Death by Scones

by Jennifer Fischetto

  Footsteps sounded closer and closer. I froze. Crap.

  Aaron must've heard them too, because he hurried to the window and slipped out into the night.

  "Bernie!" Amber shouted.

  "What?" Aunt Bernie said. "I need to check my e-mail. I'm waiting to hear from a client."

  "But the movie isn't over yet." Amber's voice strained and sounded like she was in physical pain.

  "I'll be back in a second. It won't take long." Aunt Bernie's voice was closer than before.

  Aaron stuck his head back in the window. "Come on."

  Right. What was I doing just standing here? I ran to the window, and Aaron pointed to the laptop. Shoot. Her e-mails were still up. I clicked the giant X in the upper right corner and then stared at him. "How do I make it go back to sleep?"

  "Just close it."

  I did as told and saw the doorknob turn.

  My stomach had taken up permanent residence in my throat.

  A scream echoed from the other side of the door, hopefully Amber just alerting us to her stepmother entering, and there wasn't a real problem.

  "What's wrong?" Aunt Bernie yelled.

  If I'd been in the hall, this might have been funny, but I was practically drenched in nervous sweat. I didn't bother taking time to carefully get through the window. I dove out of it like a dancer. Much to my surprise, Aaron caught me in his capable arms. Barely. We fell to the ground, me on top of him, and stifled our laughter.

  "But are you sure?" Amber's shrill voice was even closer. They must've been in the study by now.

  Aaron and I just lay there, afraid that if we got up, Aunt Bernie would see us. Of course, if she looked out the window, there was no way I could explain why I was lying in her grass with a strange boy.

  "That's funny. I thought I had this open," Aunt Bernie said.

  I pressed my lips firmly together.

  "Well, let's go finish watching. I'm glad you came home early, Amber."

  The desk lamp turned off. The door clicked shut. Aaron and I giggled.

  * * *

  The next day, I woke up with my own clandestine mission in mind, although it wasn't very secretive. I called Amber, told her to dress casually and to get ready for a trip to Seattle. I didn't like driving, but Amber loved a good road trip, and since Seattle wasn't that far away, we could be there and back before dark. I needed to make sure Grams was okay. Once I knew she wasn't secretly in the hospital having triple bypass surgery or hadn't joined a cult, I'd force her to give me advice. Wasn't that part of a grandparent's role anyway? Bake cookies, nurse boo-boos, and give unsolicited advice. Well, now it wasn't unsolicited.

  I packed homemade dried cherry and milk chocolate chip granola bars, which I'd whipped together while waiting for Amber to wake up, and the rest of the banana muffins from the other day, and waited for Amber on the front steps. I had changed my outfit three times. I don't know why I felt so nervous. It was like dressing for a date.

  I finally settled on a light-pink sleeveless shift dress, with two lines of pearls stitched in—one below the bustline and the other just above the waist. It was a darling little dress that made me feel like a giant Easter egg, but it was so pretty. Plus, it had been Grams' and then Mom's dress, passed down. It meant everything to me that it was still in mint condition. And instead of doing the traditional beehive, I opted for my hair down. When I didn't manipulate it, it naturally fell in loose waves.

  Last night, Aaron and I had sat in Amber's car until the Lifetime movie had ended. I'd been glad she hadn't dumped Aunt Bernie after realizing we'd completed the mission. Aaron had said he'd trace the IP address and let us know what he found.

  After filling up her gas tank, Amber cranked the radio, and we munched on goodies and sang at the top of our tuneless lungs.

  We pulled up to a four-story building, and Amber parked in a small back parking lot. I'd found the address to a Jules in Grams' address book, on her dresser. It was the only Jules in the whole book.

  We climbed three flights of stairs, wondered how Grams had done the same, and knocked on the door marked 3H.

  A short, dark-haired, bare-chested man wearing only a dark-green towel answered. He was probably in his mid to late forties and had a muscled body some twenty-year-olds would kill for.

  I glanced to Amber. Clearly we had the wrong apartment. "I'm sorry," I said. "I was looking for my grandmother. This must be the wrong place. Any chance you know a Cinnamon Templeton?"

  He smiled, and his face became animated. "Cinna? Si, she's here. Come in. Come in." His accent was heavy Mexican. He stepped back and allowed us entrance.

  He knew Grams? What was going on?

  The room was part living room, part dining, and part art studio. The walls were beige, standard apartment-color paint, but the furnishings were lush. Deep-purple velvet sofa, a couple of gold-and-black lace scarves over side tables. Art canvases were propped up against one far wall, and an easel sat facing the large double windows that looked out onto the city. A small kitchenette was toward the back wall, with a couple of doors that I assumed led to the bath and bedroom.

  Nice digs.

  "I'm Julius. Please, have a seat." He pointed to the sofa and a lemon-colored upholstered, ultramodern curved armchair. Then he turned to the back of the apartment and shouted, "Cinna, company."

  Julius. Jules. I thought she'd been staying with a female friend, and Grams had been shacking up with a younger man.

  Amber sat on the sofa. I walked to a cluster of canvases. I turned several over and gasped. They were all oil-painted portraits of Grams. In various stages of undress.

  Oh my God.

  If I ignored the naked bits, they were quite captivating. He was very talented with a flair for getting Grams' feistiness on the canvas.

  Just then a door opened, and the sound of a toilet flushing was loud. I turned and watched Grams exit in a white fluffy robe. It wasn't tied at the waist, and I saw more of her in the thirty seconds it took her to tie the sash than I had in the total fourteen years I'd lived with her. Gross, Grams.

  "Riley? Amber? What's wrong?"

  Well, at least she was in one piece. "Still just the murdered man at the bakery, but I was worried about you too. You've been so distant." I glanced to Julius. At least I understood why now. Sorta. I hadn't known Grams was a cougar though. She'd always had a healthy appetite for men. She'd been married three times before I'd started grade school. Then she'd given up on the matrimony part and dated a lot. But I'd never seen her with anyone so much younger than herself.

  "What do you mean murdered?"

  Julius mumbled something about coffee and walked into the kitchenette.

  Grams led us to the table across from the couch. "Sit and explain."

  We joined her and told every single detail. Except the stuff about Mom and Nathan. I wanted to talk to her about that in private. I was afraid she'd confirm that I hadn't known my mother as well as I thought. When I was done, Grams just sat there thinking. She looked good. There was a rosiness to her complexion. Her blue eyes sparkled. Her thick, salt-and-pepper hair hung just below her shoulders. She'd kept it shorter most of my life. She looked healthy and happy.

  Grams blinked and looked at me. "Nathan's house is an eyesore. Hopefully his nephew will do something about that."

  "Grams, that's it?" I asked. That couldn't have been her only concern.

  She glanced down to her hands and then into my eyes. "I worked hard at making the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery into what it's become. Everyone in Danger Cove knows what they can rely on as well as what to expect when they walk through those doors."

  My chest tightened, and tears sprung into the corners of my eyes. Oh my God, I'd disappointed her. I ruined all her hard work. I was the worst granddaughter and business owner in the—

  "So there's no way anyone is going to believe you decided to add peanut oil on a whim. Besides, anyone who can Google knows you don't make scones with oil. They must've been dense."

  I blinked away the tears. "You
mean you're not mad at me?"

  She grabbed my hands and pulled them toward her, ramming my boobs into the table edge. She kissed each of my hands. "Riley, dear, you've done nothing wrong. Someone went to a lot of trouble killing Nathan, and that's not on you."

  "Then why has business slowed down?" Amber asked.

  Grams kindly let my hands go. I pulled my arms back and rotated my shoulders. Wow, she had a strong grip.

  "Who knows," she said. "Maybe it's a fluke. Maybe everyone is gassy. It's not because of our…your bakery."

  I smiled, and I already felt lighter. "It's our bakery, Grams. Always will be."

  After Julius served the coffee, he walked to the sofa, sat down, and turned on the television, giving us time to visit. He didn't strike me as a television guy. He looked more like a wine and cheese, a Gondola ride, and a salsa-dancing kinda man.

  I leaned forward and whispered, "Is he the reason you gave up the bakery?"

  She frowned. "Of course not. I am sixty-nine years old. I should've retired four years ago. I gave up the bakery because I want to be free of the hours, free to spend my last years doing whatever the heck I want."

  I grimaced at the thought of her "last years." She'd better stick around for at least another twenty. "But he's the reason you haven't returned and have been stingy with your texts and calls?"

  "Yes. I am sorry about that, but have you seen him?"

  Amber giggled, and I pursed my lips. Grams was right. He was very nice to look at. But eww, not if he and Grams were doing the horizontal mambo.

  "So when are you coming home?" I asked. "You are coming home, right?"

  She leaned back in her chair. "Yes, but I'm not sure when yet. I'm not done here."

  An hour later, Amber and I were back in her car. As she turned the key in the ignition, she asked, "What are you going to do next?"

  I closed my eyes. "I have no idea."

  * * *

  As I entered my house, my cell rang. It was Will. "Hi," I said and plopped onto the sofa. Even though I wasn't closer to answers, the trip back had done a lot to calm my nerves. But I was also drained. I made a mental note to never take over a business the same day as a murder again.

  "Hey," he said. "I wanted to invite you to dinner."

  "Oh?" I didn't feel like moving.

  "Grandmother and I are going to The Lobster Pot. I know how much you love their stuffed shrimp, and it's their special today. I called."

  He was sweet. "Thanks, but I'm wiped. Amber and I just got back from Seattle. We went to see Grams. I just want to curl up on the sofa, watch TV, and go to bed early."

  If I hadn't been so exhausted though, I'd totally try a new recipe. On the ride home I'd envisioned mini plum-swirled cheesecakes. It sounded like a tasty combination.

  "I see."

  I'd hurt his feelings. Again. Darn.

  "Will you be alone?" he asked. He was referring to Jared.

  My annoyance reared its ugly head. "Yes. How long are you going to second-guess every time I don't want to go out? You never seemed to care that one of my best friends is a guy until recently."

  "He lived in New York and only visited a couple of times a year. And just because I didn't show it didn't mean I didn't mind."

  His "didn'ts" made my head spin. At least he hadn't tried to deny he was referring to Jared. I sighed, no longer enjoying this conversation. I kicked off my shoes and lifted my legs onto the sofa to fully stretch out.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, but nothing's changed." As I said it though, I knew I was lying. Jared may not have thought of me as anything but a friend, but I was definitely starting to wonder if I felt the same.

  Will made some disgruntled sound, and then he said, "Riley, maybe it's best if we take a break."

  I scoffed. Was he serious? He wanted to break up?

  "We need time to decide what we want," he said.

  He meant for me to decide who I wanted. Him or Jared. I really didn't like ultimatums, and if he made me choose, he wouldn't like the outcome. Surprisingly, my stomach didn't knot, and I wasn't as upset as I thought I should've been. "Okay."

  He made a sharp intake of breath but didn't say anything.

  After almost a minute I said, "I should get going now. Have a great dinner." I almost added "have a great life," but I refrained.

  "Yeah," he said, and then I heard a click.

  I stared at the phone and considered calling him back. I didn't want to end things unpleasantly. He may have said a break, but I knew we were over. It was just as well too. I obviously hadn't been that into him if I wasn't even going to get choked up over breaking up. But I wanted to stay civil. We'd still see one another around town, and his grandmother worked for me. Darn, Mrs. Hendrickson would be so upset.

  I tossed the phone onto a cushion beside me, picked up the remote, and switched on the TV and DVD player. Just like before, static from Mom's video filled my screen. I fast-forwarded to see if there was anything after her faux commercial. A couple of minutes of static and images appeared again.

  It was Mom and Nathan. They were still standing close. He'd cupped the side of her face and had pulled her closer to him. Oh my God, they were going to kiss. As soon as I thought it, their lips touched.

  I closed my eyes for a second and then continued watching. It felt weird watching my mother kiss another man. How long before Dad had this happened? She didn't have a ring on her finger.

  After fast-forwarding through the rest of the tape and finding nothing else on it, I pulled it out and pushed in a home video. One I'd seen many times. It was of Mom and Dad when I was in kindergarten. We were at the park having a picnic, and Dad had decided to pull Mom into his arms and started dancing around the blanket. I remembered giggling. A lot. In the video it was hard to make out because Dad had set the camera on the ground. All you saw were two pairs of feet moving and blades of grass. You could hear my giggles though and Dad humming.

  I smiled. Mom and Nathan had to have happened before Dad. But how much before? And how serious had they become? There were so many questions, but I didn't know where to find the answers. Did Nathan keep mementos of Mom, like she did of him? Maybe Max, or at least Nathan's house, had the answers.

  Banana Muffins

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  1/2 cup whole-wheat flour

  1/2 cup wheat germ (if you don't have wheat germ, you can use 1 cup of whole-wheat flour)

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  1/2 teaspoon baking soda

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

  1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

  2 to 3 mashed ripe bananas—the riper the better

  3/4 cup packed light-brown sugar

  1 large egg

  1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  6 tablespoons vegetable or canola oil

  Preheat oven to 375°.

  Grease a 12-muffin pan, or use liners.

  In a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.

  In a large bowl, whisk together the wet ingredients.

  Add the dry ingredients to the wet, making sure to incorporate just enough that they're combined, but do not overmix. The batter will not be smooth.

  Divide the batter into the muffin tins. A scoop (ice cream, cookie, melon) works awesomely.

  Bake for 15 to 18 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle of a muffin comes out clean. Let cool for a few minutes before removing them from the tins.

  Eat and enjoy!

  CHAPTER TEN

  I knew that ransacking Nathan's house wasn't going to be easy, especially if I was limited to the kitchen. So I called in reinforcements. Tara was more than happy to help me out by keeping Max preoccupied. She didn't mind using her beautiful assets.

  When we arrived, one of the black rental cars was parked behind Max's. I sighed, hoping his aunt, whichever one was here, wouldn't ruin my plans.

  Holly answered the door. "Are you and my nephew hooking up?" It was the first thing she said upon seein
g me. I didn't feel like I'd visited that many times.

  "Hardly. She already has two suitors in her life," Tara said with a mischievous grin.

  I rolled my eyes and walked into the living room. Tara was going to shoot me for not telling her about Will and me when she'd first arrived at my house tonight, but I had this mission on my mind. I guess that solidified any misgivings I might have had about whether or not Will and I were meant to be.

  "I date one man at a time," I said.

  "Uh-huh," Tara said.

  "Why do you dress like that?" Holly grimaced and pointed to my white off-the-shoulder top, aqua leggings, and hot-pink leg warmers. Or maybe she had an adverse reaction to the bright-yellow scrunchie holding up my super high ponytail.

  "She loves vintage," Tara said.

  Holly looked like she no longer cared, which was just as well. Will and Jared, as well as my wardrobe, were none of her business.

  "Is Max around?" I asked.

  "Nephew, you have company," she shouted, then leaned against the archway.

  I sat on a beige sofa, claiming my spot, and studied the room.

  More portraits, but this time in color, hung on the walls. The beige, black, and white furniture gave the room a glamorous feel. Other than the portraits, there were no longer personal touches, no plants, not even a candleholder. Nothing that said who lived here. Had Nathan used this room? Maybe there was a den with a ratty plaid armchair and TV tray table where he'd spent his last lonely nights.

  Several medium-sized packing boxes sat on a table behind me. I wanted to turn and peek inside, but there was no way I'd get a chance to snoop with Holly standing right there.

  Tara continued to stand.

  From my position, I saw Max run downstairs. He was in the same outfit as the last time I was here, but his jeans were darker. He stepped into the living room, grinned at me, and did a double take at Tara.

  Her dark hair was loose and hung over her shoulders. She wore a white peasant top with a light-blue bohemian-type maxiskirt with flats. Tara didn't care about fashion as much as I did. She preferred items that were comfortable, and it didn't matter if they were jeans and a T-shirt one day and hippie-wear the next. All she needed was a flower crown. It didn't matter what she wore though. She always looked stunning. I believed it was a natural glow she was born with.