by Deany Ray
“I don’t understand.”
“The contract’s all screwed up now for the shopping center land. Because of what happened to Harry. So Houston’s life has gone to hell. Kind of like mine has.”
And, well, also Ruth’s. Hers was the life that had really changed. Just last week she’d probably been dreaming of her first road trip in the RV, Harry by her side.
“Hey hon. Calling all detectives!” Rosalie swept into the kitchen, waving her glittery notebook high up in the air. I was surprised to see Gerry following closely at her heels.
I frowned. “You can’t bring a dog in here. It’s against health regulations. And, in case you have forgotten, I’m kind of in trouble enough.”
She made a pouty face. “But he gets so lonely by himself. I ran out last night for a drink with Dwight, and I think it broke this poor thing’s heart.” She cooed in a kind of baby voice as if the little beagle were a newborn infant.
The dog looked at me with big eyes and then he nuzzled my knee. “Okay. He can stay,” I said. Story of my life. Rosalie could think of a thousand ways to get me to break the rules.
“Just keep him away from the food,” I said. “And the customers.” And – worst case scenario – keep him away from the health inspector, I thought, already regretting my decision.
Rosalie opened a satchel that she had strapped around her shoulders. She pulled out a blanket and set down a bowl which she filled with water. “He’s gonna stay right here,” she cooed as she led Gerry to a corner. “And this little guy is gonna be such a good, good boy.”
“You’ve got to cool it with the baby talk,” I told her. “I’ve already got a headache.”
I exchanged a look with Maia. “This can’t end well,” I whispered. I wasn’t an expert on beagles. But I doubted that it was their habit to sit quietly in a corner. Not when there were customers laughing and talking in the front room, and lots and lots of cake.
Rosalie helped me with the baking while Maia got things set up in the front. “First we need to establish a motive,” Rosalie said as she opened a bag of chocolate chips. The sound of food being opened drew an excited yelp from our new four-legged friend.
“See if he likes pumpkin,” I said. “You know dogs can’t eat chocolate. And you’ve got to keep him quiet.”
She opened another can of pumpkin. “So. Motive. Any thoughts?”
“I just have no idea why someone would hurt Harry. From what I know, he was kind of quiet. Kept to himself.”
“Yeah. Kind of minded his business. Which is something I can’t say for most folks around here.”
“And he worked at a department store. Which isn’t exactly a place that you’d think would be filled with scandal.”
“Except for their prices, maybe. Have you seen how much they want for a cashmere shawl? I like to look elegant for Dwight. My handsome pookie wookie.”
That drew another yelp, most likely because her “Dwight voice” sounded exactly like the voice she used when talking to the dog. She refilled his pumpkin bowl. “Pumpkin for the pumpkin!” she sang. This was already getting old.
“Okay,” she called as she washed her hands. “We need a strategy. The trail is going cold. Who might have information?”
“Well, the obvious one is Ruth. She might know if he’d argued with someone. Or if there was something going on that might be relevant.”
“I’ve got bad news for you, hon. I don’t think our prime witness is gonna want to talk to you.”
I sighed.
“So we’ve struck out on motive,” Rosalie said. “How about opportunity? Who was at the party and also at the Blue Bay Café in the days before the murder?”
Excellent question, I thought. There was me. And Houston. And there was Asher too. He sometimes came in with Houston when they broke for lunch. A few of the guests I’d recognized as occasional customers, but whether they’d come in the week before, I really couldn’t say.
“Anne Marie was at the party,” I said to Rosalie. “I know that she comes in a lot. There was a group of nurses here last week. Did she come in with them?”
Wait. What was I thinking? Anne Marie would never be on any suspect list. I had never met a kinder soul. She would even change her mind about a cupcake if she noticed that it was the last one in the case. “Someone else might want it,” she’d say in her trademark whispery voice. “I’ll just take the bagel.”
“All I know,” Rosalie said, “is that they were talking about that doctor, the new orthopedics guy. Too bad that I’m taken,” she cooed. “Pookie Wookie has my heart.”
Her words were followed by a gleeful bark. How can you tell your best friend that whenever she gets caught up with talk of romance, the dog thinks that she’s speaking to him?
“You promised to keep him quiet,” I hissed. Now my head was pounding.
Our dynamic detective duo wasn’t getting anywhere. Of course, I still held on to hope that something other than the cupcake has caused the sudden death.
We did our usual steady business, and the cake of the week was a big hit. I hadn’t told anybody, but I’d been a little nervous that the weekend’s surprising turn of events might not be great for business. If anything, people seemed to go out of their way to be kind.
Bob from the dry cleaning store came in for his usual coffee and slice of blueberry bread. He touched my arm as I handed him his order. “Becky, you know we’ve got your back. You’re one of our town’s finest. Nobody ever doubts that.”
I smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
My headache was easing somewhat when the bell signaled another customer. I glanced at the door and my heart sank when in walked…Pookie Wookie. I hoped Gerry was still curled up and taking his doggie nap.
Then I remembered that Dwight might have some news to share. With business easing off for the afternoon, I let Maia run the counter and poured a coffee for myself. Then I walked to a corner table where Dwight was seated and talking to Rosalie. His long arms and legs seemed almost too unwieldy for the tiny table with the arrangement of dahlias balanced in the center.
I pulled out a chair and took a seat. “Do they have a suspect yet? Please tell me that they do.”
He shook his head mournfully. Dwight always took a case to heart, as if he were a grieving loved one and not the assistant to the Police. “I’m afraid the news is not what you’re gonna want to hear,” he said. “The coroner found traces of peanuts in Harry’s stomach. And they have determined that’s what did him in. Official cause of death.”
I stared down at the floor. That was that, I guessed. Someone had walked into the Blue Bay Café and bought a murder weapon topped with my creamiest icing. A cupcake that was extra light and fluffy. Special recipe. Did this ever happen to Martha Stewart? I didn’t think it did.
I closed the café around eight and decided to go see Houston, maybe grab a bite to eat. In case he didn’t feel like going out, I packed up some of the cream cheese-pumpkin cake. It would be fun to surprise him at his office. With everything that was going on, his day might well have been worse than mine.
He’d looked tired when he left that morning. “I’ll be late tonight,” he’d said. “Maybe tomorrow night too. Work’s about to get intense.”
The parking lot at Ouna Construction was almost empty with just a few other cars to keep company with Houston’s Lexus. The building was quiet and mostly dark as I made my way to the elevator and up to the fifth floor. Houston’s door was almost shut. I could hear him talking to someone. His deep, familiar chuckle was followed by feminine laughter that rose and fell like the sound of a waterfall. I had a feeling that laugh belonged to the last person I wanted to see.
“Work’s about to get intense,” he said. It sounded more like fun to me.
“Oh, you are such a tease,” Briana said. “I’ll have to keep my eye on you.”
I was sure now it was her.
Chapter Five
Houston looked up from his desk, where Briana was standing way too close. The head
ache had come back with a vengeance. My little surprise had backfired. The surprise seemed to be on me.
I held up the bag. “I thought you might like some cake,” I said.
Briana looked at me, annoyed. As if I’d done something wrong. I couldn’t help but notice that her blouse was a gorgeous shade of blue and hugged her form a bit too tightly.
She smiled and put her hand on Houston’s shoulder. “I’ll be anxious to hear more,” she said. “Come find me later in my office.” She almost stepped on my little toe as she flounced out of the room.
Houston grinned at me. “Cake is exactly what I need. I’m ready for a break. Let’s head over to the conference room. There’s some soda in the fridge.” He put his arm around me as he led me down the hall.
Settled into a plastic chair, I tried to act like I wasn’t jealous. I completely trusted Houston, but I didn’t trust Briana. And while I was sure he’d never encourage her stupid flirting, how could he help but notice that his new assistant looked more like a swimsuit model than a contracts expert?
“I thought you would be alone,” I said in what I hoped was a casual tone.
“I need all the help I can get with the way this deal is blowing up,” he said. “It’s all hands on deck for now.” He took a bite of cake and smiled. “You outdid yourself on this one.”
“Is Asher here?” I asked. “Or is it just you two?” I tried to make it sound like just a random question that had popped into my mind. But, oh, who was I was kidding? I had always been the world’s worst actress. There was a reason they never cast me when the Ouna Players put on their annual shows.
He studied me and grinned. “I do believe you’re jealous.”
I smiled, still pretending. “You flatter yourself, counselor. Don’t you remember that there are other things that might be on my mind? Like, I don’t know – maybe someone biting into my cupcake and falling down dead in front of a crowd? And you think that because you’re so irresistible, I still have romance on my mind.”
He laughed. “Well, I am a handsome guy.”
“So what’s up with the contract?” I guess his most perfect of assistants hadn’t found a way to fix it.
Houston sighed. “Well, there is no contract. The contract is no more. I looked over the language that we used, and it’s just as I suspected. With Harry dying when he did, Ruth doesn’t have to sell.”
“But didn’t both of them want the deal?”
“They did. And hopefully she still does. But now her plans for the future are suddenly kaput. She won’t be setting out to see the country by RV with her husband. Who knows what she’ll want to do?”
I took a sip of water. “You’re right. And this is not the time to ask.”
He sighed. “We’ll offer a new contract. The same money, the same terms. We’ll give her time to grieve, of course, some time to adjust to all that’s happened. It’s the respectful thing to do.” He dug hungrily into the cake.
“Of course.”
“But it kind of stinks for us. We’d already put down money for tearing down the Willis house and clearing out the land. So we’re out some funds. I thought these next few weeks we’d be moving forward with the deal. Now there’s just a lot of clean up to stop the things we’d put in place.”
“It’s just awful all around,” I said. I slid him a second slice of cake. He looked like he could use it.
He forked up a huge bite right away. “It’s a nightmare for you too, I know,” he said in a gentle voice.
“Have you heard any talk today? About who might have done it?”
Houston hesitated. “Well, nobody’s come up with a motive. But this is kind of weird: people are saying that Harry hung out an awful lot at the Moonlite Bar.”
The Moonlite Bar? With loud music and rowdy dancing, it hardly seemed to be Harry’s kind of place. I pictured him more at Louise’s Diner, taking advantage of the senior citizen’s Wednesday special. Or maybe playing bingo at the Presbyterian church. I took a bite of Houston’s cake. “I can’t imagine Ruth and Harry at the Moonlite Bar.”
“Well, that’s just the thing. They’re saying that he went there by himself.”
“Okay, that’s just crazy. Where did you hear that?”
“I stopped at the deli at lunch. As you can imagine, they all had something to say about what went down this weekend.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that. Were they talking about me? I’m kind of afraid to ask.”
“Not that I could hear. Harry’s supposed after-hours fun has replaced your peanut butter cupcake as the gossip of the hour.”
I sighed. “Maybe not for long.” I filled him in on Dwight’s news.
He reached out to grab my hand. “I was hoping it wasn’t the cupcake. Because he wasn’t the healthiest guy in town. It could have been so many things. But Becky, we’ve got a good police force. They’ll figure this one out. And nobody will blame you.”
I wanted to make sure that happened sooner instead of later. “I want to go the Moonlite,” I said. “If the people there know Harry, they might know who wanted him dead. Or maybe they’ll know why.”
“Not without me, you won’t,” he said. “That’s a pretty shady place.”
“Tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Well, I guess I could use a break from late nights in the office. Not that the Moonlite Bar would be my first choice for a night out.”
I smiled. “I’ll look forward to the date.”
He shook his head. “The Moonlite Bar. Don’t tell me that I don’t ever take you out to fancy places.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get to work, but I promise to behave.” He winked. “Of course, it might get kind of steamy. With all this talk of buyer’s rights and due diligence and other sexy topics. When it comes to being sleazy, I don’t know which one is worse: Harry’s beloved Moonlite Bar or the bawdy fifth floor right here at Ouna Construction.
“I told you! I’m not jealous.”
I wished that wasn’t a lie.
I kissed him goodbye and headed out through the nearly empty building.
On my way home, the phone rang. It was Rosalie. “Hey hon. Just checking in! Have you uncovered any clues?”
Normally, this is the part where I would tease her. Because how likely was I to find a clue while taking cake to Houston’s office? But this time a joke was not in order, because sometimes you find a clue when you are least expecting it.
“You won’t believe what Houston told me,” I said. I filled her in on the supposed secret life of the portly and mild-mannered retiree.
She gasped. “Well, you know what this means, hon. It means that this detective has to find her dancing shoes.”
“I’m going with Houston tomorrow night. He said if I had to go to a dangerous place like the Moonlite, he was going too.”
“Cool. What time are we going?”
“We?”
“Let’s meet at my place. Eight o’clock. We might be about to break this whole case wide open. Do you think they play good music?”
Chapter Six
At closing time, I wiped off the last of the dirty tables while Rosalie swept the floor. “I can’t believe how busy we were,” I said as I dampened another rag.
“What do you mean?” Rosalie asked. “You sell cupcakes and slices of pie! Of course the place is packed. A day without a piece of pie is a pretty crummy day.”
“But today was super busy. I think people are being nice, showing their support.”
“Nice?”
“They’re going out of their way to prove that nobody thinks I did it.” That’s what I loved about Ouna Bay. If you were going through a hard time, a steady stream of “best friends” would show up to cheer you up.
Rosalie wasn’t buying it. “Of course, they know you didn’t do it. You’re the queen of nice. You don’t even charge extra for refills. Nobody’s gonna peg you for premeditated murder.” She paused, struck by a sudden thought. “But you know what? I did see that! On CSI Miami. Mild-mannered business woman, beloved by all the
town. Then - wham bam, thank you ma’am - she pays off a hit man and he lays her rival flat.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I put the rags away. “You certainly love your shows,” I said.
Still caught up in the memory, she clasped her hands in glee. “Oh, it was a good one. Nobody suspected it was her, not even the police. Speaking of police, what else did they ask you?”
I’d been interviewed at the station earlier that day. “I’ve told you everything they said. They kept it short and sweet. Just asked me what I’d done that day, if I remembered anyone who’d bought a peanut butter cupcake.” Still, I felt uneasy. I much preferred serving cupcakes than explaining that I never meant for one of them to lay a customer flat, as they might say on CSI.
Rosalie glanced out the front window. “Oh, look. Our dates are here.”
I unlocked the door for Houston and Dwight who’d arrived together. I wasn’t happy that Dwight was coming along on this undercover mission. I’d hate for the police to know what I was up to, that one of their persons of interest was snooping around for info on the case. Would that make me look like I was guilty? I wasn’t sure. This was my first time as a suspect.
Rosalie had assured me that her “pookie wookie” wouldn’t say a thing. But, while he was one of the nicest guys I knew, this particular pookie wookie wasn’t the brightest in the bunch.
Maia came out of the kitchen where she’d been cleaning up. She laughed. “I never thought I’d say this to any one of you, but have fun at the Moonlite Bar! I can’t wait to hear.”
“Thanks for taking Gerry. He hates to be alone.” Rosalie glanced back at the kitchen. “He’s being awful quiet.”
Maia nodded. “I think today just wore him out with all those customers.” Finally, we’d given up on keeping Gerry quiet. But in the end, it didn’t matter. It turns out that all of Ouna Bay loves to have a dog around.
“I thought it was so nice of everyone to come in and show their support for Becky.” Maia gathered up her purse, her keys and the leash.
“Yes!” Rosalie smiled and clasped her hands together. “But some of them might wonder. Because once on CSI…”
