by Agatha Ball
Chapter Seventeen
Lorraine went up to the microphone. The crowd had grown even larger as word spread that someone had died. Never mind that Victor was in the men's restroom, somehow folks got the idea the ballroom was where it was all going down. Stan and Fred had isolated us contestants and told us not to go anywhere. Henrietta had tried to keep the public out, but her weak protests were easily overcome by her conflicting training that the customer was always right.
The microphone squealed with feedback. "Ladies and gentlemen, in light of recent events, we're going to adjourn for the day to allow the police to continue their investigation. I need every member of the public to please leave. Contestants, the police will be taking your name and information in case they need to reach you for a statement. If everyone would vacate the premises." She looked over at Nate and Madison for what to do.
Madison cheerfully chirped. "A round of drinks on the house at Trevor's Saloon!"
The morbid turn the day had taken caused her pronouncement to fall flat. Well, except for Johnny, who pumped his fist into the air like he had just gotten a free burrito at the taco shack. People grumbled as they slowly shuffled out of the room, suspicion and worry hanging like a heavy cloud over all our heads.
"You're going to bankrupt my bar—" Trevor hissed.
"You told me yesterday how big a markup you are charging on those watered down drinks," Madison retorted under her breath.
Trevor looked to see if anyone had been listening. He met my eyes and glanced down guiltily. In light of what happened, skimming your customers seemed the least offensive sin of the day.
Suddenly Tim came in, accompanied by Stan and Fred. Tim was the owner of the bait shop in town and sort of the guy you always wanted around when something serious happened. He worked as a volunteer EMT and had helped me out more times than I could count, despite me accidentally accusing him of murdering Nate's uncle when I first arrived.
He walked over to our clump to update us on what was going on.
"Cyanide," pronounced Tim.
Meanwhile, Stan and Fred stormed Kylie's station. Stan pulled out his yellow police line tape and Fred began shouting to everyone in the ballroom. "We have a situation here! I need everyone to stand back! A murderer baked in this station! We need everyone to stand back before she kills again!"
"I beg your pardon!" Kylie exclaimed, her flat-ironed ponytail swinging dangerously behind her as she tried to storm over.
Timgently placed his hand on her shoulders to stop her as Stan began bagging all of her ingredients in a hazmat bag.
"Cyanine smells of almonds," explained Timapologetically. "It easily could have been slipped into your almond extract or marzipan." He gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "You're fortunate you didn't taste anything as you were cooking. You would have ended up like Victor."
"I don't go sticking my germy fingers into my bakes," she replied, horrified.
"Sure... sure you don't taste what you're baking..." said Stan. He began swinging her rolling pin like a Keystone cop. "You just sit around in the kitchen all day, looking at all these delicious ingredients, able to resist the siren's call of their tasty goodness."
"Excuse me? I hold the responsibilities of my food safety handling certification at the highest level," she informed him.
"Sure you do."
"Obviously, I do. Otherwise, I'd be dead."
"You're right," Fred said, spinning around to point his finger at her. "You knew not to eat it because you KNEW IT WAS POISONED!"
"I didn't eat it because that's gross. It's gross to eat something you're going to serve to the public."
"Kylie..." Stan began and then stopped. He leaned forward. "What's your last name?"
"Kylie Green."
"Kylie Green." He paused for dramatic effect to make sure everyone was watching him and could hear him. "I DON'T BELIEVE YOU. I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Victor... whatever his name is."
"Featherstone," said Lorraine, horrified, tears brimming beneath her long, false eyelashes. "His name was Victor Featherstone."
"Right. I'll just get that filled out on the paperwork when we get back to the station," said Fred, writing it down on the palm of his hand so he wouldn't forget.
"I didn't kill anyone!" Kylie protested, the panic rising in her voice. "This was an act of sabotage! I've been framed! I knew someone was out to get me, but I didn't think they would stoop so low as to murder!" She glared at me. "Did you do this to win first place? Did you take out all the competition?"
My sympathy for her waned as she tried to throw me under the bus. Stan and Fred turned to look at me inquiringly.
"NO!" I replied, horrified they would even think for a minute winning some stupid competition was worth killing someone over.
"Alright, Kylie," pronounced Stan. "Since no other suspect has stepped forward to take responsibility, I'm afraid I have to arrest you for the murder of Victor..." Stan looked at Fred's hand and read. "...Featherstone. Don't attempt to resist arrest. It will only go bad for you."
We all watched as Kylie was led out of the ballroom.
"DUDE!" Johnny exclaimed.
"Totally, dude," I replied back.
Chapter Eighteen
As the double doors clanged behind them, Trevor turned to Madison. "What? You're not going to tweet about your old sorority sister getting arrested for murder? Hashtag: That's a first. Not going to ruin Seaside's reputation this time because it involves someone you know?"
Her face was blank with shock. "Of course not! She's my friend! I would never do—" She then looked around at all of us. "...and I want Seaside to succeed, not fail."
I wasn't entirely sure I believed her.
But for once, it seemed like Trevor remembered who he was and decided enough was enough. I guess a murder committed by your girlfriend's BFF will do that to a guy.
"She killed someone." He took off his seal head. "I have watched you swim around in all the drama of this thing, whispering snide remarks into the ears of anyone who would listen about how Seaside should never get the bakeoff back. You pushed it. Created it. Somehow, it made it okay for her to do this."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"I'm a part of Seaside, too, Madison. You and your friend didn't just attack this town, you attacked my livelihood. My bar was meant to be more than a place for you to push your agenda. Someone died because of your conniving bitterness." Trevor handed her the seal head. "I quit. And we're through." And with that, he walked out the door.
Madison stood there with her sad seal head in her Barbie-pink manicured hand. She genuinely looked so shocked and confused, for a second I actually felt sorry for her. But then, she covered it all up and snapped at us. "What are you all looking at?" And she stormed out of the room.
Nate and Johnny and I stood in silence.
"Sooooo..." said Johnny. "Can I taste your cake, Paige? I mean, if people are just going to throw it out."
I patted his arm. "Let me make you a fresh one. I'd hate to find out someone had injected cyanide into my bake when I wasn't looking, too."
"Oh, YEAH," replied Johnny, like he had totally forgotten why he shouldn't be eating the food on the front table. "That would be a bummer."
Fred came back into the room and began ushering contestants out one by one, writing down their names and phone numbers in case he needed to accuse any of them of murder at some point in the future.
Nate leaned into me and spoke quietly. "Just so we're on the same page, you’re thinking that it was a total setup, too, right?"
I nodded, trying not to call too much attention to myself. "I think our murderer is still on the loose."
Despite Fred knowing all of us and knowing where we lived, he made Nate, Johnny, and me give all of our information before he'd let us leave. Having been wrongly locked up several times ourselves over the course of the past few months, we were as cooperative as possible.
I looked at all of the contestants as we walke
d out into the lobby, trying to figure out who might have been so desperate as to kill Victor and frame Kylie. Everyone looked upset, though. Several of them were lining up in front of the reception desk, I assume to see about checking out immediately, but Henrietta was sobbing inconsolably in the corner as her boss tried to soothe her.
As we stepped out of the Grand Hotel, the sun was shining brightly, not caring that something so dark had happened today. Random people strolled by, completely unaware. The birds were singing and the flowers were blooming. It was such a strange juxtaposition.
Nate rubbed his face. "I worked so hard to create a success for Seaside, and then this happened."
I suddenly realized he somehow felt guilty. "Nate, this had nothing to do with you."
"Totally, cuz!" added Johnny, punching him in the arm. When Nate looked unconvinced, Johnny said, "Doctor Johnny has a prescription for you. Whenever my head is a mess, I know it is time for me to become one with the water. The ocean will explain how we are all nothing in the stream of eternity. You come grab a surfboard with me. There's nothing a little paddle therapy can't make better."
Nate smiled grimly. "I might take you up on that, Johnny."
"Good."
"But for now... I've got to figure out who actually killed Victor. It's our only hope of saving Seaside. We've got to make sure people know it isn't just some random act of violence. Stan and Fred are acting like this is case closed. But the murderer almost took down every person in that competition." He looked at me, his eyes full of fear. "What if they had tried to kill you?"
"But they didn't."
"They gave you a warning."
We reached Trevor's Saloon. It was busy, but somber. I noted there was a far bigger line of people waiting for the ferry. And seeing how the ferry wasn't going to be leaving for a couple more hours, it was pretty clear they were done with Seaside.
Nate was totally right. We had to figure out what was going on. Stan and Fred were not going to solve this mystery. It was up to us.
"I don't know about you," I said, "but I'm thinking that I could use something a little stronger than a cup of coffee right now."
"After you," Nate said, opening up the faux swinging doors for me. Johnny jogged in after, too, giving Nate a little tip of an imaginary hat.
The music in the jukebox was a sad country song. As if the room needed to be dragged down anymore. Bryce and Shelia were sitting in one of the booths, their heads bowed together.
I looked at Nate and he caught my drift.
"I'm gonna get something," Johnny interrupted. "Need anything? Burger? Coke?"
Nate shook his head. "I think we'll pass."
"I'm buying!"
"We're good," I replied. I leaned over. "But do me a favor, would you?"
"Sure, Paige."
"Hang out at the bar for a bit, would you? Listen in on the conversations. Find out what people are saying."
He put his finger on the side of his nose. "Right. Like... spy stuff. Don't you worry. I'm your international man of mystery." He made finger guns and then slid toward the bar like he was trying to hide in the shadows.
Nate and I, however, took the opportunity to walk over to Shelia and Bryce. They looked up as soon as we arrived. Their eyes were both glassy and they were both deep into their cups.
Shelia's face was filled with fear and concern as she slurred, "Is it true? Did Kylie really kill Victor?"
I realized that at this point, all they had was rumor. I tried to be judicious. "We don't know if it was Kylie—"
"Of course it was Kylie," spat Bryce, throwing back his whiskey. "She's always hated Victor. She always hated me. She couldn't be happy with ruining my career and Shelia's career, she had to destroy the entire bakeoff organization to get her revenge."
"That doesn't even make sense," I pointed out. "Without you in the picture, she would have won."
"Well, there was you standing in the way," said Bryce.
"Then why didn't she kill me?"
Shelia clutched her necklace. "What if she hadn't gotten you and I out of the way, Bryce? I would have been there. I easily could have taken a bite, too." She got a distant and faraway look as she considered all of the ways things could have gone horribly wrong. "It is almost as if someone was looking out for us. I thought those flyers were the low point of my career. But they are the only thing drastic enough to have gotten me away from the situation, to quit in the middle of a competition. Perhaps whoever did it was trying to save me! Save us! Perhaps they had distributed those fliers to make sure we stayed safe!"
"There was no reason for them to take me out of the competition, however," Bryce pointed out. "I wouldn't have eaten her gross torte."
But Shelia was on a roll. "If Madison hadn't called out Richard for his involvement with your grandmother, Paige... why, he would have been there, too!"
Trevor had mentioned Madison wanted to create an atmosphere of drama to drive up interest in the competition. But had she known something was going to happen? Had she actually been trying to help people stay safe? Was Kylie capable of murder?
"That's a lot of conclusions to jump to," Nate pointed out gently.
"Maybe Kylie was the intended victim," said Shelia. "I mean, if she had tasted what she was making, this would have been a very different story."
Bryce dismissed her. "If this supposed murderer knew Kylie, they'd know she would never taste what she was baking."
"What if they didn't know her, though?" I mused, looking at Nate.
"A random murderer here in Seaside!" Shelia exclaimed sloppily. She looked at her drink and then pushed it away, as if somehow someone had slipped something in while she wasn't looking.
"No, no..." Nate said, trying to calm her down, realizing there was no talking to these two in their current state. "I think you two are totally right. It had to have been Kylie."
In their buzzed haze, Shelia and Bryce nodded in agreement. Their agitation settled as they decided they had gotten to the bottom of things.
Nate made it even better by clasping them on the shoulder and saying, "I need to get a drink. Can I buy a round for the table?"
Bryce and Shelia were only too happy to take us up on the offer. We wandered over to the bar. Johnny was hiding behind the antique figurehead in the corner, pretending to chat up the wooden lady as he eavesdropped. Figured it wasn't that out of character for him, and his methods tended to have an eerie ratio of success.
Trevor was dressed in his normal, everyday clothes again. Gotta say, after four days in that seal suit, he was smelling a lot better, too. He wiped out the inside of a pint glass. "What are you drinking?"
"I think you might want to 86 Shelia and Bryce," Nate said. "They're about ready to fall out of their seats."
"Done," replied Trevor.
"And as for us," he mused as he plunked down on a stool. "Surprise us. But nothing with fire."
Trevor set to work. Although he was being professional and all, I could see that he was hiding some hurt.
"I'm sorry about everything that happened with Madison," I offered.
Trevor waved away my concern. "I hated that stupid seal costume, anyway."
"You were definitely the face of Seaside."
He put something blue and fruity in front of me.
I gave it a taste and it was really good. "I guess the good news is that even though your successful career as a mascot appears to be over, you might just be able to cover your rent with your bartending." I held up the glass. "Cheers."
He laughed, ruefully. "She'll be back."
"I'm sure she will. As you said, she likes the drama..." I laid it out there as just a part of the conversation.
Only Nate picked up that I was digging for more info. He relaxed in his seat, trying to appear only slightly interested. "Yeah... what was that all about?"
Trevor, a man scorned, was only too happy to dish it out for us. He poured himself a shot and downed it, wincing as the heat hit the back of his throat. "She really hated that you
killed the plans for the port, Nate," Trevor informed him. "I don't know what was real with her, you know? One moment, I thought I knew the woman, the next I didn't. But that friend of hers, Kylie, was bad news."
"You think she would actually kill a judge in front of everyone? For all of us to see?"
"I don't know anything anymore, Paige. Her cake killed that judge and Madison went into a social media blackout. She had been posting all the drama prior to this. All I can tell you is that no one here is who they seem."
"What makes you say that?" Nate asked, trying to appear casual.
"I don't know much, but I know how to read people," said Trevor. "It's all a part of politics. Figuring out ways to say things to sway people, to read their body language and know when they're on your side or not. And I've been looking at all of the judges and contestants and there was a lot more going on than they were letting on. All the way back to Richard. In fact, I think he was happy to get thrown off the panel."
Red flags and alarm bells started going off in my head. "Why would you say something like that?" I asked.
"It is just a... sixth sense I get. I could have told you after ten minutes that Shelia and Bryce were hooking up and that his wins had nothing to do with his cooking." He leaned on the bar, talking low to Nate and me. "I don't want to go throwing accusations around, but I get the sense Bryce isn't too broken up about Victor being dead, either."
Suddenly, Stan stepped into Trevor's Saloon. He had borrowed Lorraine's air horn and blasted it. We all held our ears and looked at him, wondering what the heck would drive a man to do that in an enclosed space.
"DUDE!" shouted Johnny.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. I'm afraid we most definitely have a case of murder on our hands," Stan announced. "I regret to inform you that all contestants and judges are hereby banned from leaving this island without my permission."
The gasps in the crowd were horrified.
Nate stepped forward. "Stan, you can't do that."
Stan held up his badge. "I am an officer of the law and I do what I must to serve and protect the community." He waved down the wave of anger that was starting to roll his way. "This is not forever. Just until I get statements from everyone who was at the bakeoff."
