by Darci Hannah
The table quieted. Chad, the manager, left, and six pairs of curious eyes, like lasers on a hostile target, held to me.
CHAPTER 23
“Why are you here, Lindsey Bakewell?” Mia’s sister, Abby, asked. Although the resemblance to her sibling was there, it was more pronounced in Mia’s two younger cousins, Lulu and Marilee Mann. The other three women were childhood friends.
“I didn’t kill your sister,” I told her sincerely. “I can see how you think that I might have motive to do so. I didn’t like her, not after finding her with my fiancé. Their affair was the reason I left New York. I came here to start my own business. Imagine how shocked I was to see them both here, on the day of my opening. Your presence,” I indicated to them all, “was very unexpected. Tell me, when would I have found the time to sprinkle cyanide on a donut? That’s what she died of. If you’ll recall, Mia wasn’t buying any of my donuts. She was stealing them from my paying customers and throwing them at my bakery case.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed in thought.
“The poison had to come from somewhere, and clearly it wasn’t me. So, who else might have a reason to want her dead?”
“Are you seriously thinking one of us did it?” Lulu asked as tears of anger and sadness rolled down her cheeks. “We loved her! We looked up to her.”
“She’s right,” the woman named Kim said. “We’re all the daughters of immigrants. Our parents worked hard to put food on our tables. The Longs ran a restaurant. That’s where Mia got her start. She worked in their restaurant since the age of eight, peeling shrimp and chopping vegetables. Even at that age, she knew she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life cooking in a tiny mom-and-pop shop in the suburbs of New York City. She was gifted. She wanted to go to culinary school and spread her wings. And she did. That’s where her career really began to take off. That’s when she met Jeffery Plank.”
The six women who knew Mia best told us about her life, her dreams, and her relationship with Jeffery. The revelation of Jeffery and Mia having a long history together was still so new to me that it was hard for me to hear all the specifics of their relationship, but I did. Of course, I was blamed for ruining Jeffery’s reputation and his restaurant. The moment the accusation was flung at me, Kennedy piped up and set the record straight. But as the women talked and reminisced, explained and accused, it became clear to me that none of them had a reason to murder their sister, cousin, friend.
“Ladies, I thank you for your time. As I said earlier, breakfast is on me. Before I leave, however, I have one more question to ask. Were Jeffery and Mia fighting?”
A secretive look flitted around the table, passing from woman to woman. Then, at last, Lulu piped up, “Of course, they were fighting. Everything they had worked so hard for was crumbling at their feet, all because of an insensitive comment made by Jeffery, and Ms. Kapoor’s relentless tweeting.”
“His comment was a gift from heaven,” Kennedy noted. “How could I not run with it?”
I flashed Kennedy a look to zip it. I then asked, “Whose idea was it to come to Beacon Harbor to sabotage my grand opening?”
“That would have been Mia’s.” Abby sat back and took a reflective sip of her breakfast tea. “She was irate,” she added. “She needed an outlet for her anger. Jeffery had virtually collapsed after realizing he was bankrupt. He fell into a depression and didn’t even have the heart to rise to Mia’s many demands and challenges.”
“She was a fighter,” Merilee offered. “She was trying to save the business. Thanks to Ms. Kapoor, she learned about your bakery and the grand opening. She told us her plan.”
“And we told her that we’d come along and support her,” Kim said. She’d given up on the Belgian waffle five minutes ago. “She was Abby’s sister, but she always treated us like family.”
“And what did Jeffery think of all this?” Dylan asked, barely able to hide her anger. “Did he want to come destroy Lindsey’s bakery, or was he forced to take part in your pitiful plan?”
“He came with us because Mia told him he had to— that he had to man up and face the woman who ruined him.”
What? Oooo, if that didn’t make my inner New Yorker quake like a volcano about to blow. Abby and her companions might have been grieving for a sister, but I wanted to shout at them all. They were so certain that I had ruined Jeffery when, in fact, I had come uncomfortably close to utter ruin myself. The hypocrisy was nearly too much for me to bear, but bear it I did. Because these women had just revealed that Mia had quite possibly gotten under Jeffery’s skin. The question was, had he been desperate enough to silence her? The thought, apparently, had never crossed their minds. All the suspicion had clung to me, which might have been Jeffery’s plan all along—to take down two women in one fell swoop! The ladies had told us enough.
“Safe travels,” I told them, and I meant it. I plucked the bill Chad had deposited next to my coffee. Dylan and Kennedy followed me to the register. It was there I glanced at the order, noted that the hotel restaurant was on par with New York City pricing, and stopped. Chad had scribbled his number on the docket next to the words Call Me.
“What a perv,” Dylan quipped, noting the message. “That’s the reason I stopped working here.”
“Dilly,” Kennedy chided. “What an adorable pet name. So that’s how he knew you. Wasn’t sure if he was a friend or a lover.”
Dylan gave a pretend shiver. “Blagh! And only my friends get to call me Dilly. Chad’s a class-A creeper. After the Downtown Bakery closed, I got a job working in the hotel kitchen under him. Thought it would be great, you know, to expand my culinary skills to include food prep and cooking as well as baking. But then Chad started in on me. He usually sticks to the rich, bored-silly summer ladies. But sometimes he shops local. And I wasn’t buying, if you get my meaning.”
“We do, Dilly,” Kennedy said, hooking her arm through Dylan’s. “One has to wonder which one of those grieving ladies has taken him up on the offer?”
“It’s none of our business,” I told them, heading for the car. “And I’ll tell you something else. I’m glad you’re at the Beacon with us, Dylan.”
“Me too,” Kennedy said with a grin. “Lindsey may be a tyrant to work for, but she’s got a gold star in workplace sensitivity training from one of the largest financial establishments in the country. No sexual harassment from her. However, as we’ve witnessed this morning, she’s not above having one of her lackeys use a rolling pin to draw out a confession or two.”
CHAPTER 24
It had been a morning of revelations. Dylan had a pet name. Kennedy could wrestle like a champ. None of Mia’s friends had been dieting, and I had been used by the man I had been engaged to. No wonder I had a splitting headache. And it really began to pound when I thought of my computer and the person, or ghost, who’d taken it over, pointing me in the direction of the killer. Because there was no doubt in my mind that Jeffery was to blame.
“Linds, I have to bounce,” Kennedy said the moment we arrived back at the lighthouse. “This is a working vacation for me.”
“How’s this a vacation?” Dylan shot her a questioning look. “You’ve been promoting the bakeshop since you’ve arrived. And just a few minutes ago, we, very possibly, talked with a murderer.”
“Quite right, Dilly. But I’m being paid an obscene amount to tweet about some adorable sandals an up-and-coming shoe manufacturer sent me before I left. The rain is clearing; the lake looks so wonderfully dramatic, and I thought I’d slip them on and stroll down the beach with my video camera rolling.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, and thanked her for her help. Since the bakery wouldn’t be opening, there was no reason for Dylan to stay either. Besides, she’d already been a tremendous help.
“Keep me posted, okay?”
“Will do,” I said.
She was about to walk out the door when another thought stopped her. “Hey, would you mind if I came in early tomorrow? I’ll be honest. I’m a little strapped for cash. When
I took this job, I didn’t expect the bakeshop to close down on the day we were supposed to open.”
“Neither did I. And don’t worry. You’ll be paid for this week as promised.”
Her proud head bowed slightly. “Thanks,” she said softly. “But I don’t want your charity, Lindsey. I want to work. I was thinking that I could prep the piecrusts, roll them out and freeze them until needed. I could measure out dry ingredients for coffee cakes and cookie dough and put them in airtight containers. I could—”
I held up a hand to stop her. “You had me at frozen pie dough. That’s a great idea. But I’d have to clear it with Sergeant Murdock first. She’s made it perfectly clear that the bakery kitchen is part of the crime scene.”
“Right.” Dylan nodded. “Call me when she gives the all clear.”
“Will do,” I said, and watched her walk out the door.
Wellington was overjoyed to have me home. Although all I wanted to do was pop a few Tylenol, lie down, and have a good cry, his beseeching eyes and wagging tail convinced me to grab his leash instead.
The leash was purely for appearances. As I walked along the beach in the opposite direction Kennedy had taken, Wellington romped through the surf, sand, and dune grass with abandon. His tail swished happily from side to side as he chased darting sand pipers and spooked gulls into the air. His tongue dangled with delight after eating wave after wave of spumy lake water. His happiness was contagious. It made me realize that our move to Michigan had been a blessing for us both. I had escaped Jeffery and a disastrous marriage; Wellington had escaped the dog walkers and the concrete jungle.
As we walked under clearing skies, I began to ruminate over the events of the morning. The truth was, any one of the women in Mia’s entourage could have slipped her a dose of poison while she was busy destroying my donuts. But why? They all looked up to her. No one had a motive. No, it was that two-timing Jeffery who had my vote. He had cried and accused; he had lied and confessed. He’d been manipulated by Mia for years, going so far as proposing marriage to me to feed their ambition. But had she pushed him too far?
There was the motive. But how did he do it? Jeffery had stood aside and watched while Mia and her friends wreaked havoc in my bakeshop. He’d been eating a piece of my coffee cake. He’d been standing in the shadows. Could he have slipped her the poison before arriving at the Beacon? That had to be how he did it. But the truth was, I knew very little about cyanide poisoning. I’d have to know a bit more before jumping to any conclusions. Just as that thought popped into my mind, Rory’s beautiful log home came into view. Wellington, as if reading my mind, looked at me with something akin to hope in his eyes. “Okay,” I relented. “Get fish!” I told him. Get fish was code for Rory’s house. I had no sooner uttered the words when I realized that Welly was already making a beeline for Rory’s cabin.
At first, I thought he wasn’t home. I had given a series of knocks that had gone unanswered. Welly sat at my feet, whining impatiently as I tried again. I was about to give up and walk away when the door suddenly opened.
“You’re home,” I remarked, looking at his disheveled clothing and mussed-up black hair. I wondered if he’d been sleeping and felt a twinge of guilt if he had. “I thought you might be out fishing or on one of your hunting adventures,” I explained.
“Nothing that exciting,” he remarked. “I’ve been up all night working on my novel.”
“We’ve disturbed you. We should go.”
“Nonsense. I’ve just brewed another pot of coffee. Come have a cup with me.”
I took a seat at Rory’s kitchen table as he busied himself in the kitchen. His log home was a modern, open concept design, where all the living and dining were done beneath a grand vaulted ceiling. The room, although covered in wood, was airy and light. This was due to the recessed lighting, a chandelier composed of antlers hanging from the ceiling, and a two-story wall of windows with a sliding glass door. Wellington, being wet and covered in sand, was on the other side of the windows, lounging on the deck while happily chewing a bone. “I’ve come to apologize,” I told him.
“What for?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. He replaced the coffeepot and walked around the kitchen island with two mugs in his hands.
“Last night. Kennedy’s confession. I swear, I didn’t know what she’d been up to. You must think that we’re a pair of terrible women.”
He took the seat opposite me and held me in his crystalline gaze. “Not a pair, just one terrible woman. Although I did find it touching that she went to such lengths to avenge you. That’s friendship.” He gave a slight, appreciative nod.
“Well, I felt just horrible about it last night. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I have to tell you, today I’m actually glad she did her best to ruin Jeffery.”
Rory nearly choked on his coffee. He set down his cup and stared at me from across the table. “Why?”
It was then I told him about our visit to the Harbor Hotel and all we had learned about Mia and Jeffery.
“Wait,” he said, leaning forward, looking adorable in his tired, overworked state. “Are you telling me that your ex-fiancé was still romantically involved with his pastry chef while he was engaged to you?”
“Apparently, yes.”
“And you had no idea?” The skepticism in his vibrant blue eyes was a little deflating.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I reprimanded. “Jeffery was very convincing in his role of devoted fiancé. He never let on. Kennedy had no idea either. Thank goodness he confessed to us this morning or I’d still be filled with guilt about what she’d done to his business and reputation.”
“Clearly the man deserved it. But again, please explain to me why you went to his hotel room in the first place? If the man had poisoned his lover, he could be dangerous. He could have poisoned you. You should have called the authorities, Lindsey.”
“Authorities? I don’t have much faith in the authorities at the moment. They’ve already questioned him. He probably lied through his teeth.”
“Then you should have called me.” Apparently, to Rory Campbell, this was the next logical step. He didn’t know Jeffery and he didn’t like Kennedy, and yet I found his willingness to help adorable.
“You have a novel to write,” I reminded him. “By the way, where’s your computer?” I gave the room a once-over. For a bachelor he kept his house remarkably clean.
“I write in the loft,” he said, pointing to the stairs and the balcony that overlooked the great room. “In the spare bedroom up there.”
Although several people had mentioned to me that my lighthouse was haunted, Rory had been the most convincing. Whether he believed in ghosts or not, he’d seen the odd glowing light in the lantern room the night before Mia was murdered. He’d been the one to tell me about the meaning of it. Was it coincidence, or was my lighthouse haunted by the ghost of Captain Willy Riggs? I looked him square in the eyes, and said, “Right, well, the bakeshop’s been shut down and I have some time on my hands. Besides, something odd happened to me last night. I was on my computer watching a video of Kennedy leading a protest outside Sizzle when suddenly my computer went blank.”
“It died?” His face reflected concern.
“I thought it had, until I realized it had been taken over by the ghost of Captain Willy Riggs.” There, it was out. I was curious to see what he would make of that.
I watched as concern morphed into a grin of pure mischief. “You think the Captain took over your computer last night? How much did you have to drink?”
“Why do you think this is alcohol related?” Honestly, I found that leap quite offensive.
He tried a disarming smile. “Look, Lindsey, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t think that’s possible. Ghosts don’t use technology.”
“And how would you know? Are you an expert?”
“No, but it doesn’t make sense. And anyhow, why do you think it was the Captain?”
“Because he told me.”
Rory near
ly laughed at this, until I told him about my odd conversation last night, including the fact that whoever it was typing with me had urged me to visit Jeffery Plank.
When I had told him everything, I took some comfort in the fact that he looked more worried than intrigued. Rory had been in the armed services. Although he never talked about his experiences, I knew he was an expert in the field of camouflage as well as a gifted marksman. The man could hunt like a pioneer, but I was curious if his skills included more technical knowledge, like computer espionage.
“I do know there are ways for someone to take over the computer of another, but the user has to give permission for remote desktop access. It can be a little complicated. Another way is to send a virus. Or, if someone is a very skilled hacker, it might be possible. You haven’t clicked on any suspicious links, have you?”
I shook my head. I was pretty savvy about viruses and how to avoid them. Still, the thought that something had taken over my computer was unsettling. Even more unsettling? That person had pointed me in the direction of Jeffery Plank.
“So, it appears that somebody has taken over your computer and is urging you to find the killer. That sounds a little odd to me. I mean, what’s in it for them?”
“Don’t you see?” I leaned across the table. “Whoever it is that contacted me last night knew something. They directed me to Jeffery. He’s obviously the killer, Rory. Think of it. Mia had been pushing him all along. She encouraged him to date me! How twisted is that? She was the one who dragged him and her friends all the way to Beacon Harbor in an attempt to sabotage me. Jeffery knew her plans. If you’ll recall, he wasn’t exactly a willing participant in the donut-smashing debacle. He was just standing there, eating my coffee cake as if he was waiting for something to happen. I think he meant to poison her in my bakeshop. Mia dying in my café on opening day would not only damage the reputation of my bakery, but he’d also be rid of what might have been a huge embarrassment. He had means and motive. All I have to figure out is how he slipped her the poison. Which reminds me. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about cyanide poisoning, would you?”
