A voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that we could now unfasten our seat belts and move about the cabin.
Josie leaned her chair back. "So what's the game plan for this afternoon when we get things squared away for the competition?"
"Krista was going to call Colin's landlord and tell him we were coming. They can't get down here for a few weeks, so the landlord agreed to box up his clothes and such and put them in a storage unit."
"That was generous of him," Josie commented.
"Well, for a small fee, of course." I blew out a sigh. "I did tell Krista that if I saw anything of value, I'd bring it back with me, as long as it wasn't too large."
"Very nice on your part," she said. "You don't owe them anything."
"Maybe not, but I feel terrible about this. He lied to his mother. She thought she was helping us during our marriage. I have to do something." Anything to help ease my conscience at this point was a bonus.
The plane touched down at Orlando International Airport shortly before eleven. We located our luggage and went to collect our rental car, a black Chevy Cruze. As I settled behind the wheel, I noticed I had a voice mail from my grandmother. Josie waited patiently while I listened to it and then started up the engine.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
I bit into my lower lip. "Grandma said that Mitzi didn't show up for work today. No call, nothing. As far as I'm concerned, she's fired."
Josie's cheeks reddened. "You were right about her, Sal. I'm sorry."
"No harm done." I waved my hand dismissively. "When we get back to town, I'll call Sarah. Maybe we can help her work something out."
We drove to the hotel and checked in, grabbed a quick lunch, and then headed over to the Wingding Television Studio on International Drive. We signed in at the front desk where the receptionist, Kay, gave us an envelope with a list of rules, name badges to wear during the competition, and a sign that said Kitchen B which was where we would be stationed.
"Congratulations on being featured in our Great Northern Episode," Kay said. "We have another team from New York, one from Jersey, and one from Vermont. We like to have a theme for each show." She beamed with pride.
"How original," Josie muttered.
"You can drop your ingredients off now if you like," Kay went on. "I'll place them in the kitchen for you."
When I handed her the suitcase, she informed us that we needed to be at the studio no later than seven the next morning. "Tomorrow is going to be a very long day. Get plenty of rest tonight. You'll need it. Do you have your recipes ready for Round Two?"
"Round Two?" I asked, confused.
She looked at me in surprise. "Round One is a standby favorite that the judges ask you to create. You know, sugar, chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, et cetera—something like that. Round Two will feature two of your specialty cookies. We need to have the recipes ahead of time to make sure they're authentic. And Round Three will have a different theme for each contestant that must relate to the cookie you make. The judges will rate you on the originality and taste for that one. Rounds One and Two are worth 25 points apiece, and Round Three is worth 50 points. The team with the highest score overall wins."
Josie nodded in approval. "I know how it works and have the recipes with me." She reached into her purse and produced two index cards that she handed to Kay. "Coconut macaroons and jelly cookies."
"Oh, right. I knew what you meant." I chastised myself for having forgotten this part. Like Josie, I was familiar with the way the show worked. I had seen it live once, but as of late, my memory compared to a blank slate. All I could think about was Colin's death—and the fact that Mike might go to jail for something he didn't do.
Kay took the recipes without a glance and placed them into a manila folder labeled with my bakery's name, Sally's Samples. "If there's a problem, they'll let you know tomorrow. Good luck."
I longed to see the kitchen area where the taping and competition occurred, but Kay didn't offer. We mumbled a hasty good-bye and left.
"I really wanted to see the place," Josie said. "Get a feel for where everything is located, you know? Oh, well. Maybe they don't allow it beforehand. Anyhow, I've watched enough episodes on television that it should be easy enough to figure everything out."
I didn't say anything but wasn't so sure. My baking skills were okay, but I definitely wasn't in Josie's league. She could think up fantastic recipes with a minute's notice and bake and decorate with the best of them. Unlike me, Josie never burned cookies. They always came out perfect. I almost felt out of place in this competition. Josie would be the one barking orders tomorrow, and I'd be the one dutifully running back and forth. Not that I minded, but it only served as further proof that my shop would be nothing without her.
Colin's apartment was located in Lakeland, between Orlando and Tampa. From the studio, I took I-4 to Highway 98. We got off at Exit 33 and had traveled past a strip mall when my GPS announced, "You have reached your destination."
We found ourselves in front of a three-level building complex with no elevator. The place was old but appeared clean for the most part. Some gray paint peeled from the sides, but it wasn't as bad as I'd expected. A couple of people sat on lawn chairs around the swimming pool, talking amongst themselves. A gated fence surrounded the entire building. We pulled it open and spotted a small office that branched off the building on the right-hand side.
A man sat behind a desk inside the office sifting through some paperwork. He was heavy set with rolls of fat slopping over the sides of the chair he was sitting in. He glanced up at us with a bored expression. His hair was a brilliant shade of red and his beard a spot-on match.
"Help you, ladies?" he asked.
"Hi," I said. "Are you the landlord?"
He snorted. "Well, I run this dump, if that's what you mean." He extended a hand. "Name's Charlie. We have a couple of vacancies in case you ladies are looking."
I shook his outstretched hand. "Um, no thanks. My name is Sally Muccio, and this is my friend Josie Sullivan. Krista Eldridge phoned you this morning about apartment 3D. She said you might be willing to let us in so that we could look around. I'm Colin's ex-wife."
He frowned. "Yeah, I guess so. Let me just say I ain't on board with this. That Brown fellow owed me two months back rent. And now I'm stuck with his stuff until the family gets down here. Being a landlord in this dump is for the birds."
"You do know he was murdered, right?" Josie asked. "The family didn't plan on this being an inconvenience to anyone."
"Whatever." Charlie eased his stout body frame off the padded office chair. "Follow me. You got one hour. And you tell the rest of his family they got thirty days to get the stuff out, or it goes to Goodwill."
We followed him out of the office and into the complex, up two flights of stairs with the smell of fried food and weed lingering through the air. Voices from the raised volume of a television drifted across the hallway from 3B.
Charlie inserted his master key into Colin's door and pushed it open. "This is the only efficiency on the floor. Kitchen, living room area, bathroom. That's all. Cheapest one in the building, and the loser still couldn't pay me. To top it off, now I've got to hire a cleaning crew to come in and take care of this pigsty."
I was rendered speechless by his attitude for a moment. True, Colin had done some horrible things, but the man was dead, after all.
"Thank you," I managed to say. "We won't be long."
He grunted in reply, and we watched his lumbering frame depart.
"Nice guy," Josie commented. "Really knows how to make you feel welcome."
The stench of spoiled food greeted our noses as soon as we entered the apartment. I glanced around the room. As I'd suspected, the place was a disaster. Dirty dishes filled the sink, flies buzzing around them. There was a mountain of clothes on the floor. A trash can that had overflowed with garbage in the kitchen managed to attract even more insects. I gagged for a second, afraid my stomach might explode.
I wal
ked into the living room where an unmade sleeper sofa bed sat in the middle of the floor. A display of beer cans in the shape of a pyramid sat on top of the coffee table. There was a small television on a rickety stand and next to it, a recliner I recognized from our apartment. No other furniture.
Josie held a tissue over her nose. "I think I may be sick."
"I know. Let's hurry so that we can get out of here."
The place was deplorable and depressing. Colin had never been a neat freak, but he certainly hadn't been a slob, either. I wondered again what had happened to him in the last year. Was this all due to the alcohol and drugs? Since I had no experience with either, I wasn't positive, but I knew that at the young age of twenty-nine, his life was over. What had gone so horribly wrong? And what had my ex-husband done that would make someone kill him?
Josie waved a hand in front of my face. "Sal? Where'd you go?"
"Sorry." I forced my thoughts away. "I just don't understand how he turned his life upside down like this."
"Come on. I know you like a book. Stop blaming yourself. Now, let's get this search over with so that we can leave this putrid hole in the wall forever."
I walked into the kitchen and tried to ignore the flies buzzing around me. "It shouldn't take us long. God knows there doesn't seem to be much here, except for garbage."
Josie pressed her lips together. "Now that you mention it, I draw the line at going through his trash can. Just sayin'."
I stole a glance in the overhead kitchen cabinets that had no doors. Not much there. A few dishes and glasses. A couple of pots. Some staples such as peanut butter, a loaf of moldy bread, a box of cereal, and a bag of chips. I wasn't the world's best cook, but he definitely ate better when he had been married to me.
I pulled out the sliding drawer under the Formica countertop. Some overdue bills and a couple of photographs. There was a picture of Colin and Luke that I gathered had been taken when they worked together a few years ago. Another photo of Colin in swim trunks with a dark-haired beauty in a bikini. I turned the photo over and found an address on the back. In Colin's familiar chicken scrawl was written, This one's a good time—55 Venice Place.
Although I already suspected he'd been with numerous women—during our marriage as well—my stomach grew queasy as I read the words. Could this be Amber? Venice Place was in Tampa, near Clearwater Beach. This fit in with the area Krista had mentioned, so it seemed we might be on the right track.
"Sal." Josie sounded panicked as she went through another sliding drawer next to the refrigerator. She held up a small piece of paper that was clipped to a document.
Colin had written across the paper, For Ramon. That was all. The document was a photocopy of the real estate section from the Colwestern Times last month. At the top of it was my name, stating that I had bought property at Thirty-nine Elk Street.
My blood ran cold. So this was how Colin had known I'd bought the building.
"What does this mean?" Josie asked. "Who's Ramon?"
I swallowed hard. "I'm guessing this was how Colin had hoped to get himself a nice little loan, by saying he owned part of my business. When we're done here, we have to try to find this Ramon guy to see if he knows anything that could help us."
"What a scumbag," Josie whispered. "And I'm betting Ramon is, too."
I walked into the bathroom. The tub was lined with so much dirt and grime that it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. The dingy shower curtain surrounding it was torn in several places. I opened the medicine cabinet and flinched when I found a syringe. There was nothing else out of the ordinary. A laundry basket filled with dirty clothes. The linen closet in the bathroom was being used for Colin's wardrobe, not for holding towels and washcloths. He probably didn't even own any. There were a couple of pairs of trousers, jeans, a few shirts, and some boxer briefs. One pair of sneakers.
I scanned the living room one last time. Nothing that caught my eye. On impulse, I ripped the soiled sheets off of the sleeper sofa and ran my fingers along the inside of the frame. My hand connected with something, and I pulled it out. It was another photograph. This time a close-up shot of Colin and a pretty woman with ocean-blue eyes and long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. They looked happy.
"Cripes," Josie mumbled. "He never got enough, did he?"
I placed the picture into my purse along with the other one then ran my fingers along the inside of the leather recliner, producing yet another photo. What an interesting and lazy way to store things. I gazed at the photo and sucked in a sharp breath. Our wedding day. Colin and I had made our way down the aisle at the church right after the priest had pronounced us husband and wife. Colin smiled and looked at me with adoration.
And my face had been blacked out with a felt-tip marker.
* * *
"Don't let it get to you," Josie said. "He probably did it after he found out you were running a successful bakery, and he was drowning in a cesspool of alcohol, drugs, and cheap tramps."
It was late afternoon, and we were lying on chaise lounges by the hotel pool. This was our one opportunity for a little relaxation before the competition tomorrow. I'd already told Josie that I wanted to try to find Amber tonight and possibly Ramon on Friday morning before our plane took off. We'd agreed to take this one afternoon to enjoy the sunshine and try to clear our heads before the competition. So far, it wasn't working for me.
Josie was probably right, but seeing those pictures made me realize I hadn't healed completely from all the betrayal. It wasn't so much about finding Colin in bed with another woman because that had been the actual wake-up call I needed to realize I'd been living a lie. It was more the fact that Colin had purposely done some malicious things to me, like attempting to steal away my bakery and lying to his family about my having a miscarriage. Although I hadn't suffered from physical blows at his hand, I was convinced in my heart that this was just as bad. During our divorce proceedings, Colin had said so many hurtful things to me that I was convinced I had in fact been a victim of abuse.
"It hurts," I confessed. "I didn't think it still would, but that picture made me realize Colin never loved me. Plus, he'd told me that the night he died. So why did he marry me?"
My best friend shrugged. "Maybe he thought your family had money. Maybe he did think he loved you at the time. Who knows? People change. It doesn't matter anymore. You've got Mike, and there's no doubt in my mind how much he loves you."
"Yet I don't even know where he is," I blurted out. "And to make matters worse, while you were changing clothes, I got a call from Brian Jenkins. He wanted to stop by and see me tonight."
Josie's mouth twitched into a smile. "Oh, really? Officer Hottie's moving in on Mike's territory already?"
"Very funny." I took a long sip of my piña colada. "When I explained I was out of town, Brian asked if Mike was with me. I said no, but I'm not sure he believed me. He said he'll stop over to see me when I get back. If Mike hasn't returned by then, and the police get wind of it, things are only going to get worse."
Josie rubbed suntan lotion on her legs. She looked terrific in the pink, two-piece suit she was wearing. I wore a black bikini with a bathing cover-up. The cheesecake dream had left me feeling a bit insecure these days.
"Look, you told Officer Hottie you'll be back on Friday?" Josie asked.
I nodded.
"Then don't worry. A lot can happen in a couple of days. Mike will be home by then."
"I hope you're right."
"Of course I am. Remember, the glass is half full, not half empty." She grinned and rose to her feet. "Which reminds me, my mai tai glass is empty. I'm going for another. Want one?"
I shook my head. "One drink is my limit if I'm driving later. Thanks though."
As she walked away, I glanced around the pool. Two guys, probably college age, lounged in chairs to my left. They watched Josie appreciatively.
"Nice." The dark-haired, skinny guy next to me raised his sunglasses for a better look as she passed in front of him.
When he and his companion noticed me watching, they both smiled in my direction.
The dark-haired guy winked. "How's it going?"
I smiled but didn't answer.
"Dude." The blond man grabbed his friend's arm. "Check it out."
A woman in a bright-red, skimpy bikini strolled down the patio, almost as if she owned the place. She settled herself in a lounge chair directly across the pool from us, her body tanned and legs perfect, long and lithe. The three-inch stilettos she wore were the same obnoxious color as the suit. She had donned sunglasses and a wide-brimmed beach hat. Every inch of her was flawless. As I watched her smooth suntan lotion on her legs, I realized I was not the only one watching. Every red-blooded male of assorted ages watched her, too.
"Damn, she's hot." The blond guy and his friend practically had their tongues hanging out of their mouths.
Ugh. Men.
"Uh-huh," said his friend. "Sexy as hell."
The woman removed her sunglasses and peered across the pool. When she spotted me observing her, she waved then blew me a kiss. I waved dutifully back.
"Wow." The dark-haired guy stared at me in admiration. "I'm impressed. You really know that hot babe?"
"Yeah." I nodded, praying this would be the end of the embarrassing subject.
The blond-haired guy turned in my direction. "Hey, no offense. You're not so bad yourself. But, like, she's got a body that totally rocks, ya know?"
I winced, but they didn't seem to notice. The topic of this conversation was really starting to bother me.
"Is she available?" The blond guy asked. "Can you introduce us?"
"No, on both accounts."
"Why not?"
I blew out a sigh. "Because that's my mother."
CHAPTER TEN
"So." My mother beamed at us from across the booth in the hotel restaurant. "What do you girls have planned for this evening?"
I glanced at my watch. Six thirty. "Uh, Josie and I might do some sightseeing. Tomorrow's a big day for us."
My father inhaled his second cheeseburger. "You should have brought some fortune cookies with you for luck. I hope we don't crash and burn on the flight back home."
Baked to Death (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 2) Page 11
