by A. Gardner
"That sort of explains the legend of Old Man Thomas." He chuckles to himself. "The banging of pots and pans in the middle of the night. Clearly, those old ghost stories came from the night he ran away."
"Yep." I look around the table and notice that Mary Ann is finished eating. She stands up and starts collecting empty plates, avoiding her daughter's mental breakdown like it is an everyday occurrence. It very well might be.
"I told you there was no ghost," Cole says proudly. "It was all a myth."
"That still doesn't explain the noises I heard the first day of school," I reply.
"I guess not." He thinks for a minute and puffs out his chest. "But it wasn't a ghost."
"Fine," I agree. "It wasn't the ghost of Old Man Thomas."
"Thank you," he mutters.
James stands up to grab another cold beer right as his daughter stamps her foot and drags her boyfriend upstairs to her room.
"Well," James announces, as if the entire argument never happened. "Who wants pie?"
* * *
Our drive back to CPA is quieter than I thought it would be. First of all, Cole and I are both so stuffed that we can hardly move in our seats. I watch tree after tree pass, thinking of nothing but beignets, peach pie, and murder. I have replayed James's story so many times in my head that I think I might go insane, and I keep trying to figure out why Dirk seemed so annoyed with me. Maybe that is just the way that he is?
"Did Dirk seem a little odd to you?" I throw the question out there hoping that Cole noticed it too.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, did you see the way that he looked at me?" I go on. "It was like I was the one disrupting dinner instead of Jessica. What was up with that?"
"I didn't notice," he answers.
"Yeah, you were too busy fantasizing about Rolex's. I highly doubt a simple farm makes that kind of money."
"Don't judge, Poppy. We're not in the produce business. Maybe they really did have a good harvest this year?"
"True," I agree.
"Anyway." Cole chuckles. "I thought Jessica put on one hell of a show. And don't get me started on that dude she was with." He pauses and rubs his eyes, no doubt fighting off the inevitable nap that follows when you stuff your face with too much turkey. "On second thought, maybe you are right about Dirk. I thought he was going to try and yank my arm out of its socket when he shook my hand before we left."
"Okay," I sigh. "You're going to have to get me off this for a while, or I'm going to have a meltdown trying to figure this all out."
"Right." Cole turns towards me. "Let's hope that Bree doesn't have a strawberry cheesecake or a rhubarb pie waiting for us when we get home. I don't think I'll be able to say no."
"Pig." I laugh. He grins and folds his arms. I glance at his biceps and then quickly look away when my cheeks feel flushed.
"You know what we need to do?"
I can feel Cole staring, and it makes my heart start drumming. I grip the wheel a little tighter and focus on the road ahead.
"What?" I ask.
"Snoop." He scratches his chin. "Oh, sorry to bring this up again, but I think we need to get back in that kitchen and do some serious sleuthing."
"And what would we even be looking for? Bree already looked around and figured out that what we thought was flour was in fact powdered sugar." I giggle. "The two of us suck at sleuthing."
"Then we need to get better," he continues. "What better time than now?"
"Okay," I agree. "We'll go back. That is, if one of us isn't hauled away to jail before then."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bree is pacing nervously around the living room when we walk through the door. She breathes a sigh of relief and urges us to sit down. We made it back before dinner, but I expect that Bree has already eaten another one of her frozen dinners after a long shift at the student bakery. I glance in the kitchen, thankful that she doesn't have another tasty dessert waiting for us. I can't swallow another morsel.
"I'm surprised you didn't make pecan sandies or something," I comment.
"I made oatmeal raisin cookies this morning, but I accidentally ate them all." Bree sighs.
"How do you accidentally eat something?" Cole asks.
Bree ignores him and grabs the water bottle sitting on the coffee table. She gulps it down before she looks at us again. My muscles go tense as I wait for her to speak.
"The police came this morning," Bree says. "They were looking for you." She stands up and peeks through the blinds. "They could be back any minute."
"What?" I gasp.
"It's your turn to be questioned," Bree continues. "When I told them you weren't here they were not happy." She hands me a card with a phone number on it. "A detective guy wants me to give you this. He wants you to call him as soon as you get home."
"Do you think they'll lock me up?" I gulp.
"Don't give them a reason to," Bree responds. She looks at Cole. "I think the two of you should just tell the truth."
"That we broke into the professor's office?" Cole responds. "No thanks."
"Whatever we tell them our stories need to match," I instruct.
"And they'll eventually find out that you guys were nosing around in the professor's office," Bree adds. "Maybe you should take your chances?"
"We might not need to," I say. "Cole and I met the son of Thomas Calle."
Bree's eyes go wide. She stands up and starts anxiously peeking through the blinds again.
"What did he say?"
"Cole and I think all the stories about the ghost of Old Man Thomas come from the night he ran away. He had an argument with someone in the kitchens. He was so angry that he threw a few things, but that's not the strangest part." I pause to let Bree process the information. "The night Thomas ran away, whoever he argued with was making beignets. Powdered sugar was thrown all over the place."
"Like the night the professor was murdered," she mutters.
"Exactly," Cole chimes in. "We've decided to go back to the student kitchen and see if we can find anything else."
"I don't think that's a good idea anymore." Bree shakes her head. "That detective guy has been stalking that building all day. You'll look even more suspicious."
"We have to try," I argue. "Tonight."
"We will need some kind of distraction," Cole says. "It will only give us a few minutes to sneak in, but it's worth it, right?"
"The detective knows the three of us are friends," Bree points out. "Do either of you know anyone else who might help?" She looks at me as she says it. I roll my eyes.
"I think I know someone," I reply. "If we hurry we might be able to catch him ending his shift."
"Shift?" Bree asks.
My chest tightens. I never told Bree about Jeff working at the student bakery.
"Yeah," I admit. "He sorta kinda was asked to work at the student bakery too."
"What?" she pouts. "I thought he was there washing dishes for extra credit?"
"You can do that?" I fold my arms. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Who are you guys talking about?" Cole looks annoyed. His forehead is crinkled as he looks from me to Bree.
"Jeff," I blurt out. Cole immediately frowns.
"That dude won't help us," he answers.
"He will because he has a thing for Poppy," Bree insists.
My cheeks start to feel warm so I quickly change the subject.
"Let's go. Who's ready? I am." I race out the door before Bree has more time to tell me all about the men who are looking for me. I am too close to clearing my name to quit now. I dash across the quad, practically running. I hear footsteps behind me as Cole and Bree struggle to catch up. I wipe my forehead when I reach the bakery doors. The blast of AC when I walk in reminds me of my first day in Georgia. I remember hardly being able to breathe as I waited in line for one of Buzz's rise and shine orange rolls. That day feels like it was years ago. I had no clue what I was in for back then.
I inhale the smell of gooey cinnamon rolls and look behind
the counter. My eyes dart to the tray of beignets. Such a mischievous dessert those things are turning out to be. I glare at them as if they are intimidated by my death stare.
Why do they have to smell so good?
Jeff walks out of the kitchen looking surprised to see me. He grins as he collects the almost empty tray of raspberry Danishes. I put on my best smile and prepare to be flirtatious. I haven't thought through what I am going to say to him. I will have to wing it and hope he agrees to keep watch for me or distract a cop while I snoop around the crime scene. Too bad there's no time for Bree to bake a fresh apple pie.
"Poppy," Jeff says. He lightly touches his hair net. "I didn't think I would be seeing you here."
"Please tell me your shift is almost over," I respond.
"It ended a while ago, but I volunteered to stay a little longer. Raspberry Danish?" He holds up the tray and urges me to take one of the leftovers.
"No thanks," I say. "Wow, I didn't know you were such an overachiever."
"That's me." He grins wider. The bakery door chimes, and Jeff directs his attention behind me. "Let me help these customers, and we can hang out."
"Okay." I watch Jeff fill a box full of beignets for two men wearing T-shirts and jeans. Jeff grabs each one from the front of the tray and happily hands the men their box. They nod as he quickly rings them up on the register. When the men leave, Jeff takes off his hair net.
"Done." He smiles. "So what were you thinking? Practicing for the contest? Homework? Dinner?" I feel a little queasy when he mentions going out to eat. I have had enough food today to last me all month.
"A little field trip?" I suggest.
"I trust you will be staying in the country?" a voice says behind me. I turn around and see Bree shrugging. Cole has his head down, and a man in a tie is standing next to them with two cops in uniform. I gulp.
My time is up.
"What's going on?" Jeff asks.
"I was never pulled in for questioning yesterday," I respond, looking at the detective.
"Poppy, is it?" The detective shakes my hand. His short hair is chestnut brown. It matches the scruff on his chin. The man is taller and younger than I was expecting him to be. He would still tower over me even if I was wearing my high-heeled boots.
"Yes."
"I am Detective Reid. I am going to have to ask you to come with me."
"Okay." I nod. I can't avoid it any longer, and I'm not feeling stupid enough to run. I follow Detective Reid outside and across the quad to an empty classroom.
"You first," the Detective says to me. I enter the classroom with one of the policemen. The other one stays in the hall with Bree and Cole. My hands shake as I sit across from Detective Reid. He looks down at a folder when he speaks to me.
"I know what you're thinking," I say.
"And what is that?" he asks.
"I'm about to be expelled and I wasn't exactly the professor's favorite student. You have to believe me though. I did not kill him." My voice quivers slightly at first, but I eventually find my confidence.
"So you did find him that night?" he asks.
"Yes," I gulp.
"What were you doing in the kitchens so late?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was studying?" I shrug. It's worth a try.
"Look Poppy," Detective Reid says. He rubs his eyes like he hasn't slept in days. "I want to help you, but you have to help me. I realize that telling me the truth feels like the risky thing to do, but you need to weigh your options here. Becoming a murder suspect is serious stuff."
I slump my shoulders as I have an inner debate with myself. I have to tell him the truth. Maybe he can help me piece together this puzzle.
Or maybe he is an absolute dirtbag.
"Fine." I take a deep breath. I search for the right words. Words that don't make me sound like a shady truffle thief. "Have you already spoken to Mr. Dixon about me?"
"He gave me your file," he says honestly.
"So you know about the package of missing black truffles?"
"I do." The detective nods. I tap my fingers on the countertop as I think back to how that night began.
"I didn't steal them," I say quickly. "I was in the kitchen practicing for the school contest coming up. I made puff pastry dough for napoleons, which ended up being thrown away. Probably by one of my classmates who doesn't think much of me. Anyway, I decided to leave when I heard noises coming from the kitchen next door. When I got into the hallway I saw Professor Sellers."
"What kind of noises did you hear?" he asks.
"Pots. Pans. You know, kitchen noises."
"That was the night the black truffles were stolen?" he confirms.
"Yes." I nod. "The next day Mr. Dixon pulled me into his office and said I would be expelled if the thief wasn't caught. I guess Professor Sellers told him I was the only student in the building at that time. He thinks I am guilty."
"Then what happened?" Detective Reid is writing furiously.
"I decided to snoop around to try and clear my name." I look down at the floor and take a calming breath. I still don't know if I am doing the right thing by telling him all this. "I snuck into the professor's office after hours, because I thought maybe he was the one who stole the truffles, and that's when I heard a scream." I gulp. The memory is beginning to re-live itself in my head. "We ran to the kitchens, and that's when we saw him."
"We?"
I blush.
"Yeah," I respond. "Cole, that guy in the hallway, was with me. He was only trying to help."
"I see," he responds. "Well, I appreciate your honesty." He keeps a straight face as he writes. I can't help but roll my eyes. It was hard for me to dive into those memories again, and he won't even give me a reassuring nod.
"Sure you do." I watch him until he looks up. "Is this the part where you arrest me and say thanks anyways?"
"No." He allows himself to chuckle. "This is the part where I ask you to stay near campus, because I'll be contacting you real soon."
"To arrest me?"
"I could just arrest you now if you prefer?" he jokes.
"No thanks." I stand up to leave. "Are we done here?"
"One more thing," the Detective adds. "How many kitchens does the school have?"
I wrinkle my nose.
"I don't know," I respond. "Quite a few. There are three or four in this building and some across campus where the more advanced students meet."
"Are there kitchens anywhere else?" he asks.
"The dorms and apartment buildings? But those are more kitchenettes, if you ask me."
"Thank you," he says. He glances at the officer standing next to him. "Rope them all off." Detective Reid looks at me again. "You can go now, Miss."
I raise my eyebrows as I walk out the door. Cole and Bree look worried. They eagerly wait to see what I do when I exit the room. I stroll right up to Cole and put my hand on his shoulder.
"I told them everything," I whisper.
He shakes his head.
"Poppy, you can't trust the po-po. Have I taught you nothing?" I hear him grind his teeth as he slowly walks into the classroom for his interrogation.
"He'll get over it," I whisper to Bree. I take a deep breath and realize I lied to Detective Reid without realizing it. There is one more kitchen that I forgot to mention to him, and it is in the student bakery. Whoever has been sneaking around will have no choice but to use that kitchen unless they want to make that kind of noise in one of the dorms where there are paper-thin walls. "I have a plan, and it involves some extra strong tiramisu."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I was only joking about the tiramisu, but Bree made one anyway. After I mentioned it, she couldn't get it out of her head. All I wanted was coffee that I could eat by the spoonful, because my plan involved staying up late.
"Do you think we are under surveillance?" Bree whispers.
"Maybe?"
It's midnight, and I am dressed in a pair of black leggings and a black top. I taste the coffee as I take a
nother bite of Bree's tiramisu. My heart is pounding. This might be one of the gutsiest things I've ever done, apart from confronting Mom one Christmas when she almost sold my car while I was away.
I just hope that I get lucky.
"If Cole doesn't show soon I'm leaving without him," Bree mutters.
"So you are positive that the student bakery is open tomorrow?"
"Yes," she says impatiently. "For the hundredth time, yes. I overheard princess Georgina saying she was asked to run the kitchen until closing time. Geez, Mr. Harris is handing out early rotations like candy."
"Waking up at 3 a.m. is not a sweet reward," I remind her.
"But it scores me brownie points." Bree pulls down the hem of her black party dress. It is the only black thing she has in her wardrobe.
"Are you sure you'll be able to run in that?"
"Who says we are running?" she asks. "What would we be running from? I thought we were going to snoop around the crime scene again?" She takes a deep breath and smiles. "Man, I love a good mystery."
That's because she's not the one being considered as a suspect.
"Let's just go," I say, opening the front door.
"What about Cole?"
"Maybe he forgot to set his alarm clock or something?" I respond. "We don't have time to wait. I really hope this works."
I quietly walk down the street and across the quad. No one is in sight. I glance at our usual student building. Bree begins moving towards it, but I keep walking. She jogs to catch up with me. I stop and hide in the shadow of a tree as Bree practically waddles in her dress to keep my pace. She leans over and catches her breath.
"What are you doing?" she whispers. "You are going the wrong way."
"No, I'm not." I look forward at the student bakery. Bree follows my gaze and widens her eyes.
"Poppy," she scolds me. "We are not breaking into the bakery."
"Relax," I reply. "If I am right, we won't have to break in."
I continue walking quietly. My eyes scan from left to right looking for cops or crooks who might be following us. My hand brushes the front doors, and I peer inside. The bakery is dark. I keep walking along the edge of the building as Bree keeps a hand on my shoulder. I hear her gulp.
