Wedding Cake Killer: A Fresh-Baked Mystery

by Livia J. Washburn

Mike came to the house that afternoon with news from the sheriff’s department.

  “Roy’s body has been released so that funeral arrangements can be made,” he told Phyllis. Eve hadn’t eaten any lunch, claiming that she wasn’t hungry, and was still upstairs. “Whatever funeral home Eve wants to use can pick it up anytime.”

  “Thank you, Mike. I’ll talk to her about it.”

  Mike nodded and started to leave, then hesitated. “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Not very well, I’m afraid. She’s trying to put up a good front, but I know she’s had just about all she can take.”

  “I’m sorry. I heard about that stunt the DA pulled at the bail hearing this morning.” Mike shook his head. “I hate that she’s having to go through this. When Eve got back here, did she say anything about those allegations Sullivan made?”

  Phyllis opened her mouth to reply, but she stopped herself before she said anything. Mike worked for the sheriff’s department, she reminded herself, and it was the sheriff’s department that was handling the investigation into Roy’s death. They were a vital link in the chain of the prosecution.

  “Not much,” Phyllis said in response to Mike’s question. “I suppose that since Roy’s body has been released, they’ve finished the autopsy and determined the time and cause of death.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Mike said, and the awkwardness he felt was obvious. In the past, he and Phyllis had always talked freely, sharing information about cases, but it appeared that circumstances—and a touchy district attorney—had placed them on opposite sides this time. Phyllis didn’t care for that feeling at all.

  Mike went on, “I guess I, uh, better be going. See you later.”

  “Of course. Give Bobby a big hug and kiss for me.”

  He smiled and lifted a hand in farewell as he said, “Will do.”

  Once he was gone, Phyllis sighed. She would be glad when this terrible affair was over, so things could go back to the way they had been before.

  Right now she faced another unpleasant task: talking to Eve about Roy’s funeral.

  She went to Carolyn’s room first. She wasn’t going to do this by herself.

  “Mike was just here and said that the sheriff’s department has released Roy’s body,” Phyllis told Carolyn. “We need to find out what Eve wants to do.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Carolyn muttered. “I’m not looking forward to this. But I suppose it has to be done.”

  When Phyllis knocked on Eve’s door a moment later, Eve said, “Come in.” When they entered the room, they saw her sitting in a rocking chair, facing the window.

  “Eve, there’s some news,” Phyllis said. “We can make arrangements for Roy’s funeral now.”

  “Will you be taking him back to Houston?” Carolyn asked. She looked over at Phyllis and whispered, “Can she do that while she’s out on bail?”

  The rocker creaked a little as Eve sat forward and stood up. Moving slowly, as if weighed down by infinite weariness, she turned and said, “It doesn’t really matter, Carolyn, because I’m not taking him back to Houston. He’ll be buried here in Weatherford. We talked about that. Not in any specific terms, you know, just in general, because at our age it’s smart to do so. His first wife is buried there, with her family, but they didn’t have any children, and since Roy doesn’t have any close relatives, he said that when his time came he’d rather be up here with . . . with me.” Eve took a deep breath as she struggled to bring her emotions under control. “We just never dreamed that his time would come . . . so soon.”

  Tears started to roll down her cheeks again.

  Phyllis and Carolyn hurried over to her and embraced her. As she lightly patted Eve’s back, Carolyn said, “If that stupid district attorney could see you now, he’d know that you would never hurt Roy!”

  After a few minutes, Eve was able to stop crying. Phyllis turned the rocking chair away from the window and helped her sit down again. Phyllis sat on the bed, and Carolyn took the room’s other chair. When Eve said, “I suppose I should call the funeral home . . . ,” Phyllis told her, “I can take care of that for you. Do you have a . . . a plot picked out?”

  Eve smiled faintly. “As a matter of fact, I do. Right next to mine. I bought two, you see, because I always knew there was a good chance I’d be married again. I always considered myself . . . between marriages.”

  “I know,” Phyllis said with a solemn smile of her own. “I think we all knew you’d find yourself another man.”

  “That does seem to be one of the things I’m good at.” Eve grew more serious. “But never again. I can see now, after everything that’s happened to all of them, that it’s just not meant to be.”

  “Oh, goodness, I wouldn’t go that far,” Carolyn said.

  “Why not, dear? You barely believe in the concept of marriage anymore.”

  “Well . . . maybe not. Not for me, anyway. But that doesn’t mean you have to feel the same way.”

  Eve shook her head. “No, it’s time to recognize the obvious. Being divorced once and widowed four times is enough for anybody!”

  Phyllis couldn’t argue with that. Losing Kenny had been devastating enough that she didn’t want to ever go through something like that again. When he passed away, she had sworn to herself that she would never remarry. It had taken years—and knowing Sam Fletcher—for her to get to the point where she might even start to reconsider that vow, and even now she seriously doubted that it would ever come about.

  She leaned over and patted Eve on the arm. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that right now. I’ll go call the funeral home. Do you want the service at the church or at their chapel?”

  “The chapel, I think. There probably won’t be very many people there.”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure you’ll have to go down there and talk to them, probably tomorrow, but we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  Eve nodded. “Yes. I’ll be stronger by then.”

  Phyllis hoped that was true. The next few days were going to be awfully hard on Eve. There was no way of getting around that. But she and Carolyn and Sam would be there to help her in any way they could. They would all just have to get through it somehow.

  And then, once Roy Porter had been laid to rest, they could start trying to figure out who had killed him.

  Because no matter what District Attorney Sullivan or Sheriff Haney or her own son thought, Phyllis told herself, there was no way she was going to let Eve be convicted for a murder she didn’t commit. If she had anything to say about it, there wouldn’t even be a trial, because by then the real killer would be behind bars.

  Chapter 16

  She had been to too many funerals in her life, Phyllis thought two days later as she sat in the cemetery, trying not to shiver as a chilly wind blew across the rolling green hills around them.

  She wondered, if she tried, could she count them all up, going as far back over the years as she remembered? Or were there too many for that?

  It hadn’t been long, only a few weeks, since she’d attended another graveside service in this very cemetery. The person who’d been murdered on her own front porch had been laid to rest that day, which had also been cold and windy. Phyllis looked across the cemetery, but although she could pin down the area, she couldn’t see the actual grave.

  Not that it really mattered. Life had moved on without the person who was resting there, just as it would one day move on without her. Funerals, graveside services, memorials . . . it was often said that these things actually were for the living, not the dead, and that was true.

  They were meant to remind everyone who attended them that someday the end would come for them, too.

  Phyllis closed her eyes and tried to banish those grim thoughts. The minister was droning on, the wind was cold, and even the day was gloomy, with thick clouds clogging the sky and the potential for snow in the forecast for that night. Suitable weather for what had brought them here. Phyllis was ready for it to be over.

  Eve sat bes
ide her, with Carolyn on Eve’s other side. As Eve began sobbing quietly, Phyllis and Carolyn took hold of her hands and squeezed to give her strength. They all wore gloves and hats and sober dark suits. Sam stood to the side with the other pallbearers, the wind ruffling his thick salt-and-pepper hair and plucking at his tie.

  Mike and Sarah sat in the second row of folding chairs under the canopy that had been set up over the grave and the casket. They had left Bobby with a sitter this afternoon. Mike wasn’t in uniform, thank goodness. He was off duty today. In fact, no one from the sheriff’s department was here officially, although a Weatherford police car had led the procession from the funeral home to the cemetery. The officer hadn’t stayed for the service, though.

  Juliette Yorke was here, too, also in the second row, next to Sarah. And Dolly Williamson and a number of other retired teachers and administrators had shown up for the funeral and also come out here to the cemetery. There were more mourners than Eve had expected. She was well liked, even loved, in the educational community. In fact, many of the same people who had been at the bridal shower on Christmas Eve and the wedding on New Year’s Eve had come today to bid farewell to Roy, even though they hadn’t known him well. They knew Eve, and that was enough, Phyllis had thought as she looked at all the solemn, familiar faces.

  She had spotted Loretta Harbor and Velma Nickson and remembered the spat the two women had had at the bridal shower. That seemed so far in the past now, and so unimportant, too. Phyllis hoped their feud wouldn’t lead them to say or do anything to disrupt the service. It didn’t seem likely, since they were sitting as far away from each other as possible.

  There were other familiar faces besides the retired teachers. Jan and Pete Delaney were there, looking solemn. They had to be upset about the fact that a murder had been committed in their bed-and-breakfast, and Jan had been the one who had found Roy’s body, Phyllis recalled. That must have been a terrible thing for her. She wouldn’t have blamed them if they had stayed away, but like everyone else, they were here for Eve.

  Finally, the minister seemed to be wrapping up his remarks. When he said, “Let us pray,” Phyllis bowed her head not only in reverence but also in relief.

  After the prayer, Sam and the other pallbearers, all of them retired teachers Phyllis had recruited, took off the carnations that had been pinned to their lapels by the funeral director and placed them on the casket with the other flowers. Then they moved along the front row of chairs to shake hands with Eve and offer their condolences. The rest of the mourners followed suit. Jan Delaney bent down to hug Eve, as did several of the other women.

  Now that the service was over, most of the people headed for their cars, obviously eager to get out of the cold wind, and who could blame them, Phyllis thought. Others remained behind briefly to talk to old friends. The Delaneys were among them, and when Jan caught Phyllis’s eye, she knew that the woman wanted to talk to her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told Eve, who only sighed and nodded. Phyllis stood up and walked back among the other grave markers to join the Delaneys.

  “We’re so sorry about all this,” Jan began. “And I really hate to bother you with it, but we need to know what to do about the things that are still at the house. You know, the things that belong to Eve and . . . well, that belonged to her and Roy.”

  Phyllis nodded and said, “That’s all right. I understand. I assume the police have already conducted all their searches and the room isn’t taped off as a crime scene anymore?”

  “That’s right,” Jan said, which confirmed Phyllis’s guess that Roy’s body had been found in the room he’d shared with Eve at the bed-and-breakfast. Until now she hadn’t known that for certain.

  “Did the investigators take some of their belongings?”

  Jan started to answer, but before she could, Pete said, “The officers told you not to talk about that or anything else about the case, Jan, remember?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, Mrs. Newsom.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to pry,” Phyllis said quickly.

  Which wasn’t exactly the truth. She had meant to pry. She was a prying, meddling, self-righteous old snoop. More than likely that was what some people thought of her, anyway. She didn’t care. All that mattered to her was finding out the truth, clearing Eve’s name, and bringing Roy’s killer to justice.

  “I guess I can’t talk about anything the investigators did,” Jan went on, “but I can tell you that quite a few things are still at the house. I’d be glad to box them up so that someone can get them and take them back to your place. Eve’s going to be staying there, isn’t she?”

  Phyllis nodded and said, “Yes.” She started to add, for the time being, but then she realized that sounded like she expected Eve to be going somewhere else—prison, maybe—and she wasn’t going to entertain that notion even for a second.

  She went on, “Sam and I can come out and pick them up in a few days, whenever you’re ready. Will that be all right?”

  “That’ll be fine,” Jan said with a smile. “Thank you for being so understanding about this.”

  “Well, you don’t need the room just sitting there empty when you can rent it again.”

  Pete said, “Yeah, we’ll be lucky if we’re able to do that. I don’t know if anybody will ever want to stay in a room where a murder took place, but I worked hard getting the bloodstain out of the rug . . . Blast it, now I’m saying things I shouldn’t.”

  “It’s all right,” Phyllis told him. “I know how hard it is not to talk about something when it’s all you can think about.”

  “Yeah, you’ve been mixed up in cases like this before, haven’t you? I remember reading about you in the newspaper.”

  Phyllis shrugged and didn’t say anything.

  Jan clasped her hands and said, “I’ll give you a call.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Phyllis said. She waved good-bye as the Delaneys headed for their car.

  Turning, Phyllis went back to the canopy. Eve was on her feet now, standing with Carolyn and Sam, talking with Dolly Williamson. The former superintendent was still a formidable figure despite her age. Phyllis didn’t know exactly how old Dolly was, but she had to be in her eighties.

  Dolly hugged Eve and said in her booming voice, “Anything you need, you just let me know, you hear?”

  “Of course, Dolly,” Eve said.

  Dolly hugged the other three of them in turn before going to her car. Carolyn shook her head as she watched her go.

  “I miss the days when if you had a problem, you could tell Dolly about it and she would make it go away.”

  “I’m not sure if it was ever really like that, or if she just made it seem that way,” Phyllis said.

  “Either way, life seemed a lot simpler then. I thought once you retired, everything was supposed to be simpler. That’s what I planned on.”

  “Well, you know the old sayin’,” Sam said. “Life is what happens when you’re makin’ other plans.”

  Phyllis glanced at the flower-bedecked casket sitting on the mechanism that the funeral directors would use to lower it into the grave vault once everyone was gone. It was vivid evidence of the futility of making too many plans.

  She linked her arm with Eve’s and said, “Let’s go home.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Carolyn said. “People have brought so much food, we’re going to be doing nothing but eating for a week just to keep up with it.”

  Eve shook her head. “I don’t think I can eat.”

  “Now, don’t start that,” Carolyn said as the four of them walked toward Phyllis’s Lincoln. “The past few days you haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive, and it’s time you got your appetite back.”

  “Life goes on, you mean?” Eve said. “I appreciate the sentiment, dear, but—”

  “But, nothing,” Carolyn said, her voice even blunter than usual. “Nobody’s saying that you have to stop mourning Roy. You’ll do that when the time is right, and not before. But you do have to keep
living, and part of that is eating. You know good and well that’s what Roy would want you to do. He always had a healthy appetite, didn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes. He loved to eat.” Eve smiled. “He would have loved all the potato salad and the casseroles and the pies . . .”

  “You see what I mean? He would expect you to eat and enjoy all that good food.”

  “You know, I think you’re right,” Eve said. “Thank you, Carolyn. Maybe I can eat a little when we get back to the house.”

  That reaction was encouraging, Phyllis thought. Sometimes, what a person needed more than anything else was some straight talk. And nobody could be counted on for straighter talk than Carolyn Wilbarger.

  Almost everyone had left now. The hearse and the funeral director’s car were still here, of course, and in the distance there was a pickup that probably belonged to the man who would use a tractor to cover the grave later on, but Phyllis didn’t want to think about that.

  There was also one car parked not too far from her Lincoln, but Phyllis didn’t recognize it or the woman who was sitting in it. When the woman saw them coming, she got out of the car.

  She wore a long dark brown coat, the tails of which swayed a little in the wind. Even though the coat mostly concealed her shape, Phyllis could tell that she was tall and slender. Sunglasses covered her eyes despite the overcast sky. She had blond hair that fell in wings around her face.

  For a second Phyllis thought that this was one of the teachers she didn’t know, one of Eve’s coworkers from her last years at the high school. But then Phyllis realized she had never seen this woman before. Clearly, though, the woman wanted to speak to them.

  “Mrs. Porter?” she said as she stepped away from her car.

  Eve and the others all stopped. “Yes?” Eve said. “Do I know you, dear?”

  The woman took her sunglasses off, revealing blue eyes. She smiled, which relieved the rather stern lines of her face. “No, we’ve never met,” she said.

  “Did . . . did you know my late husband?”

  “I’m afraid I never met Roy Porter, either, although I wouldn’t have known him under that name. But I’ve been looking for him for quite a while.”