“Stalking you? Who would want to do that?”
“I’m not sure … but I think it was Violet Switzer.”
Chapter Eight
Lexy kept her eye on the rear-view mirror, looking for a red Mustang, as she drove to Nans’ apartment the next morning. Pulling into the parking lot, she felt silly. Surely, Violet wouldn’t follow her everywhere, and even if she did, what did Lexy care? She wasn’t afraid of an old lady.
Her phone chirped and she looked down. Her mother. Lexy debated not answering because she was in a hurry to meet with Nans and the ladies, but guilt took over and she pressed the green button.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Lexy? Is that you?” Vera Baker’s voice blasted out of the phone at its usual high volume, causing Lexy to hold the phone six inches away from her ear.
“Yes, Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, good, dear. What about you? Is Jack treating you okay?”
“Yes, he is, Mom. Where are you guys now?” Lexy had given up on trying to keep track of her nomadic parents who were traveling across North America in a haphazard manner. One week, they could be in Nevada, then the next week, Florida, then the next, Canada. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it, but Lexy figured if they were having a good time then who was she to question it?
“We’re in the desert of Maine.”
“There’s a desert there?” Lexy cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder while she reached for the bakery box on the passenger seat, then she got out of the car and started across the parking lot.
Vera sighed. “You never heard of it? It used to be three hundred acres, but now it’s about forty-five. You had better hurry if you want to see it, though. They say it will be gone in fifty years.”
Lexy frowned at the phone. She’d never heard of any disappearing desert. “Gone? Where would it go?”
“The forest is reclaiming it,” Vera said in an exasperated tone.
Lexy could hear clinking and muttering in the background as she opened the glass door and slipped into the lobby. “What’s that noise in the background?”
“Oh, it’s just your father.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Oh, he’s just tinkering with the RV.”
“Tinkering?” Lexy felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her. “Is something wrong with it?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“It’s just a little minor problem, Lexy. Nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure? I could send you some money—”
“Don’t be silly! We don’t need money … your father’s calling for me. I gotta go.”
“Okay, Mom. Say hi to Dad and you guys take care.”
“You, too. Say hi to Mona for us!”
Vera hung up and Lexy found herself standing outside Nans door, frowning down at her phone. Was something wrong with the RV? Nans had mentioned they’d been having trouble.
Her gut twisted—even though she’d offered to send her parents money, she’d been glad her mother had refused because she really didn’t have any extra. She’d sunk every last dime into renovations at the bakery and was counting on the sale of Jack’s house to replenish some of those funds and pay her parents back.
She raised her fist and knocked sharply on Nans’ door. She really needed to kick this investigation into high gear—not only so she could clear Jack from the suspect list, but also so she could get the house sold and the money to help her parents.
***
“Lexy, come in.” Nans opened the door and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee floated out into the hallway.
Ruth, Ida and Helen waved at Lexy from their seats around Nans’ mahogany dining room table as she crossed the small foyer, then put the box in the center of the table.
“Coffee?” Nans asked from the small kitchen adjacent to the dining room.
“Yes, please.” Lexy had rushed out of the house without her morning cup and had been too busy checking her rear-view mirror on the ride over to stop for coffee. She was practically comatose with lack of caffeine.
Ruth pulled out a chair and gestured for Lexy to sit while Nans shoved a mug in her hand. Lexy sipped the steaming brew gratefully.
“What did you bring?” Ida lifted the lid of the bakery box enthusiastically, her smile fading as she looked inside. “Don’t you have any scones?”
Lexy narrowed her eyes. “No. Why? What’s wrong with the cookies?”
The ladies exchanged a look. Ruth cleared her throat. Helen looked down at the floor. Nans got up and made herself busy in the kitchen.
“What?” Lexy repeated.
“Well, the meringues aren’t bad,” Ida said.
“But…” Lexy drew the word out.
“They just need more sugar,” Ruth shrugged. “I’m sure they’d be perfect if they were just a bit sweeter.”
“This is a new batch with more sugar than the last batch.”
“Oh?” Ida raised her brows and the ladies all reached in and pulled out a cookie.
Lexy watched as Ida bit into hers and made a face. “Better try again, dear. Still needs more sweetener if you want to beat Violet.”
Lexy’s spirits sank. “More? I’ve upped the recipe twice now.”
Ida glanced at the others and they nodded.
“Sorry, but it’s better we tell you now so you can adjust,” Ruth said.
“Yep, you know Violet won’t make any mistakes with her meringue,” Helen added.
“Speaking of Violet. Does she have a red Mustang convertible?” Lexy asked.
“Yes, I believe she does.” Helen folded the half-eaten meringue cookie up in her napkin.
Ida nodded. “She won it in a slots tournament down at Foxwoods.”
“Sheesh, is there nothing this woman doesn’t win?” Lexy asked.
Ida, Ruth and Helen shrugged.
“Not that we know of,” Ruth said. “What about you, Mona?”
“What?” Nans looked in from the kitchen, a yellow gingham dishtowel in her hand.
“Violet Switzer. Have you ever seen her lose anything?”
“Switzer …” Nan scrunched up her face. “I’m not sure I know her.”
“Sure, you do,” Ruth said. “The one Ida is always complaining about.”
“Oh, right. I don’t know anything about her losing anything.” Nans sat down at the head of the table. “Why are we talking about her?”
“Yeah, good question,” Helen said. “We should be talking about the mummy case.”
“Yes, let’s get back to business,” Ruth added.”What’s the plan?”
They looked at Nans, who shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t really have one. I’m a bit out of the loop.”
“Right,” Ida took over. “Here’s what we’ll do. Mona, you and Lexy are going to talk to the McDonalds. Find out if the basement was bare blocks or had that cement stucco on it. Then maybe we’ll know if O’Keefe was lying to us or not.”
“Helen and I will use our ‘resources’ to see if there was any funny financial business going on with O’Keefe,” Ruth said.
“Very good,” Ida nodded. “Time is of the essence so we’ll double up. Let’s meet back here and figure out where to go after that.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ruth stuck her fist out for a knuckle tap and the others did the same, then Lexy and Nans pushed back their chairs and started for the door.
Lexy opened the door and was just about to step out into the hall when she remembered something important. She turned to look at Ruth, Ida and Helen who were still seated at Nans table. “What about the cookies?”
The three women looked at each other and Ida made a face. “Sorry, dear. They still need more sugar.”
***
Out in the hallway, Nans slowed to a crawl. She slipped on her crystal-studded fuchsia reading glasses and rummaged in her purse. “Why don’t you go ahead and get the car. I need to make a quick call.”
Lexy sensed Nans didn’t want her listening in. Was she calling the mysteri
ous boyfriend? Lexy couldn’t help but smile. “Okay. I’ll meet you out front.”
Nans came out of the lobby doors just as Lexy pulled the car up, and they headed off in the direction of the McDonalds’ senior living facility. Lexy was bursting with curiosity about this boyfriend that was causing Nans to act so secretive.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Lexy asked.
Nans stiffened in her seat turning startled eyes on Lexy. “No. What do you mean?”
Lexy shrugged. “I heard you met a nice man …”
“Oh.” Nans relaxed back into her seat, a smile curling her lips as she stared out the window. “Well, that’s not anything I want to talk about right now.”
“Oh, sorry.” Lexy grimaced—she was dying to know about him but didn’t want to invade Nans’ privacy. Luckily, they’d reached the senior living facility and Lexy could change the subject.
“Have you been here? The place is pretty nice,” Lexy said as they walked to the building together.
“Yes, I’ve visited them a few times.” Nans held the door for Lexy, then proceeded in the direction of the McDonalds apartment.
“Do you visit them often?” Lexy asked.
Nans shrugged. “Not too often, but we still keep in touch a bit. All the old neighbors are still quite close.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Lexy said. “When I talked to them, they seemed a little … umm … forgetful.”
“Well, that comes with the age. I visited them here not that long ago, and they seemed right as rain,” Nans said as she rapped on the door.
The door opened almost immediately and Lois’s face peered out, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw them. “Why, Mona, what a surprise! We haven’t seen you in ages.”
Nans frowned. “I was here the other day, Lois. Remember?”
“Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me. Time does get away from you at my age.” She opened the door and gestured them in.
“Hi, ladies,” Charles said from the recliner. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t get up. My hip is acting up today.”
“Of course,” Lexy said as she and Nans took seats on the couch.
Lois pulled a chair in from the kitchen and perched on the edge. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Nans nodded at Lexy, who said, “I had some questions about the basement in Jack’s house … your old house … again.”
“Oh, right. Terrible thing with that body and all.” Lois clutched at Charlie’s arm. “Do they know how it got there? Or when? Was it in our basement the whole time we lived there?”
“They’re not sure yet,” Lexy said. “But, we were wondering about the basement walls. The room was made by building a false wall and covering it with a cement coating. The builder said that the cinderblocks were exposed when he sold it to you. He said all the houses were that way.”
Lois’s eyes slide toward Nans and then Charlie. “Well, I don’t know if I remember. It was so long ago.”
“I checked my basement and it’s cinderblock,” Lexy said.
“Oh, no, we always kept it locked,” Lois said. “No one could get in.”
“No.” Lexy raised her voice a few decibels. “I said cinderblock.”
“Yes, I think they are made of cinderblock,” Charlie said. “Unless you refinished them and they put some stucco cement coating on it to pretty it up.”
“But was yours cinderblock when you moved in?” Lexy asked.
“I’m not sure.” Charlie tapped the side of his head. “My memory isn’t as good as it used to be. Do you remember, Mona?”
“I remember looking at it after you started the remodel and the walls were stucco, but I’m not sure if it was that way before,” Nans said.
Lois’s brows furrowed, causing wrinkles in her wrinkles. She looked at Lexy. “Why is this so important?”
“The builder claims the basement was raw cinderblocks when he sold it to you. I was thinking if you remembered that it was stucco when you moved in, it would prove he was lying and make him a suspect.”
“Oh, dear.” Lois looked at Nans. “Well, I wouldn’t want to point the finger at someone who might be innocent if I wasn’t sure. Did the police pinpoint the time of death to a date before we bought the house?”
“I haven’t heard anything about an exact date, yet,” Lexy said. “But it must have happened before you moved in—otherwise, surely you would have noticed.”
“Yes, of course,” Lois said. “Well, I’m sorry if we can’t be much help. Our memories are not so good. And I feel just terrible this has happened in our old house … and now you and George have to deal with it.”
“Jack,” Lexy said.
“Did you say track? I don’t know if you’re on the right track.” Lois stood up. “If you could pinpoint the timeframe that person was killed, we might be able to help. It seems there was a stranger around the neighborhood and I wonder if he would have had something to do with it.”
“You mentioned that before, but I don’t see how it could be relevant to this case.” Lexy followed Lois to the door.
“Now, don’t be too hasty, dear,” Nans said. “We need to consider every angle.”
Lexy doubted that would be the case. How could a stranger possibly have made a secret room and put a body in the basement without the McDonalds knowing?
They said their goodbyes, and Lexy and Nans headed to the car. Nans seemed more interested in getting back to the retirement center in a hurry than she was in talking about the case, so the ride back was quiet. By the time Lexy dropped her off and headed back to the bakery, she was feeling a little down in the dumps.
Not only was Nans’ lack of interest in the case disappointing, their trip to the McDonalds’ hadn’t given her any useful information, so she still had nothing concrete with which to nail Tom O’Keefe. She could only hope that her next stop would be more informative.
Chapter Nine
Cassie was knee deep in customers when Lexy arrived back at the bakery after dropping off Nans. She threw on an apron and rushed out front to help out. She sold several pies, dozens of cookies for take-out and countless scones and muffins for people who wanted to sit at the cafe tables and enjoy the view.
The constant rush of customers and chatter occupied her mind, leaving her no time to think about Nans or the mummy case.
Once the rush subsided, Lexy grabbed a white towel and made her way to the tables to clean up while Cassie re-arranged the bakery case.
“The ladies said my meringue recipe still needs sugar,” Lexy complained as she wiped the crumbs from the table into her cupped hand.
“I didn’t try the latest batch—”
Cassie stopped abruptly, causing Lexy to look up and see her friend looking at her funny … no, not at her—over her shoulder. Lexy turned in the direction of Cassie’s stare and her heart skidded when she saw a small, white-haired woman standing directly across the street. Not just any white hair woman. Lexy recognized her as the woman in the red Mustang—Violet Switzer.
Lexy’s heart thudded as she realized Violet was staring straight at her. Their eyes met, then Violet raised two fingers, pointed them at her eyes, then extended her index finger toward Lexy.
I’m watching you.
Then she turned and disappeared into the haberdashery across the street.
“What the heck was that all about?” Cassie asked.
“That was Violet Switzer!”
“Your competition in the dessert contest?” Cassie’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Looks like she’s got you all riled up.”
“Well, she’s following me and it’s creepy.”
“Look, you’re falling right into her trap. She’s trying to psych you out. What you gotta do is pretend like it doesn’t bother you.”
Lexy chewed her bottom lip. Cassie was right. Violet was trying to get her all flustered and she was playing right in to her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m letting her get to me. I mean, what’s to be scared of? It’s just a contest, for
crying out loud.”
“Right. Maybe you should turn the tables on her … follow her around and see how she likes it,” Cassie suggested.
“You know, that’s a good idea.” Lexy glanced across the street. Was Violet still in the store? Should she rush over and follow her? No, she didn’t have time—she had more important matters to tend to. “I’ll have to find out more about her. Maybe even pay her a visit … but first, I have to stop in at The Elms Pub.
“The Elms?” Cassie frowned at Lexy. “Why do you have to go there?”
“Tom O’Keefe, the one who built Jack’s house, used to hang around there and I was thinking I might be able to ask around about him. It seems like the kind of place that a lot of old-timers would still hang around at.”
“Oh, it is,” Cassie shut the bakery case door and moved over to the self-serve coffee station to straighten up the K-cups and pour a coffee for herself.
“You go there?” Lexy tossed her towel over her shoulder and crossed to the counter where she started to assemble a white bakery box.
“Yeah. My brother knows the owner—the grandson of the original owner, actually.”
Lexy perked up. “You wouldn’t be able to arrange for me to talk to the original owner, would you?”
“Pops? Sure, he’s usually there every day. His name is Sam. Just tell him I sent you and he’ll treat you like an old friend.”
“Great.” Lexy reached into the case and took out a tray of white, fluffy meringue cookies. “I’ll take some of these meringues as a bribe.”
“Is that the latest recipe?” Cassie asked.
Lexy nodded as she transferred the cookies in to the box.
“Let me try one.” Cassie picked one off the plate. “We’ll see if the ladies are right or if their taste buds are senile.”
Lexy watched silently as Cassie took a bite, chewed, then licked her lips and nodded. “Sorry, they are right. It needs maybe just a touch of sugar—like only a teaspoon.”
Lexy sighed. She’d have to carve out some time to fiddle with the recipe which meant less time on the case. Glancing out into the street where Violet had been, she felt her competitive nature take over. She knew she could win that dessert contest no matter what kinds of games Violet wanted to play. Besides, she could certainly best an old lady, both in cooking and psychology.
Leighann Dobbs - Lexy Baker 10 - Mummified Meringues Page 6
