Macchiatos, Macarons, and Malice

by Harper Lin

  Mike looked like he was about to agree but then stood up and shook his head. “No. You stay. I’ll go.”

  Sandra looked up at him in alarm.

  “I’m a better driver.”

  “I’m a good driver!” Matt protested.

  Mike rolled his eyes and, for a second, dropped his in-charge police persona and was just like any other of Matt’s friends. “Come on. I’m a cop, man.”

  Matt grudgingly conceded.

  “Do you want to come with me or stay here?” Mike asked, looking down at Sandra.

  She looked at him with anguish in her eyes. I could see her waver back and forth before setting her jaw in resolve. “I’ll stay. Just in case—” Her shoulder twitched, and her lip quivered. “The kids.”

  Mike’s face fell, and I thought he was going to change his mind. Sandra wanted to make sure that the kids had one parent left if the car went skidding off the road, but it looked like, to Mike’s mind, two parents were better than one. Which wasn’t wrong, although given what I knew about my father, I had probably been better off with just my mother. Mike, on the other hand, was devoted to his kids.

  “I can go,” I offered again. I even stood up to show that I wasn’t just saying it to be nice. Matt and I had less to lose. It hurt me to think of how sad Latte would be if we never came home, but I had no doubt that Sammy would take excellent care of him. I loved him like my child, but I’d never be able to look at Mike and Sandra’s kids if I knew I could have taken their dad’s place.

  Mike appeared to consider it and spent a long few seconds looking into Sandra’s eyes. It was the kind of silent conversation I’d seen between only a few of my married friends, and I hoped they knew how special it was that they understood each other that way.

  My resolve strengthened. I patted Matt on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Matt had just stood up and turned toward the door when Mike put out his arm to stop me from following.

  “No.” He looked at Matt. “You might be a good driver, but we stand the best chance of making it back alive if I go.”

  Matt shrugged, and I could tell his mind was more on his stomach than who was going with him to get the food to fill it.

  “Take care of Sandra,” Mike whispered as he walked past me, and I wasn’t sure if he meant for the hour or so they might be gone or if he didn’t make it back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sandra and I made a few weak efforts at conversation but kept falling back into silence. We were both too far into our own minds, thinking about what had almost happened to us and what could happen to the men in our lives, to actually keep it up.

  I tried to project confidence for her sake, but I wasn’t sure if I was successful. Definitely not if I had to genuinely feel it. I was beyond worried. What if, despite Mike’s driving abilities, he ran off the road and killed them both? What if whoever had tried to kill us that afternoon tried again during the night, when we were asleep?

  Maybe I needed to suggest all of us crashing in one room and taking turns on watch. Knowing Mike and Matt, they wouldn’t stand for that and would work out a scheme where they never woke me or Sandra for our turn. Of course, knowing Mike, he probably wouldn’t wake Matt either and would just sit up the entire night, watching to make sure all of us were safe.

  But first they had to get back.

  “Are you as nervous as I am?” Sandra asked after a while.

  I straightened my shoulders and tried to look relaxed. But as soon as I met her eyes, I crumbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this worried in my life.”

  She chuckled softly. “You know, he goes out there every day and risks his life. They tell you that all the time—that when your husband is a cop, you never know if he won’t make it home one night. But it’s Cape Bay. I always worry, but I can ignore it. I can usually block it out. Focus on the kids, focus on work, paint my nails or something.”

  Her voice dropped a little more. “That was part of it, you know. I mean, it wasn’t that. It was part of it, though. Just the stress of whether he was coming home every day. It wears on you.” She made a noise that sounded like a hiccup but I suspected, by the sudden wateriness of her eyes, was more her choking back a sob. “It didn’t help. I worry about him just as much. Maybe more since we don’t talk during his shift and he doesn’t call when he gets home unless he wants to talk to the kids, so I don’t really know that he’s okay. I just have to tell myself that no news is good news and keep on going for the sake of the kids. Sometimes I think it’s going to break me.”

  She looked at me, and the tears in her eyes were unmistakable now. “I still love him, Fran. I do. I’m just so afraid all the time, and sometimes I think I’d be better off finding someone else with a nice stable office job—someone like Matt—and settling down with him so I at least know that the kids will have someone if they lose their father.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that she was worried about the kids having someone and not her.

  “I’m just so scared, Fran.” She covered her face with her hands and started to cry.

  I moved over to the sofa next to her and put my arm around her shoulder.

  She calmed down after a few minutes and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

  I patted her arm. “Don’t feel bad. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.”

  She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m going to go to the restroom to splash some cold water on my face.” She only took two steps before stopping and looking back at me. “Do you think that’s safe? For me to go alone?”

  I thought about it for a second and nodded. So far, the only attacks had been in private places—a treatment room at the spa and our rooms. No one had been assaulted in a public place. The bathroom wasn’t exactly public, but it wasn’t secluded either. Even so, I understood if she was uneasy. “I can go with you if you want.”

  She stood up a little straighter, and I could tell she was trying to be brave. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll watch the door for you.” I actually felt like that was safer than me following her. There weren’t a ton of people in the lobby, but Tommy and Carrick were both back behind their bars, and this way I felt like I could make sure no one else went into the restroom after her.

  The bathrooms were down a short hallway, but I could see both doors from where I sat. I watched and waited until she came back a couple of minutes later, looking somewhat refreshed if not totally back to normal.

  “Mind watching while I go in there real quick?” I asked.

  “Go right ahead.”

  I could tell she was still on edge. I hesitated to leave her, but I really had to go, so I scurried over to the restroom and ducked in. It was the swanky kind of bathroom where the stall doors fitted snugly into real doorframes and went almost to the floor, offering the occupants some measure of privacy. I walked down past all of the stalls, making sure I was alone. Satisfied that I was, I ducked into one, did what I needed to do, and came back out to wash my hands.

  I was just about to leave when a white-hot pain slammed into the back of my head, sending me stumbling toward the door with stars in my eyes.

  Before I could even figure out what had happened, someone grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head, jerked me backward, then drove me headfirst into the wall. My forehead crashed into the drywall just above the tile.

  There was a noise like screaming, but I wasn’t sure if it was me or the ringing in my ears.

  I felt myself being dragged backward and fought to get away. I could barely stay on my feet, but I tried to sling an elbow at whoever it was. I barely made contact and tried again. This time, I missed completely.

  My assailant slung me around and slammed me into the wall between two of the stalls. Somehow, I didn’t appreciate the bathroom’s solid construction as much as I had earlier.

  I reached behind my head and dug my fingernails into the hand grasping my hair.

  A feminine voice
screamed. This time, it definitely wasn’t me. “I’m going to kill you!”

  For the moment, I was free. I ran for the door, but she grabbed me again, this time by my shirt.

  I spun around as best I could, throwing my elbow. I connected with her cheekbone, and she screamed. As her face swung away from me, her short black hair swung around her face. Sophie!

  But something didn’t make sense—when she said it, she didn’t have a trace of a French accent. Then it hit me—the blonde who had delivered the poisoned coffee was the same as the blonde I’d seen upstairs, who I’d thought was sneaking into the rooms with her boyfriend. And the reason I’d thought they both sounded familiar was because it was Sophie, just without her accent.

  “It was you!” I screamed.

  “You’re just now figuring that out? I thought you were onto me a long time ago. Why else would you keep hanging around me all the time?” She spat the words out at me, sounding more Southern than French now.

  “Because I like macarons!” And now they’d probably be ruined for me. For some reason, knowing she was responsible for all this made me even angrier. And now that I was finally facing her, I could use some of what I’d learned in the kickboxing classes I’d been taking instead of just twisting and flailing.

  Hoping to catch her off guard, I kicked and caught her in the midsection. She lunged at me. I dodged away, but she caught my shoulder, knocking me into the sharp edge of the sink. She ran toward me again, and this time I managed to hit her with both my foot and my fist. She stumbled backward, clutching her hands against her nose. I could see blood beginning to leak down past her palms.

  If she hadn’t been between me and the door, I would have run. But there was no exit without going past Sophie. She looked like she was in a lot of pain from where I’d presumably broken her nose, but I didn’t trust her for a second.

  I ran the few steps toward her, grabbed her by the wrists, and spun her around so that I was between her and the door. Then I shoved her as hard as I could. She stumbled backward, hit the far wall, and sank to the floor.

  She wasn’t unconscious—or at least I didn’t think she was—so as much as I wanted to run for my life, I was afraid she’d grab me before I made it two steps out the door. Instead, I watched her and inched toward the door while trying to catch my breath.

  I was about to reach for the door when I noticed that she wasn’t quite as slumped as she had been. I glanced over to grab the handle, and by the time I looked back, she was on her feet.

  I needed to get out. Now.

  I turned to go for the door just as she ran at me again, screeching like a madwoman.

  The door burst open before I could get to it, and Mike came barreling through with Matt on his heels.

  Mike stuck his arm out and had Sophie facedown on the floor with her hands behind her back before I even knew he had caught her.

  “Franny! Are you okay?” Matt pulled me into his arms and held me tight. He glanced over at Mike as he ratcheted handcuffs around Sophie’s wrists. “Come on, let’s go.”

  He opened the door and let me lead the way out into the lobby.

  “Where’s Sandra?” I asked, glancing around. She wasn’t on the couch where I’d left her, and I didn’t see her anywhere else in the lounge either. “Did she go up to the room?”

  “What do you mean? She was right—” Matt stopped and looked around the lounge, appearing as confused as I felt.

  A knife of fear stabbed my chest. “Sandra!” I ran out to the lobby, hoping she’d just wandered out there to look for the police or something. There was no one there except Whitney at the desk. I spun around in a circle, trying to figure out where she could have gone. Then a noise like a muffled scream made me look down the hall.

  There, at the end, I caught sight of Sandra just as she was dragged around the corner.

  “Get Mike!” I took off at a full sprint down the hall after Sandra and whoever had her.

  “Where are you going?” Matt yelled after me. He hadn’t caught sight of Sandra being dragged away.

  “To get Sandra! Call 911!”

  They had a good head start on me, but I didn’t have a kicking and screaming woman holding me back. I did have pure terror pushing me forward. I didn’t know who had grabbed Sandra or what they planned to do with her, but after the way Sophie had attacked me, I didn’t think they wanted to take her for a casual stroll in the gardens. I had no doubt that Sophie would have killed me in that bathroom if she could have, and I was afraid that was what was in store for Sandra, too, if I didn’t get to her in time.

  I reached the point where the hallway turned and led toward the back doors of the hotel. Almost to the glass doors at the end, a man had ahold of Sandra.

  My first instinct was to yell, but I was afraid the man would move faster if he knew someone was on his tail. On the other hand, I didn’t want Sandra to think no one knew she was gone. The contrasting thoughts flew through my head at lightning speed, and without consciously deciding, I yelled out, “Stop!”

  The man glanced over his shoulder and lurched toward the door.

  Sandra’s eyes were wild as she saw me. She twisted in his grasp, and the man’s grip loosened on her as he tried to get the door open. She managed to get her mouth free. “Fran!”

  I ran as fast as I could toward her, my only thought being that I had to save her. I couldn’t let Mike down.

  Sandra and the man were outside and halfway down the wide stone stairs to the courtyard before I made it to the doors. He’d managed to grab a lounge chair and throw it in my way, but I jumped on top of it and used it to launch myself to the top of the stairs.

  My momentum made me stumble as I started down them, but I fought to stay on my feet. I was getting closer. I had to get to her. I wasn’t sure what I would do when I did, but I couldn’t let him take her away from the hotel or to a more secluded area to kill her.

  “Stop!” I screamed again.

  We were in the courtyard near the big stone balcony off the lounge. I had to get to them before we got away from the hotel’s lights. “Stop!”

  I saw movement up on the balcony and prayed that someone had called for help and they weren’t just watching a woman being kidnapped.

  “Stop!” This time, someone else yelled it.

  The new voice startled the man so much that he paused to look where it was coming from. But he didn’t look up. And so he didn’t see the body dropping off the balcony and landing on top of him.

  I screamed. Sandra screamed.

  The person who had come from the sky punched Sandra’s kidnapper with a hit that knocked him out.

  The man from the sky jumped up and grabbed Sandra around the waist, pulling her against him.

  For a second, I thought it was yet another attacker, but then the light fell on his face, and I realized that the man who could have killed himself by diving off a balcony onto a stone patio was Mike.

  Sandra must have realized it, too, because she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “So let me get this straight.” Matt leaned back on the couch and tented his fingers. “Tommy was in on it all along. Sophie’s not French. They were selling drugs in the hotel, and they killed Gina because she found out and was going to turn them in to the police. Does that about cover it?”

  I nodded and tried to relax my aching body into the comfortable-looking, plush armchair I’d claimed in the lobby lounge. It was the morning after Sophie and Tommy had tried to kill me and Sandra, and every bone and muscle in my body hurt.

  After the first hit Sophie had landed in the bathroom the night before, I hadn’t felt a thing, but when I woke up again, after finally falling into bed sometime after the sun came up, I could barely move. Matt had pried me from the bed only after dosing me with a large macchiato and a handful of painkillers—legal, legitimate, over-the-counter painkillers, although if I’d gone to the hospital like the EMTs suggested when they checked me over after everything had se
ttled down the night before, I might have had something stronger. As it was, I could barely move and had only managed to drag myself out of bed and down the stairs when Matt promised me as much coffee as I could handle and whatever food I felt like eating.

  I could still hardly believe what had happened the night before. If not for the pain that wracked my body from head to toe, I would have found it easier to believe that I’d imagined it. How crazy was it that someone had tried to poison me, murder me in a bathroom, and kidnap Sandra—and that Mike had saved her by jumping off a balcony. It was the kind of thing that would happen in an action movie, not in my life. And speaking of action movies, why didn’t they ever show how sore the hero was the next day? I dreaded the thought of getting in the car and driving the three plus hours back home.

  “Did you ever have a clue Tommy was involved?” Matt asked.

  “I never had a clue that Sophie was involved.”

  And I hadn’t. If Tommy and Sophie hadn’t panicked and tried to kill us, they probably would have been able to go on their merry way, selling their opioids with no one the wiser that they’d killed Gina. But they’d lost their cool and would now more than likely spend the rest of their lives in prison. And I was glad. They deserved it.

  It had all come out the night before, after the police arrived, after Mike flew off the balcony in an effort to save his wife. I still didn’t understand how it had been successful.

  The Alford Inn wasn’t the first upscale hotel where Tommy and Sophie had set up shop, but it was the place where they’d stayed the longest and been the most successful. For years now, they’d gone from resort to resort, getting jobs where they dealt with—and to—a lot of people.

  Tommy had always worked in the restaurants and bars because he really was naturally friendly and an excellent bartender, while Sophie had started out as a waitress, moved into spas, and finally landed in bakeries when she figured out that a little extra white powder blended in quite nicely with all the sugar and flour. Her line about staying out of the patisserie kitchen had just been a lie to give her plausible deniability if anyone found her stash.