Sweets, Suspects, and Women Sleuths Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” I said.

  She folded her arms. “Wait a minute. What’s that supposed to mean? And what aren’t you telling me?”

  David stepped in. “Ms. Talbot, we’re the ones asking the questions here.”

  “Like, where were you last night?” I said.

  Abigail held her pointer finger up. “Hold on a second. Why does that matter?”

  “I assure you, it matters a great deal. Now will you please answer Sabrina’s question?” David said.

  Abigail stared at me, then at David. “You don’t think I had something to do with Denise’s death, do you?”

  David folded his arms. “Are you going to answer Sabrina’s question or not?”

  “I will, but I think I deserve an explanation first,” Abigail said.

  “And you’ll get one. Right after you tell us where you were yesterday evening,” he said.

  Abigail took a deep breath and then responded. “I went to an art show at Treasure Cove Art Gallery. Now, what’s the meaning of all this?”

  David held up his hand. “Hold on a second. When did you leave the gallery?”

  “I didn’t time myself.”

  “Give us the best estimate you can.”

  Abigail became pensive for a moment. “I’d say shortly before ten o’clock.”

  “All right,” David said. “Where did you go once you left the gallery?”

  “I came home and went to bed,” she said.

  “Were you alone?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Why does that matter?”

  “It was a yes or no question,” he said.

  She groaned and then replied, “Yes, I was alone.”

  “That’s a shame,” he said.

  Abigail put her hands on her hips. “That’s it. I deserve an explanation.”

  “Fine. Denise was murdered between ten and eleven o’clock last night. Based on everything you just told us, you don’t have anyone who can verify your whereabouts during the time of the murder.”

  “Do you honestly believe that I might have killed Denise?”

  “I can’t rule that possibility out. Especially given your history.”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” Abigail said. “I’m not a killer.”

  “I’d like to believe you. But as I mentioned before, you have no way of proving your innocence.”

  “And here I thought the justice system was based on the idea that someone was innocent until proven guilty,” Abigail said. “Do you have any proof that I did something wrong?”

  David shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

  “Then this conversation is over,” Abigail said.

  Chapter Six

  It was safe to say that our interview with Abigail could have gone better. But perhaps we would have better luck with the next suspect on our list.

  David and I headed over to Spring Street to find out. When we arrived at the tree-lined road, David pulled into the driveway of Mark Carlisle’s gray stucco home.

  Thankfully, Mark didn’t make us wait at his front door very long. He opened up after the first set of knocks. It wasn’t like the thirty-two-year-old was happy to see us, though. His eyes were the same shade of brown as his shoulder-length hair, but his attitude was disdainful, as if we were door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesmen instead of investigators.

  If he thought two investigators showing up at his door was unpleasant, just wait until we start asking tough questions.

  David didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. He immediately got down to business, explaining that Denise had died and that we had some questions for him.

  Just like with Abigail, I paid close attention to Mark’s body language. Surprisingly, Mark couldn’t have reacted more differently. The tattooed muscular man didn’t show any remorse. If anything, he just looked annoyed that we were taking up a few minutes of his time.

  Mark threw out his arms. “I’m sorry. What does any of this have to do with me?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” David said.

  “I’ll save you some time. I had nothing to do with Denise’s death,” Mark said. “Now, are we done?”

  “You seem to be in a hurry to get rid of us,” David said.

  “Those are your words, not mine,” Mark said.

  “How would you describe your attitude then?” David asked.

  “I’m just not interested in having my time wasted,” Mark said.

  “Mark, let me tell you something. We wouldn’t be here if we thought it was a waste of time,” David said.

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t care what you think,” Mark said.

  “I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to be combative with us, but if you keep it up, a trip to the police station is in your future,” David said.

  Mark’s eyes widened. “Is that a threat?”

  David shook his head. “No. It’s just a fact. We’re going to get answers to our questions. Whether that happens here or back at the police station is up to you.”

  Mark tensed up.

  David continued. “Now, are you going to cooperate with us or not?”

  Mark took a deep breath before replying, “What do you want to know?”

  “To start, tell us where you were last night,” David said.

  “I left work, headed over to the gym, then came home and watched some sports highlights before going to bed,” Mark said.

  “What time did you leave the gym?”

  “About nine. Maybe nine-fifteen.”

  “Did you come home alone?”

  “Are you asking me if there’s anyone who can verify my alibi?”

  David nodded. “Yes.”

  “I was alone. But I really did come back here and watch sports highlights,” Mark said.

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “No one is stopping you.”

  “Unfortunately, your story is only as believable as my ability to verify it.”

  Mark scoffed. “Ask yourself this. Why would I make up such a mundane story?”

  “Maybe because it is so mundane,” David said. “Perhaps you figured it would sound so ordinary that we wouldn’t question it.”

  Mark shot David a glare. “I don’t appreciate you making wild speculations. Now, I answered your question, so why don’t you leave me alone?”

  “It’s not that simple—”

  Mark cut David off. “Sure it is. Just turn around and leave.”

  “There you go again, desperately trying to get rid of us.”

  “I don’t know what else to say to you. I didn’t kill Denise,” Mark said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t even know why you’d suspect me.”

  “You can’t be serious. I saw your reaction in the courtroom when Denise was acquitted. It was pretty clear that you thought she should have been convicted. That she didn’t just kill your brother in self-defense.”

  “You’re just speculating again.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Mark stared David down.

  “This is ridiculous,” Mark said.

  David shook his head. “No. It’s deadly serious.”

  “Look. You asked your questions and I answered them. Are we done here or not?”

  David’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  Mark shrugged. “I don’t know why. I thought I was being pretty direct.”

  “Oh, you’re being direct, all right,” David said.

  Mark’s nose crinkled. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Aren’t you the least bit saddened to hear of Denise’s death?” David asked.

  Mark shook his head. “No.”

  “Talk about brutal honesty,” David said. “You’re not even pretending to hide your feelings, are you?”

  “I didn’t figure there was much of a point. You know I didn’t like her. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I told you the truth,” Mark said. “Speaking of honesty, for the last time, I didn’
t kill Denise.”

  “If only you could prove that,” David said.

  Mark groaned. “I don’t know what else you want from me, but I have nothing more to say to you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mark remained true to his word. We fired a few more questions his way, but he didn’t give us anything else to work with. Rather than wasting any more of our time getting nowhere, we elected to move on.

  Once we left Mark’s house, David and I drove over to Treasure Cove Bridal Boutique on Olive Street. When David parked out front, a number of memories rushed to the forefront of my mind. That wasn’t surprising. After all, it was where I had bought my wedding gown so many years ago. And what a beautiful gown it was. The perfect dress for a perfect day.

  I could have easily let myself get wildly distracted thinking about my wedding, but it wasn’t the time for nostalgia. David and I weren’t there to take a trip down Memory Lane. The bridal boutique was the location of our next suspect interview.

  We had our sights set on Vikki Springer. Ms. Springer wasn’t just one of Denise’s coworkers. The two had been rivals. For a number of months, they were both vying for the same promotion. Denise ended up getting the assistant manager position.

  Vikki couldn’t believe it. She felt like she was destined for management. The question became, was Vikki willing to resort to foul play over a promotion?

  David and I went inside the boutique and pulled the red-haired forty-one-year-old aside. Vikki was a short woman. Maybe five-foot-one at the most. And on the chubby side. There was also an abundance of freckles on her square face.

  When David flashed his police badge at Vikki, she looked very confused.

  “I’m sorry. Are you sure you have the right person?” she asked.

  David nodded. “We sure do.”

  Her nose crinkled. “I don’t understand why you want to speak with me. What is this about?”

  David didn’t waste any time with small talk. Instead, he told Vikki about Denise’s murder.

  I was curious to see what her reaction would be. That afternoon, David and I had seen a wide range of emotions from the previous suspects. Because of that, I figured I was prepared for anything.

  I was wrong.

  Vikki’s reaction managed to surprise me. Mostly because of how emotional she became. It was one thing to be taken off guard by the news. It was another for Vikki to nearly break into tears. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to start sobbing right there in front of us. Before any tears began to flow, she managed to muster some restraint. Probably because she realized how over the top that would look.

  After all, Vikki and Denise weren’t good friends. Far from it. As a matter of fact, they had a rather sordid history. So, while I didn’t expect Vikki to revel in the news of Denise’s death, I couldn’t have predicted that Vikki would get so worked up either.

  The question became, was Vikki’s reaction genuine? Or was she just putting on an act?

  One thing was certain. The tone of Vikki’s voice as she spoke up was unmistakably somber.

  “What terrible news,” Vikki said.

  David nodded. “It certainly is. This is a real tragedy.”

  “Do you have any idea who did this?” Vikki asked.

  “We’re working on finding out,” David said.

  “I hope you find the person responsible for this,” Vikki said.

  “That’s the plan,” David said. “And maybe you can help.”

  Vikki’s eyebrows knitted. “How?”

  David stared deep into Vikki’s blue eyes. “Where were you last night?”

  She shrugged. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Will you please just answer the question?” David said.

  She bit the corner of her lip before replying, “Wait a minute. I can only think of one reason why you’d ask me a question like that. Do you think I had something to do with Denise’s death?”

  “I just want to know where you were last night,” David said.

  “That wasn’t a no. Which makes me think you do suspect me of wrongdoing.”

  “Ms. Springer—”

  Vikki cut David off. “Before we go any further, let me tell you in no uncertain terms—I’m not a killer.”

  David folded his arms. “You’re getting pretty defensive considering that I only asked you where you were last night.”

  “Because I can read between the lines. Over the years, I’ve watched plenty of detective shows on TV. I know what a suspect interview looks like.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you see on TV.”

  “I don’t believe everything,” she said. “But I feel like I’m right about this. Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

  “Honestly, I’m just following standard police protocol,” David said. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I have not ruled you out as a potential suspect.”

  “I knew it,” Vikki said.

  “If I can be completely candid with you, I would love to scratch your name off of my suspect list. I can’t do that, though, until you answer my question.”

  “Fine. I had a really stressful day of work yesterday, so when I clocked out, I grabbed some take-out pizza from Luigi’s, headed home, took a long bath, and then went to bed early,” Vikki said.

  “I don’t suppose there’s anyone who can verify that,” David said.

  “Want to see my receipt from Luigi’s?” she asked. Vikki reached into her purse and handed David her take-out slip from the pizzeria.

  David quickly glanced at the receipt before staring at Vikki again. “It says you picked up the pizza at seven-thirty-two.”

  Vikki nodded. “And then I went straight home.”

  “Do you live alone?”

  She held her hand up. “I know where you’re going with this, and I didn’t make up my story.”

  “I never said you did. But the fact is, if you don’t have anyone who can corroborate your whereabouts for the time of the murder, I have no choice but to suspect you. Especially given your motive,” David said.

  Vikki scoffed. “Now you’re just talking crazy. Did Denise and I have a tiny workplace rivalry? Yes. But only a crazy person would believe that I wanted her dead.”

  “You can try to downplay your rivalry with Denise all you want, but you’re not going to fool me. You wanted that assistant manager position. But Denise got it,” David said. “With Denise out of the way, however, that promotion will be all yours.”

  Vikki shook her head. “I can’t believe this. You think I would kill someone over a promotion?”

  “I’d seen people killed over less,” David said.

  “It’s amazing what some people are willing to do in order to get ahead,” I added.

  Vikki shook her head. “Not me. I’m not like that.”

  “That is yet to be determined,” David replied.

  “Says you. I had nothing to do with Denise’s death.”

  “Of course you’d say that,” David replied. “You’ll have to excuse me for not just taking your words at face value.”

  Vikki narrowed her eyes. “You’re not excused.”

  David stared her down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Suddenly, Vikki’s attitude completely changed. Instead of being somber about Denise’s death, she became combative.

  “Like I said before, I watch a lot of detective shows. I know my rights,” Vikki said.

  David put his hand up. “Calm down.”

  Vikki didn’t heed David’s suggestion. She became even more worked up. “If you had any evidence tying me to the murder, you would have handcuffed me already. Clearly, you’re just trying to get me to say something incriminating. Well, guess what? That isn’t going to happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

  David folded his arms. “You don’t get to decide when this conversation is over.”

  Vikki didn’t back down. “Sure I do. I don’t have to say another word to you.”

  “You know,
I could always haul you back into the police station,” David said.

  Vikki shot David a glare.

  “I’d call a lawyer then. Since you don’t have anything on me, you’d have no choice but to release me,” she said. “And with that, I’m going back to work.”

  Chapter Eight

  When David left the bridal shop, steam was practically coming out of his ears. Talk about a frustrating way for an interview to end. It turned out Vikki was savvier about the law than David realized. She managed to toe the line just enough without crossing it.

  As my husband gritted his teeth, I knew he wanted to haul Vikki into the police station. At the same time, he knew how futile that would be. Just like Vikki pointed out, we didn’t have any evidence that she had done anything wrong. And without concrete evidence, she could only be detained for a short time.

  It didn’t seem like it was worth the effort of dragging her back to police headquarters. Especially since we weren’t actually convinced that she was guilty.

  In addition, while the interview with Vikki left a bad taste in David’s mouth, that was only a small piece of the puzzle. All told, I knew how frustrated David was, because I felt the same way. My husband just expressed his frustration differently.

  Ultimately, David could only bottle up his emotions so long before they came pouring out of him. When we reached the parking lot, he let out a huge groan.

  “Talk about a dumpster fire of a day,” I said.

  “I couldn’t have summed it up any better myself,” he said.

  “The worst part is, the day isn’t even over yet.”

  “From an investigative standpoint, it sure is.”

  “We do seem to have hit a brick wall.”

  David threw out his arms. “It’s not just that we’ve run out of suspects to question. I just need a break.”

  “I understand. I’m right there with you.”

  “What do you say we head home and regroup? Then we can tackle the case with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

  “Actually, I have another idea,” I said.

  He tensed up. “Am I going to like this idea?”

  I nodded. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it.”

  He loosened up a little. “In that case, fire away.”