Mystery Comes in Waves

by Agatha Ball

  "Oh," I said, shaking my head, not even wanting to consider it. "No. No, there's no way he could be..."

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, I rolled out of bed just as the sun was coming up. I wished that I could have slept in more, but my habit of getting up to open Bitter Beans was still ingrained in me.

  I stretched and stepped out onto the deck of my little cottage. The morning birds were singing and the weather was perfect. I looked over at Bryce's place. The lights were all off. He had taken his garbage out, however, and I saw a box of empty beer cans. I guess that's how he was handling the whole situation.

  The tire on my bike was still flat, and fixing it in the early morning hours was not my idea of a good time.

  I decided to walk down to Seaside and enjoy the quiet before all the madness began.

  Main Street was quiet and still. I could see the lights were on at Bitter Beans, but as I peeked into the window, Richard was in there with Granny. He gave her a great big kiss on the curve of her neck as she loaded up the pastry case. She laughed and swatted him away.

  I decided I should leave them alone. They seemed so happy. Was it possible he was lying to us all?

  I walked over to the beach and listened to the waves as they pounded on the shore. Seagulls cried overhead. I gripped my thin sweatshirt tightly to me as the ocean breeze whipped my long hair.

  Was it crazy that even with everything that had happened this summer, I was really going to miss this place when I went home next month?

  It was crazy.

  And yet, as I stared out into the water and saw Johnny pop up on his surfboard to catch the first wave, and I turned to look over my shoulder at the lights twinkling from the Founders Mansion and wondered if Nate was thinking of me way up there... This place felt like a home. The people here felt like home.

  All I had ever wanted was to make a name for myself. Learn how to bake in Paris. Win competitions like these. I mean, competitions that hadn't been sabotaged and everyone was fighting fairly.

  I wondered if that was still what I really wanted.

  I turned back and stumbled across the sand dunes to Main Street.

  The only way to solve this mystery was to knock the socks off of everyone in this competition. If I won, I would know what that felt like and if this was my path. If I didn't win, it would be a sign that my best wasn't good enough.

  Suddenly, Granny's posse came power walking over to me.

  "Morning, Paige!" said Wanda.

  "We can hardly wait for you to win!" said Marnie, flicking her gray braid over her shoulder.

  Holly took off her thick spectacles and rubbed them on her tracksuit. "You have just been the best! Everyone has been saying so."

  "Your Granny is so proud!" said Marnie. "She keeps roping us into watching her table so that she can sneak a peek in to see how you're doing."

  "You're a chip off the old block, kiddo," said Wanda. "She's really going to miss you when it is time for you to go."

  I gulped. "Yeah. I'm really going to miss all this, too."

  "Listen to us, chatting your ear off when you should get focused on your great, big, final bake!" said Holly, putting her frames back on. Her eyes blinked behind the magnifying glass. "Doing something special?"

  "Of course she's doing something special," Marnie stated. "She's Cindy's granddaughter. I bet she's got some sort of secret recipe right up her sleeve."

  At the mention of recipes, it suddenly dawned on me that all of my recipes had been stolen yesterday and I hadn't replaced them yet.

  "Oh jeez," I said, the panic rising in my throat.

  "Did I say something?" Marnie asked, her hand flying to her chest in horror.

  "We were just trying to be supportive. We're so sorry if it didn't come across that way!" said Holly. "It's okay if you aren't baking something special. Everything you bake is wonderful!"

  "No!" I tried to reassure them. "It's not that at all. I just forgot my recipe!"

  "Oh!" said Wanda. She reached out and gave me a shove. "Get going, girl! You've got a contest to win!"

  I smiled in thanks and took off toward Bitter Beans. I was going to do one of Granny's old recipes and I was just praying she had an extra copy.

  I ran into Bitter Beans and the bell tinkled overhead. A blast of cold air hit me in the face. Captain zoomed across the floor, chasing after a checker piece he had knocked off the table. Granny and Richard poked their heads out from behind one of the shelves.

  "Can I help—" Granny stopped when she saw my face. "Paige, what is it? Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah," I said, panting for breath. "I just... Someone stole my recipes from my cupboard yesterday. I need to get another copy of your cake for today."

  Granny's eyes widened. "They stole your recipes?" She turned to Richard. "Have you ever heard of anything so terrible?"

  Richard's hands raised up. "Wait! I think I may have found them!"

  His words took me aback. "What? How?"

  He walked swiftly over to his coat, which was lying across one of the chairs by the window. He patted the pockets. "I am so sorry. I found them yesterday. They were lying beside a trashcan in the lobby. It looked like someone had tried to throw them away, but were in a hurry and missed. I was just going to throw the papers away, but looked at them and realized what they were. I had no idea who they belonged to! I'm so sorry! If I had known they were yours, I would have given them back yesterday when we spoke."

  "You just carried them around?" I asked.

  "I was going to ask everyone when I tasted their bakes, but then everything happened and it just slipped my mind, I’m afraid," he said, holding them out apologetically. "I'm so glad that I found them and that you are the rightful owner!"

  "Who would steal these recipes and throw them away?" asked Granny, outraged on my behalf.

  But a creeping suspicion was forming in my mind. "Yes, who?" I asked, looking directly at Richard.

  He looked from Granny to me. "I should probably be going. I'm sure you two have a lot to do before the morning ferry. Opening up and all." He put on his jacket and walked swiftly to the door. He paused, his hand on the handle, and turned to look at me. "Perhaps whoever stole them was thinking it might stop you from baking yesterday. And that way, no one would think you were the person who made everyone sick. Perhaps they were trying to protect you."

  He gave us a grim smile and then left.

  "Yes, perhaps..." I said softly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I arrived at the Grand Hotel and jogged up the front steps. Granny had shooed me away when I tried to help at Bitter Beans, telling me it was more important for me to get my head in the game than help her open up.

  It was going to be tough to keep my mind from replaying my conversations with Richard, though. The more I thought about them, the more it seemed that so much could have a deeper meaning. I paused in the lobby and chewed my bottom lip. I still had a couple minutes to go.

  I walked over to the front desk. Henrietta looked up from behind the counter and gave me a great big smile.

  "Welcome to the Grand Hotel," she said. She then squinted at me like she was trying to remember my name.

  I guess when you deal with new faces every day, it is hard to keep them all straight.

  "Good to see you again, Henrietta. Thanks for all you're doing with the bakeoff."

  Her face brightened. "OH! Paige. Yes. Thanks. It's been a lot of fun. Everyone's been so nice."

  I leaned against the counter and looked back at the doors to the ballroom. "Listen, Henrietta, has anyone gone into the ballroom since yesterday? I mean, after everyone got sick?"

  She thought for a moment. "Well, I let in Stan and Fred. And the judges. And Madison. Oh, and Richard went in there. I was nervous because he wasn't a judge but he said it was okay."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "Yeah," she said. "He said he needed to drop something off. I didn't see him carrying anything, though, so I don't know what it was." She shrugged. "Tha
t's it."

  "That's enough!" I replied back in a chipper voice. I rapped my knuckles on the counter. "Well, wish me luck. Last day of the bakeoff and everything will be back to normal."

  "That's going to be so great," Henrietta confided in me. "This whole job is becoming so much more work than I thought it was going to be. I can see why my predecessor left."

  "Not too much longer," I reassured her. I thought about Richard. The thought he might be playing my Granny made me rage inside my belly. I was going to get to the bottom of this. "In fact, I have a feeling everything will be over soon."

  I walked into the ballroom. Everyone was getting set up. Because no one had been eliminated yesterday, we were all in the competition. All ten of us. It was going to be an oven in here, so to speak.

  I walked over to my cupboard, unlocked it, and looked inside carefully. Had anything been disturbed? Was anything missing or in a place where it shouldn't have been? Everything appeared to be the same.

  I spread Granny's recipe on the counter.

  It was her old-fashioned, seven-layer, chocolate sour cream cake. So rich and moist, the cake was legend.

  And here I was, about to give it my best attempt.

  I hadn't had time to practice it. In between finding out I was signed up for the competition only three days ago and everything that had happened, I was flying blind. I hoped that everything she did was written down.

  I smoothed the crease in the recipe, the crease created by being shoved into Richard's jacket pocket.

  Had he been the one who had stolen my recipes? Had he been trying to protect me? Or was it as he said, he had just found them thrown away and had picked them up?

  The doors to the ballroom opened as the onlookers streamed into the room. The murmur of their voices filled the space as they found their seats in the rows of banquet chairs.

  I glanced over. Kylie was putting on an apron that was color coordinated with her shoes. She gave me a simpering smile, one of those that said she was going to pretend like she was happy to see me, but she wanted to make sure I understood she wasn't.

  Suddenly, Eye of the Tiger began to play and the doors by the stage opened. Lorraine jogged in, fists raised up overhead like Rocky on the steps of the Philadelphia art museum. Victor was clapping and cheering her along. Whoever the mystery judge was looked like he wanted to disappear behind his mask.

  Lorraine jogged up the steps to the podium.

  "Ladies and gentlemen! I am so pleased to welcome you to the very last day of the Seaside Bakeoff. We survived!"

  She meant it as a joke, but it was just a little too soon. Instead of laughter, there were unsure whispers from the crowd.

  "I'm just teasing! Listen, we have ten great bakers all baking for us today. How fun is that! They have three hours to make their masterpieces and then they'll be put to the taste test to see who's baking is a total knockout!" She then punched the air like she was boxing. "Watch and enjoy! There are refreshments available for purchase in the lobby from our very own Bitter Beans coffee shop." She then motioned to Trevor, who was standing in the corner in his seal suit. "Our very own Seaside mascot is here to give the winner his 'seal' of approval. Let's get this party started and crown the best baker on this entire island!"

  She then fired off the air horn, causing everyone to flinch, but also causing all of us bakers to spring into action.

  I pulled out all of my ingredients and double-checked Granny's recipe to make sure I had everything. I entered the zone, melting the butter and mixing in the cocoa. The smell was heavenly. I folded in the dry ingredients, dusted my cake pan using cocoa instead of flour, popped everything into the oven for thirty-five minutes, and got cracking on the rest of the cake.

  This is where things were going to get a little more complicated. A sour cream chocolate cake was usually pretty fail proof. You couldn't taste the sour cream, but it kept things fudgy and light. But since the cake itself wasn't that fancy to anyone who knew anything about baking, I was going to have to do something with the rest of the cake to make it special.

  I loved raspberry with chocolate. It cut right through to the taste buds, giving a nice pick-me-up when flavors were starting to run into one another. I pulled out my pot and set to mashing the fresh raspberries into a pulp. I pushed them through a mesh colander to strain out as many of the seeds as I could. I turned on the heat and waited for it to come to a boil.

  Everyone around me was in a lather. You could feel the tension in the air. Even the crowd was watching silently, as if scared that if they spoke, they might throw someone off their game.

  The raspberries came to a boil and I added the sugar and lemon, and continued stirring. I began ticking off all of the other items on my to-do list. Chocolate buttercream frosting. Then some chocolate work – I was thinking chocolate curls and a mirror glaze of ganache on top. I wanted to decorate the edges and, if I had time, do some spun sugar.

  The hours flew by. They were a blur of timers going off, of almost dropping pots, and almost sticking my fingers in my work.

  When the air horn finally went off, I was exhausted. I stepped back and felt pride welling in my soul.

  Seven layers, each separated with raspberry jam. A light, milk chocolate, buttercream around the sides and dark chocolate piped decoratively on the edges. I had managed the mirror glaze and there wasn't even an air bubble. To one side was a spun sugar nest filled with fresh raspberries, glazed with my jam to give them some shine. Curls of white and dark chocolate were clustered like the branch holding up the nest, and three types of chocolate leafs cascaded down the side of the cake.

  It was a masterpiece. I had poured my heart and soul into all of this and after everything that had happened, by golly, I was going to win.

  "Bakers, please present your creations!"

  To an enthusiastic round of applause, we picked up our cakes and stepped forward. Nate and Johnny were hollering. Granny and her posse were cheering and clapping. I thought my heart might explode from happiness.

  There was, however, Kylie's almond torte. She looked me up and down like she was underwhelmed by my creation and placed hers to the right of mine. She had sculpted marzipan into little fairy creatures and teeny mushrooms in a fairy garden wonderland.

  I turned and kept my eyes focused forward. I wasn't going to let her ruin this for me. Substance counted more than style and there was no way her torte tasted as good as mine.

  Victor stepped forward. You could almost see his ego swelling as he mansplained to the crowd. "Since we have a new judge, our very own Miss Seaside, I shall discuss for the benefit of all my reasoning before passing on the tasting plates to my fellow judges."

  Lorraine smiled and waved at the crowd. She was the picture of grace and didn't show for more than a split second that she thought it was ridiculous Victor decided she needed him to tell her what tasted best.

  One by one, the judges made their way down the line. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help but glance at Kylie and wonder if she wasn't above some mental mind games, herself. I bet she even chose to stand to the right of me to make sure she was the last in line, the one that would leave the judges with the final taste in their mouth as they made their decision.

  Victor, Lorraine, and the mystery judge stepped in front of my creation.

  "Quite impressive!" noted Victor. "Of course, overshadowed by the woman standing beside her." He gave a nod to Kylie who pretended like she was flattered. "But we'll try to keep the judging fair."

  I felt my heart sink into my shoes. I wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny for the crowd or if they had already decided Kylie was going to be the winner. Was the contest still rigged? After everything that had happened, were they still not playing fair?

  Victor cut a slice of my cake. The mystery judge seemed very impressed, but Victor just said, "Well, it seems to cut nicely."

  He then put the cake onto his plate and took a bite. I saw his eyes light up. I knew that look. I knew when something I've cooked causes that so
rt of visceral delight.

  But Victor tamped it down and said, "A respectable chocolate cake. I'll allow my fellow judges to decide for themselves. I do not wish to sway them with my expert opinion."

  Undeterred by his faint praise, Lorraine and the mystery judge took their tastes, and I saw the look that flashed between them.

  And then, like I wasn't still standing there, like his fellow judges weren't trying to rank my cake, Victor hurried them to Kylie's torte and held out his arms. "An absolute masterpiece!" He picked up one of the marzipan bunny rabbits and held it aloft for the whole crowd to see. "Incomparable! A work of art good enough to eat!" He popped the rabbit into his mouth with a charming smile and then cut a slice. "Look at the perfectly baked layers as I slice through," he narrated. "The way the knife drops cleanly."

  Suddenly, his face began turning red. He turned his head and coughed. "So sorry. I'm afraid I have a rabbit caught in my throat." He tried to make it a joke, but turned and coughed some more.

  "Oh my goodness!" Lorraine pounded him on the back.

  His eyes were bugging out and he was trying to push her away.

  "Are you choking?" asked Kylie. "Because I don't know the Heimlich and I just got my nails done, but I'm sure somebody can help you."

  He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. "That's not it."

  "Are you allergic to almonds?" Lorraine asked. She turned to the crowd and shouted, "Does anyone have an EpiPen?"

  Victor shook his head, indicating that was not the problem. "Water. That marzipan..."

  He ran out of the room toward the bathroom. The crowd parted with surprise gasps as he tore through the double doors. They clanged shut behind him.

  An uncomfortable murmur spread throughout the crowd. No one seemed to know what to do.

  We waited in silence.

  Finally, Lorraine looked at all of us. "Well, this is unfortunate. I suppose we can wait until he gets back—"

  Suddenly the door opened. Henrietta entered. Her face was blank with shock. Her voice squeaked as she hiccupped. "Is there a doctor in the house? I think that Victor may be dead!"