by Louise Lynn
Hazel gave Celia a look, and her best friend nodded. Silently, they followed whoever it was back toward the bed and breakfast.
As the figure reached the back door of the inn, Hazel recognized the blond slicked back hair. It didn’t hurt that the man turned. “Who’s back there?” he cried.
Hazel and Celia stepped forward.
Mace Daily looked between them. His expression shifted from fearful to news anchor smooth in mere seconds. “Oh? It’s you. Well, I’m about to head up to my room, but I’ll give you both a scoop.”
“A scoop of what? Ice cream?” Celia asked, sounding hopeful. She would want ice cream right about now.
Hazel bit back the desire to laugh.
Mace Daily ignored that. “The news, sweetheart. I’ll have you know that Mace Daily isn’t going to be stuck reading the news for Candace Stratford any longer. I have bigger dreams, and all those dreams are about to come true. Trust me. You’re going to see me on KULA soon enough.”
Hazel blinked. “I don’t think we get that station in Cedar Valley.”
He looked ready to scowl. “Fine, Good Morning America, or whichever one has the highest ratings at the moment. That’s the one I’ll be on. Mark my words, I just found the story of a lifetime,” he said and walked inside.
Hazel watched him go, then looked at Celia. “That wasn’t suspicious at all.”
“Not one bit,” Celia said, picking up on Hazel’s sarcasm right away, and adding a bit of her own. It was one of the reasons they were such great friends. “Are you going to run off and tell the sheriff?”
Hazel worried her bottom lip. “If I do, he won’t get any sleep. So I think it can wait until tomorrow morning. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.”
Hazel bid Celia a good night and tamped down the glaring curiosity at what Mace Daily had discovered.
It could wait until tomorrow.
Chapter 15
Hazel didn’t remember much after she got home that night. She assumed she washed up and collapsed in bed, and managed to put on her pajamas beforehand—always a good thing—but she forgot to set her alarm.
However, there was no need since she woke at what felt like a mere hour after she fell asleep. It turns out it’d been a good six hours. And, unlike usual, she wasn’t woken by a black nose pressed against hers and a hungry meow.
No, this time she was woken by a great weight leaping on her bed and crying. “Auntie Hazy! Auntie Hazy! Mom is making waffles!”
Hazel squinted and felt more than a little like a vampire roused from a deathlike slumber. “Ruth?” she asked and smacked her dry lips.
Her eight-year-old niece held Anthony Ray in her arms and grinned. Two of her front teeth were currently missing, and one on the bottom was just growing in. Her red hair was the same deep auburn as her mother’s, though she kept it cut at chin length. “You look sleepy. But mom looks worse. Shh, don’t tell her I said that. Are you going to get up for waffles?”
Hazel nodded slowly and sat up. She managed to climb out of bed without toppling over. Though, her brain was still stuck on some forgotten dream. It probably had to do with someone dying horrifically, as seemed to be the norm in her life these past few months.
“Did you wake up Violet like this too?” Hazel asked.
Ruth gave her a secret smile. “I woke her up better. But she didn’t yell, so it couldn’t have been that bad. Come on. There’s even coffee. Lots and lots of it,” she said and tugged on Hazel’s hand.
With a sigh, Hazel followed. If Ruth promised coffee, getting up couldn’t be that bad.
Hazel found her sister soon enough. Esther bustled around the kitchen. Her slick white countertops were now much messier than Hazel usually kept them due to the number of mixing dishes and open containers spread across it, complete with a thin dusting of flour.
Her sister had that harassed look she often got when cooking, though this time it seemed more exaggerated. Esther hadn’t even taken the time to properly brush her long silky hair, as it currently had more in common with Hazel’s wild curls than usual.
Violet was yawning and leaning against the counter, though her eyes did widen when she noticed Hazel coming down the stairs. “She brought this new fancy coffee machine. She said your parents couldn’t figure it out.”
Esther nodded. “I’m making waffles, and I brought that coffee maker. I don’t need it, and dad says he’d rather stick to the French press, so it’s yours.” Esther gave Hazel a brief smile before she got back to her cooking.
Hazel’s brain wasn’t working quickly enough to take in the machine. Plus, Anthony Ray was finally freed from Ruth’s clutches and yelled at her for the indignity of being held by an eight-year-old for so long. Hazel petted him and went about readying his breakfast.
Once that was done, she gave the new coffee maker a good look. “What’s this doohickey for?” she asked and pointed at a metal tube sticking off the end of the machine.
Violet tilted her head and glanced from her phone to the machine. She must have looked it up on the Internet. “It says here it’s an espresso machine. Why did your parents buy an espresso machine if they didn’t know how to use it?”
At the word espresso, Hazel felt her mouth water. “I don’t care why they bought it; I’m just happy they gave it to me. So how does it work?”
Esther shrugged. “No clue. Mom lost the instruction booklet, as usual, so dad gave it away.”
Hazel laughed and let Violet complete the arduous task of finding an online instruction booklet so they could figure out how to work the many complicated nozzles. It didn’t take nearly as long as Hazel feared, and soon enough they’d gotten the machine pumping and steaming and making all sorts of racket as it spit forth its glorious espresso.
Once they finished the first mug, complete with a beautiful layer of foamy steamed milk on top, Hazel felt as if she might shed a tear of happiness. “It’s a real latte. At my house. Oh, Celia’s gonna kill me. It’s almost like I’m cheating on her,” she said and took a long sniff of it.
Violet nodded. “Is this the same as the coffee rule? I can have one mug?” she said and pulled out the largest mug she could find from the cupboard. It was more of a bowl, and about half the size of Hazel’s head. The girl was onto something!
“After the day we had, I say you can have two. But don’t tell your uncle,” Hazel said with a conspiratorial smile.
“I want some,” Ruthie cried and did a few uncoordinated pirouettes around the kitchen.
She nearly ran into Esther, who just raised her hands to avoid her daughter’s erratic dancing. “You’re the last person who needs caffeine this morning. What did I tell you about dancing in the kitchen?”
Ruth stopped and pursed her lips. It was an expression so like Esther, Hazel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “That I shouldn’t? Can I dance in the living room?”
Esther gave her daughter a harassed nod, and Ruth took off without seeming to notice.
Violet set about making her oversized mug of cappuccino, and Hazel took a long, grateful sip of her latte before asking the question that filled her mind.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of waffles and your company this morning?” Hazel asked her sister.
As her eyes roamed the counter, she came across not only the waffle batter and fruit salad, but also a complex-looking thing in a glass bowl. It seemed more appropriate for dessert than anything else, and consisted of what looked like layers of fruit, whipped cream, and some sort of dark chocolate cake.
“I had a hard time sleeping. I had to do something, and I wanted to know what you’d learned, so I decided I’d make you breakfast to prompt you to tell me,” Esther said and gave Hazel a strained smile.
“I haven’t solved the case if that’s what you’re wondering,” Hazel said and took another grateful gulp of her latte. She was going to have another before she set off to the inn, that was for sure. And she hoped Colton had a better night than she did.
“So they still think I
did it?” Esther said and her shoulders bunched as she beat the waffle batter into submission.
Hazel shook her head. “No. Well, a few people probably do, but there’s no doubt in the sheriff’s mind that you didn’t do it. And we’re honing in on several suspects. What is that thing?” Hazel said and pointed at the complicated looking dessert.
“A trifle. And yes it’s for breakfast. I’m experimenting with some new recipes for the bakery, so you know how it is.”
Hazel nodded. They got to be guinea pigs and try it first, just in case the recipes were duds. Esther was such a perfectionist; she only served the absolute best at her bakery. And while it didn’t help Hazel’s waistline, she couldn’t complain too loudly. Not when she got dessert for breakfast.
By the time they settled down to eat, Ruth had danced out most of her early morning energy. Anthony Ray settled at the back door to watch for any roaming wildlife.
Hazel had already finished one latte and was working her way through another as she gobbled down a healthy amount of waffles, fruit salad, and a large serving of the trifle.
Violet’s eyes grew into saucers when she dug into it, and she let out a delighted squeal. “This is amazing. You have to add this to the menu. At least the summer menu,” she said and wolfed down the rest.
Esther gave her a soft smile. “I thought it would pair well with lemonade, so I’m glad you guys like it.”
Though Hazel didn’t want her sister to be put out because of the whole ‘you may have murdered Monica Lopez thing,’ she didn’t mind Esther stress baking when it ended up this delicious.
Ruth liked her cream and fruit separately, and she pushed away the pieces of cake and complained they were too soggy. Then she blinked her wide green eyes in Hazel’s direction. “Did you find the people who killed that lady, so they don’t think mommy did it anymore?”
Hazel shrugged. “We’re close. But I don’t think your mommy wants me to talk about a murder investigation in front of you.”
Ruth shrugged as if she didn’t mind. Which, she probably didn’t. “I don’t have bad dreams about that guy getting his head smashed anymore, so it’s not that bad. Right, mom?”
Esther shook her head. “I don’t care if you don’t have bad dreams about it, but—fine. Who have you narrowed it down to? I want to know who poisoned that cake,” she said and crossed her arms.
Hazel glanced at Violet, who was busy on her phone so she didn’t look ready to put in any tidbits about their investigation yet. “I don’t think the husband did it, though there are a few things that look a little suspicious. He ordered the apricot tarts, and we think the poison was cyanide. Whoever used the poison may have made it with apricot seeds from the inn’s kitchen.”
Esther wrinkled her nose. “Cyanide? I didn’t even use the inn’s kitchen. They put all the catering crew in the auxiliary kitchen, which is completely separate.”
Hazel nodded. “I already said nobody thinks you did it besides the bride’s family. Though I’m sure they’ll change their minds when we find the real culprit. I promise. Oh, that reminds me; I need to talk to Sheriff Cross about Mace Daily again.”
Violet’s head snapped up. “That news anchor guy? I was going to say he looks super suspicious. Look what he wrote on Twitter,” she said and held out her phone.
Esther squinted at the screen, and Hazel sighed and read it aloud. “‘It’s time to clean up KQTV. Big changes coming soon.’ What does that mean?” Hazel said and frowned.
Violet shrugged. “He probably thinks the news will be nothing but him—all Mace Daily, all the time! What did you find out about him?”
Hazel explained that she’d seen him on the beach the night before and what he said about breaking a big story. It went hand-in-hand with this Twitter thing from him as well.
“Which one is Twitter?” Esther asked and took a dainty bite of her trifle. How she managed to do it, Hazel couldn’t fathom. Her own serving had vanished.
“It’s the birds. They go tweet, tweet, tweet, and then Anthony Ray wants to eat them,” Ruth said and ran over to the cat at the door.
Hazel shrugged because she wasn’t particularly fond of social media in general, or that particular site, and let Violet explain.
“So he’s bragging on Twitter about finding a big story, and you think it might be the one that Monica Lopez was on to?” Esther asked.
Hazel nodded. “It’s a strong possibility. It’s too much of a coincidence that they both had entirely separate big stories. Only, how did Mace figure it out? Unless… The phone!” Hazel said and stood up. She’d been too tired to think clearly the night before, but with a rush of coffee in her system, she realized now what she should have realized then. Mace found the story because he was the one with Monica’s phone! “We have to get to the inn right away. Text your uncle. I think Mace Daily has Monica’s phone.”
Violet’s eyes widened, and she shoveled the rest of the food into her mouth. “You said the killer probably had the phone.”
Hazel’s heart thundered as she downed the rest of her latte. “Well, let’s hope I’m right. Because that means we can close this case before lunch.”
Hazel headed toward the rack near the door to grab her purse, when Esther cleared her throat.
Ruth looked up from her spot on the floor rubbing Anthony Ray’s belly. “How come Auntie Hazy can go out in her PJs and I can’t?” Ruth cried.
Violet gave her a wide grin, and Hazel looked down at her T-shirt that had a black cat proclaiming his hatred for all things Monday. Her shorts consisted of the same black cat sleeping in various catlike positions.
Well, this was going to take longer than she anticipated. “Okay. New idea. First, we get dressed, then we confront a killer.”
Chapter 16
Since she wasn’t officially working as the wedding photographer any longer, Hazel opted to wear a cotton sundress with a pair of sandals. Being so high in the Sierras, the fact that she got to wear something that stylish was always a relief. So much of the year was spent bundled up in thermal leggings and her thick wool coat, that the short summer and spring were to be relished.
Too bad Monica Lopez didn’t get to enjoy it a bit longer; especially her wedding day.
Violet rode next to Hazel in the truck, Anthony Ray in her lap and her phone glued to her hand. “This is weird. Even though Pablo said his wife was super secretive, she hinted on Twitter about something big happening. Like Mace Daily did,” Violet said and sounded disgusted at the mere sound of his name on her tongue.
“She was talking about the story on her social media page?”
Violet nodded. “Well, not openly. She keeps hinting at some big thing. And she said the same thing Mace did. In fact, he pretty much stole this tweet from her. Her’s says: ‘Big changes coming to KQTV.’”
But then, the question was, what kind of changes were worth killing over? And why had Mace done it?
When they pulled up to the Lakeside Inn, several deputies waited out front, and Sheriff Cross strode out to greet them. Hazel expected him to be as refreshed as she was, but from the crow’s feet pinched around his eyes and the smudges of blue-black underneath them, she had a feeling he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
“We should’ve brought a coffee,” she said to Violet, who nodded.
“So you think you have something good against Mace Daily?” he said as a way of greeting.
“Good morning to you too,” she said and gave his elbow a quick squeeze. “Did Violet explain?”
Sheriff Cross smiled softly. She wasn’t about to give him a peck on the cheek in front of all his deputies, so she followed him inside the Lakeside Inn instead.
“As far as we can tell, he hasn’t left his room this morning.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. It was already about ten thirty in the morning. Had he slept in after he made that tweet?
“Has anyone seen him?”
Sheriff Cross gave her a look. “He didn’t slip out, if that’s what you’re asking. He ordered room
service at nine, and the staff member who brought it said they saw him and he was in a good mood. But he hasn’t come down since. Then again, a lot of the guests are keeping to their rooms, so it’s not that suspicious.”
Hazel supposed that was true. With a bunch of deputies hanging around and the sheriff looking for a killer, she didn’t suppose many people wanted to be wandering the grounds.
As they climbed the stairs to Mace Daily’s room, with Anthony Ray twisting around her feet the whole time, she noticed Candace Stratford standing in front of her door with her arms crossed.
“Do you have anything new, Sheriff?” She looked between both Hazel and Sheriff Cross.
“We need to talk to your other news anchor, and then we’ll know if we have anything,” Sheriff Cross said, which was a great way of saying nothing.
“Mace? He left a message on my phone last night. I was going to tell you about it, but you’d already gone,” she said and held out her cell.
Sheriff Cross leaned in and listened to the message, which pretty much was a retread of what he’d put on Twitter that morning. He sounded excited, even a little bit frantic.
“Candace, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I might have to break that contract. I’m onto something big; something that could blow everything out of the water. It’s about tape 206. Remember that one? Well, I think I solved it. Just giving you a heads up since you’ve been so good to me all these years.”
Then the line went dead.
Candace Stratford clutched her phone in her red-taloned fingernails, and a scowl creased her brow.
“What’s tape 206?” Hazel asked.
Ms. Stratford sighed. “Monica had some contacts at the Reno PD, and this past spring, she got a cameraman to go with her to one of the biggest drug busts in Reno history. Well, when the cops got there, all the product was gone. It was on live TV—everything missing. It made the Reno PD look bad, and it made my station look worse.”
