“Adam Eastwood?” she said, leaning forward.
“Hey, Fran,” he said as the officer closed the door behind him. “This is my girlfriend Margot. We came to see how you’re doing.”
“Margot,” she said, her gaze taking in Margot like someone who’d forgotten something and couldn’t quite grasp it. “Have we…met before?”
“We did, earlier,” she said cryptically, unsure if the memory would trigger her catatonic state again.
She turned back to Adam. “I-I don’t feel like myself. I told your mother that. I think something bad happened, but I can’t seem to remember…”
“It’s all right,” Adam said, pulling the other two chairs toward where Fran sat so they could sit in front of her. “We just came to see what you could remember. From before.” He also sounded hesitant and Margot wondered if it was such a good idea to dredge up the poor woman’s memories at this moment. Did she need more healing time? Or would that mean she’d forget things?
“I… That policeman says I did something, but I can’t remember. It’s like everything is fuzzy. What happened?”
Adam looked to Margot, who shrugged. She wasn’t sure what the best course of action was for this situation, but she trusted that Adam would know what to do.
“Do you remember this morning at all, Fran?”
“That’s the strange thing,” she said, her head moving from side to side. “I remember going in to bake. I was there earlier than usual because Louise said someone…” She trailed off and her eyes went to Margot. “You. You’re the baker that was coming in, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Margot said, glad the woman was remembering something.
“I came in to prep early and get my normal orders out of the way.”
“Does anyone work with you in the mornings?” Margot asked.
“Uh…” She looked confused for a moment, then shook her head. “N-no. No one.” She shifted in her seat.
“What happened next?” Adam prompted.
“I was about to bake when…” She stopped, her frown deepening. “I can’t remember. I can’t remember what happened.” Tears filled the woman’s eyes and Margot leaned forward to pat her arm.
“It’s all right.”
“What happened, Adam? I know something did. Please, tell me.” She looked between them and Margot met Adam’s gaze. He was clearly wondering if he should tell her what happened. She saw the moment he made a resolution.
“Fran, it’s not good.”
Her gaze turned to him and she stilled, ready for the news. “Tell me.”
“It’s Simon Huxley.” Margot saw the woman’s face visibly pale. “He was found dead in your kitchen.”
Fran’s mouth opened, then closed, and then her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell into a faint.
Chapter 6
“Is she going to be all right?” Louise asked, near tears.
“She’ll be okay, Mom. They’ll keep an eye on her.”
“But still, she’s so frail.”
Adam put his arm around his mother and drew her close. “It’ll be okay. They can’t do anything without evidence.”
“She’ll be all right, Lou,” Harvey said. He’d come back from a Christmas party with his golf buddies and still had on a festive tie tucked into a bright red sweater vest. His salt and pepper hair looked wind-tossed, giving him a wild look Margot liked.
“I think it was just a lot of information to take in at once. After she’s calmed down, I think things will be better.” Margot offered a small, reassuring smile that Louise seemed to latch on to.
“You’re right. It’s all still so new for her. Overwhelming. Yes.” Louise nodded quickly, as if convincing herself. “You’re still going to look in to it?” she asked, her gaze pleading with Margot.
“Mom, remember what we said? We can’t—”
“I’m not hiring her on the case or anything like that, honey. I just want to have peace of mind about my dear friend.”
“We could get into a lot of trouble with Detective Nelson,” Adam said, looking helpless as he tried to plead his case.
“He’s got a point there, Lou,” Harvey said.
Margot felt caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, she was curious about what had happened at the bakery, but Adam had a point as well. They could get into trouble and she certainly didn’t want Adam’s chief to get a call from a precinct out in Oregon asking them to pull their watchdog off a case that wasn’t his.
Then it came to her. “What if I look into it—” She held up her hand to stay Adam’s protest. “—just a little. I won’t go digging too far. Just enough to get to know more about this Simon Huxley person. I might uncover something as someone from out of town. Maybe people will be more willing to speak with me.”
Adam didn't loo convinced, but he hadn’t spoken up to turn her idea down yet either.
“Look at it this way,” she continued, emboldened by his lack of response, “no one knows me or my…case history.” She felt sheepish even mentioning the fact that she had a case history, but she wasn’t inexperienced. “They won’t get suspicious if I just ask a few questions here or there. I mean, it’s possible that Mister Huxley had enemies, isn’t it?”
“Enemies?” Louise said, her words strangled.
“I don’t think that he was killed accidentally,” Margot said, looking at Adam to see his reaction to her thoughts. He didn’t agree or disagree, which made her think he’d been thinking the same thing. “I think he was murdered.”
Louise gasped and Harvey said, “Goodness.”
“B-but why? What makes you think that?”
Margot chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t say I have any evidence of it yet, but I will. And perhaps I’m wrong, but maybe not. If so, then either Fran was framed or there’s more than what meets the eye.”
“Oh, Margot, you have to clear her name. I know she wouldn’t do anything to truly harm anyone—she’s all talk.”
It was the talk Margot was most worried about, because that would speak to her motive, but without having a longer conversation with the woman, Margot would never truly know. But, that would have to come later. First, she would have to find out what questions she should be asking, rather than focusing on what she didn’t know.
“Would it be all right if I took the car into town?”
“Of course,” Louise and Harvey both said.
“I’ll go with you,” Adam said at the same time.
“You can’t. At least not yet,” she said, turning to face him.
“Why?” he asked with a frown.
“Because everyone in town knows you. And, if I’m right, they know you’re a detective back in North Bank.”
He grimaced. “You’re right. They do.”
“Well, they don’t know me. They don’t know why I’ll be asking questions and, if I go today, I may even get lucky and find those who haven’t heard about Fran being arrested.”
“Why is that lucky?” Harvey asked.
“Because the less people know what is going on, the more willing they will be to talk. The minute that news about Simon’s death and Fran’s possible involvement reaches the whole community is when the information becomes valuable.”
“You mean people will sell it?” Harvey looked aghast.
“Oh, not valuable like that.” Margot gave him a reassuring smile. “I just mean that it makes people important, part of the excitement. I find that’s when stories start to grow. They often become more than they were or just a way for someone to be involved in the excitement. Often the stories that help the most are the ones that are seemingly unimportant.”
“I never would have thought,” Harvey said, shaking his head.
“Then you should go alone,” Louise said, placing a protective hand on Adam’s arm. “You’ll let her go alone, won’t you, sweetie?”
“Of course,” he said, his smile reflecting the fact that he really was all right with her going into town to ask questions without him.
&nb
sp; “I’ll do a little digging on this end of things,” Adam said.
“Perfect.”
Margot compiled all of her things and then went to the front door with Adam trailing behind her. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he said, looking at her with concern.
“Always,” she assured him.
“I’d recommend going to the bookstore next to Simon’s. I know they’ve had their differences in the past. And eventually, we’ll want to talk to Simon’s son, but now wouldn’t be a good time.”
“He has a son?”
“Yep. His name is Ken. He works part-time at the bakery and part-time doing something else. I'm not really sure. We’ll definitely need to talk to him.”
“Oh, will we, Detective Eastwood?”
Adam grimaced, realizing his mistake. “Well, at least one of us should speak with him.”
“How about we reconvene in a few hours and discuss what we’ve discovered?”
Adam grinned, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Go on, my fearless detective.”
Margot parked the SUV a block away from Baked & Glazed, Simon Huxley’s bakery. As she walked down the street, she saw a few lights on and narrowed her eyes. Was the bakery open even on the day of Simon’s death? That seemed unusual.
As she got closer, she saw that the front lights were off, but the back lights were on. Someone was moving about the kitchen. Then, as she stood at the edge of where one building morphed into another, she saw a profile she recognized.
What was Wade doing in the bakery of a dead man?
She was about to pull out her phone to call the police when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped and whirled around.
An older woman stood there, her glasses poised on her nose. “Can I help you, dear?”
“I, oh…um.” She looked back and saw Wade walk past again. “Is he supposed to be in there?”
“Who, dear?” the woman said, then stepped around to peer in the window. Wade saw her and she waved. He waved back, though Margot made sure she stayed out of his line of sight.
“That’s just Wade. He works mornings for Mister Huxley.”
“Oh. I just thought…it wasn’t open. The bakery.”
“It’s all right. Simon’s usually here, but he must be running late.”
Margot wanted so badly to tell the woman that he wouldn’t be coming back, well, ever, but she held her tongue. It wasn’t her news to share nor would it be helpful if she were to question anyone nearby.
“I work at the bookstore next door. See?” She held up a crooked finger to point at the sign that read Bob’s Books.
“Are you Bob?” Margot asked with a grin.
“Oh, heavens no.” The older woman laughed, her thin shoulders shaking. “Bob’s my boss. Want to come in? I’ve got tea,” she said enticingly.
Margot agreed, thinking about how Adam had suggested she talk with the bookstore owner next door. “Is Bob in?”
“I’m afraid he’s not. He’ll be in tomorrow. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Margot followed the woman inside, the scent of cinnamon mingling with the bright smell of the live Christmas tree sitting in the corner. It was a cozy shop with books piled high on every surface imaginable and on some you’d never think to place books.
“Oh my,” Margot said, marveling at the store as she turned in a slow circle.
“We specialize in books, if you haven’t noticed,” the woman said. Her light chuckle made Margot smile.
“I’m Joyce, by the way,” she said, pouring two steaming cups full of hot water. “You can choose your poison here.”
Margot looked where the woman pointed and saw a small tin decorated to look like the cover of an Agatha Christie novel stacked full of tea. She chose an English Breakfast Tea and dropped the bag into a mug that looked like a fat cat.
“Cream or sugar?” Joyce asked.
“No, thank you.”
“You’re an easy one then. So what can I help you with?”
Margot took a tentative sip of her tea and tried to think of the best way to get to the woman talking about her neighbor.
“I bet working next to a bakery is wonderful,” she mused. “The smells of baking bread and things like that in the morning.”
“It is nice,” Joyce said, sipping her own tea thoughtfully. “Though it’s not all fresh bread and butter, dear.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well…” She leaned in conspiratorially. “The shop owner, Mister Huxley—” She paused to look around, as if he might be standing nearby, and Margot nodded her understanding. “He’s no peach.”
“Why do you say that?” Margot tried to act casual, but this was exactly the type of information she was looking for and the type of thing most people wouldn’t share once they knew that someone had passed away. It was understandable, of course, but she needed to know the truth.
“He’s got a temper, that one. He’s been in a rival with the other bakery up the street.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it. Fran’s, right?”
“Right. They’ve been in a rivalry for who knows how long. The bake-off is like their showcase, their prize fight, and I’ve just been waiting for things to blow up over there.”
“You don’t mean to tell me they fight in pubic?” Things weren’t sounding good for Fran if that were the case.
“Oh you bet your boots they do, missy. Though…” She held up a finger as if contemplating something. “Come to think of it, they’ve been unusually civil these last few months.”
That was a piece of promising news. “Really? Why do you think?”
“Probably planning some sort of sabotage,” Joyce said, a light laughing coming out.
“That’s interesting. They can’t work together?”
“Oh, honey,” Joyce said, slipping her glasses on and reaching for a book on the counter next to her. “I think we passed working together about ten years ago. You see, when Fran’s husband passed away, the rumor was that, after an appropriate amount of time, Simon came to her for courting.”
Margot pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the use of the term ‘courting.’
“But rumor has it, she turned him down and then opened a bakery to spite him. Now, no one really knows if that’s the truth or not, but it does explain a few things.”
Margot smiled, unwilling to make a comment either way. Rumor and gossip had a way of making mountains out of molehills.
“Oh, hon, I’ve taken up too much of your time. Were you looking for a book?”
Margot remembered what Adam had said. “No, not exactly. I’d like to talk with Bob though. I have a question for him.”
“Want me to leave message for him to call you or something?”
“No.” Margot offered the woman a smile. “I think I’ll just come back.”
“All right, honey, sounds good. Thanks for stopping by.”
Margot left Joyce with a little wave and noticed that the bakery next door was now dark. Had Wade gotten word, or just left when Simon didn’t show up? She almost wished she’d stepped in to speak with him, but then she remembered that he was staying with them at the house. Which, now that she knew he worked in town, seemed odd. She’d definitely need to have a conversation with him, as well as find out more about his relationship with his boss.
Chapter 7
Margot walked up and down the block, but the other shops were either not open or their owners were busy with customers, leaving Margot little room to bring up their relationship with Simon. She was planning on heading back to the house when her phone rang.
“Hey, Adam,” she said, seeing his name on her caller ID.
“So, I’ve got a tip for you.”
She smiled as she slid back into the SUV and turned it on to bring some feeling back into her cold fingers and toes. “What’s that?”
“My father says that he heard a bit of information from a golf buddy of his.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“We
ll, his buddy is a lawyer and had mentioned something about recently seeing Simon. My dad seems to think that maybe he was having his will redone—had an appointment on the books for next week. That might be worth checking into.”
“Adam, you know that they wouldn’t be able to discuss the terms of the will with me.”
“No, of course not, but when you talk with his son, I think you should bring it up. See if he knew about it.”
Margot detected a hint of something in Adam’s voice. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Adam,” she said in a more admonishing tone.
“My dad’s buddy may or may not have been drinking and said too much.”
“Like what?”
“None of it’s admissible in court, of course,” he said, “but he mentioned that Simon had all but written his son out of the will.”
Margot’s eyes grew wide. Now that was a motive if there ever was one. But how would she prove it?
“How will I get in touch with Simon’s son, though?”
“When he’s not helping out his father, he works at a local outdoor activities business. He sets people up with seasonal actives. You could go and maybe talk to him about setting something up and see what happens.”
Margot laughed, thinking Adam had much more confidence in her abilities than she did. “I suppose so. Though I'm not sure how I’ll turn a conversation about snowshoeing into asking him how he feels about being written out of his father’s will.” She laughed at the mere thought. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I know you’ll do great. I’ll text you the address of his business.”
“Thanks, Adam. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem.”
She hung up and his message arrived, giving her an address she could have her GPS direct her to. She tapped on it, placed it in the hands-free holder, and pulled onto the road. The office was located at the opposite end of town from Baked & Glazed, though it was hardly a long drive. As she made her way toward it, Margot saw many similarities to North Bank. While it was a slightly bigger town, the community feeling remained the same.
Bakeries and Bodies Page 4
