bed. Chloe was there."
I woke up early the next morning and snuck out quietly so that I didn't wake Pippa. I ignored all the calls and texts from Chloe as well. Most of them were just her apologizing and wanting to know if I wanted to catch up and hang out.
Huh. Hang out. Like I had time for that.
But actually, the idea of just forgetting everything for a few hours, or just grabbing a coffee and chatting with a friend, seemed really appealing. I wished I could have dropped everything and hung out with Chloe for a while.
But I had an appointment I had to keep. And even though it was one I really, really didn't want to keep, I had to.
The bank loomed in front of me. It seemed even greyer than usual, even though some of the signage was in red.
I walked through the doors and headed straight for the "Loans" section where I had an appointment with my loan manager. He was late. Which only gave me more time to stew over my predicament.
The last time I'd been here had been to take out a loan to expand my bakery. That's how well business was going. Now I was there to discuss whether I could even keep the bakery running.
Finally, Mr. Brooks, a youngish man in his late twenties with thinning ginger hair that seemed like it was hair sprayed to his head, walked in through the doors. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved to see him or not, but better to get the whole thing over with.
He settled on the other side of the desk and gave me a stern look. "You missed your latest loan payment, Miss Robinson."
I nodded. I'd been prepared for this, and I had a plan. "I just need another small loan, Mr. Brooks, just to tide me over until business turns around. Within no time at all, I'll be back on track."
His red helmet hair didn't move as he stared at me. "Aren't you known as the Mud Pie Murderess?" he asked me. Great. So he'd heard about that. "How do you believe business is ever going to turn around, Rachael?" He shook his head. "Given your current...predicament, we can't give you any more loans. And we are going to have to demand immediate payment on the current overdue balance."
"But
...but," I said, stumbling over my words. "But, Mr. Brooks, I don't have the money to pay the overdue amount. The bakery has been closed for a week." I suddenly got my courage back up and was able to speak plainly and confidently. "Closed due to a police investigation. Which has nothing to do with me," I added firmly. "I should not be punished for allowing the police to do their job."
He just stared at me, unmoved. "But you should be punished for killing someone."
My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. So this was how it was, was it? Everyone in Belldale thought I was guilty. Thought I was a murderer. And they weren't even afraid to say it to my face. Not even my loan manager was afraid to sit there and accuse me. Even though it must have been the most unprofessional thing he could have done.
I stood up. My face was flushed and I needed to get out of there. I needed fresh air. My head was thumping and the blood was coursing through my veins.
"You've got one week to make payment," Mr. Brooks said to me coldly. "But I won't hold my breath waiting for that bakery of yours to ever open again."
I walked out with my head hanging so low I was practically dragging it against the pavement.
That was it then. It was all over.
Was there even any point hanging on to any sort of hope?
It's a strange thing about hitting rock bottom. It's kind of a relief, and a sense of ease comes over you even while you are in the pits of despair.
Things couldn't get any worse.
I took a deep breath and walked down the street. I couldn't even remember where I'd parked my car and I didn't particularly care. I didn't want to be boxed in. My head was light and at the same time so heavy with conflicting emotions that I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to burst out laughing. The other half wanted to load up my iPod with sad songs, put my earphones on, turn the volume up as loud as it would go, and find a place to sit and cry my eyes out.
I found a hill nearby, off the street, out of eye distance in case anyone was watching me. The grass was still a little damp but the sun was shining through enough that I was able to sit on it without making my backside soaking wet. I didn't care much at that moment anyway.
My phone started buzzing and I knew it would be either Pippa or Chloe.
Chloe.
I rejected the call and called Pippa instead. I had to tell her about the bank meeting. She deserved to know that the bakery she worked in was about to go under. And that she'd no longer have a job when she recovered from her mysterious illness.
"Maybe it's for the best," I said flatly. "Maybe I was never supposed to have all the things I want in life."
"Come home, Rachael," she said firmly. "I've got something to tell you."
Pippa seemed a little nervous when I got there, but I was so concerned with my own problems that I didn't really stop to ask her. And I totally forgot that she'd asked me home to tell me something as I started to go into a pity spiel of my own.
"There's no point even trying now." I was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall.
"Things could still get worse, though," Pippa pointed out. "You could end up in prison."
I shrugged. "What does that matter now?"
She took me by the shoulders and shook me. "You won't be saying that when you are actually behind bars, Rachael Robinson! You need to snap out of this and clear your name."
I refused to look her in the eye. "What good will it do?" I asked dejectedly. "Everyone already thinks I did it, Pippa. They have a nickname for me and everything. I may as well just resign myself to this being my life from now on. Directionless. Pointless. With my name smeared. Prison might actually be a relief."
Pippa looked like she wanted to slap me across the face. "Great. So you'll just give up and abandon me?" she asked, the hurt shining in her eyes. "My husband goes and runs off overseas and now my best friend is gonna go and leave me too. Well, that's just great, Rachael. It really is."
She let go of my shoulders and shook her head, walking away from me. I could tell she wasn't bluffing. She was really upset. She looked like she was about to cry.
"Pippa," I said.
She spun around to look at me. "Just tell me, Rachael. Have you really given up? Because if you have, just let me know. I don't want to be around here if you've really decided to lie down and die. There's too much negative energy around here."
Too much negative energy? It sounded like she had been back in contact with Tegan again. I knew it was a mistake letting her make that appointment for me.
"Pippa, what’s wrong?"
She shook her head. "Maybe if you'd actually taken a second to stop drowning in self pity, I might have had a chance to tell you," she said.
I leaned forward, suddenly worried. "Tell me what?"
She stared at me. "I've been to see the doctor," she said. "I found out what's been wrong with me all these weeks."
"Oh my goodness," I said, bringing my hands up to my mouth. "Are you dying?"
She made an Are you kidding me? face. But she shook her head. "No," she said. "Not dying."
"Well, are you going to tell me then?"
"Rachael, I'm pregnant."
I just gasped. It seemed so shocking to me that I couldn't comprehend it for several minutes. I felt like everything in the world was surreal, like I had no reference points to cling onto.
My crazy, wild, scatter-brained friend...pregnant? She could barely even carry a tray of hor d’oeuvres. How was she going to carry a human baby around?
"You've got your mouth bobbing open and shut like a goldfish," Pippa said.
"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I think I'm in shock." I leaned forward. "Pippa, are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she said with a little laugh. "That's why I've been so sick, Rachael."
"Maybe it's a virus. Or something you ate."
"Rachael, I am pregnant." She stared at me. "Aren't you happy for me?"
I nodded. "Shoot, of course I am, Pippa!" I jumped up and ran to her, hugging her tightly. "Cripes, am I hurting you?" I asked, pulling away from her. "I'm not crushing the baby, am I?"
She laughed. "No, you're not crushing the baby."
My head was still spinning. "Is it Marcello's?"
Pippa nodded with her eyebrows raised. "Must have happened right before he went overseas," she said with a heavy sigh. "I haven't told him yet. You're the first."
Geez, we really were co-dependent. What if Marcello never came back? Were we going to raise the baby together?
"Can I do anything to help?" I asked.
Pippa nodded at me sternly. "Yes, you can actually. You can drop the self-pity for one thing. I need you."
I hung my head. "I will," I said firmly. "It's done with, Pippa. I am going to fight to clear my name and stay out of prison, whatever it takes. You can rely on me, Pips."
"One other thing," Pippa said.
"Anything you want."
"I think you should still keep your appointment with Tegan," Pippa said and I had to suppress a groan. Why did her one request have to be THAT? But Pippa wasn't letting me off the hook. "I want these bad vibes gone, Rachael. Besides, what do you have to lose?"
She was right. "Nothing," I admitted. I agreed that I would go meet with her the following day. "I'm only doing it for you though, Pippa. And your unborn baby."
Chapter 11
I'd never actually been inside Tegan's house before. I wasn't sure what I was going to find. A witch's cauldron? A black cat?
She's not a witch, Rachael, I told myself before I rang her doorbell. She was just an ordinary woman with some strange interests. Still, being there was a huge waste of time. Time I could be spending on the case, trying to clear my name. Tegan wasn't going to be able to help me with that.
I wondered if I could lie, just tell Pippa I'd been and instead run away before Tegan saw me.
Too late.
I heard her footsteps and saw her silhouette behind the glass.
She must have sensed I was on the other si
de of the door. Maybe she really did have supernatural powers.
Or she just heard my car pull up into the driveway. That was the more likely explanation.
I still wanted to run away, though. So what if she had seen me? That didn't mean I actually had to stick around, did it?
She opened the door and I still considered leaving, even with her standing right there in front of me.
Tegan had her eyebrow raised and there was a little smirk on her lips, which I had to fight the urge to slap away. "Rachael," she said. "I knew you'd come to see me sooner or later. It's been a long time coming."
I shook my head. "Are you going to invite me in, Tegan? It's freezing out here."
She kept her eyebrow raised. "Do I need to invite you in? You're not a vampire, are you?"
I just stared at her with my mouth wide open. She finally let out a little laugh and threw her head back. "I’m just joking, Rachael. Of course you can come in." She stepped aside and I rolled my eyes as I pushed past her. Hilarious.
Her house had a pleasant, perfumey smell like she'd burned so much incense in there that it had seeped into every surface and piece of furniture. To some people it might have been a little overwhelming or suffocating, but I've always loved the smell of incense. I don't burn any in my own home because Pippa is asthmatic and she'd been living with me now for as long as I could remember.
I paused in Tegan's hallway to think for a second. I only had a one-bedroom apartment. Pippa slept on my sofa. Where was the baby going to sleep once it was born? On the sofa with Pippa?
I shook my head. My apartment was no place for a mother and a baby. It was no place for a pregnant woman either, really. I felt a sudden tightening in my chest. We were going to have to make plans. But how was I ever going to be able to get a bigger apartment when I was about to declare bankruptcy on a failed business?
My heart was thudding and I began to feel lightheaded. I didn't even notice Tegan come up behind me and place a hand on my shoulder. I vaguely managed to make out the words she was saying. "Are you okay, Rachael?"
The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 7
