by Deany Ray
Houston held his hand up. He was not a big fan of long tales from Rosalie. “I vote that we get going. The sooner we hit the road, the sooner I can get home from the Moonlite Bar.”
Dwight frowned and nodded as if Houston had just said something very wise. “I believe that your deduction appears to be correct.”
Twenty minutes later, we walked into a bar that was large and dimly lit. Who knew that a Tuesday night at the Moonlite would draw such a crowd? People were packed three-deep around the bar. Others crowded around the few tables that were scattered around the room.
Confetti covered the dirty floor. It looked like quite a celebration. We pushed our way through the crowd.
“What should we do first?” Rosalie had to yell in my ear in order to be heard.
I pulled everyone into a corner where we’d be least likely to get jostled. There I proposed a plan. Rosalie and I would order drinks and chat with the bartender. It wouldn’t be hard to bring the murder into the conversation. It was everyone’s favorite subject. Hopefully, the tall guy mixing drinks would spill some goods on Harry.
Rosalie agreed. “And the guys can talk to the DJ,” she said. But when we turned to get their input, Houston and Dwight were gone.
Rosalie smiled. “They must be hot on the trail of a big clue.”
I rolled my eyes. Most likely they were hot of the trail of a couple of frosty beers.
Rosalie pulled me toward the bar. “Oh, hon, this is great. That’s my friend behind the bar.”
“You know the bartender at the Moonlite?” I teased. “Maybe it’s you, not Harry, that has the secret life.”
“It’s Cliff!” she yelled in my ear.
“Cliff?”
“We worked together at the bank.”
Cliff was middle aged and balding. He smiled in surprise and held up his hand in greeting when he saw Rosalie. But we had to wait our turn as he single-handedly poured drinks for the growing crowd. When he got to us, I ordered a rum and coke while Rosalie asked for a mai tai, extra strong.
“What’s a mai tai?” I asked, impressed with her knowledge of exotic drinks.
“I have no idea,” she shrugged. “Someone ordered it on True Detective back in season one.” Then she turned to Cliff. “I didn’t know you worked here. Quite a different crowd than the ones at our old job.”
He smiled. “Yeah, not much excitement at the bank. It was time for something else.”
She nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Banking is a snooze fest. How long have you worked here?”
“Just a couple of months.” He glanced at an impatient customer and signaled that he would be there in a minute.
Rosalie knew that she had to get to the point and soon. “Hey, I hear one of your customers is the talk of the town. Didn’t Harry Willis used to come in here?”
“The guy that died from eating a cupcake? Wasn’t that the wildest thing?”
Rosalie nodded. “Very wild. Was he a customer of yours?”
“They say that he came in a lot, but I’m still getting to know the regulars. Mike over there might have known him. He’s been working here forever.” He nodded toward an older, gangly man standing at the DJ stand. Then he turned away to fill another glass. “Hey, it was great to see you again.”
We made our way to the DJ stand. The floor was so sticky that I was afraid I’d walk right out of my boots. Where in the world were Houston and Dwight?
Rosalie looked up at the raised platform where the DJ was watching the crowded room and swaying slightly to the beat of some lively country song. She gave him a queen-like wave and signaled that we’d like to talk to him. He looked somewhat surprised to see my best friend who looked out of place in the seedy bar with her perfectly applied lipstick and pink high heels that exactly matched her dress. For the average Moonlite customer, a t-shirt without a stain was considered to be dressy. He offered us a hand up.
From high up above the crowd, I searched for Houston or Dwight. They were nowhere to be seen.
Rosalie, in the meantime, had spotted the machine that shot out the confetti. It sat in the corner of the DJ platform. In her excitement over the millions of colored bits that must be tucked away inside, she forgot all about our investigation. “How does this thing work?” she asked.
Amused by her childlike joy, Mike showed her the handle that he turned to send the confetti flying. “I turn it every hour,” he said. “Just a little something fun for the drinking crowd.”
Rosalie stared at it in wonder until I softly nudged her, reminding my co-detective that we had a job to do.
“We were wondering,” I said to Mike, “if you knew Harry Willis. I’ve heard he used to come in here. But he didn’t seem the type. We were just a little curious. Are the rumors really true?”
That morning while I mixed some lemon batter, I’d come up with a story to explain my questions. I didn’t want to draw more suspicion on myself. “I’m best friends with his niece,” I explained to Mike. “And she’s just beside herself, wondering what happened.” I tried to look a little tearful.
“Yeah, I remember that dude. He came in here all the time,” Mike said. “He seemed to know a lot of folks that hang out at the bar. Seemed like an okay guy.” He smiled. “Maybe he should have stuck to beer and stayed away from cupcakes.”
I was glad to see that, obviously, he had no idea of my connection to the murder. Who wants to be recognized as the baker of the town’s most infamous sweet treat?
Rosalie didn’t seem to notice that we had some new info on the case, confirmation that the victim was a regular at an unexpected place. Her eyes were glued on the machine.
“It’s almost time,” Mike told her. “Would you like to turn the handle?”
“May I really?” she asked, wide-eyed, as if he’d offered to let her fly a jumbo jet.
Then, with Mike’s direction, she slowly turned the handle. The crowd went wild as they were showered with confetti. Inspired by the applause, she turned it faster and faster, and the confetti continued to rain down until it was just a blur of color.
“Wheee!” she cried as if she were topping a hill on the world’s fastest roller coaster.
As I looked down, I could see two figures who stood very still among the customers who were otherwise dancing and spinning and leaping to catch bits of confetti. In the back of the room was Houston. The look on his face said “What the hell?”. Beside him was a beaming Dwight who clearly thought that Rosalie was the coolest girlfriend ever.
I was about to make my way down from the platform toward them when I spotted a familiar swishy walk and mass of silky hair just to my right. What on earth? Could it be? Briana? At the Moonlite? She was holding on to Asher’s hand as they slipped off through the crowd.
Chapter Seven
The next day I rushed to Rosalie as soon as she walked into the cafe. “I couldn’t talk in front of the guys,” I said. “But did you see her? With him?”
“Did I see who with who? I saw lots of hims and hers.” She smiled. “And colored paper everywhere!” She twirled around, still giddy over her role in creating showers of confetti. “But tell me what you saw! Do you think you cracked the case?”
“Of course I didn’t crack the case. I would have said so in the car.” I looked around and whispered, even though we weren’t set to open yet. “Right before we left, I looked down and saw – wait for it, are you ready? I looked down and saw Briana.”
“No way!”
“And it gets even stranger. Guess who she was with?”
Rosalie gasped. “Not my pookie wookie! I looked for him all night!”
“Guess again,” I said. “She wasn’t going after Dwight.” Now, wouldn’t that be something? The world’s most unlikely couple.
Weak with relief, Rosalie sank down at a table. “Oh, hon. Don’t tell me it was Houston.”
“No, it wasn’t him. But it was someone from his office.”
She paused to think. “The only one I know is Archer.”
“B
ingo! And they were hand in hand.”
“Archer at the Moonlite? He seems more like a white-tablecloth-and-valet kind of guy.”
“Not to mention married,” I said.
“Oh, yeah! I forgot. Hmm. Who knew he was a jerk?”
“I always thought he was a nice guy. And Houston really likes him. I guess you never know.” I tapped her on the shoulder. “Well, let’s get the pastry case filled up. By night we’re ace detectives. But we’ve got to make a living come the light of day.”
Rosalie stood up and filled a shelf with slices of the cake that I’d made that morning. “Oh hon, this looks just divine. Can I have a taste?”
“It’s vanilla spice. You can sample once we’re finished.” I lined another shelf with sugar cookies.
Rosalie stared longingly at the case that we were filling up with sweets. Then she looked up at me. “Why didn’t you want to tell the guys about Briana and Archer?”
I shrugged. “It’s kind of complicated.” Maybe it was stupid not to tell Houston what I saw.
She added some caramel cupcakes to our display of offerings. “Did I ever tell you that caramel is my very favorite flavor?” She stared down at the cupcake she was holding in her hand.
“If you’re that hungry, girl, just eat. I can take a hint. Tomorrow eat some breakfast. That way you won’t come in here and drool over the displays.”
“And waste my appetite on cereal? That would just be stupid when I know you have these fabulous desserts.” She took a bite of cupcake and closed her eyes in pleasure. “So. Back to the newest power couple in Ouna Bay. I would think that your dreamy Houston would be very interested to know what’s going on.”
“Oh, he’d be interested alright. But I’d rather he hears it from someone else. He might just think I’m seeing things. That I’m being jealous.”
“Don’t be silly.” Rosalie sat down at a table with a cookie and a cupcake. “He knows you’re not the jealous type.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said. I was embarrassed to admit the truth: that Briana had awakened some insecurities I hadn’t known were there. And that Houston had seen right through my barrage of questions about his new officemate.
“But why the Moonlite?” Rosalie asked. “First it’s Harry. Then Archer and Briana. When none of them are the type. There’s something going on there, something about that place.
“Well, they were up to no good, that’s for sure. And the Moonlite was the perfect place for them to misbehave. Because nobody from their crowd would ever step foot in the Moonlite.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“I think it’s something more,” Rosalie said.
“Cheap bars, illicit romance. It’s the oldest combo in the world.”
“Oh, hon, I feel it coming. I’m feeling a break in the case.” Rosalie ran for her purse and pulled out her ever-present notebook.
I rolled my eyes. “Once you finish your cookie and cupcake and your theories on high crime, could I possibly trouble you to fill the sugar bowl and get out the water pitchers?”
“Oh, hon, don’t you see? This town is full of places for a secret rendezvous: gorgeous moonlit places hidden out of sight. No way would Briana set her Manolo Blahniks into that seedy bar just to sneak a kiss with Archer. There had to be something else.”
“Like what?
She pointed her hot pink pen at me. “That’s what we need to find out.” She scribbled down some words, then she paused to think. “A seedy bar! Is this not great?”
“What’s so great about it? It was way too loud. And kind of dirty too.”
“But it’s a great setting for our mystery. Cops are always strolling into places like the Moonlite. I see it all the time. And before the next commercial, they break the case wide open. Every single time. You always know that something big is coming when suddenly the action moves into a smoke-filled bar. Or an abandoned warehouse. Oh! We should find a warehouse too.” She wrote down that idea.
“And, of course, we all know that real life is exactly like TV.” I decided I might as well fill the pitchers up myself.
“All kinds of things go on in bars that look just like the Moonlite.” She bit into her cupcake. “Like a secret drug ring, maybe.” She wrote that in her notebook. “Ooooh. And isn’t that just the kind of thing that could get a person killed?”
“What exactly are you saying? That Harry and Ruth were gonna deal drugs from their RV while they hit all the tourist stops? Are there senior discounts on cocaine?”
Rosalie ignored me. “And Archer might have found himself in need of extra cash. Since the shopping-center deal is probably off. And how else would Briana pay for her shopping trips? Most people could buy a whole house for what she spends on just one shoe. Think about it, Becky. And that would explain why Harry liked to go there without Ruth.” Her eyes grew huge as she pictured the scenario in her mind. “Cause he didn’t want his wife to know that he was part of an international operation to sell illegal drugs.” She said the last words very slowly.
“You should write for Hollywood.”
“Great idea.” She smiled. “I absolutely should.”
The string of bells on the door signaled our first customers. Two police officers in uniform stepped up to the counter. I didn’t know the youngest one, but I’d been in school with Ben Meeks who reached into his pocket for a notebook that looked just like Rosalie’s. His came without the hot pink pen.
I smiled. “We have some nice spice cake today. And the apple muffins are still warm, fresh out of the oven.”
“Official business,” Ben said. “But I guess there’s no reason I couldn’t get a muffin.” He glanced over and saw his partner nod. “Why don’t you make that two?”
I put the muffins on a tray.
The younger man held his hand out. “Ron Johnson,” he said. “Sergeant, Ouna Bay Police. We’re still trying to determine who might have bought the cupcake that Harry Willis ate.”
My heart felt heavy in my chest. I’d already told the chief of police everything I knew. A group of customers had come in and were listening hard to every word.
“I’m just heartsick about what happened,” I added napkins to their tray. “But I’ve talked to the police. And I’ve tried hard to remember anything at all, anything that could help.” I pulled at my ponytail like I did anytime that I got nervous. “But we sell so many cupcakes. And I just don’t know…”
Ben took the tray from me. “We’d like to look through your receipts. From the day that Harry died and the day before. And if you have time to sit down with us for a moment, we’d like to go over a few more facts. About what you did that day.”
I didn’t like this at all.
“Sure.” I called Rosalie over to take orders from a new group of customers who were taking in the scene.
I directed the officers to a quiet table in the corner. I repeated the information I’d given earlier. What more could they want?
“Becky,” Ben said gently, “were you aware that by selling his property, Harry was making it very likely that another bakery might open soon near Ouna Bay?”
They had to be kidding, I thought. They seriously thought that could be a motive for ending someone’s life?
“I’d heard a bakery might be coming, but that no one knew for sure. My boyfriend works with the construction group. He told me they hadn’t started signing tenants.”
Ron nodded and jotted my answer down as if I’d just said something very crucial to the case. “And did Mr. Hayes make you aware that the death of Mr. Willis might make that contract null and void?”
“Well, he told me later. To explain all those extra hours he had to spend at work.”
“You say you spent that day at the bakery,” Ben said. “I suppose you have some witnesses to that? People who can confirm that you were here all day?”
“Well, I did run to the bank. And about an hour before the party, I went home to change.” Good grief.
That’s when I felt Hous
ton’s hand upon my shoulder. “She’s happy, guys, to provide you with any of her receipts. But she’s been interviewed already. And she’s got a business here to run. She’s been an upstanding community leader for many, many years. I don’t see a legal basis for these questions and for what you seem to be implying. Why don’t you let the lady be?”
“Fair enough,” Ron said. “We’re not making accusations. Just checking facts is all. This murder, as you know, has the town riled up. And you know what our motto is here in Ouna Bay: Safety, Sun and Fun. We can’t let a murder go unsolved.”
“We’re chasing lots of leads,” Ben said. “Hopefully we’ll wrap things up real soon. If not, we might need to have a look in the back, poke around some in the kitchen.”
Houston frowned. “Well if that needs to happen, you guys talk to me first before you come to Becky.”
“Understood.” Ben smiled. “And Miss Chambers, we’re sorry to have disrupted your fine baking.” He took a bite of muffin. “This kind of apple goodness melts right in your mouth.”
With a sinking heart, I watched them leave.
“Hey, you promised me a muffin.” Briana appeared by Houston’s side and linked her arm through his. “But this was much more fun. I didn’t know I’d get to watch a suspect getting questioned.”
Rosalie appeared beside her. “Hi. Briana is it? Speaking of fun, how do you like our nightlife in Ouna Bay?”
Briana made a face as if she’d just smelled something very sour. “Ho hum. Boring,” she said, giving Rosalie a thumbs down.
“Is that right?” Rosalie said. “I bet you find your fun wherever you might go.”
Houston pulled his arm away from hers. “Briana, you know that nobody here’s a suspect.” He looked at me sternly. “But next time the police start asking questions, you need to call me first.”
“Sorry,” I said in a small voice. “It’s not like they teach these things in school.” Murder Interrogation 101.
I wanted to ask him what was going on. Could I really be in trouble?
But a quick glance around the restaurant told me that I had to smile and pretend that it was just a normal day at a much beloved bakery. In a town that was the place to go for Safety, Fun and Sun. More customers had trickled in while I’d had my little visit with the Ouna Bay Police. And by the number of eyes that were trained on me, I knew that whatever I said to Houston would become the talk of the town. That morning’s customers had already heard enough.
