Houses and Homicide

by Alabaster, Stacey

  Marcello ran out into the driveway and threw his hands in the air. “I think we’ve been sold a lemon!”

  I followed Pippa around the side of her house to the backyard. Luckily, all the animals were unhurt. Buttercup mooed a little sadly and I reached out to pet her. Pippa was in tears when she returned from the other side of the house, having surveyed the damage. “What if Marcello and Lolly had been inside at the time?” she said.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder. “They weren’t, though. That’s the thing to focus on. And it was lucky you weren’t inside either. Thank goodness for our meeting with Jarrod, hey?”

  “I am going to kill Clark for this…” she said tearfully. “I don’t even know if there’s any way we can get out of the deal. I think it might be too late?”

  I didn’t want to rub salt into the wound, but I was pretty sure it was the responsibility of the buyers to do all the due diligence and safety checks before buying a property. Sure, Clark might have known the house had problems, but I thought Pippa and Marcello had jumped into the decision without really thinking it through.

  Pippa wiped the tears away from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “Well, we can’t stay here. Clearly. What are we going to do?”

  I gulped. With Sue now in Pippa’s old room, I had only one suggestion.

  Chapter 9

  “I cannot believe this is where you are staying.” I placed my purse down on the king size bed and stared at the all too familiar blood red carpet that invaded every room of the establishment.

  Pippa flopped back onto the bed and sighed. “It was the only hotel in Belldale with any spare rooms at short notice. And they’ve slashed the prices for the week. Besides, it will only be for a day or two until we can find something more permanent. And you did suggest I stay at a hotel.”

  Yeah, but I hadn’t meant the Golden Medallion.

  “I can always ask Sue to leave,” I offered. “She’s only been living with me for four days. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  Pippa shook her head. “I don’t want to kick her out of her new home. She hasn’t done anything wrong. Besides, I got myself into this situation, so I have to take responsibility for it.”

  “There’s always the couch,” I pointed out, still wanting to offer some kind of solution. “You’re no stranger to that.”

  Pippa laughed and sat up, a bit of life returning to her body. “Yeah. That was before I had a husband and a baby daughter, though. I’m not sure it would work out so well now.”

  I looked around. “Where are Marcello and Lolly, anyway?”

  “The zoo,” Pippa said. “She’s missing the farm animals already. She really loves them, you know.”

  I thought maybe Pippa was projecting a little. I wasn’t sure that Lolly was even old enough to understand what the animals were, let alone old enough to miss their presence in her life.

  I nodded anyway. “The zoo sounds like fun.”

  “Lolly loves the animals, and if we have to sell all of ours…” Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “It will all be okay. You’ll get the house sorted out, one way or another. And you will find a new home for the farm animals. Maybe you can get a dog, seeing as you—I mean Lolly—is missing the animals so much. You won’t have to stay here for much longer.”

  My phone buzzed to let me know I had a new text.

  “Who’s that?” Pippa asked curiously.

  “Sue,” I said, placing my phone back in my pocket. “She’s got dinner ready and she’s wondering when I’m going to be home.”

  “Oh. You guys do dinners together?”

  “Yeah, we made a roster. I cook three nights a week, she cooks four. Then the next week we switch it around. At the moment, it’s pretty convenient for me…” I hadn’t told Pippa about the fact that Kenneth and I had taken ‘a break’ yet. I still wasn’t sure what a break even meant and I wasn’t ready to talk it over with anyone. But it did mean that I was now available most nights and having someone to split the cost of dinners with was a big help.

  “Yes. I’m sure Sue is amazing company,” Pippa said sarcastically as she stomped over to the closet and hung up a shirt.

  I realized Pippa was jealous, or envious at least. “You can come along tonight, if you like. I’m sure that Sue has cooked enough for three people.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, rolling over to pick up a menu that was sitting beside the phone on the bedside table. “I hear the Golden Medallion does amazing room service.”

  “I hope you like steak.” Sue said as she showed me the spread on the table. Two fresh fillets, sitting, plump and juicy, on white plates with mashed potatoes.

  I did, kind of, but not this…rare. My stomach turned a little as I watched the blood seep out onto the white mashed potatoes below, making a sickly pale pink color.

  When we’d agreed to cook meals for each other, I’d assumed that meant things that could be stretched out on a budget. Pasta bakes and the like. Not prime cuts of steak.

  I sat down and stuck my fork in and even more blood came out. Sue saw the look on my face.

  “Oh, I can put it back on the stove for a minute or two.”

  I tried to be brave and struggled through it for a second or so. I kept thinking about poor Buttercup on Pippa’s farm. Well, Pippa’s backyard. I pushed the plate away. “Actually, maybe I’ll just stick to salad. I’m sorry. I’m sure these steaks couldn’t have been cheap.”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I got them for free from the butchers. They are sponsors of the art gallery.”

  Oh, right.

  I reached over to the large bowl of green salad that Sue had put in the middle of the table and started piling my plate high with that instead.

  I’ve never been a big fan of salad—any vegetables really—but it suddenly tasted amazing.

  Was this really going to happen: was I really going to go vegetarian?

  Blake would probably love that, I thought.

  Jeez, Rachael. Why are you thinking about Blake?

  “So what happened with that guy of yours?” Sue asked as she cut into her fillet. She clearly had no problem with the rawness of it.

  “Huh?” How did she know about Blake?

  Oh, right. She was talking about Kenneth. Who else? “We decided to take a break, actually,” I said.

  “Oh no!” Sue reached over and patted my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he will realize his mistake and take you back.”

  I looked at her and blinked a few times. “No. I was the one who made the decision.”

  “Oh!” She laughed a little nervously. “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I jumped to that conclusion.” She picked up her steak knife and quickly got back to it, slicing through the flesh.

  I wasn’t sure why she had, either. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.

  I had to live with the woman though, so there was no use getting off on the wrong foot by creating tension when she hadn’t even been living there for a full week yet.

  “So, got any other irons in the fire?” she asked, shoving another piece of steak in her mouth.

  “Huh?”

  “Men-wise, I mean.” Sue pushed her steak away and looked at me with a glimmer in her eyes. “You can tell me all the gossip you know. I’m kind of an expert when it comes to men. Been there, done that, you could say.”

  I laughed and took a sip of wine. “All right then. Are you really ready for all of this?”

  She laughed and grabbed another bottle of wine. “Spill it all out on me. I can take it.”

  I laughed nervously as she filled up my glass to the rim. “Well, I guess it all started a year or so ago…”

  With a couple of glasses of red in me, I found myself relaxing and telling Sue the story right from the start. How I’d met Jackson at the scene of the very first mystery I’d ever solved, and how it had been on and off since. “Mostly off, because I keep getting myself embroiled, and frequently, I end up as a suspect,” I add.

  “A
hh…” Sue said, nodding. “That makes sense. Sounds like Jackson would have to retire as a detective for you to two ever get together.”

  I pondered this for a second while I twirled my hair. “Or I’d have to stay away from solving murder mysteries. For good.”

  “So where does Kenneth come into all of this?” Sue asked.

  I shook my head and flung it back. “That is a very good question,” I said, before laughing. I tapped my fingers against the wine glass. “But I do feel like I have a little more clarity after this conversation. Thanks, Sue.”

  We clinked our glasses together. The having clarity thing was a bit of a surprise.

  And I was also surprised to discover just how much I was enjoying myself hanging out with Sue.

  “Oh, you’ve got to check out this new band…” Sue said, jumping up to put some loud new indie band on over the speakers

  We were dancing and laughing so hard I didn’t even hear my phone ring the first time. The second time I only saw it flashing with an incoming call because I was at the counter pouring myself another glass of wine.

  It was Pippa calling. I turned the music down and retreated to my bedroom.

  “How’s your dinner going?” Pippa asked. “You’re not loving her more than you love me, are you? And she’s not a better housemate than I am, is she?”

  “Of course not,” I quickly replied.

  “Good,” Pippa replied. “Because if you were starting to warm to this Sue woman over me, I am about to tell you something that is going to make you love me a hundred times more than you already do.”

  “And that is?”

  “I have Anderson’s phone.”

  We were suffering an unexpected cold snap the following morning when I arrived at the bakery to open for the day, having promised Simona a real day off, where she wasn’t on call and she didn’t have to drop in just to cover for a few hours. Even though she hadn’t gone over her legal amount of working hours, I was still playing it safe.

  Pippa was already there, waiting beside the front door and shivering inside her jacket, which was a little surprising to me.

  “I thought you would have had a sleep-in,” I commented, eager to get inside and turn the heat on.

  “The Golden Medallion might be high class, but it’s not exactly homely. I didn’t want to spend the whole day hanging around there. Besides, I wanted to get out of there before Anderson realized his phone was missing and he started to suspect me. I’m pretty sure I’d be the top suspect, considering everything.”

  Yeah, either her or I. She had probably made the right call by getting out of there as early as possible.

  First things first, I had to stock up all the display shelves with buns and pastries. I went to the kitchen and checked in with Bronson to make sure everything was on schedule and then, as quickly as possible, I fully stocked the front shelves. I noted that we still had an over abundance of blueberry pastries. They just weren’t flying off the shelves like they once had. Maybe it was just as well—we’d be following The Pastry Tree recipes and menu soon.

  “Here it is,” Pippa said, extending the phone to me like it was a ritualistic offering.

  I was glad it was Simona’s day off. We could talk freely until the first customers arrived.

  “No passcode,” Pippa said, shaking the phone with a grin as she shook her head. “Anderson is far too trusting for a guy who is clearly up to no good.”

  I was glad to hear it. I was practically rubbing my hands together in anticipation as I waited for her to give me all the details of the contents of Anderson’s phone. Pippa sure had a penchant for keeping secrets from me lately though — why hadn’t she already told me who the number belonged to?

  I opened the phone and brought up Anderson’s recent calls. I had to scroll back a fair way to find those that he had made the day that Cheryl had been killed.

  “So this must be the call he made right after Cheryl’s death,” Pippa said, pointing to the call log. “The call only lasted for forty seconds.”

  I nodded. “Seems about right,” I said, remembering. I’d been crouched down, hiding out in the stairwell for less than a minute.

  Pippa made a face. “Only problem is…I called the number and there was no answer.”

  Well, that explained why she hadn’t spilled the beans, then.

  “Oh, great. How is that supposed to help us then?”

  Pippa made an apologetic face. “It’s not nothing, Rach,” she said. “Just because there was no answer any of the ten times I called, doesn’t mean the info can’t help us at all.” She shrugged and looked down at the number. “We can always trace the number, can’t we? Aren’t there programs that let you do that?”

  “Yeah, if you have access to a police database,” I said, leaning back in my chair. I stared up at the ceiling. I felt like we were no closer to finding Cheryl’s killer than we had been five days earlier.

  The bell above the door jungled, which told me we had a customer. I jumped up out of my chair and ran behind the counter, tying my apron around my waist.

  The woman ordered a six-pack of blueberry pastries, which momentarily put a smile on my face. Maybe we were back in fashion, after all.

  However, I didn’t know that the smile was soon to be wiped back off.

  She was followed by another customer also asking for blueberry pastries. “We’re going to have to bake another batch at this rate!” I called out happily.

  I was glad to be busy. I needed the distraction after the disappointment of the phone log.

  Simona turned up, very unexpectedly, to pick up her paycheck and, much to my dismay, hung around for some reason. “I’ve been hearing some good things about these blueberry pastries,” she stated, looking down at them. “I assume they are on the house, even on my day off.” She picked one up and put it on a plate.

  I guess that meant she was staying, then.

  During a short lull between customers, Pippa pulled out Anderson’s phone again and showed me something. “What about the other calls in his log?” she asked. “Maybe we should try some of these numbers? I still think we’re holding the key here.”

  It was time for that smile to be wiped off.

  A familiar wad of jet black hair suddenly made an appearance at the front door. Underneath that black hair was a face with a nose ring and an attitude.

  “Shoot, what is Blake doing here?” I said, hiding Anderson’s phone behind my back.

  Pippa looked a little shocked. “Maybe he just wants to try our blueberry pastry special?” she said with a shrug, gritting her teeth. “They are flying off the shelves today.”

  Probably not, seeing as they weren’t vegan. And the look on Blake’s face also gave me some clue that he wasn’t there to sample a pastry.

  I tried to act professionally while Blake approached the counter. Just treat him like any other customer, I told myself as I made a mess of the flaky pasties, causing them to fall apart while trying to straighten them up underneath the display glass.

  Blake reached out and placed two palms down on the glass.

  “You’ve been following me,” he stated.

  I could feel my cheeks burning like I’d just been standing in front of an oven, but I tried to play it cool. “That’s insane,” I said. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I saw you, Rachael. Your car pulled out after mine when I finished work a few afternoons back, and then you trailed me all the way to the Golden Medallion.”

  Hmm. Maybe I needed to brush up on my surveillance techniques after all.

  I straightened up and folded my arms. “Yeah? Well, you’ve been following me too. I spotted you darting into that store yesterday.”

  “Oh, so it’s a crime to walk down this street now, is it?” Blake asked. “Is it illegal to go inside a store?”

  I just stared at him and rolled my eyes a little.

  From a table a few feet away, Simona was watching the whole thing with a smirk. She was loving it.

  “Can we please talk a
bout this someplace else?” I whispered.

  “No. I want you to tell me why you’ve been stalking me. Otherwise, I’m going to call the cops right now.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone.

  Simona’s mouth fell open.

  “Okay, fine!” I walked around to the other side of the counter and pulled him to the side, out of Simona’s ear shot. “I was following you. I admit it. You happy now?”

  He shook his head. “You’d better come clean, Rachael, and tell me exactly what you’ve been getting up to.”

  The pizza joint was lazily full at that time of afternoon, and the delicious scent of warm dough along with pesto and melted cheese almost relaxed me.

  Almost.

  A waiter came up to the outdoor table that Blake and I were seated at. “What kind of pizza can I get for you?” he asked.

  I thought for a second. “Vegetarian, if you’ve got it.” I also ordered a soda and handed the menu back.

  The waiter nodded and made a note, saying that the pizza wouldn’t take too long to cook in their state of the art, super hot pizza oven.

  Blake looked a little surprised. “Are you a vegetarian?”

  I shrugged casually. “Been thinking about it lately. I might even go vegan.”

  I had to keep reminding myself that it was definitely not a date, and was definitely an interrogation with this guy, who was demanding to know why I had been stalking him. But it’s hard to be too intense over pizza.

  We made small talk for a while, but I knew I needed to move this along.

  Maybe if I can get the boot in first, I suddenly thought. I can turn this situation around and use it to my advantage.

  “I suppose you know the name Cheryl Spellman,” I stated.