by Holly Plum
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Joy was nervous as she drove to the bakery the next morning to pick up Fern’s wedding cake. It would be completely unprofessional of her to back out of the order on the day of the event, even after what had happened the previous evening. She had all three threatening notes in her possession, including the most recent one which she’d retrieved from the floor of her car. Every bit of evidence was valuable.
As Joy made her way toward the Diamond Shell Hotel, Joy told herself that no matter how difficult it was, she still had an obligation to fulfill. Besides, her mother Patty would have insisted that such a beautiful not go to waste. Her strategy for the delivery was to arrive early, meet Sara Beth so that they could set up the cake, and then be out of the hotel before any family arrived.
“Good morning, honey,” Sara Beth greeted her in the hotel parking lot. She studied her boss's expression with great interest.
“I did manage to rest last night, Sara Beth, so you can stop staring.”
Sara Beth’s expression was sympathetic as she opened Joy's trunk. “I just want to make sure you’re doing alright. Last night was rough.”
“Today will be better,” Joy declared. "I'm not staying this time. Not even to say hello." Joy crossed her arms. “It has been terrible not having Cheesecake through all of this. I certainly hope you’re enjoying him.”
“We’re getting along just fine,” her assistant said. “Come on, let’s get this bad boy inside.” Sara Beth began lifting cake boxes.
The ballroom from the night before had been decorated for Fern and Ivan's ceremony. It looked beautiful with colorful roses and shining silk table cloths. The indulgent frosting on the cake blended perfectly with the display.
“Wow, did we do a good job or what?” Sara Beth said, giving herself an elaborate pat on the back as she stepped back to survey the wedding cake.
It was some of her best work. Joy only wished that she had more time to admire her accomplishment and even watch Fern's face as she cut it open.
“Alright, we're done,” Joy said. Under different circumstances, she would have lingered a little longer. But not today.
Joy turned to leave, surprised to see a familiar face already arriving at the venue. The sight of Ivan made her stomach churn. She thought of the threatening notes and the many confrontations she had endured courtesy of the Wallace's. Joy appeared calm on the outside but a storm bubbled underneath.
“Hello, Ivan,” Joy said, striding up to him in what she hoped was a confident manner.
Ivan’s expression was guarded. “I wouldn’t stick around here too long if I were you, Ms. Cooke.” His expression didn't give much away. “Ross and Zinny will be here any minute, and they’re still pretty mad at you. They even tried to get Fern to cancel the cake so you wouldn’t come around here today.”
“Fern doesn’t seem to mind,” Joy pointed out. At least if she could rule out Ivan, she would know that Ross was the one targeting her. Talking to Ivan was her last stab at figuring out what was really going on. Joy thought of the notes. She had to know who had sent them, and she was in a public place. It was the perfect opportunity.
“I do intend to leave soon, but there is something I wanted to discuss with you first.”
"What is it?" Ivan asked.
In a moment, the notes were out of Joy’s pocket. She held them up so that Ivan could see them. “Do you know anything about these?”
Ivan looked confused, but Joy watched him eagerly. There was a good chance he was acting just as Violet had the previous night when confronted about the pill bottle.
“I don't know anything about those.”
“They say to confess or else," Joy went on. "Why should I confess to something I didn’t do? Please, tell me you have some idea what this means.”
"Go home, Joy," Ivan responded.
"I saw you in the parking lot last night," Joy confessed.
Ivan raised his eyebrows.
"What did you see?" His expression suddenly changed, telling Joy that she was onto something.
"Don't tell me that you have been leaving me these threatening notes after all," Joy blurted out. "Why would you do that? Unless you had something to do with Dorothy's…"
One second Joy was rambling on in frustration, and the next she was stepping backward in fear. Ivan had pulled out a pocket knife. This couldn’t be. Ivan couldn't be the murderer. What did he stand to gain by killing his wife's grandmother?
The rage in Ivan’s face gave him away, and Joy knew that Fern’s husband wasn’t the aloof, disinterested man he’d lead her to believe. It was all for show, and it had been a good cover. But, he had a dangerous glint in his eyes—a glint that convinced Joy he was capable of murder. Dorothy’s murder.
Joy had never run for her life before, but she did just that. Before she could think, she was racing out the front doors of the hotel, the idea of finding someone to help her completely fleeing her mind. All she could think of was escaping Ivan before she ended up like Dorothy.
Joy reached the shoreline, and the sand made sprinting more difficult. She stopped to take a much-needed breath when Ivan grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She was too out of breath to scream. This is it, Joy thought, grateful that Dorothy had died in her sleep rather than by Ivan’s knife. I'm going to be murdered, and I'll never know why.
“Why would you kill an old, innocent woman?” Joy breathed. She couldn't fathom the thought that they could have been her last words.
Joy was surprised when a look of regret penetrated Ivan's hateful gaze. Still, his voice held a hint of steel when he spoke.
“If I would have known about her will, I wouldn't have killed her,” Ivan confessed. "Last I heard, Dorothy divided her fortune up amongst the family. I had no idea she changed it."
“So, it was all about the money,” Joy said.
“I need it to pay off my gambling debts. They’re about to ruin Fern’s golfing career. She and I have been fighting for some time and we only just got over a three-month separation, and that’s why we decided to renew our wedding vows. I didn’t want our chance at a new start to be ruined. I figured Dorothy would have left Fern a tidy sum in her will. But, she didn’t.” Ivan held his pocket knife steady.
“So, you killed her just like that.” Joy knew she was pushing it, but it wasn’t as if she wasn’t already in danger.
Ivan scowled. “Dorothy used to talk about how Ross and Greta always tried to steal her money, hovering like vultures waiting for her to die so they could get rich. I didn’t think she would go as far as cutting her family off.”
“I can't believe you," Joy responded. "How could you do such a thing?"
"It was easy." Ivan took a step forward, and Joy gulped. "All I had to do was switch up some of her heart pills and wait. I didn't think the police would conduct a full blown investigation into the death of an elderly woman."
"You're sick." Joy's heart pounded. It pained her to know that Dorothy didn't have to die. She had plenty of good years left in her that Ivan had selfishly stolen.
“It was my last chance!" Ivan shouted, sounding a bit delirious. "Do you think Fern would stay married to me if she knew I was a helpless gambler? I had to do something. The money was supposed to Fern's anyway. And what's Fern's is mine.”
Joy stared at him, trying to ignore the fact that the knife was still poised as a weapon. “You dug quite a deep hole for yourself, Ivan Reede. I feel sorry for you. Not completely, but a little.”
“You’re the only one who knows what I did, Joy. Once you’re gone, this is all over, and Violet will take the fall. I might also get some of the money once you're dead too.” Ivan bit his lip and moved forward.
There was no doubt in Joy’s mind that Ivan was crazy.
“You’re just swapping one dark secret for another, Ivan. If Fern really does love you, you’ll be able to figure something out for your gambling debts. Killing me won't solve anything." Joy’s breath left her when Ivan’s expression became intense again.
<
br /> “When your body washes up on the shore, it’ll look like a drowning accident.”
“Better not stab me then, or they’ll know it wasn't," Joy pointed out. "You know how quick Detective Sugar is.”
Ivan hesitated as he eyed Joy's throat.
“Ivan!”
Joy had never felt such relief in her life as she caught sight of Fern and Sara Beth running down the beach toward them. Sara Beth’s hair flew out in all directions, her crooked grin oddly comforting. Fern’s presence was also comforting too because her expression was fixed on Ivan and it was one of a woman who was fed up.
“What on earth, Ivan?" Fern scolded him. "Get away from her! What do you think you’re doing? Are you crazy?”
Ivan backed away, and Joy seized the opportunity to scramble toward Sara Beth.
“I got here just in time, didn't I," Sara Beth remarked, breathlessly, clutching her friend’s arms.
“Um, yeah, you could say that. I thought you guys would never come."
Sara Beth tightened her arm around her boss’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. The cake is fine."
"Thanks, Sara Beth," Joy replied.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The confrontation between Ivan and Fern was slightly comical—a typical display of a husband and wife spat at first. Fern was still waiting for an answer to her question about Ivan's involvement in Dorothy's death.
“She’s the killer,” Ivan said, pointing at Joy. Now that his wife was present, a measure of heat had left Ivan’s façade, and he looked a little less scary.
Fern’s expression voiced that she thought him insane. “What? Why would she be the killer?”
“The money. The change in the will. Am I making sense yet?” Ivan threw out every excuse he could.
Fern thought for a few moments, staring up at her husband and then looking over at Joy. “You mean, you really think Joy made Grandma Dorothy change her will and then killed her so that she could inherit the money?”
“That is exactly what happened.” Ivan spat, rage still present in his voice.
“Joy’s no killer!” Sara Beth chimed in. “She’s a baker.”
It really wasn’t the most powerful of phrases, but Joy had to commend her assistance for the valiant try.
“Joy, is this true?” Fern asked. “Did you murder my grandmother?”
"No," Joy said firmly. She glanced at Ivan and took a deep breath. "Your husband is."
"But why?" Fern looked from Joy to Ivan. She placed a hand on her chest. The news would be heart-breaking.
"She's crazy." Ivan refused to admit anything.
"Money," Joy explained. "He did it all for your inheritance. He needs the money to pay off debts."
"What debts?" Fern's eyes went wide.
Ivan clenched his jaw as he looked at the ocean waves in front of him. He hesitated, most likely trying to come up with another lie. Fern shouted at him to tell her the truth, and Ivan's shoulders slumped.
"We were going to lose everything," Ivan pleaded. "I did it for you. I did all of this for you.”
Fern shook her head. “What do you mean, we were going to lose everything?”
“I owe money to some…dangerous people.”
“No.” Fern continued shaking her head. "No. No. Ivan, you didn't."
“I had no choice, and I needed the money,” Ivan replied quietly.
“So, you…murdered my grandmother?” Fern nearly choked over the words.
A look of contempt came over Ivan’s face. “I did ask her for it at first. Dorothy just went on a rant about how her family is always stealing from her. I figured she was close to dying anyway. And she had all that money that she never spent. I didn't know that she would leave you with nothing. You were her favorite grandchild.”
Fern had misted over again but pulled herself together as best as she could. “And I expect you were just going to spend my inheritance without my consent. Let me guess…what's mine is yours.”
Ivan was running out of excuses for the horrible crime he had committed.
“I didn't want to lose you again,” Ivan said. "Besides that, the men I owe money to said they would drag your golfing career through the mud along with other things if I didn't pay up."
Fern looked at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe this. Why didn't you just tell me? We could have sorted it out together. Now…I will never forgive you for what you did." Fern couldn't hold back any more tears although she continued to try.
Joy felt as if she should look away and give Fern and Ivan some privacy, but she couldn't. Joy and Sara Beth exchanged looks of pure shock. Ivan really did murder Dorothy Wallace. And if Ivan would have known that Dorothy changed her will because she was sick of being stolen from by her own family, she would still be alive.
“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this,” Ivan pleaded.
“Your words are not enough.” Fern sniffed. "I can't even look at you anymore."
“When I mixed her medications, " Ivan desperately continued, "I thought she would end up the hospital, not the cemetery. I was trying to show her that she needed to share her wealth because her time was limited."
“Oh, you're right," Fern scoffed. "That is so much better than murder. What's wrong with you?” Fern huffed, wiping tears from her cheeks. “So you thought that if you just got her to the hospital, whatever happened after that wouldn't be your fault? You're pathetic, Ivan."
"I don't expect you to understand," Ivan muttered. "Your career is more important than me. It always was."
“I want a divorce,” Fern whispered. Her eyes were glossy, and she crossed her arms to hide her shaky hands.
“After all, I did for you,” Ivan responded, his tone suddenly turning harsh. "How ungrateful."
Fern shook her head. “Ungrateful? You're joking. I should have divorced you last year when I had the chance. What was I thinking giving our marriage another shot? You obviously will never change. And now you have actually lost your mind.” Fern took a few steps backward. “Goodbye, Ivan.”
Fern's walk turned into a run as she jogged down the shoreline and back toward the hotel. Joy's heart raced as she and Sara Beth were left alone with Ivan. But Ivan seemed to have forgotten about Joy and Sara Beth’s presence as he became lost in his own thoughts. The two women stood in stunned silence as Ivan dropped his pocket knife into the sand, turning toward the ocean. At first, he appeared to be wandering aimlessly through the waves, but it didn’t take long to realize that he was headed straight for a point of no return.
“Joy,” Sara Beth said, clutching her friend’s arm.
“Good heavens,” Joy replied. “I think he’s going to drown himself, Sara Beth.”
“What do we do?” Sara Beth was quick to answer her own question. “We have to get the police, and we have to hurry.”
Joy glanced back more than once as if keeping an eye on Ivan would stop him from doing another horrible thing. If Fern hadn’t already called Detective Sugar, Ivan would most definitely be consumed by the waves before help arrived.
As Joy and Sara Beth sprinted for the Diamond Shell Hotel, they ran into the detective and his team. Joy pointed Detective Sugar in the right direction. No matter what Ivan had done, Joy believed that there had already been one too many deaths. It would have been foolish to wish for more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Joy took a long, deep breath as she pulled a tray of sticky cinnamon rolls from the oven. After glancing at the clock and realizing she was a bit ahead of schedule, the baker even enjoyed the luxury of plucking one off the tray for herself and sitting down to enjoy it. It was one of her mother's recipes, and Joy still made it exactly as Patty's instructions directed.
Being surrounded by cakes, donuts, and the sweet scent of the bakery provided just the help Joy needed to make the transition back to normalcy. Joy wanted things to go back to normal, but she also knew that she would be far more grateful now for her mundane routines than ever before. The only thing that was missing was her cat Cheesecake. Joy alre
ady had a plan. When Sara Beth arrived today, she had every intention of explaining that her friend had had quite enough time to decide whether or not she was a cat person. It was time for Cheesecake to come home.
“Good morning,” Sara Beth said as she breezed into the bakery, clearly feeling the same sense of relief that Joy was experiencing this morning. “Glad to see you’re taking a moment for yourself. I too bought myself some extra sweet tea because I'm worth it.”
“It’s going to take more than a cinnamon roll to get the image of Ivan's pocket knife out of my head," Joy commented. "But hey, it's a start."
“Patty's recipes never fail. That smells incredible.” Sara Beth hovered over the tray even before she’d removed her jacket and hung up her purse. “I say this is cause for a celebration. May I?”
Joy’s mouth was too full to answer so she simply nodded, giving her assistant permission to join in. Sara Beth tossed her belongings aside and hurried to get a warm roll. The two of them ate in silence for a few moments before Sara Beth spoke.
“It’s been a heck of a week, but you got through it.”
“Yes,” Joy agreed, running a piece of cinnamon roll over the plate to collect a drizzle of icing that had melted off. “And I think I deserve double credit because not only was I accused of murder and almost murdered myself, but I also did it all without the help of my cat. It’s time for Cheesecake to come home I think.”
The conspiratorial smile that Joy had seen before was back. “No problem. We’re just about through with everything he and I needed to work out.”
“Oh, please, no more of that complicated relationship talk," Joy insisted. "Just give me my cat back, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am." Sara Beth didn't seem bothered. "This afternoon I will bring back your precious little rascal back.”
Joy only raised her eyebrows, eating the last of her cinnamon roll. She took her plate and fork back to the kitchen when the bell above the door chimed. A man with a briefcase entered the bake shop.
