As soon as the cool night air hit me, I leaned against the white cement pillar for support and started shaking madly. I felt like I’d just avoided being hit by a train and was lucky to alive.
I stood there for several minutes until I finally caught my breath and felt steady enough to move—then I headed down the walkway and looked around. There was no one there.
It wasn’t that I expected Casey to be there waiting for me, but for some reason, I hoped he would be. Oh well—no such luck. I just hoped it wasn’t because he was angry at me over my sudden disappearance.
Looking at the time on my cell phone, I saw that it was past midnight. The party was almost certainly over. I quickly checked my voicemail and heard Casey’s voice asking me where I was. I called him back right away but it went straight to his voicemail, so I left a message. Then I called a cab and waited for it to arrive, feeling beyond terrible.
Boy, had I screwed everything up. Not only had I been unable to plead my case about Helen to Detective Sanders—but he actually thought I was guilty of a crime! Somehow Violet and/or Dr. Wright had gotten my fingerprints on a rock and then threw it through their own window.
And worst of all, now we could wind up our losing the bakery.
If Dr. Wright came after me in a lawsuit, who knew what could happen? There was no way I could do that to Nana and Birdie—they’d never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself either—not if I did anything to put our shop in jeopardy.
There seemed to be no doubt about it—I had to drop my non-investigation.
As I sat down on the low wall in front of the police station to wait for my cab, I looked over at the garbage can nearby, which was practically overflowing with refuse.
Which is when it suddenly hit me.
I knew how Violet had set me up for that rock-throwing incident—how she’d gotten my fingerprints on the rock and made me look guilty; it had to have happened when I was tossing the stuff back in the garbage can that I’d knocked over earlier in the day. I must’ve accidentally picked up one of the smooth grey rocks that surrounded the driveway at the Wrights’ house and tossed it right in there with the garbage.
And Purple Streak must have seen me do it, either from the upstairs window or on the TV news. She could easily have pulled the rock out of the trash, written a threatening note, wrapped it around the rock and thrown it through the window. It wouldn’t have been hard at all. Especially knowing that I, of course, would be blamed.
I really couldn’t let her get away with that…could I?
But then again…there was Detective Sanders’ threat.
I really needed to talk to Casey about it and figure out what to do. I checked my phone again, but still no calls or texts.
Where was he?
Chapter 31
“Darling are you alright?” The worry on Casey’s handsome face made my heart melt.
We were taking a stroll along the boardwalk by the water and I was looking up at his tanned, handsome face.
“I’m alright,” I nodded, feeling embarrassed and foolish for staring at him that way. But he was just so beautiful. “The problem is, I had to promise Sanders that I’d drop the case. Otherwise he said he’d arrest me.”
Casey stopped in place and turned to face me. “Well, Rosie, I can’t say I have a problem with that. I’m tired of seeing you put yourself in so much danger.” He reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from my cheek. “You do have a way of stirring things up. As you know."
“I know,” I nodded.
“It’s one of the things I love about you.” He leaned in, his green eyes twinkling. He was just about to kiss me…when his big, bushy moustache started to tickle my upper lip and nose.
“Casey,” I mumbled, scrunching up my nose. “Casey…your moustache.”
Which is when I remembered…
Casey didn’t have a moustache!
I pulled back with a jerk and my head against the wall. I opened my eyes.
“Ouch!” I whined, rubbing the bump on my head, as I realized that my wonderful night with Casey had been nothing but a dream. I realized also that Cupcake’s tail had been swishing across my nose as I slept.
“Thanks, Cupcake,” I said groggily as I shoved her away. “That’s just how I want to wake up in the morning—with your butt in my face.”
She ignored my sarcasm and curled up back to sleep. I thought about doing the same but my nerves got the better of me, so I reached out to grab my cell phone off the nightstand. No message from Casey.
I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me as I headed into the living room.
“Laila,” I said as I passed by her blanket-covered form on the couch. “I’m making coffee, want some?”
She didn’t answer so I figured turnabout was fair play. Besides, I was desperate to hear what happened with Casey last night—so I sat on the end couch and grabbed her foot—hoping to wake her in just the same way she’d woken me the other day.
But instead of her perfectly pedicured size 7 foot, I felt nothing but the empty folds of the blanket as it crumbled in my hand.
I whipped the comforter away. Laila wasn’t there.
I looked around. There was no black ball gown draped messily across a chair. There were no five inch black stilettos strewn across the floor, just waiting for me to trip over them.
The evidence was clear. Laila definitely had not come home at all last night.
I dragged myself over to Nana’s condo to find out if she’d spent the night there instead.
“Hey honey, how was your night?” Nana asked as she opened the sliding glass doors for me. “Want some coffee?”
“Please,” I nodded, looking around. I didn’t see any sign of my cousin but you never knew. “Did Laila sleep here last night?”
“No,” Nana said, as I followed her into the kitchen.
I took a seat at the kitchen island as she brought over two steaming cups of coffee with cream and sugar. “But she did go to that ball you were at last night. Didn’t you see her there?”
I nodded and took a sip of her perfectly brewed French Vanilla Roast. “Mmn. Wonderful. Yeah, I did see her there,” I said. “She looked beautiful.”
Nana took the stool next to me. “Oh. Well, I just assumed maybe you and Casey gave her a ride home.”
Though Nana was obviously fishing for information, I wasn’t up to talking about things quite yet. I didn’t want to discuss Casey and I certainly didn’t want to upset Nana by telling her about Sanders’ threat. So I deftly change the subject to something that she would find intriguing.
“Oh. But I did meet Casey’s father though. The Lord.”
“Really?” Nana said, raising her eyebrows. “And?”
“It went well,” I said.
At least until he saw me being dragged out by the police.
“He was very…British.”
“Makes sense,” Nana nodded, sipping her coffee.
Before she could ask any more questions, I pointedly looked at the clock and declared my need to shower and wash my hair before going into the bakery. But as I limped towards the back door, she called my name. I turned around to find her frowning at me.
“Are you okay, honey?” she asked, her eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”
Boy, was she good.
“No, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” I said. “I’ll see you at the bakery.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me and part of me really wanted to tell her everything. But I knew I really needed to figure it out for myself first. So I turned and limped back to the guest house to get dressed.
Chapter 32
I filled a pretty pink gift tin with an assortment of mini cheesecakes in blueberry, raspberry and hazelnut swirl. In the second box I put some bite-sized caramel/chocolate brownies, some fresh out of the oven pecan diamonds and some ultra-rich, Oreo cream cupcakes with chocolate chip topping. Then, for the same customer I filled a third box full of colorful, elegant French macarons. I handed her all thre
e boxes and was so distracted I almost forgot to charge her.
It seemed that spending the day focusing on work at the bakery wasn’t exactly taking my mind off of the murder the way I’d hoped it would. Or off of Casey for that matter.
Just exactly where was he and why hadn’t he called?
As the day wore on, I grew even more anxious. Not only had Casey not called but I hadn’t heard from Laila either—so I had no idea what she’d said to him after I left.
By 3:20 I had all but convinced myself that the reason they were both so inaccessible was because they’d run off together —Vegas probably—to get married and begin their lives together. She would become a rich, famous actress who didn’t get arrested or otherwise embarrass him in front of his father. And they’d all live happily ever after in a castle somewhere.
In fact, I grew so immersed in my fantasy, that when Laila finally came into the bakery at closing time, I almost didn’t believe it was her. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.
“Where’s Casey?” I asked her first thing, while scanning her ring finger for any sign of a diamond.
She shrugged then sank into a chair. “I really need some coffee—I had a looong night.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I looked at her suspiciously, but realized I wasn’t going to get anything more out of her until I poured her a cup of our hot, house blend.
“Here,” I said, putting the blue-flowered coffee cup into her hands. “So…where’d you say you were last night?” I was trying to sound casual but I probably wasn’t succeeding very well.
“Oh… I didn’t say.” She took a sip of the hot coffee, then looked at me.“Muffin?” she said. “Something really chocolatey please. I really need my energy after the night I had.”
I hurried to grab a muffin and put it on a china plate in front of her. “So, last night. What were you doing? Who were you with?”
“Thanks,” she said taking a bite and then rolling her eyes at its chocolatey deliciousness. It seemed like she was purposely dragging out this conversation to drive me crazy.
Was it because she’d spent the night with Casey?
No. She couldn’t be that cruel.
Could she?
“So where’d you say you slept last night?” I asked, not even trying to sound casual.
“Oh I didn’t. Sleep that is,” she gave me a cat-like smile.
I was ready to strangle her.
“But if you must know, it was with CJ, a new pal of mine,” she said.
I sat back, relieved, until I remembered that one of Casey’s ridiculous number of middle names was ‘Johnston.’
Could she mean Casey? She couldn’t mean Casey could she? Casey Johnston? CJ…
“Who is CJ?” I blurted out, no longer even trying to hide my panic.
“Oh…CJ’s this guy who’s doing lighting for the play,” she finally explained. “We were up all night at the auditorium, running my lines and working on the lighting in order to make it perfect. CJ said my beauty is so resplendent he wants everyone to be able to appreciate it.”
“Oh thank goodness!” I blurted out.
She smiled at me and touched my hand. “It’s so sweet that you appreciate it too,” she said, obviously completely misunderstanding my reaction.
So she hadn’t been trying to toy with my emotions regarding Casey. In fact she’d barely been aware of me or my emotions at all. Obviously a more straightforward tack was in order.
“But so what happened with Casey last night?” I asked as I took a seat next to her. “I mean…You gave him my message, right?”
“Of course.”
“Did he seem angry that I left?”
She scrunched up her nose as she thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She shrugged. “Mostly he was just talking to this beautiful Japanese woman. Did you see her? With shiny, black hair wearing the deep red dress?”
I nodded. I did see her. She was beautiful.
“I think they left together,” Laila said, her brow furrowed in thought. “They were going somewhere or something…maybe flying off…”
“What?” I asked, staring at her dumbstruck. “What do you mean flying off?”
“Uh…like in a plane I guess,” Laila rolled her eyes as she dipped some muffin into her coffee. “Isn’t that how people usually fly?”
“But did you ask where? Or why?”
“No, of course not,” Laila smirked. “I didn’t want to be nosy. Besides he told me he’d call you himself to explain.”
“Huh,” I responded, biting the inside of my cheek. I had gotten that one call from Casey while I was being interviewed at the police station, but the message didn’t say anything except where are you?
I jumped up with gasp. I just realized that maybe he’d called and left a message on the guest house phone. He almost never did and I almost never checked it, but it was possible. Especially since I wasn’t answering my cell.
I plucked the cell phone from my pocket and dialed in for messages on the landline. And lo and behold…there was a message from Casey!
But it was such a bad connection, I could barely make out what he was saying. All I could decipher was something about it being ‘over’ and ‘breaking up’ and the fact that he was ‘very, very sorry’.
I hung up, and stared off dazed.
I couldn’t believe it—Casey had just broken up with me. On the phone.
I stared off in shock, trying to make sense of it all.
Obviously he was much angrier than I realized about my having left him at the ball. I must have really embarrassed him in front of his father.
Laila glanced over at me and frowned, seeming to actually notice that I was upset.
“Oh no. Rosie…what is it?”
“Nothing,” I whispered. Then I burst into tears.
“Oh no!” she gasped. “He cheated on you didn’t he? Just like your last boyfriend? I’m so sorry, Rosie.” She got up and gave me a hug, then looked me sympathetically. “But you know… he wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”
I looked at her, skeptically.
“Yeah, okay,” she shrugged,“he was pretty great. But not if he just dumped you like that. Like last week’s garbage. Like you weren’t even worth a face-to-face conversation!”
My sobs grew louder.
“He’s a rat,” Laila soothed. “Forget him!”
I nodded and wiped my eyes with a napkin as two customers came in. I went over to help them and barely made it through the transaction without bursting into tears again. But I was able to contain myself just long enough.
“Watch the counter, will you Laila?” I said. Then I ran into the back and let out the sobs that I’d been choking back.
When I finally headed back to the front of the shop, red-eyed, but under control—I hoped Laila wouldn’t bring it up again. Her sympathy was touching, but I didn’t think I could take any kindness right now—it might just push me back over the edge.
As I walked up to the counter where Laila was pouring herself another cup of coffee, she looked over and gave me sad smile.“All out of brownies,” she explained, biting into the last one. “You better bake some more. Oh and do you think you could you drive me to rehearsal later? I’m just so excited that the show’s this weekend! I can’t wait for my stage debut!”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Sometimes I was really thankful for Laila’s self-absorbed insensitivity. At the moment it was just what I needed.
“Sure,” I said with a smile.
Chapter 33
For the next several days, I felt raw and miserable and found myself bursting into tears at the most inopportune moments. I continually went over in my head what I could have done differently, and came up with one answer: everything.
I constantly cursed Casey in my mind. Then I told him how much I loved him.
I vowed never to call him and then five minutes later I dialed his number—though I hung up before it went to voicemail.
I
vowed to lose ten pounds so that I could be svelte and gorgeous for that dreaded time that I ran into him. Then I scarfed down an entire cheesecake.
All of which is to say, it was your run of the mill breakup.
On the plus side I didn’t think all that much about Helen Wright or her murder. And I completely got over my anger at Detective Sanders for his refusal to look at the truth. Pretty much all of my psychic energy was taken up in feeling sorry for myself and I didn’t have anything left for anyone else.
Not that I was proud of the fact that my heartbreak had supplanted something as important as the quest for justice. But the heart wants what it wants. And my heart really really, really wanted Casey.
***
I awoke to an earthquake, my heart pounding furiously, my brain struggling to make sense of what was going on. But it was just Laila and Cupcake jumping around my bed. Well, Laila was jumping around my bed. Cupcake was walking right on top of me.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Laila repeated in a singsong voice before plopping down at the foot of my bed.
I reached for Cupcake but she slunk out of my arms and over to Laila’s lap.
“Et tu, Cupcake?” I mumbled as Laila gathered her up, beaming a hundred watt smile at me from the bottom of my bed.
“I’m so excited! Did you see? There was an article on the play in the local newspaper! Maybe you could write about it too, Rosie! On that little website you write for! What do you think, Cuz?”
I was about to tell her that 1) I couldn’t have seen anything because I’d been sound asleep until she’d awakened me. And 2) That ‘little’ website I wrote for wasn’t so little anymore, in fact our readership had practically doubled in the last few months. (There was even talk of being bought out by one of the bigger news sites.)
But I didn’t bother to say any of that out loud because I knew that:
1) To Laila, whatever I was doing would always be unimportant in comparison to what she was doing.
And
2) It would only make her want me to review her play all the more. Which was not going to happen.
Éclair Case of Murder: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Rosie Kale Culinary Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 10
