Dream a Little Scream

by Mary Kennedy

  “How are things going with the lawyer?” I asked, remembering how Etta Mae’s face was contorted with rage when she talked about the “theft” of her beloved family recipes.

  “Etta Mae is much calmer, it seems,” Ali continued. “She feels relieved that she’s gotten legal representation, and she seems more rational about the whole thing.” She turned to me. “Remember how emotional she was at the Dream Club?”

  “I certainly do. She looked positively murderous.” I didn’t add that I’d spotted a gloating expression on Etta Mae’s face as Sonia was whisked away by the paramedics. It could have represented a vindictive pleasure in her enemy’s fall, or it could have meant something more sinister.

  “Are we taking Etta Mae off the suspect list?” Sara asked, highlighter in hand.

  “Maybe not quite yet,” Noah said. “But she’s not at the top anymore.”

  “That leaves us with Edward,” Sara said. “Is he still paying visits to Lucinda?”

  “I’m not sure,” I told her. “I never got a chance to follow up on that. I think Lucinda was tickled to have some male attention, and I believe that Edward is lonely and socially awkward. I think he’s flattered that Lucinda is taking an interest in him.”

  “Do you still consider him a suspect?” Noah grabbed the last of the homemade potato chips, and Ali signaled the server for another basket.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. He might have been upset over his nephew being treated so badly by Sonia, but murdering her certainly wouldn’t change anything. Plus, he seems like such a gentle, quiet soul, I can’t imagine him deliberately hurting anyone.”

  “I agree,” Ali said quickly.

  “What else has happened since we talked?” Noah asked. His tone was innocent, and he didn’t explain why he’d been out of touch the last few days. Ali insisted that it was because he was busy with his new detective agency, but I wasn’t so sure. There’s something mercurial about Noah. He can appear and disappear at will—both physically and emotionally— and I’ve never really understood it.

  I told Noah and Sara about Trudy’s visit and how both Ali and I were convinced that she had nothing to do with Sonia’s death. And Noah repeated his story about Trudy’s ex-con boyfriend and his rock-solid alibi. When we seemed to have exhausted all the news on the case, Ali gave a quick update on the baking classes we were offering.

  “Baking classes? I want to sign up!” Sara said impulsively. I tried not to smile. Sara can barely boil water for tea.

  “You’re certainly welcome to come,” Ali told her. She whipped out a flier and passed it across the table. “I think you’d enjoy the cupcake class. I’ll add you to the list right away, because the class is filling up very fast.”

  “Thanks. I’ll write it up and submit it to the style section of the paper; they love articles on food and cooking classes.”

  “Do you think they’ll publish it?” Ali asked excitedly.

  “I’ll do my best,” Sara assured her. “They’re always looking for local features.”

  29

  The moment we left Sweet Caroline’s, I realized what had been bothering me about the coffee cup. “Ali, do you mind if we make a quick stop at Java Joe’s again on the way home?”

  “Of course not,” she said, putting on her sunglasses. The bright sun was beating down through the leaves of the banyan trees and making interesting patterns on the sidewalk. “What’s up?”

  “Just an idea,” I told her. “Did you take a good look at that photo of Sonia from Java Joe’s?”

  “Well, I think I did,” Ali said tentatively. “It just looked like a typical fan snapshot. Sonia and Erica and the baristas, all looking happy and smiling at the camera.” She turned to me, her brow furrowed in concentration. “What are you getting at?”

  “Did you notice anything special about Jeremy Watts standing in the background?”

  She hesitated. “I noticed he didn’t look too thrilled to be there, and I’m sure he didn’t realize anyone was snapping his picture.” She took off her sunglasses as we stopped at a crosswalk and gave me a searching look. “Did I miss something?”

  “Not necessarily,” I told her. “Or if you did, then I missed it, too. Something about that photo has been bugging me, and I need to go back and check out it.”

  “You certainly are being mysterious,” she said. “I could tell something was bothering you during lunch.”

  “You could? How did you know that?”

  “You never asked Noah a word about his new receptionist,” she said archly. “And you didn’t ask him why he’s been out of town or what cases he’s been working on.”

  “I didn’t think it was the time or place,” I said, hearing a touch of defensiveness creep into my voice. “If he wanted me to know, I guess he’d tell me.”

  Ali smiled. “I think he was waiting for you to ask him. You know, Taylor, in some ways, I think I understand Noah better than you do.”

  • • •

  “Well, I’m glad you stopped in,” Erica said a few minutes later, “I was just leaving to take it to the framer.” She pulled the photo out and passed it across the counter to us. She looked puzzled, and I knew she was wondering why in the world we’d returned to Java Joe’s for another look at the snapshot.

  “I just had to see it again,” I said guilelessly. “Ali, take another peek. Neither one of us really took a good look at Jeremy Watts before.”

  “What am I looking for?” Ali said under her breath as Erica turned to ring up a sale. She stared hard at the photo and even held it up to the light.

  “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I give up. There’s nothing wrong with the picture. At least nothing I can see. It’s Jeremy Watts, all right, and he’s standing over by the wall, at the station with the creamer and sugar packets and the flavored syrups for the coffee.”

  “And . . . what else do you see?” I prompted.

  “And he’s holding a coffee cup!” she said and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth. “Olivia is nowhere in sight. It’s Jeremy holding the cup. Could this be the cup Sonia had at the book signing? She turned and looked at me, her eyes wide with shock. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “Yes, I know—”

  “And this means he would have had the perfect opportunity to tinker with Sonia’s coffee and add some sesame seed powder. He had access to the coffee, and he had the perfect excuse. He could just pretend he was adding cream and sugar or whatever she liked in her coffee. It would have been so easy for him. I can’t believe we missed this.”

  “He couldn’t have planned it better,” I said softly. If indeed that’s what happened, I thought. We still had no proof that anyone had tampered with Sonia’s coffee; all this was circumstantial and more in the realm of guesswork. Just speculation. We had no real proof of anything yet.

  “All this time we thought it was Olivia, but now I’m beginning to think it could have been Jeremy,” Ali said in a hushed tone. Erica was finishing up with her customer and turned back to us expectantly. “Was there anything else you needed?” she asked, taking off her apron. She was clearly going off duty and eager to be on her way.

  “No, we’re fine,” I said. “Thanks so much.” I pulled some fliers out of my purse. “Would you mind if we left a few of these with you? We’re offering free baking classes at the shop. Some of your customers might be interested.”

  She quickly scanned the flier and broke into a broad smile. “Cupcake classes! What a great idea! I’ll keep them right here by the cashier and make sure we drum up some business for you. Local businesses need to support each other.”

  “Yes, we do!” Ali said enthusiastically. “What next?” she said to me as we left the shop.

  It was midafternoon, and I had an idea I wanted to run by Sam Stiles. We could visit her at the precinct house, but it m
ight just be easier to head for home and call her. I was embarrassed that Noah had found out about the coffee cup before we had, but I blamed myself. I’d been so busy tracking down dead-end leads and setting up promotions for the shop, I’d neglected to contact Sam.

  “How much is left to do on the cupcake classes?” I asked her.

  “Nothing,” she told me. “Dana has ordered all the supplies, and as soon as we have twelve people who’ve signed up, we can start immediately.”

  “I’m sure we have a dozen people right now,” I told her. “If necessary, we can pull in members of the Dream Club. You know they’d be happy to help.”

  “Why are you so eager to do this?” Ali asked me.

  “Because I want to lure Olivia back to the shop,” I told her. “I’ve got to have some excuse, and I’m going to tell her that we have a window display of Sonia’s books.”

  Ali frowned. “Will she fall for that?”

  “Why not? If she really did tamper with the coffee cup, she’d be glad to have the opportunity for a second look around for it.”

  “So we lure her back to the shop and . . .” Ali’s voice trailed off uncertainly.

  “And we sit back and see what happens.”

  • • •

  As soon as we got back to the shop, Ali consulted with Dana about the supplies and asked her for a rough estimate of how long it would take to set everything up. My plan was to get Olivia to the shop early enough that she could poke around on her own, and we could catch her looking for the cup. But we needed to take things a step further, and that’s where Detective Sam Stiles would come in. I curled up on the living room sofa and called her.

  She answered on the first ring, and I told her I knew about the coffee cup from Java Joe’s.

  “Yeah, the coffee cup,” she said, a note of weariness creeping into her voice. “I can’t believe the way it went down. I guess you heard the CSIs actually found it, but someone at the station house screwed up and it was never entered into evidence. What a mess.” She sounded tired and dejected.

  “Well, it didn’t contain any evidence of sesame seed powder, did it? And the chain of evidence is broken, so you couldn’t really use it to nail Olivia, right?” Or Jeremy, I thought, remembering that photo at Java Joe’s.

  “No, you’re right, we couldn’t,” she said, her voice flat. She gave a bitter little laugh. “But you know how I hate sloppy police work. There was no excuse for what happened.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. Sam is the ultimate perfectionist. The so-called eighty-percent rule doesn’t work with Sam. She believes in giving any effort a hundred and ten percent, and she has very high standards for her detectives and her CSIs. I knew that she was probably angry and embarrassed that such an important piece of evidence would slip through the cracks.

  “I’m still hoping someone will slip up or some new information will come to light. At the moment, we don’t have much to go on.”

  “Who’s at the top of your suspect list?”

  “Olivia,” she said slowly. I quickly told her about spotting Jeremy holding the coffee cup in that photo taken at Java Joe’s. I was glad that Sam was willing to exchange information with me; technically, she shouldn’t be talking about an ongoing investigation. “Well, I still like Olivia for the crime. I don’t see Jeremy having a motive. At least, not a strong motive.” She paused for a beat, and I said, “It might help his career if Sonia was out of the way, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was tired of being a midlevel executive and wanted a shot at the top spot.” Barney jumped on my lap, and I gently shifted him onto the sofa cushion next to me.

  “Not necessarily,” Sam said. “I’m not sure he’d move up in the company if Sonia died. From what I hear, he’s not a very valued employee, and who knows, he might get fired in the shake-up.” There was a long beat while I considered this.

  “What about Leslie Watts?” Ali mentioned she’d called Sam a couple of days ago and told her about the strange incident with Leslie in Lucinda’s kitchen.

  “Taylor, I know what you’re thinking. That Leslie grabbed some sesame seeds from Lucinda’s spice rack and dumped them in with the cookies.” There was a short pause while someone was talking in the background. “I just don’t buy it. What are the odds of Leslie even knowing that Lucinda had sesame seeds? And how could she be sure that Lucinda wouldn’t come back and catch her in the act? It sounds really risky to me.”

  “Risky or improbable?” I was a little disappointed because I still thought Leslie was a strong suspect.

  “I’d say risky and improbable. I think the whole thing was perfectly innocent. Here’s the way I see it. Leslie was just trying to help out by putting the dough on the cookie sheets for Lucinda. You know how flustered Lucinda gets sometimes. She might have been standing at the front door for sixty seconds and she thought it was ten minutes. Plus, let’s face it, at times Lucinda gets a little ditzy. She probably mixed up the position of the spice bottles herself.” Sam gave a short laugh. “Who alphabetizes their spices anyway? I barely have time to feed the dogs and cats and open up a can of soup when I get off duty.” It was true; Sam worked harder than anyone I knew.

  “Do you have a plan? Is there any way to flush out Olivia?”

  “Funny you should say that,” she said, lowering her voice. “Can you get Olivia to come back to the store for a chat?”

  “I think so. Dana’s window display is drawing a lot of attention and I was going to ask her to stop by to take a look at it.”

  “That would really help,” Sam said, relief evident in her tone.

  “Do you want me to just watch her? I could give her the opportunity to look around for the coffee cup and report back to you.”

  “I thought of something better. What if you told her that the police are still looking for the coffee cup and that we’re going to try the dump at the edge of town in a couple of days. I’m going to leak a piece to the newspaper that we’re looking for paper and plastic products from the signing that day.”

  “I can try. I could tell her that all the trash cans in the district were emptied and the dump is your last hope of finding it.”

  “Let me know what happens,” Sam said. “I’m counting on you.” She started to click off and added, “Oh, and Taylor, thanks for this.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I promised. I flipped the phone shut and felt a little buzz of excitement. Were we finally close to finding the murderer? Would Olivia fall for the ruse? She’d have to be pretty desperate, but if Sam thought it would work, I’d be happy to give it a try. And the perfect time to do it was before the cupcake baking class.

  30

  “Was it hard to get twelve people to show up?” I asked Dana the following morning. It was nine thirty, and The Magic of Cupcakes class was going to start in half an hour.

  “Not at all,” she said, checking the supplies she’d laid out for the students. She’d brought in two folding tables she’d found in the shed behind our building and had covered them with bright blue-and-white gingham cloths. Each student would have a workstation, complete with mixing bowls, cupcake tins (both mini and full-sized), and a nice selection of colored frostings.

  “It looks very nice,” I told her. Dana has a creative flair. “Will this be enough frosting for everyone?” I asked, pointing to the little dishes filled with frosting in Easter-egg colors—mint green, buttercup yellow, and soft pink.

  “Oh yes; those are just for adding color for the flowers,” she explained. “We use buttercream frosting for the base, and I made a big batch of it this morning.” She pulled a giant mixing bowl out of the refrigerator and showed it to me “We’re going to teach them to create flowers and rosettes to top the cupcakes.”

  “Flowers and rosettes?”

  Dana opened a cookbook and pointed to a beautiful cupcake topped with pale blue hydrangea petals. There was a row of snowy cupcakes with pink rosettes on the next
page. It was hard to believe it was all made from tinted frosting.

  “It looks impossible,” I told her.

  “It’s easy with the right tip on a piping bag,” Dana said. “Why don’t you try your hand at it?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said quickly, but Ali laughed and pushed a piping bag into my hand. “Taylor, you can make a rose. Watch, I’ll do one and then you do one.”

  Dana handed her a cupcake already topped with buttercream frosting, and Ali expertly used a piping bag to form soft pink petals on the top. She leaned over, biting her lower lip with concentration, and then stood back to admire the results. It was perfect. A lovely pink rose topping off a snowy white cupcake. How did she do it? It only took a couple of minutes. And a very steady hand.

  “See, it’s easy,” she said. “I can teach you how to make a couple of tiny green leaves to go with it, but we’ll save that for another time. Go ahead and try it, Taylor. Dana, give her a cupcake.”

  At first I was all thumbs, but somehow I followed Ali’s guidance and produced not a perfect rose, but something resembling one. She coached me on how to make the petals by starting on the inside and going clockwise, making tiny petals by dabbing pink frosting from the piping bag. I could see that this was going to take some practice, but it didn’t seem as impossible as it had a few minutes earlier.

  “Perfect,” she said approvingly. “Taylor, you’re a natural. You can help the students while Dana and I fill the piping bags for them.”

  “I thought each student was going to do her own,” Dana said.

  “Well, it’s a lot quicker if we do it for them. If they don’t have the bags tightly secured, the frosting oozes out the wrong end. They’ll be discouraged before they even get started.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me, Ali, but I don’t think I’ll be able to offer much help.”

  “Nonsense, Tayor. It’s the effort that counts,” Ali said. “Just keep encouraging them. That’s all they need: a bit of self-confidence.”