Flourless to Stop Him

by Nancy J. Parra

  “I was wondering if you might want to go out sometime.”

  For a moment I froze, not sure what to say or do. My long pause must have meant something to him, because he lifted his right shoulder in a half shrug and gave me a smile that didn’t reach his pretty blue eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It was a spontaneous invitation. I understand you’re a busy woman.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I reached out and touched his hand. “I was surprised and that almost always ends with me looking blankly at someone.”

  This time his smile reached his eyes. “Surprised you, huh?”

  “It’s been less than a year since my divorce was official. Why, just this morning I realized it’s been years since I was on a date. Dating is a skill that takes practice. I’m terribly rusty.”

  “Wait, you have the time counted?” he asked.

  “I promised myself I’d concentrate on me and Baker’s Treat the first year. That means no dating for a year.”

  “Ah, yeah, I’d be counting the weeks, days, and hours if I had to wait a year to kiss a pretty woman. How do you do it?”

  The heat of a blush rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. Really I was the only person to blush so much as an adult. I fanned my face. “Sometimes I’m not sure if it was a good idea—I’ve lost weeks of practice time.”

  He laughed and leaned in so close I could feel his warm breath whisper along my cheek. “I promise, I’ll go easy on you.” Then he winked. I took a step back.

  “I just told Sam Greenbaum I’d go out with him on Boxing Day.”

  “So?” Lance asked. “You can’t date more than one man at a time?”

  “I can’t imagine having the time to date more than one.”

  “That’s right.” He reluctantly stepped back. “I heard that you’ve got a lot going on. You’re not only baking, you’re investigating. How’s that going, by the way? Need any help?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip and debated if I should tell him what I knew. I made an instant decision. “I think I may have found a better suspect than my brother.”

  “Really?” He looked surprised and interested and stepped back in toward me. “Who? Do I know him? I assume it’s a guy, right?”

  “I don’t really know gender yet.” I wrung my hands and suddenly felt silly. “I know, how can I know who did it and not know their gender?” I swallowed. “You see I discovered that Blackmore Brothers Security that works all of the hotels and motels around Oiltop.”

  “Sure, I work for them sometimes,” Lance said. “What does that have to do with Tim and Harold?”

  “There was a security guard on duty when Harold was murdered.”

  “You think a security guard murdered Harold? Isn’t that reaching? I mean, we’re all vetted and bonded. It’s not like Blackmore Brothers Security is a fly-by-night firm. Heck, even Chief Blaylock has been known to pick up an extra shift or two. . . .” He grew silent. “You think maybe the killer is someone in the police department?”

  “It’s all speculation at this point,” I said. Whoever is framing my brother knows police procedure very well. They are such a part of the community that no one thinks twice about them at the crime scene or leaving packages of drugs in my garage.” I took a step toward him. “Look, everyone knows Mrs. Dorsky sees everyone who comes and goes from the homestead. Whoever is framing my brother would have to be so familiar that the neighborhood watch wouldn’t even note his coming and going.”

  “Or hers,” he said and leaned against the glass counter.

  “Or hers,” I agreed. “Tasha told me that each security guard has an employee number that is scanned by the hotel when they arrive. I took the list Grandma Ruth gave me of the dates and rooms that Tim supposedly rented and called the hotels to see what security number was scanned that day. I was able to match an ID number with each time Tim was supposed to have rented a hotel room.”

  “Why would a security guard rent random rooms around town?”

  “I’m not sure, but it may be that he was dealing drugs out of these rooms.”

  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Why rent a room? If you’re the security guard, you could deal drugs outside cameras’ reach and no one would think twice. Who’s going to catch you? You?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” I frowned. He’d just punched a great big hole in my theory. Why would anyone rent random rooms if they could deal drugs from a car out in the open just out of cameras’ reach?

  “It doesn’t track,” he continued. “Just because it was the same security guard doesn’t tie them to the room rentals or the murder. You’re reaching, Toni.”

  I felt completely deflated. I might have a number I could turn into a name, but that was the end of my investigation. Without being able to tie the guard to the rooms or the murder I was basically at a dead end.

  “Let me make a suggestion,” Lance said seriously. “Why don’t you worry about baking and dating and let the professionals figure out how to help your brother?”

  “He’s my brother,” I said. “It’s Christmas. I need to help clear him. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but seriously, leave it to the police. Okay?” This time it was Lance who patted my hand. “Thanks for the bear claws.” He sent me a smile and walked out the door, leaving me feeling like a fool.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Two guys asked you out this morning?” Tasha sat in the bakery kitchen to keep me company while she waited for Kip’s session with his paraprofessional to end. “Please tell me you said yes to at least one of them.”

  “Sam was the first to ask and I said yes.” I was proud of my decision. “Then weirdly Lance Web stopped by and bought coffee and a bear claw. Then he asked me out.”

  “The Lance Webb who was in here the other day making fun of your gluten-free stuff?” Tasha asked. “That Lance Webb bought a bear claw and asked you out?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But I told him no.”

  “Good for you,” she said. “You deserve better. What about Brad? Wasn’t he interested?” She cuddled a warm cup of Christmas tea in her hands.

  “Yes, he was interested.” I stopped rolling out sugar cookie dough. “But he’s sort of seeing my cousin Mindy.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sort of seeing’?” Tasha straightened. “Did that girl steal him from you, because I swear, if she did . . .”

  “No, no,” I reassured her. “I finally found out what brought Mindy into town. She’s got an issue at her work. Brad’s helping her figure out what’s best for her.”

  “So he’s not dating her?” Tasha cocked her head. Her lovely blonde hair fell to one side, cascading over the pale blue sweater she wore.

  “See, that’s where things get tricky. I thought they went on a date the other night, but Mindy told me about her problems right after that ‘date.’ I got the distinct feeling it was more of a working dinner than a date. That said, he’s taking her to the Wichita Symphony tonight for their Christmas concert.”

  “Yeah, see, that doesn’t sound like work to me.”

  I shrugged and turned back to my cookie dough. “I don’t blame him. I told him I wasn’t dating. How would he have known I would change my mind?”

  “You’re a woman,” she said and sipped her tea. “It’s your prerogative to change your mind at any time.”

  “I guess that’s true.” I cut out neat snowman and Christmas tree shapes. “It doesn’t matter. I said yes to Sam. He wants to take me ice-skating.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Tasha said. “Lots of opportunity to put your hands all over that gorgeous body of his.”

  “What? No . . .” I stared dreamily off into space. “I did warn him I have no experience and would probably fall.”

  “What’d he say to that?”

  “He said he’d catch me.” I smiled.

  “Like I said, sounds like a perfect dat
e. What are you going to wear? Do you have a wool skater dress you can wear with tights?”

  “What? No. Do they make those for regular people?”

  “What do you mean by ‘regular’?” Tasha asked.

  “Nonskaters,” I answered and picked up two full sheets of cookies and stuck them in the top part of the oven then set the timer. “Forget it. I’m going to wear jeans and a comfy sweater. I need padding. Does Kip still have his knee, wrist, and elbow protectors from his inline-skating days?”

  “You are not wearing knee pads.” Tasha frowned at me. “You really are rusty at dating. When are you going?”

  “The day after Christmas.”

  “Good, I’m off. I’ll come over and see that you’re dressed right. We can do your hair and makeup, too.”

  “Am I that bad?” I asked.

  “Not that bad.” She stood and gave me a small hug. “Trust me, you’re going to be glad I came when you open the door and see the happiness on his face.” She put her mug in the sink. “I’ve got to go pick up Kip. Are you still hosting Christmas Eve?”

  “I’m still hosting,” I said. “Grandma and I decided it was best to try to act as normal as possible. Trust me, that’s tough for my family.”

  Tasha grinned. “Good, Kip has done nothing but talk about your Christmas Eve party. You know how he can fixate on things.”

  “Tell him it’s going to be a great party.”

  “And Tim?”

  “Tim will be there. I thought I was pretty close to figuring out who’s behind this terrible crime.”

  “Good! Are you going to tell us?” She grabbed her puffy down coat from the hooks on the wall by the door.

  “As I said, I thought I’d be happily solving the murder this morning, but when I told Lance, he explained that I’ve only proven a coincidence that the same security guy signed in every time Tim’s name was used. I haven’t proven motive or even put him at the scene.”

  Tasha winced. “That’s a lot to prove.” She buzzed a kiss on my cheek. “If anyone can solve this it’s you.” She patted my arm and wound her scarf around her neck. Last, she plopped a multicolored knit cap on her perfect hair. “See you Christmas Eve. Stay safe.”

  “I will,” I said. “We can’t jeopardize Kip’s Christmas.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best.” Tasha pulled the back door open and left in a swirl of frozen air and blowing snow. I frowned at the snow on the floor and grabbed a mop to wipe it up. When did another storm start? I’d been working in the kitchen all day. It was dark out now and I still didn’t feel entirely safe when I was alone in the bakery and it was dark.

  I turned up the radio and bopped to the beat of The Best of the ’80s and ’90s. I shook my head at how my high school years were now “oldies”—sheesh.

  As I was finishing up the last batch of sugar cookies, the door from the bakery pushed in startling me. I jerked, gasped, and squeezed the decorator bag of frosting a little too hard, squirting it out in a squiggly line down the front of the snowman cookie I was frosting.

  “Hey, I waited out front, but you didn’t come out, so I was just checking to see if you’re okay back here,” Officer Strickland said, standing in the door frame.

  My heart raced from the scare he gave me. I reached up and turned down the radio. “You startled me. I thought the door was locked.”

  He stepped into the back. “You were blasting the oldies station.”

  I grabbed a frosting knife and scraped off the ruined snowman. “I saw the snowstorm and wanted to keep abreast of the weather.” I put the knife in the jar of water I kept nearby and wiped my hands on the towel that hung on the ties of my apron. “How bad is it out there?”

  “Pretty bad,” he said and stepped in closer. “That’s why I stopped by to see if you might need a ride home.”

  I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10:00 P.M. How did it get to be so late? “Goodness, I had no idea it was so late. I need to close up and clean up.” I looked around and made a quick list in my head of what all had to be accomplished before I left. “It’s going to take a bit of time. Thanks for the offer, but I can’t ask you to stay while I clean up.”

  “I don’t mind staying.” He stepped in close and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’d rather see you safe.”

  Um. “Oh.” There was that blush again. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  He got stubborn then, crossing his arms. “You haven’t been out there. It’s blowing pretty hard. There was a semi in the ditch just off the turnpike.”

  “I really have a lot to do yet and I can’t ask you to stay.”

  “I’ve got nothing better to do.” He walked around me and looked into my office. “I’ll hang out and wait.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. How did you get rid of unwanted male attention? It’d been years since I experienced it. Wearing my wedding ring and having Eric had had perks in times like these. “Well, okay,” I said. “It’s your time.”

  “Great.” He flipped on the office light and went inside. “Is this where you do all your detective work?” He wiggled my mouse and brought the screen to life. There on the desktop of my computer screen was a file labeled SUSPECTS. “What’s this?”

  I practically threw myself in front of the screen, squeezing between him and the computer. “Nothing,” I said. “Just my thoughts on the murder.”

  “What thoughts are those?” he asked.

  “It’s not important.”

  “That’s not what you told Lance Webb.”

  “You talked to Lance?”

  “He’s a good friend,” Officer Strickland said with a small smile.

  “Yes, well, then you know that Lance told me coincidence does not make a killer.” I smiled ruefully as he stepped back. My office really was a small space and he was a big guy. “Although I’d argue that coincidence is all they have on Tim.”

  “It’s not a slam-dunk case.” He sat down in my desk chair and made himself at home. “I’ll admit that. There was a meeting this afternoon. I must say Calvin Bright really likes your family. He gave a strong case for why your brother was not the best candidate.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes.” Officer Strickland nodded. “Unfortunately there’s no other suspect at this time and the mayor and county DA are pushing to get this resolved. They don’t like lingering murder cases.”

  Huh, Calvin was on our side. I wouldn’t have known it from the way he acted. I turned and sent off a quick e-mail to Tasha that Officer Strickland was here and then locked my computer.

  “Tell me about your security suspect list.”

  “It’s not important.” I walked out of the office to start clean up. “Lance had some really good reasons why it would be premature to do anything with it.”

  He rolled my desk chair out into the door frame between my office and the kitchen and leaned it as far back as it would rock. “I figured you were a smart woman.”

  I concentrated on packing up the cookies. “I’m really disappointed.” I shook my head. “I thought I might really be on to something. Anyway, I thought I’d go see Marcus Blackmore and at least make him aware of what might be happening. He should be able to tell me who belongs to the number.”

  He shook his head. “You tell your crazy suspicions to Blackmore and he’ll laugh you out of his office. Why put yourself through that? People in town already think you’re a little nuts, Toni, and worse, they suspect your brother is a murdering drug dealer. No one’s going to take you seriously unless you have hard proof. Where’s your proof, Toni?”

  “There are the videos at the hotels. Officer Bright pulled all the available video feeds. If he wasn’t looking for security guys he wouldn’t see them. He’d expect them, wouldn’t he? Which is what this guy wants, right? All I need to do is get Calvin to really look at the video and if I have Marcus
Blackmore confirm which man belongs to the number then they’ll have to see that Tim is not involved.”

  He stood. “Even if you identify the guy, there’s no motive, no proof he had anything to do with the murder.”

  “That’s because they don’t know who it is. Once we identify him, then they can do some serious checking into the security guy’s background. I’m certain all the pieces will come together. It all hinges on the videos.”

  “If that’s true, why didn’t the videos exonerate your brother already?”

  “That’s just it. As far as I know, no one has seen the video yet. . . . Tasha gave the recording to you. . . .” I froze. “You work for Blackmore Brothers Security.”

  “I told you I did.” He moved in close.

  I scurried over to the counter and pulled a bread-cutting knife from the water jar. I held it out in front of me and slowly backed toward the door between the front of the bakery and the kitchen.

  “Now, why do you have that knife?” he asked. “I’m an officer of the law. We protect and serve. Remember?”

  “That security guard that matches Tim’s supposed room dates is you, isn’t it?”

  He kept walking toward me slow and deliberate. “Like I said, coincidence.” He threw out his hands in a gesture of innocence that I saw right through. “Give me that knife, Toni. Don’t make me have to take it from you. I can.” He nodded and kept coming toward me. “Then I can and will cuff you and arrest you for assault. You don’t want that now, do you? It would ruin your reputation in town and your precious bakery would fail.”

  “Stay back!” I ordered. “I know how to defend myself.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He grinned. “But I’m a cop—trained to take down resisting suspects.”

  I pushed the door open with my back, thankful it was on hinges that were simple push-pull with no latch. “I said stay back.” The knife was in my right hand and I started to shake. I dug my free hand into the pockets of my apron. I usually kept my cell phone in my apron. I patted the pockets and a sense of horror ran through me.