“Exactly.” Lacey laughed, and blew her nose into the handkerchief. “Oh, I’ve given myself a headache.”
“So a part of you loves Arthur, still,” Rachel said.
“Loved. Past tense,” Lacey said. “It’s sentimental nonsense, really. I’m truly happy with Paul. He made me a much better person than I was before. He’s given me stability, and steadiness, and honesty—all the things a mature woman needs.”
“So no affair, then?”
“No,” Lacey said, very definitely. “But Arthur was definitely having an affair, wasn’t he? I found out all about the love letter and what he wrote on it.”
“How?”
“I have my sources.” Lacey smiled. “Anyway, the love letter should make it clear it couldn’t possibly be me Arthur was writing to. He left me for Audrey, he’d hardly leave her for me again, would he?”
Rachel didn’t completely agree, but she shrugged.
“Whoever it was, she’s probably here right now and crying on the inside,” Lacey said. “If you ask me . . . I have my suspicions.”
“Let me guess—Emily Frank?”
Lacey nodded. “Exactly. Arthur didn’t believe in things like love letters and poems, you know. He thought they were sentimental nonsense. The most romantic thing he ever did for me was kiss me in front of everybody after a football match. This Shakespearean business of writing love letters wasn’t his style. But Emily, ahh . . . she’s different. She’s the only woman I know who could probably inspire a guy to pour out his heart on paper. There’s just something about her, isn’t there? An untouchable ice queen sort of look? It had to be her he was writing to.”
Rachel had to agree about the ice queen. “She’s nice when you get to know her, but can be a little intimidating.”
“Oh face it, she’s more beautiful than all the rest of us put together, and any man would go crazy for her,” Lacey said. “Including a hotheaded lawyer like Arthur.”
“But do you really think Emily could have killed him?”
“I’m sure of it,” Lacey said. “She had the opportunity; she’s right across the street from you, isn’t she? She had the motive if she was having an affair.”
“I don’t know . . . I can’t quite believe it. She’s so proper and perfect. I can’t imagine her spilling a cup of coffee, much less having an affair.”
“Oh you’re naïve. She may look perfect on the outside, but it’s a different story on the inside,” Lacey said, her voice bitter. “You know why Emily really wanted to buy out your bakery?”
“Why?”
“Because her own café is in trouble. Paul was telling me all about it.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, he should know. Apparently Jackson Wyatt lent her money in exchange for a thirty percent stake in her business a year ago. He thought he was getting a good deal for cheap because Emily convinced him she desperately needed the money and that the café had a bright future. But Paul says he’s an idiot for not digging deeper into the financials. The café's a dud.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I’m telling you, she isn’t what she seems. Maybe that’s why she had the affair with Arthur. To get money from him too.” Lacey’s voice was downright vicious now. “Or maybe she had the affair, then realized that Jay would dump her and that she needed Jay’s money. That’s why she killed Arthur.”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “It doesn’t seem like a coldblooded crime to me. I don’t think money’s involved. I mean . . . tearing up and throwing a love letter over the body? That’s more a sign of true love gone badly wrong.”
“True,” Lacey agreed. “You do have a point.”
“And that’s what I can’t understand. If Emily killed him, why throw the love letter over his body? Surely it could eventually be traced back to her and then she’d be in trouble.”
“Want to know another theory I have?” Lacey asked.
“Sure.”
“Arthur was falling in love with you,” Lacey said. “So he broke up with Emily. She couldn’t stand being rejected, so she killed him. Not only did she kill him, she tried to frame you for it.”
“I—no. Arthur? In love with me? That’s ridiculous.”
“How many other engaged men do you know who have breakfast with random women?” Lacey asked. “You can fool yourself, dearie, but not the rest of us.”
“Lacey, it really wasn’t like that. Arthur never once flirted with me. He was a good friend, that’s all. As for breakfast, he joked that Audrey sleeps like Rip Van Winkle in the morning, so it was good to have company.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that it was all innocent.” Lacey winked.
“Seriously, Lacey, I have moral standards. I would never have been with someone who had a girlfriend.”
“Of course.” Lacey blew her nose again, and stood up, wiping her eyes. “Forget it. The sheriff will work his magic and catch whoever did this. Just watch out, OK? The rumors can be vicious in a small town like this.”
“Clearly,” Rachel said dryly, “We’ve just been gossiping ourselves, haven’t we?”
“We were theorizing,” Lacey said. “Totally different scenario. Take care of yourself, kid. I’ll see you around town.”
“Oh hey, wait,” Rachel said. “Lacey, you work down at the bank, right?”
“Right.” Lacey nodded.
“Can you tell me if this looks like a key to a safe deposit box?” Rachel drew out Aunt Rose’s key from her purse and handed it over. Lacey turned it over twice, frowning. “Nope,” she said.
Rachel’s shoulders slumped with disappointment.
“That’s a PO box, I think,” Lacey said, and Rachel sat upright again.
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be.” Lacey grinned. “I’ve rented a box myself, you see. Wedding planning would bring a lot of spam to my address otherwise.” She handed it back to Rachel. “What are you doing wandering around with a strange key anyway? Is it a clue of some kind?”
“Oh, no. It was in my Aunt Rose’s personal effects. She didn’t leave any note behind.”
“Well, don’t get too excited, it probably just contains a bunch of spam,” Lacey said. “Take care, Rachel. I better go rejoin the crowd before someone notices I’m missing.”
*****
Chapter 19
Marble Cake & Mocha
Downstairs, the guests had slowly begun to leave. Rachel saw Scott helping to clear the table, moving expertly around the kitchen with several plates in each hand. At the sink, Arthur’s mother was staring off into space, and Scott put down the plates. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a tight one-handed hug, while whispering some consolation into her ears. Rachel looked away, the moment was too private for her to be eavesdropping.
Jackson was sitting exhausted on a couch, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, sweat stains visible on his white shirt. He’d shaved for the occasion, and his face looked far too shiny under the yellow lights. He nodded at Rachel and scooted over so that she could sit next to him.
“Didn’t see you around much after the funeral,” he said.
“Oh, I-I was just trying to avoid the crowd,” Rachel said.
“Yeah, I know how you feel. Audrey was saying she wanted a quieter, more private funeral, but I guess his parents had the final say. What a terrible day.”
“You gathered the old football team, I noticed,” Rachel said. She looked down, and saw that he had the same “Class of ninety-four" ring on his finger. Jackson saw her looking and smiled.
“Yeah. I’m a bit sentimental. We were all a team together, you know? I asked the other guys to wear their rings too, but I guess they’ve all lost them by now. Or maybe they thought it’s too tacky.”
“They’ve probably lost them,” Rachel said. One of them had definitely lost his football ring. The question was, who? Whoever it was, that was the murderer.
“Jackson, are you close to Paul?” Rachel asked.
“Paul? Me? Well, ou
r paths don’t cross that much anymore. The owner of a hardware store doesn’t have too much in common with a real estate tycoon like Paul. We have a drink together every once in a while, that’s all. High school friendships die hard I guess.”
“Well, Lacey was telling me you asked his advice about investing in Emily’s café.”
“Oh, that.” Jackson shrugged. “Well, hardware stores are a dying breed these days. Sooner or later we’ll have a Home Depot or Lowe’s open up here in Swaddle, and I’ll probably be driven out of business. I guess I was diversifying my portfolio. Works out pretty well, too, Emily’s thinking of buying another café in a nearby town and expanding. She’s really smart.”
“Did Paul think it was a good idea?”
“Oh, he’s too cautious,” Jackson said. “Told me to look at the financials and do paperwork and blah blah. I’m an old-fashioned man. If I like the business plan, and I trust the person, I plow ahead and do it. I trust Emily. She’s inherited Bull’s brains, and I think she’ll turn the café into a huge success one day.”
“One day. But right now, it’s not doing so well, is it?”
Jackson hesitated. “Well . . . every business has lean times. It’s part of the game.”
“The expansion plan; I put a wrench in it for Emily, didn’t I? She really wanted to buy the bakery.”
Jackson nodded. “Well, as you know, the bakery has some legacy clients, and Emily thought the café's brand would improve if she bought it. But it doesn’t really matter. I mean, she’s full of plans, there’s no stopping her.” But there was a slightly pessimistic tinge to his voice, as though he was trying hard to believe things would work out, and couldn’t quite.
“Do you think things will work out?”
“Sure I do,” Jackson said. “Emily was going to aggressively market her famous marble cake and mocha combo.”
“But she’s stopped sales of her marble cake,” Rachel pointed out. “More specifically, she stopped right after my aunt died. Isn’t that a little suspicious?”
“Yeah . . . well, your aunt’s death was a shock to poor Emily. I think she’s tweaking the recipe now. It’s sure to be a success whenever it’s reintroduced.”
Rachel felt a little prickle on the back of her neck. Marble cake. How did marble cake tie into all this? She thought back to that midnight snack she’d had at Emily’s table, when she’d found a slice of her aunt’s cake in the freezer.
“The marble cake was really popular around town, was it?” Rachel asked.
“Was it!” Jackson smacked his lips. “It was divine. It was half the reason I even invested. It was a phenomenon! The café was always overflowing with people. Marble Cake and mocha for five bucks—an unbeatable combo. Breakfast or tea time, people came back for seconds. I’ve put away my fair share too. I think we even had tourists stopping by who’d heard about it.”
“If you ask me, you aren’t eating nearly enough of anything these days.” Audrey stopped by, a plate of food in her hand, and thrust it at Jackson. “Here.”
“What’s this?” Jackson looked startled as she put the plate in his hand, and stared down at the finger sandwiches and slice of cake. “Audrey, you should be resting.”
“I have been,” Audrey said. “Jackson, these last few days I’ve been in a fog, and you were wonderful. You helped me take care of all the funeral details, and even my parents mentioned you were an absolute gent to them.”
“Look, forget that.” Jackson turned red and squirmed in his chair. “I was just being a friend. You know me.”
“Yes, I know you, and I notice you haven’t been eating well either. I don’t think you’ve eaten a thing since Arthur passed. So now you’re going to finish this plate in front of me.”
“Yeah, you know I’ve been on a diet for a while now.” Jackson shrugged.
“Eat,” Audrey said sternly. She noticed Rachel sitting next to Jackson and smiled at her. “Thanks for coming over earlier, Rach. I appreciate it. I’m doing better now.”
“I’m glad.” Rachel squeezed Audrey’s hand, and dropped it. Audrey did look much better, her parents coming back had probably helped. She looked pale and thin still, but that sort of shakiness that had hovered around her was now missing, replaced by a temporary calm. Grief had clawed wrinkles onto her face, but at least her hair and dress were neat today and her demeanor less hysterical. Rachel was glad to see it.
“‘Scuse me, I think your parents are calling.” Jackson excused himself and kept the plate aside, heading to the kitchen. The living room had almost emptied out now, leaving Rachel and Audrey alone.
“I’d better make a move too,” Rachel said. “Before I go, by any chance, Audrey, you don’t have Arthur’s old football ring, do you?”
“That old thing? No. But I’ve seen it around somewhere.” Audrey scrunched her nose, concentrating. “Arthur was really fond of it. He was such a nerd, he even had it inscribed 'Arthur, future NFL Champion' on the inside.” Her eyes became a little moist, and her voice cracked. “He even offered it to me once. Apparently Jay gave his football ring to Emily, and Arthur thought it was a cool thing to do. I refused. Sports are really not my style, and I felt kind of hurt that he was copying Jay’s gesture.” She sniffed. “I was such an idiot! I was so mean to him. If he ever came back, I’d . . .” She shook her head and composed herself. “Never mind. He’s gone. Today sealed it in my heart—he’s gone forever.”
*****
Chapter 20
To Trust And To Talk
Jay and Arthur’s office was only two streets down from Rachel’s bakery. As she walked to it the next day, Rachel marveled at how tiny Swaddle really was. The town was bracketed by a pine forest on one side and the ocean on the other, with two highways linking it to the rest of America, and yet the heart of the town was a universe onto itself, untouched by outside forces. The real heart of the town was contained within a small grid of five by five streets, with downtown and Rachel’s new bakery, right at the center. Rachel smiled as the thought came to her that in more ways than one, Aunt Rose had been at the heart of the town.
As Rachel walked down Willow Street, she passed by the hardware store and waved at Jackson, who was trying to teach his puppy how to sit and stay. The puppy, a bouncy black labrador, seemed more interested in a nearby squirrel than in Jackson’s commands.
She passed by Audrey’s house next, and saw that there was a wreath on the door. She caught a glimpse of a woman—either Audrey, or her mother—moving into the kitchen with a steaming mug in hand.
Two houses down from Audrey’s, was Lacey’s house. Paul was parked outside in his Cadillac XLR convertible, leaning against the door impatiently. He gave Rachel a nod and a wave as she passed.
Rachel paused to say hi.
“Lacey’s never, ever on time.” Paul sighed, looking at his watch. “You on your way somewhere?”
“Down to Jay’s office for a meeting,” Rachel said.
“You mean the sheriff’s case against you? Don’t worry, I’ve heard he’s revised his suspect list lately. In fact, he might drop the case against you entirely.” Paul tapped the side of his nose. “But you didn’t hear it from me!”
“Do you and Lacey have an inside source at the station?” Rachel laughed. “How do you know this stuff?”
Paul shrugged. “Well, deputies are as human as you and me. They like to talk sometimes, and I like to keep up with town news, that’s all.”
She smiled as she walked away, but inside, she was worried. If the sheriff’s office was leaking information, it was very likely that the killer knew things about the investigation that he shouldn’t. It was still on her mind as she reached Jay’s office.
The office was on the top floor of a glass-enclosed building, and Jay’s secretary, Gloria, escorted Rachel inside. Jay had a corner office, with floor-to-ceiling glass on two walls. He sat behind a messy desk, speaking on the phone. He placed the phone down as Rachel came in and shook hands with her.
“Glad you came,” Jay said. �
��I’ve spoken to the sheriff, and while you’re still cautioned not to leave town, he says he has some new evidence and is chasing down new leads. So for now, you can breathe easy.”
“That’s great news!” Rachel smiled. “Should we expect an arrest soon?”
Jay shook his head. “That’s confidential; the sheriff wouldn’t share with me. But . . . between the two of us, he didn’t look optimistic at all.”
“Oh . . .” Rachel sighed. “OK.”
“Anyway, what we should be happy about is that you aren’t getting arrested—for now,” Jay said. “I reviewed all the evidence against you myself, Rachel, and things don’t look good. You were present when Arthur was murdered, and Henry Grant will testify to it. You met Bobby Lee in the old warehouse the day he got murdered and have a different witness testifying you were present.”
“I’ve had some terrible luck,” Rachel said.
“It isn’t just luck, is it?” Jay asked. “Rachel, I don’t believe you killed Arthur. I know for a fact that he wasn’t having an affair with you, so I don’t think you had any motive to. But luck, good or bad, can only stretch so far.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that you should start thinking about who would want you to have bad luck,” Jay said.
“Are you saying that the killer is deliberately targeting me?” Rachel asked.
“For someone who’s so smart, I’m surprised that hasn’t occurred to you yet,” Jay said. “Yes, I do think the killer is targeting you. There’s a reason the killer chose to commit the murder in such a peculiar way. He planned it out and was very exact about the timings because he wanted you to suffer. Well, he or she.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a he,” Rachel said, thinking of the football ring.
“I wouldn’t rule out women just yet.”
“Maybe not.” Rachel bit her lip. “Jay, Audrey mentioned that you gave your old football ring to Emily. Is that true?”
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