Flourless to Stop Him

by Nancy J. Parra

  The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “The small town might be backward, but you work around it, don’t you? How resourceful.”

  “Mindy, why did you stop in? I’ve got to get back to baking.”

  “I wanted to know more about Brad Ridgeway. Tim tells me he went to KU and was a basketball star.”

  “Why don’t you come on around to the back? That way I can work while we talk.”

  She eyed the door skeptically. “Is it dusty? This is a designer outfit. I don’t want to get whatever you call flour on it.”

  I shrugged. “Your choice.” I turned on my heel and pushed the kitchen door open. In the back it was warm and the air was filled with the scents of yeast, cinnamon, chocolate, and ginger. The radio played popular music and Meghan danced while she finished up the dishes.

  Mindy must have really wanted to talk, because she followed me into the back. “Oh, hello.”

  Meghan stopped and cautiously observed Mindy and her designer duds. “Hey.”

  “Mindy, this is my assistant Meghan. Meghan, this is my cousin Mindy. She’s here to visit for a while.”

  “Hello,” Mindy said again and stood just inside the door balancing on her sky-high stilettos as if she had suddenly entered a lion’s den.

  Meghan gave Mindy a small smile then turned to me. “I pulled the ingredients for the plum pudding that’s next on the list.”

  “Thanks.” I went to the small sink and washed my hands with soap and water. It was a bakery policy to always wash your hands when you entered the kitchen. I glanced at Mindy, who hadn’t moved. She seriously looked scared. I had pity on her. “Mindy, you can sit at the table. That way we can chat and you won’t be in the way.”

  “Okay.” She carefully teetered her way to the table, pulled out one of the chrome-and–red vinyl chairs, and sat down. Her coffee cup rested carefully on the table while she maintained a wary distance from the surface as if it were covered in an invisible contaminant that might ruin her outfit.

  “Can I take your coat?” Meghan asked her. “We usually hang them on the hooks near the door.”

  “No thank you, I’m fine.” Mindy waved her away.

  Meghan shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She turned to me and rolled her eyes. Her silver eyebrow piercing wiggled when she raised an eyebrow. “I’ll go change out the coffee.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded. It was policy to change the coffee every hour so that it remained hot and fresh throughout the day. If the coffee was good, people tended to stop by more often, and if they bought coffee they were more likely to purchase something to go with it.

  “She is certainly interesting to look at,” Mindy said when the door swung closed behind Meghan. “Is she a Goth?”

  “I think Goth is passé,” I said carefully. “Meghan is highly creative and a hard worker. She’s apprenticing under me so that she can move on to culinary school in Chicago and New York.”

  “Huh.” Mindy raised her cup and refused to lean back against the chair. She looked so stubbornly uncomfortable, but she was a grown-up and it wasn’t for me to change her mind. Still, I couldn’t help thinking how silly she was being.

  I added ingredients to the spotlessly clean stainless steel bowl, my back to Mindy. I hated to be rude, but I was swamped and not ready to indulge her insults with my complete attention.

  “So tell me about Brad,” Mindy said as I measured vanilla and brandy flavors.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, what is he doing here in Oiltop? Is he seeing anyone? Not that that matters—as long as he’s not married, he’s mine.”

  “That’s a tad arrogant, don’t you think?” I kept my voice bland and refused to look at her.

  She laughed, a clear, bright, and lovely sound. “Dear, dear cousin, I’m from New York and I’m gorgeous. There’s no way any man from little Oiltop, Kansas, could resist this.” I caught her movement from the corner of my eye as she waved her hand over her outfit as if she were a living, breathing goddess.

  Part of me envied her for feeling that way. Part of me wanted to slug that smug grin off her face. Mostly I took a deep breath and decided to be a grown-up about it. “As far as I know, Brad’s not seeing anyone right now. He moved to Oiltop when his dad was terminally ill. As for why he stayed, well, you’ll have to ask him.”

  “Oh, I will,” Mindy said with a gleam in her eye. “Trust me. This time next week, that gorgeous lawyer will be putty in my hands.”

  “Didn’t you say you were going back home? Why bother with an Oiltop man if you plan on leaving soon?”

  “Oh, honey, it’s no bother to have a vacation fling with a man like Brad. Besides, if things work out, neither one of us will be in Oiltop after the new year.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Candy Cole came tearing back into the kitchen through the front door, Rocky Rhode on her heels taking pictures as he walked. “Tim’s been arrested,” Candy announced into her phone’s recorder. “Did he really kill that poor man? Do you know why he did it?” She shoved the phone under my nose.

  “What?” My hands were covered in rice flour from kneading sweet dough for cinnamon rolls. It had been a heck of a day. First Grandma, then Mindy, and now this. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 7:00 P.M., and I hadn’t had much of a break all day. The good news was that my to-do list was shrinking . . . some. The bad news was that Meghan had been taking more calls and clocking in the e-mails for web orders all day. As the old saying goes, When it rains, it pours. . . .

  “Your brother Tim was arrested,” Candy said with a salacious gleam in her eye. “Officers Strickland and Emry were seen going into the FedEx warehouse and they brought your brother out in handcuffs.”

  “What?” I asked again, unable to comprehend the full meaning of her words. “Why would they do that?”

  Candy’s eyes lit up. “That’s what I’m finding out. My readers want to know . . . Did your brother kill that man?”

  “They arrested Tim?” I felt a bit numb. I knew I was tired from working and a bit desperate due to my financial crunch, but I also knew Tim was innocent. They couldn’t arrest an innocent man. Could they?

  “Sit down.” Candy looked at Rocky and motioned to the stool beside him.

  Rocky went to sit down when Candy gave him the evil eye.

  “Oh,” Rocky said and pushed the stool toward me. He then had the nerve to photograph me while I sat down before my shaky legs caused me to collapse.

  “Do you need water?” Candy asked, suddenly concerned for my welfare. I didn’t believe it. She was concerned for her story and didn’t want me to pass out before she got it.

  “Candy, are we really friends?”

  “Of course!” She handed me a glass of water. “I told you that we are. Didn’t we meet for coffee two weeks ago? What about when I helped you with George Meister’s killer?”

  “Candy, you tried to prove I killed George,” I pointed out and sipped my water. I had watched her get it from my sink; otherwise I might be afraid she dosed me with something.

  “That was just me doing my job.” She waved it off. “Just like I’m doing my job now. I’m a reporter, Toni. It’s what I do, and I can’t keep letting your Grandma scoop me. I’ll be out of a job. Now, what do you know about Tim being arrested this evening?”

  “I don’t know anything.” I guzzled the water. My thoughts ran wild. Did Brad know Tim had been arrested? What did they have on Tim? How did he go from being a person of interest to being arrested? Who was going to pay Tim’s bail? How would they pay it? My stomach clenched.

  “You’re Tim’s sister. He’s staying at your house. Are you telling me you had no clue he murdered that man?” Candy moved her phone speaker from herself to me.

  “I’m telling you, I saw the crime scene. There is no way my brother Tim or anyone I know could do something so violent and so horrific.” I put the glass d
own on the counter. The scene in the hotel room flashed in front of my eyes, and my stomach was queasy at the idea that another human being would do such a thing.

  “Tell us about the crime scene,” Candy pushed. “Did you see anything that would incriminate your brother? I understand you called Tim the moment you found out his name was on the registry. Why did you alert him to the investigation? Did you suspect him?”

  “I called my brother to see if he was all right,” I said. “Whoever killed Harold might also have killed Tim. I was worried, that’s all.” I shook my head. “I don’t ever impede the investigation. The law is the law and, for the most part, it works.”

  “You didn’t believe that when you were a person of interest.”

  “It still worked,” I argued. “Chief Blaylock never arrested me.”

  “They arrested your brother Tim. That means they believe that they have enough evidence to indict him. What do you know about the circumstances of the case? Did your brother and Harold fight? Was there a disagreement in the weeks before the murder? What evidence do you think they have against Tim?”

  The shock cleared from my brain. I realized that Candy was recording whatever I said. I also realized that Tim needed help. I had to stall Candy enough to get to the police station and find out what needed to be done to help my brother. Suddenly my decision to trust the police to do their job felt weak and stupid.

  I stood and went to the sink to wash the gluten-free flour from my hands.

  “Come on, Toni.” Candy followed me with Rocky behind her taking pictures. Rocky was the local photographer who did all the senior pictures, weddings, and such for the county. In his spare time he was the photo editor for the Oiltop Times. He told me once that photojournalism didn’t pay the bills, but if he didn’t do it he would feel as if he had wasted his talents. So he took studio photos to keep a roof over his head and worked for the newspaper to satisfy the serious photographer in him.

  “I’ve got nothing to say.” I grabbed a towel to dry my hands and Rocky took photos of me. “Rocky, stop taking pictures. You won’t be able to use them. I won’t sign a release.”

  “Oh, come on, Toni,” Rocky said. “You make a good subject.”

  “Thanks, but no comment.” I pushed through the doors to the front of the store, turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and locked the door.

  “You can’t close,” Candy said. “Your store hours are until nine and it’s only seven.”

  “My family comes before store hours,” I said as I pushed back into the kitchen with Candy and Rocky trailing behind me.

  “What about your family should my readers know?” Candy asked.

  “Like I said, no comment.” I pulled my coat off the rack, tossed a stocking cap on my head, and prepped for the brisk wind that blew the dry bits of snow around.

  “You might as well tell me something. If you don’t say anything publicly, then the story will be what other people think of you and your brother.”

  I paused a second before opening the door. “I’m not giving a statement until I talk to my brother and his lawyer and find out what is going on. Now, you can and probably will print whatever sensationalism you need to sell newspapers, but I won’t say anything that anyone can take out of context. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Candy lowered her phone. There was disappointment in her blue eyes. “Look, I can’t let your grandma scoop me on this. Ernie told me that he’ll fire me if I can’t do better than a ninety-something-year-old woman.”

  “I need to find out what’s happening.” I opened the door into the rush of icy-cold wind. “We’ll talk later.”

  “On the record or off?” Candy asked as she stood in the door frame.

  “Whichever my lawyer thinks is best.”

  “Someday you’re going to have to trust me,” Candy said with a shake of her head.

  “That day is not today,” I replied and locked the door behind us. I got in the van. The inside was cold as ice and my breath came out in a thick mist that fogged the windows. After five minutes to warm up the engine and brush the snow off the windows and mirrors, I took off toward the police station.

  I had dialed both Tim and Brad but neither answered. Hopefully they were together getting this thing figured out. Luckily Tim’s juvenile record would not be admissible in court. My brother was a good man, and I loved him to pieces, but after Dad died Tim had gone through a period of boundary testing. Unfortunately he’d ended up doing four weeks of community service for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes. Then there’d been a vandalism incident, after which Mom had sent Tim to a summer boot camp for troubled youth.

  He met some shady characters at the camp. How shady could a fourteen-year-old boy be? Tim never said. He’d come home after three months of grief counseling and team building a changed boy. He never talked about camp, but he’d come home and joined the football team, the basketball team, and student council. He was fun to be around, kind and carefree. Tim lived his life as if each day were his last.

  It was why he never married. Dad had been forty when he’d died. Tim figured he didn’t have much longer to live so he never settled down. Then last year he’d turned forty—the same age as Dad—and Mom had died. It was Tim’s wake-up call. At Mom’s funeral he’d said his only regret was he’d never given Mom more grandkids to love.

  My brother had gotten a steady job and worked long and hard hours. He’d moved out of my house a month ago and was saving up for a nice little house to buy. He’d told me he was counting on the Field of Dreams movie statement. If he built it, she would come.

  I never had the heart to tell him marriage wasn’t all it was cut out to be. I didn’t want my experience to color his opportunity. Even though my marriage had been a disaster, in my heart I always believed everyone should try marriage at least once. For some people it was a life of sweet companionship. Marriage was a relationship where the good outweighed the bad when both partners did what it took to make it work through the bad times and into the good. Who was I to take away anyone’s chance at a happy ending? So mine didn’t work out. It didn’t mean that all relationships were doomed. Did it?

  CHAPTER 15

  I put the van in reverse and rolled out of my parking spot, leaving a car-shaped bit of pavement showing. The way the snow was coming down, the bare spot would be filled in soon. I turned on the radio.

  Lou Bradley was deejaying tonight. He currently spoke of the winter weather advisory and told truck drivers to be careful on the roads with the high wind warning.

  The wind was shockingly strong as I left the protected area of the parking lot and turned onto Main Street. The van was built for space to deliver a cargo of baked goods, not to withstand hurricane-force winds. I put my hazard lights on and slowed way down. The roads were wet and slushy but passable. I only ever worried when we were hit by an ice storm. The van was pretty good in bad weather. This time the wind kept knocking it to the right and it was a fight to keep it on the road.

  The police station loomed before me, like a beacon in the storm. I pulled into the unpaved parking area and came to a crunching stop just outside the front door. Outside, the wind and snow tugged at my hair, froze my breath on my nose and cheeks. I struggled to open the station door. Finally I stepped inside, the storm slamming the door behind me.

  “Auntie Em, Auntie Em,” I muttered as a whirlwind of snow and ice blew me into the lobby.

  “Can I help you?” There was a young guy at the registration desk. He looked like he was twelve years old. His blond hair was cut short to his scalp. It made his ears seem larger as they stuck out on the sides of his head. He had light blue eyes and a clean-shaven jaw that had that round babyish softness to it.

  “Um, hi, I’m Toni Holmes. I was told my brother Tim Keene was arrested tonight. Is that true?”

  The kid looked through a logbook in front of him. I noticed that his name badge said BLAYLOCK.<
br />
  “I’m sorry. I just noticed your name tag. Are you Chief Blaylock’s son?”

  The officer blushed like a schoolboy. “He’s my uncle.” He pushed forward, ignoring his red cheeks. “According to the log, a Tim Keene was brought in on charges of second-degree murder and felony drug dealing.”

  “Holy cow! Murder and drug dealing? There’s no way!” I exclaimed. “What kind of evidence do they have?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, miss.” He closed the logbook and carefully folded his hands on top of it. He remained calm, his actions purposeful.

  I realized that I might have been a little loud when Officer Bright came around from the back. “Calvin, why are they arresting Tim? Is it true he’s being charged with murder and drug dealing?” I waved toward the officer at the front desk as if accusing him of lying.

  “Toni, calm down.”

  “Those are fightin’ words.” I narrowed my eyes, my temper flaring. “You have no right to patronize me. I want to see my brother, and I want to see him now.”

  “I’m not patronizing you.” He remained calm and reached his hand out. “May I touch you?”

  “Why?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Sometimes a touch can be soothing in an emotional time.” He slowly put his hand on my bent elbow. Then he gently led me away from the front desk to the two benches where either family members or arrestees waited.

  Right now it was only me and Officer Bright. We sat down together on the carved pine benches. “Do you want some tea or coffee?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t think of that until I know Tim is all right.” I studied Calvin’s sober expression, looking for a glint of hope. He gave away nothing.

  “I can tell you Brad is with him. Tim lawyered up the moment he was taken into custody.”

  My eyes teared up. How could this have happened? “I trusted you to do your job.” I went from sad to mad in a flash and balled up my hands. “I don’t know what evidence you think you have, but Tim didn’t do this horrible thing. He lived with me for six months. If he were dealing drugs and getting into the wrong crowd I would have known. Don’t you see? I would have known.”