Bakeries and Bodies

by Danielle Collins

  As they drove, she saw the mountains looming in the distance and gasped. Their white-topped splendor took her breath away.

  “The Pine Lake Golf Course is located at the foot of the Willamette National Forest, which you can see up ahead. Pretty impressive, eh?”

  “It’s beautiful. No, stunning!”

  “I agree,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m glad you could be here.” He looked down at her, his smile warming her through.

  “Me too.”

  Their driver made a turn into an impressive entryway made of piled stone pillars, natural wood, and wrought iron. The sign read Pine Lake Golf Course and below it the phrase, “Where nature meets luxury.”

  Margot did her best to hold her smile in but Adam noticed and gently elbowed her in the side. “Hey, I know that smile. It does sound cheesy. That sign and slogan are a new edition. My parents tell me that the owners of the golf course and club are trying to revamp their image. A lot of this has changed since I lived here,” he said, turning to look out the window.

  She merely said mmm but allowed her smile to blossom. It sounded like something a wealthy person would want—nature and luxury—but who was she to judge that?

  They wound through a tree-lined drive, which Adam told her was made up of pine trees, and then the landscape opened up to feature large estates dotted around the golf course. They were impressive, some looking like overly large cabins and others with a more modern twist.

  When they finally turned into one of the driveways, Margot was surprised and pleased to see that the Eastwood estate was of the cabin variety. It was nearing late afternoon and the sun was getting ready to set behind the mountains at the back of the house. The lights glowing from inside made the whole scene look like it belonged on a Christmas card, complete with a wreath and red bow on the door.

  “I love it.”

  Adam grinned. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  Even before the car stopped, the front door opened and a woman in dark washed jeans and a red cardigan came out, the smile on her face shining as brightly as the lights. “Adam,” she said, her voice wobbling. Margot wondered if she were on the verge of tears.

  “Mom,” he said, embracing her in a big hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too, dear,” she said, delicately wiping a tear from under her eye. “It’s been too long.”

  Adam looked appropriately sheepish and turned to introduce Margot. His mother embraced her without a hesitation and introduced herself as Louise. Then Adam’s father came out. Harvey Eastwood stood tall, almost as tall as Adam, with a lean frame and a firm handshake. Margot could easily see where Adam had gotten his good looks.

  “I’m so glad you could come visit us this year,” he said, taking the handle of Margot’s bag while Adam took his own. “But let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

  She grinned and followed them into the house, warmth washing over them along with the scent of apples and cinnamon.

  “They’re here,” Louise called out.

  Margot shot Adam a look but before he could explain, a man who looked a lot like Adam and a young woman who looked a lot like Louise burst into the room shouting, “Ads!!!”

  Margot stepped back as they all but tackled Adam in a group hug. He let out a bellowing laugh as they stepped back. “I haven’t been called that in years.”

  “Exactly,” the girl said. “We need to bring it back.”

  “I just wanted to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend here,” the man said, winking at Margot.

  Adam’s arm slipped around Margot’s shoulders and he pulled her against him. “Guys, this is Margot. Margot,” he said, looking at her, “this is my younger brother Brad and my baby sis, Cassie.”

  “I’m thirty,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Hardly a baby anymore.”

  “And yet you ran at me calling me Ads.” He gave her a pointed look and she grinned.

  “And this,” Brad said, “is my wife Giselle.” A shy-looking woman stepped from the doorway and slipped into Brad’s embrace with a quick smile at Margot. “Our kids are taking naps right now, but you can meet them later.”

  “And this is Wade,” Cassie said, tossing out her hand and pulling a young man, with spiky black hair and a nose piercing, toward the group from the shadows of the hallway. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  Margot immediately felt the tension in the room as Wade came forward. He looked uneasy, sending glances toward Louise and Harvey.

  “Hi, Wade,” Adam said, as if unaware of the tension. “Are you staying for Christmas?”

  “No,” Harvey said.

  “Yes,” Cassie said.

  They spoke at the same time and now Margot could feel the tension as if it was tangible. It was obvious that Harvey and Louise did not approve of Wade.

  “We talked about this,” she said, dropping Wade’s hands and slamming her fists on her hips as she faced her parents. “He’s staying.”

  “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “They get to have there significant others stay for the holidays. Why can’t I? And it’s not like there isn’t room.” Cassie seemed unaware of how uneasy everyone in the room was as she talked back to her parents.

  “I said we’ll discuss it later,” Harvey said, his hard stare sending a clear message.

  “Fine. Whatever.” She huffed, grabbed Wade’s hand, and turned toward the hallway. “We’re going to watch a movie.”

  When they left, Margot swallowed, the moment feeling awkward for all of them, before Louise took a step forward. “Who wants hot apple cider?”

  “I’d love some, Mom,” Adam said, doing his best to appear normal, but Margot wasn’t sure they could sidestep what had happened so easily or that a cup of warm cider would truly smooth things over.

  Chapter 3

  Margot yawned, the clock blinking five in the morning. This wasn’t how she’d expected to start her vacation.

  Dressing quickly and pulling her hair back into a braid, she slipped down the hall toward the kitchen where a light glowed into the hall. Blinking at the brightness, she saw Adam pouring a cup of coffee, the steam rising and the scent making her mouth water.

  “That had better be for me.”

  He turned around, a worried smile on his face. “It is. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “You mean aside from several more hours of sleep?” she teased.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, stepping close and giving her a light kiss. “I had no idea my mom would volunteer you to work with Fran for this year’s festival.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to have to bake so soon after arriving. I mean, I’m still on East Coast time, so I guess that’s a blessing.”

  He laughed. “That is true. It was a lot easier to wake up this morning than it should have been.”

  “Still…” She gave him a look and he grinned.

  “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

  She tilted her head, as if contemplating. “A sleigh ride in the snow perhaps?”

  He laughed loudly for a moment then quieted, remembering that the rest of the house was still asleep. “If we get enough snow, I will make that request come true.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  After pouring their coffee into to-go mugs and grabbing bagels, they hopped into one of the Eastwoods’ vehicles, a dark green SUV that looked like it could tackle any kind of weather, and headed in to town.

  Margot remembered seeing the sign for Fran’s shop and wondered what to expect. It was early, but thankfully not as early as she was used to getting in to her own shop. When Louise had told Margot about arranging for her to bake with one of their long-time friends, Fran Jones, it was all Margot could do not to groan.

  She knew what that meant. Early hours and working under someone else. It wasn’t that she minded so much, but every baker had their own technique and it wouldn’t be as simple as Margot coming in to bake. It would take her g
etting used to the kitchen, Fran’s recipes, and Fran’s style of baking.

  Still, Louise had looked so hopeful, as if she’d done it for the sole purpose of pleasing Margot, that it had been impossible to turn down the offer.

  Adam pulled into a slot behind the bakery and turned to look at her. “Are you sure you aren’t ready to call it quits and tell my mom the truth?”

  “You think I'm lying to her?”

  His lips quirked up into a smile. “I think you’re being nice.”

  “Of course I am,” she said, sounding more indignant than she’d anticipated. “I want your parents to like me.”

  “Don’t worry, they do.”

  “More than they like Wade at least.” She grimaced. Adam had explained more of the situation with his sister and how she had been on-again/off-again with Wade for the last few years. They would date, he would break up with her, she would be angry, then he would come back begging to get together. It was a sad situation and it sounded like, for the moment, they were on-again, but Margot wondered how long it would last.

  “I hate to say it, but that’s not hard to do.”

  She shook her head and they climbed out of the car, coffee tumblers in hand. The back of the bakery was obviously for service deliveries and workers. There were no frills, only a small sign that said Fran’s on it.

  “Ready?” Adam’s grin was accompanied by billowing fog as he exhaled into the cold air.

  Margot nodded, thinking of what she already knew about Fran, compliments of Louise’s excited chatter last night. Fran had started the bakery after her husband died at a relatively young age. Rather than facing life alone, she’d decided to face it with a rolling pin in hand. She’d done well for herself and had been featured in many Pacific Northwest magazines for her unique breads and hometown recipes.

  Every year, it was Fran’s sole goal to out-bake the bakery down the street, Baked & Glazed, run by owner Simon Huxley. Adam explained that it as a friendly rivalry that grew each year. The town always held a festival on Christmas Eve where anyone could submit their favorite baked goodie. There was no limit or restriction on what it could be; it just had to be homemade.

  Adam had grinned widely when he said that Fran had held the record for most wins over the years, though Simon had won a few times. This year was no different and Fran was going all out for her submission, according to Louise. It was why she’d been so excited to learn of Margot. Apparently, her entry would be French-inspired and Margot was going to be the cherry on top, so to speak. Margot only hoped that things would go as Fran had planned.

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  Shivering from the cold, Margot stepped past as Adam held the door open for her. The next moment, she stopped, her heart thudding in her chest. A man lay on the floor, face down.

  “Adam,” she said, her voice coming out in a strangled whisper.

  “What is—” He stopped, his eyes widening. “Oh my gosh, that’s Simon Huxley.”

  Chapter 4

  Margot felt cold down to her bones despite the warmth of the bakery as Adam knelt by the body, careful not to touch anything or disturb the scene. “He’s dead.”

  Margot had guessed as much by his inert state, but she knew they had to check. “What is he doing here?” she said. “Didn’t you say he owned a bakery down the street?”

  “He does,” Adam said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  “And now he’s here, dead, and in Fran’s kitchen.” Margot swallowed. “It doesn’t look like the friendly rivalry you spoke of.”

  He shot her a glance and then typed in numbers. “I’ve got to call this in.”

  Just then, they heard a noise coming from a partially opened door to the left. Adam immediately stepped in front of Margot and reached toward his back, phone still to his ear. Then, as if remembering he didn’t have his service weapon with him, he looked around for a weapon just as the door creaked open.

  “I-I-I didn’t-didn’t mean to hit him. He… I…” An older woman stepped from the room, a look of shock on her wrinkled features. She held a cast iron skillet in both hands, and her gaze fixated on Simon Huxley’s body on the floor between them.

  “Fran?” Adam said, taking a step toward her.

  As if jerked from her hyper-focus, the woman’s eyes leapt to Adam’s. “Adam?” She looked like she was lost in a fog of confusion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She began to cry and Margot’s heart felt heavy for the woman.

  “Hello. Yes, this is Adam Eastwood. I need to report a death at Fran’s. Yes.” He listened to the other end of the conversation, relaying information, as Margot slowly stepped around him toward Fran.

  “Fran?” she said, careful not to make sudden movements that might startle the woman.

  “Wha— Who are you?”

  “My name is Margot and we’re here to help you.”

  “Margot?” She spoke as if in a dream and Margot looked to Adam. He was already telling the dispatcher that they would need an ambulance for the woman.

  “What happened, Fran?” Margot said, careful not to step too close to the woman, just in case she was still unstable.

  “I…I don’t know? I’m sorry…” She sniffed, more tears falling. “He’s on the ground. I—I hit him.”

  Margot looked back down at the man. He was large and tall, at least four or five inches taller than the frail-looking older woman. Something wasn’t adding up.

  “Who are you again?” she asked, her arms starting to shake under the weight of the heavy skillet.

  “I'm Margot. I’m a baker like you. Why don’t you put down the skillet? It looks pretty heavy.”

  “It is,” she said distractedly. Her eyes were in the distance, unfocused. Margot had a feeling the woman was in shock.

  The sounds of sirens reached Margot and she looked up to see flashing red and blue lights and Adam at the door, opening it for the paramedics and police.

  The EMTs went directly to Fran, conferring with the police, as a man dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with a thick jacket over it walked in. Margot assumed he was the detective by the way the rest of the officers reacted to him.

  “Margot,” Adam said, pulling her to his side. “This is… I'm sorry.”

  “You couldn’t have known we’d walk in to a…murder scene.” She swallowed past the word murder. Over the last year and a half, Margot had been around her fair share of murder scenes. It wasn't as if she sought them out, but they did seem to find her in the worst ways possible.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked quietly, looking up at Adam.

  His brow was furrowed, surveying the scene. “It looks like Fran hit Simon on the head.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Excuse me, but who are you people?”

  The harsh words, spoken loudly and with a hint of annoyance, drew Margot’s attention away from the dead body.

  “Hello, this is Margot Durand, and I’m Det—”

  “Say, you’re Harvey’s boy, aren’t you?”

  Margot saw a muscle flicker in Adam’s jaw. “Yes. I’m Adam Eastwood. I’m a detective in North Bank, Virginia.”

  “Isn’t that nice,” the man said distractedly, looking Adam up and down. “And what are you two doing here, at the scene of a crime? And at five in the morning, no less.”

  “I’m sorry, you are?” Adam’s voice held an edge of annoyance and Margot felt the tension in his body.

  “Name’s Russ Nelson. Detective Russ Nelson.” He gave them a pointed look and Margot wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel impressed. “Now what are you two doing at Fran’s?”

  At the mention of the woman’s name, Margot’s gaze jumped to where she’d been standing. She was now sitting on a stretcher, shaking and holding an oxygen mask over her mouth. She didn’t look much better and it sounded as if they would need to take her to the hospital before she could be questioned.

  “Margot is a baker and my mother arranged to have her bake with Fran for this year’s bake-off.”

>   “And you?” the detective asked.

  “She’s my girlfriend so I brought her.”

  “How sweet.” Detective Nelson consulted a small notepad he produced from his coat pocket and jotted down a few notes. “Spell Drant for me, will ya?”

  “It’s Durand. D-U-R-A-N-D,” Margot offered.

  “Right. Yeah. Got it.” He looked back down to write out a few more notes and Margot’s gaze slipped to the body on the floor.

  The crime scene techs had just arrived and were setting up the area as a secured scene. One kneeled and, after making sure all photos had been taken, slowly began to roll the body over. Without meaning to, her gaze cataloged several things at once.

  One. The wound at the back of his head had already swelled, but didn’t look menacing enough to have killed the man.

  Two. The man was dressed in nice slacks and a deep green sweater. No coat.

  Three. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his pale skin.

  Four—and this really grabbed her attention—there was a small mark behind his left ear. She blinked, unsure if it had been a shadow or if her eyes had mistaken her, but no…she was almost positive it had been a mark.

  She stepped forward, about to ask one of the techs if they could look behind his ear, when Detective Nelson bellowed at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She jumped, startled by his abrupt tone, and whirled around to face him. “I-I’m sorry, but I saw—”

  “You should not be seeing anything, Miss Durant. You hear me? In fact…” He waved his hand in a demanding manner to a police officer across the room. “Will you escort these two out of my crime scene? Take their statements and then let them go.”

  “But—”

  “Go. But don’t leave town. I’m not too certain you didn’t off this guy yourself.”

  Her eyes widened at his unprofessional attitude, but Adam placed his hand on the back of her arm and tugged her gently toward the door. “Come on, Margie. Let’s let Detective Nelson do his job.”