Brownies & Betrayal (Sweet Bites Mysteries, Book 1)

by Heather Justesen

  Honey likes more almond in her cheesecake, so I double it when I make it for her, but Marge likes it when I cut up a small bottle of maraschino cherries and put them on the crust before pouring the batter on top.

  Shawn picked me up at straight-up six o’clock. I liked a guy who was punctual, so it earned him points in my book.

  Not that I was keeping track of points. Obviously I wasn’t interested in a real relationship. This was a harmless flirtation, a distraction from real life. I kept telling myself that, hoping it would keep me from forgetting.

  “You look great,” he said when he took in my black skirt and long-sleeved red blouse.

  “Thank you. You look pretty terrific yourself.” He wore a sports jacket over a button-up shirt and a pair of tan chinos. I think this man would look good in rags.

  His answer was to grin, and maneuver to help me into my leather jacket. What a gentleman. How did he get a sister like Analesa again? I felt a slight shiver of excitement when his fingers brushed my neck as he settled the coat on my shoulders, then slid his hands along my shoulders.

  Shawn took me to the hotel for dinner. Not that there weren’t oodles of other places to eat, I thought, but the little restaurant was quaint, quiet and leaned toward romantic. This man was no socially inept teen, no matter what Analesa thought. I was going to enjoy that fact immensely.

  We ordered and I glanced over as another couple was seated nearby. Tad and Analesa. “Looks like they decided to emerge from their room for a little while,” I noted. I hadn’t had a chance to ask her about the argument I’d overheard between herself and Valerie on Friday night. Of course, Millie told me what the argument had been about—assuming her information was accurate.

  “Yeah. I thought they might. Analesa loves Tad, but she needs social interaction.” Shawn twisted his glass on the tabletop.

  “Even on her honeymoon? I’d have thought Tad would be oodles of social interaction for her.”

  Shawn laughed. “I think she’s still fuming that they had to cancel their trip. The police weren’t happy about them traveling to Florida for their honeymoon with the investigation still ongoing.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. They’d told me not to go anywhere, but I didn’t expect the bride and groom to be stuck in town, too. Had they made everyone stay? “Is one of them a suspect?”

  “I think at this point just about everyone is,” Shawn said. “Probably even me, and I have an in with the detective.”

  “Well, that makes me feel a little better. I thought I was being picked on.” I took a sip from my water glass, letting my eyes linger on him. “Why would they think you killed her?”

  Shawn leaned forward and lowered his voice. I followed suit, as if this was a deep dark secret. “I dated her for about ten minutes when I was eighteen. I must have a broken heart.”

  He didn’t appear the least heartbroken. “The evil wench. What happened?”

  “We went out, had some very nice goodnight kisses and I went home. She returned to college and a couple weeks later, I started dating Carla.”

  It sounded about right for teenage romance, but oddly made me feel a little jealous. “Apparently your sister never heard about it. She seemed to think Valerie flirted with you Friday night, and that she’d chew you up and spit you out.”

  He threw his head back for a laugh. “I grew immune to Valerie long ago. Still, she was fun for a little light banter at the rehearsal.” He took a sip of his drink. “Am I supposed to be a soft touch?”

  “Tender-hearted was the way Millie described it.”

  “Unbelievable.” He leaned forward in his chair again, took my hand on the tabletop and wiggled his brows. “I could be a soft touch for you, if you’re interested.”

  I was glad the appetizers arrived then, as it took me a while to readjust my thinking. Was he serious, or a player? Perhaps he and Valerie had some common ground . . . the thought didn’t please me. “So what were you up to that night?”

  “I played pool with some buddies—including the detective—early in the evening, and was tucked in bed long before midnight. My life is super exciting.” His smile was infectious, making me return the expression. Or maybe it was knowing he hadn’t been with her that evening, and wasn’t trying to fake an alibi. Wouldn’t the guilty person make sure they could claim something? Or was that only in movies?

  We were digging into our food when Analesa seemed to notice us for the first time. She yanked on Tad’s sleeve, and they came over to speak with us. “What are the two of you doing here together?” she asked. When she looked at me, her gaze held accusation, as if she thought I was taking advantage of her baby brother.

  “Looks like dinner to me, honey,” Tad soothed.

  “Just two old friends, becoming reacquainted.” Shawn leaned back in his chair again and picked up his drink.

  “I didn’t realize you were such good friends.” Analesa lifted her brows at him, crossing her arms over her chest. I couldn’t see her foot, but wondered if she was tapping it.

  “Settle, sis. It’s a friendly meal. You don’t need to worry that she’s going to take advantage of me.” He popped a mushroom cap in his mouth.

  I felt my cheeks flush, so I was glad for the dim lighting. “You never know. I already had you hauling around equipment for me today. I might make you help me move the new stuff in.”

  His dimple reappeared. “Let me know when. I’ll be there if I’m still in town. Here, try this. It’s really good.” He lifted another stuffed mushroom cap to my lips.

  I ate it from his fingers, which was surprisingly intimate and disconcerting. He was right, though, it was extremely tasty. The flirting made me nervous, even more than normal because I could feel Analesa’s irate eyes on me. What was her deal? I turned to look at her. “So, I hear your honeymoon plans were changed.”

  “Yeah.” She put her hands on her hips. “The detective told us we can’t leave town for a while. I mean, seriously, it’s our honeymoon. Isn’t it bad enough our wedding was pushed back? What’s wrong with him? And why hasn’t he caught the killer yet? The incompetence is unbelievable.”

  Right, because it had been a full thirty hours and there wasn’t a single, clear motive for Valerie’s murder. “What does he have on you? I mean, I thought only suspects would be asked to stay. Neither of you could have a reason.”

  Analesa waved her hand. “He’s all upset about my argument with Valerie on Friday night. I said, you can’t expect me not to watch out for my own family, can you? He’s like, family is a good reason to take drastic measures.” She lowered her voice to imitate the detective’s. “I’ve never even hit someone before, and he thinks I killed her because she acted indecorous?”

  “Lay off of Tingey, he’s doing his job.” Shawn’s voice was calm but there was a definite edge of irritation in his eyes.

  I turned to Tad, who looked mighty uncomfortable at the moment. Was it the topic of conversation, or did he have something to hide? “And you—are you stuck here by default, or did he say something silly about you too?” I asked.

  “Him?” Analesa laughed as if the suggestion were ludicrous. “My Tad is clean as a whistle. He doesn’t even speed.” She snuck an arm through his and looked up at him, admiration all but glowing off her. “He’s going to be a senator someday, maybe even president.” The look was sickening. I supposed it was appropriate for their honeymoon, and counted myself lucky if it was the worst display of public affection I saw from them.

  Tad chuckled lightly—nervously—I thought—at Analesa’s words. “I’m no saint, sweetheart. Perhaps we ought to return to our seats. They’ll be bringing dinner soon, and I’m sure we’re interfering with Shawn’s date.”

  Though Analesa looked as though she might not mind interfering in her brother’s love life, I was glad when they left, if only because her gaze on me was accusing.

  I turned to Shawn and realized he still held my hand. “Do you suppose I’m taking advantage of you, me being the older woman?” After all, he was
probably the tender age of twenty-nine.

  His brows lifted and his voice turned husky. “Do you want to take advantage of me?”

  I met his teasing eyes. “Is it taking advantage if I invite you back to my apartment for chocolate cheesecake? I’m tweaking a recipe and could use a second opinion.”

  “For one of your sweets? I have the feeling I’d always be up for that.”

  “It’s only dessert,” I warned him when his grin turned almost feral. “That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

  He lifted his glass and took a sip, not looking away the whole time. “We’ll see.”

  The chocolate cheesecake was a hit, as I knew it would be. I decided the slight hint of nutmeg in the batter was exactly what it needed.

  “So do you always offer your dates dessert?” Shawn asked as he lifted his coffee mug after finishing off his slice.

  “Not always. I had this handy. And you were around.” I felt relaxed and happy. It had been a great evening, fun, flirty, with no pressure. I felt a tingle of excitement when he gave me a look over the top of his coffee cup that said he thought my mouth might taste as good as the dessert.

  I was considering letting him kiss me—which I hardly ever allowed on a first date, but hey, sometimes you had to live dangerously. The question was how much of this reckless attitude came from leftover hurt. Was it all about the rebound relationship? I didn’t think that Shawn was a naïve fool or anything, but he didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, either.

  “Lucky me,” he said. “If I took you out again, would you be willing to make dessert again?”

  “I might, if things went well.” And if I could find the time. I had far too much to do this week, and tracking down a killer was only part of my load. “Are you saying you want to go out again?”

  “Definitely.”

  We lingered for a while longer before he rose, claiming he needed to get out of my way before I grew tired of his company. I doubted that would be likely.

  At the door he turned to me. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Painting my kitchen downstairs. If you decide you’re bored, feel free to come help.” I really hoped he would. He brightened my mood and made me forget the darker pockets of my life.

  He leaned in, tipping my head up toward him with his hand on my cheek. “I might.”

  Tingles zoomed through me as he carried out a slow, careful assault on my senses with his kisses. When he left, I felt a bit lightheaded, and couldn’t help but hope we managed another date before he returned to his post in Nogales.

  The next morning, I decided a trip back to the hotel was in order. I hadn’t remembered to swing by to talk with the manager on Saturday, and he’d been out of the office on Sunday—go figure. Since I wanted to chat with him about a possible business arrangement, and I also wanted to pick the brains of some of his employees to see if there were any details I missed on the scene, I decided I could kill two birds with one stone.

  Because I’m efficient like that.

  Before running to the hotel, I decided to go to the diner for breakfast. I usually cooked for myself—most of the time my own food was best—but I was in the mood for a big omelet stuffed with everything, and a side of greasy hash browns. If I could get a couple slices of almost-burned bacon as well, I would be in heaven. When I went out to get in the Outlander, I saw my tires were flat. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  At first I thought it was just the front passenger’s tire that was flat, then I walked around and realized it was all of them. They were slashed, not accidentally flattened. In a town where the crime rate was usually miniscule, this couldn’t be random, could it? I sighed and went back inside to call the police department and a tow truck.

  Officer Lambert, a little man with a thin mustache, came to the house and took the report. “We can check to see if anyone saw anything strange, but the chances that we’ll catch the perp aren’t good.” He studied all the tires and took a couple fibers off one wheel, but it was impossible to know when they had gotten there.

  The tow guy didn’t arrive until after the officer had been gone for twenty minutes. He hauled the car up onto his flatbed truck and said they’d return the vehicle to me when they finished it. In the meantime, he took my AAA information, my insurance paperwork for the damage and my credit card information for the deductable. There are some advantages to small towns. In the city, I would have had to park my tush in a chair at the tire shop while I waited—which would have added insult to injury.

  Still, this was so not what I needed. I went back inside to call my insurance company to start the paperwork.

  Several hours passed while I tried to clean downstairs and waited impatiently for the guys at the garage to return my wheels.

  As I’d anticipated, the hotel offices were located down a long hall on the far end of the building. The front desk clerk, a perky-looking girl with huge blue eyes, directed me where to go. I found Jet Larsen in his office, speaking on the telephone. I had to wait several minutes for him to finish the call, and he asked me to sit while he made a note or two. This gave me time to check out his degree in hotel management, his mounted fish—was it a swordfish? It was enormous—and his family pictures.

  Finally, he turned my way. “Didn’t I see you around this weekend?” he asked before recognition crossed his face. “Tess, aren’t you? The cake lady?”

  I loved that he already knew who I was. It smoothed things a bit. “That would be me. I’m impressed with your home.”

  “Thanks—we’re trying to fill a need for the community, and I think we’re doing it well. The murder has put a major cramp in our bookings, though.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, as if someone might have his office bugged, wanting to know his company secrets. “We’ve even had a number of cancellations, which is never good.”

  I nodded and gave him sympathetic looks. “I am sorry about that. Hopefully the police will be able to wrap it up soon. Having worked in a hotel for years, I know sometimes crazy things can throw off bookings.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure that’s not why you came to me today. I saw your work on that cake, and I’d love to have someone with your abilities on staff, but I hope you know we can’t afford to hire a pastry chef full time.” He slid a pen through his fingers.

  All the better for me. “I understand that, of course, but I thought we could consider a mutually beneficial arrangement. I’m opening my own business. Maybe we could arrange a sort of partnership.”

  He set the pen down and crossed his arms in front of him on the desk, leaning in. “What did you have in mind?”

  When I left his office twenty minutes later, we’d thrown around numbers, plans and ideas, and I promised to get back to him with some basic prices. He agreed to have a contract written up. If there were no bumps along the way, I’d become the exclusive provider of the more elaborate occasion cakes. I’d be happy to leave the everyday desserts to his restaurant staff.

  As I headed down the hall, I came across the laundry room. The door was open and three women were in there with a large laundry cart, filling washing machines. The familiar hum of dryers, the slosh of front-loading washers and the babble of women’s voices was so familiar. I never worked in the laundry department, but over the years I made lots of trips there to collect clean towels for the kitchen.

  “Hey, did any of you work on the wedding this weekend?” I asked when they noticed my presence.

  A sandy-haired young woman with a bright smile turned, and I recognized a server from Sunday night. “I did. You made that gorgeous cake, didn’t you? Can you believe the murder? It, like, totally freaked me out.”

  I stepped into the room. “I know, crazy, wasn’t it? I’ve worked a lot of celebrations, and seen a lot of insane things, including a number of fights, but I’ve never found a body before. Did you see anything strange that day?” I leaned back against the folding counter, allowing my shock to leak onto my face. “I ask because I’m still trying to figure it out. Friday night
she was there, eating my brownies, and Saturday she was dead.”

  “Spooky,” the forty-something redhead across the room agreed. “I wasn’t sure if I should come back to work after that. What if the hotel is cursed or something now?”

  The third woman, a short Latina in her fifties, crossed herself and muttered something in Spanish.

  That kind of thinking was exactly what we didn’t need, not if the hotel was going to get lots of bookings and send me scads of new clients. “Are you kidding? A murder gives the place character. What’s a hotel without a little juicy story here and there? Lots of high-class resorts are proud of their history, even the bad stuff. Besides, this could end up being interesting, don’t you think? Was it a lovers’ quarrel? A dispute over work? Maybe an illicit deal gone wrong? It’s practically a made-for-TV movie.”

  The Latina moved a pile of towels off the folding table onto a set of shelves, and I sat in the empty space.

  “Yeah, and the psycho could still be hanging around here, waiting to off another one of us,” the redhead said.

  I hoped it was something personal against Valerie and not some new serial killer, but I wasn’t going to even think about that possibility. I didn’t have to feign a shudder at her suggestion. “Was there anything . . . off or unusual going on? Anything you remember?”

  The Latina woman approached, opened a dryer and pulled out a gleaming white towel, starting to fold. “Dere was da tableclot.”

  “Tablecloth?” I hadn’t heard anything about this yet.

  “Yeah,” the younger woman piped up. “All the tables were covered with the centerpieces and everything Friday night when dinner finished up. But when we came in again the next day, one of the tables—one close to where the brownies had been set up—didn’t have the tablecloth anymore. The centerpiece had been moved to another table, and there was no sign of the cloth. And someone forgot to take away the leftover brownies the previous night—what few were left. I had to haul them off before the wedding party started coming down.”