Custom Baked Murder

by Liz Mugavero

  Jake grinned. “Lor, you’re a master. Betty, you good with that?”

  Betty sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I reserve the right to ask you for help moving it again when Lorinda is on vacation.”

  “You got it.” Jake moved the couch into position, then slung his arm around Stan. “Outside?”

  She nodded and collected Scruffy from Betty’s grasp. They slipped out the back door behind the nonfiction section where the library backed up to the town green, and crossed the parking lot to the walking path. Scruffy pranced along, happy to be going on a solo walk with her parents despite the cloudy, overcast day. Stan could smell rain.

  “What’s going on?” Jake asked.

  “My mother’s crazy,” Stan said. “She’s not even dealing with the fact that someone was murdered in her house. Instead she’s having Frank’s people buy equipment for the shop that I didn’t even pick out and brushing me off when I tell her to stop. She wouldn’t answer any of my questions, even when I told her it was because I care about her. I was going to try to bring up the whole working-for-Tony thing, but she made me so mad we just ended up getting into a fight.” She hadn’t realized how upset the whole conversation had gotten her until she noticed her hands were shaking.

  “Whoa. Wait a minute. Working for Tony?” Jake stopped walking and turned her to face him. “I think you need to back up.”

  She sighed. “I do. I’m sorry. I need to fill you in on what Jessie and I talked about yesterday. But this always happens with my mother. I get so frustrated I feel like I’m sixteen. What a loser, right?” She laughed without humor. “I’m thirty-seven and I still can’t figure out how to not let her get to me.”

  “Oh, babe.” Jake pulled her against him and hugged her. “Stop. You are not a loser.”

  “Feels like it sometimes.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You should talk to Jessie. She goes through it with our mother.”

  Stan tilted her head back to look at him. “Really?”

  “Totally. They fight almost every time they’re together. It’s their thing.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think my mother and I had a thing,” Stan said thoughtfully. Scruffy tugged at her leash, impatient to keep going. Reluctantly, Stan let go of Jake and obliged. They started walking again.

  He slipped his hand into hers. “Maybe you do,” he said. “And maybe it’s not too late to change the kind of thing you have.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, watching Scruffy stop and sniff every tree, different patches of grass, and rocks along the path.

  “So you going to tell me the rest of it?” he asked finally.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “It’s kind of crazy.”

  “Try me.”

  She filled him in on everything that happened yesterday, from Izzy’s story about Wallace to her subsequent conversation with Jessie. “No matter how I feel about Richard, I don’t think he did this. I told you that from the beginning. And neither does your sister. But Tony’s got some clout with the cops, and everyone’s brushing this under the rug. My mother, too.”

  “Wow,” he said, digesting the story. “That’s a lot.”

  “It is. What do you think?”

  Jake raked his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I think it sounds like a TV show. But that said”—he held up a hand when she started to protest—“that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

  Pacified, Stan nodded. “Right.”

  “So Jessie doesn’t think Richard’s guilty.”

  “She worded it a little differently. She did say people heard him fighting with Eleanor. But she’s more suspicious of Tony because of his vanishing act and her superior’s reactions.”

  “Right. Did you ask your mother about Tony?”

  “I did. She basically told me it was none of my business.”

  Jake snorted. “I’d bet a night’s worth of bar tips that whatever Tony was up to, she either didn’t know or didn’t approve.”

  “That’s the feeling I got, too,” Stan admitted. “And when I asked Tony, he told me the same thing.”

  “You asked Tony?”

  “I did.”

  “Stan. Be careful. If he did have something to do with it, he’s not going to like it if he thinks you’re stirring up trouble.” He looked at her sideways. “Does this have anything to do with the working-for-Tony thing you mentioned earlier?”

  “I’m going to offer to be his executive coach.” She said it fast. Rip off the Band-Aid.

  He was silent for a long time. Stan braced herself.

  Instead of protesting and lecturing her about what could be a potentially stupid move if Tony was, in fact, guilty of something, he reinforced exactly why she loved him. “You know I’m not crazy about him anyway,” Jake said. “But I would never tell you not to do something. And if my sister’s hands are tied and she’s looking for some help . . .” He trailed off. “Of course I would support you.”

  “Really?” she asked, surprised. “I mean, thank you,” she added hastily.

  “I wouldn’t get in your way,” he said. “And I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me. I don’t want us to have secrets from each other.”

  “No,” she agreed. “Neither do I. Ever.”

  “Ever,” he said, squeezing her hand. “So you’ll keep me in the loop?”

  “Of course. You can’t tell anyone. Jessie’ll get in trouble. You can’t even tell her I told you.”

  He nodded. “Deal.” They walked in silence a little longer. “So Richard and Eleanor had a fight.”

  “That’s what they’re saying.”

  “What was his relationship with Eleanor?”

  “I don’t know,” Stan admitted. “They didn’t have one when I knew them both, but that was a long time ago. Who knows. She was tough. But I still don’t believe he could kill anyone. Not even her.”

  “The Curtis Wallace thing is interesting,” Jake said. “Especially since he led the charge to get Tony elected.”

  Stan stopped walking and stared at him. “He did?”

  “Yeah. You weren’t here long enough to know all the players, but Curtis campaigned hard for Tony. I think part of it was Mona. He doesn’t like strong women. Thought it was time for her to get out of office.”

  “Terrific. One of those.” Stan made a face. “But he came up to Mona in the bar yesterday, all drunk and belligerent, telling her she may get her job back because we should impeach Tony. Then he said she’d had her time, or something like that.”

  “Yeah. He’s a piece of work. Not sure what he thought Tony was going to do, but he was all in.”

  “Wow. Hey, do you know what a mayor’s salary is?”

  Jake shook his head. “No. But you’re wondering about his house.”

  “I am.”

  He thought for a minute. “I’m going to ask my parents about the Trumbull family. They may know something about how Tony ended up there.”

  “Thanks. Richard’s bail was set at two million bucks,” Stan said.

  Jake whistled. “Steep.”

  “Yeah. Someone posted it, though.”

  “Just like that?” Jake shook his head. “You’re right, the pay must be pretty good over there.”

  “Mmmm,” Stan said noncommittally. She wondered about Michelle. Would she pony up that much money to save Richard? If not her, then who?

  “Well, at least he’s able to go home while this plays out,” Jake said. “But someone else is sitting pretty right now, thinking they’ve gotten away with it.”

  Chapter 34

  Stan couldn’t remember the last time she and Jake’d had a real date, even just dinner out. Between the pub, getting the shop ready, and keeping up with her existing customers they were both too busy to do much more than grab ready-made meals from Abby at the general store or a quick breakfast at Izzy’s. So trying the new Asian fusion restaurant near Hartford—Scott’s recommendation—sounded exciting.

  “I think we’re getting old,” Stan said to Jake
as they walked into the restaurant to meet Scott and Brenna. “This is my idea of a big night out.”

  “We could really go crazy and see a movie after,” Jake said.

  “The dogs and cats would miss us,” Stan protested. “Well, the dogs at least. I’m not sure the cats care that much. Hey, guys.”

  Brenna and Scott waited just inside the door of the restaurant. “What don’t the cats care about?” Brenna asked.

  “If we stay out late,” Stan said. “Which we probably won’t do because we really aren’t that exciting.”

  “We’re not much better,” Scott said. “Brenna works late most nights and I don’t think I could go out after that if I wanted to. I’m usually ready to crash. Although when I visit her at the pub I feel like I’m cooler than I probably am.”

  Brenna laughed. “Don’t worry. I still think you’re pretty cool.”

  Scott approached the hostess and gave them his name. Stan looked around while they waited. The restaurant had a soothing feel. Soft meditation music piped through the speaker system. The cream-colored walls had a purple tinge from the dim lights. Strategically positioned screens throughout the dining area gave the tables an air of extra privacy.

  “Cool place,” Jake remarked, pulling out Stan’s chair for her.

  “I feel bad we didn’t invite Caitlyn,” Brenna said, sliding into her own seat. They’d left her happily working on the computer in Stan’s kitchen while Eva ran around the house with the dogs. “But I’m so glad I finally get to try this place. Scott comes here for lunch all the time and keeps torturing me with images of all-you-can-eat sushi.” She leaned against Scott and kissed his shoulder.

  “Don’t feel bad about Caitlyn,” Stan said, picking up her menu. “I think she’s actually enjoying the peace and quiet of our little town. And she’s pretty intent on getting me up and running on this business software she was raving about. Bren, I have no idea what you did to her, but I’ve never known my sister to have any interest in working on anything besides her tan.”

  Brenna giggled. “She’s not that bad. I just mentioned that you’d need all kinds of help so you didn’t burn yourself out trying to do everything, and she jumped on it. Wouldn’t you much rather do the fun stuff like baking and social media anyway?”

  “Yeah. Once I actually have a kitchen.” Stan turned to Jake. “Do you know when they’re going to get started? I never got a chance to ask Frank’s guy today.” She grimaced, pushing away the memory of her meeting with her mother. “He was too busy writing down everything she wanted to order.”

  “Whenever you give them the design,” Jake said with a grin.

  “Ouch. I need to huddle with Char. And don’t tell my mother that.”

  “For the record, I’m not having meetings with your mother every day.”

  “Thank God. Although after today, I’m not having meetings with her anymore, either, at least not without a mediator.”

  “I know. I’ll take that role,” Jake said. “Don’t worry.”

  “When do you open?” Scott asked.

  “December. Right before the holidays. As long as everything goes as planned.” And as long as I don’t give my mother her money back. “How was Francie today, Bren? I feel bad I had to leave. I hope you didn’t mind teaching her.”

  “Mind? I think it’s awesome,” Brenna said. “She’s a great cook. She jazzed up the blueberry bites with a touch of pear. It was amazing.”

  “That’s great.” Relieved, Stan pushed her chair back. “I have to run to the ladies’ room. Be right back.”

  On her way to the front of the restaurant, she passed through the bar. And slowed when she saw a familiar face. Michelle Mansfield, huddled miserably over a beer bottle while a friend talked quietly to her, obviously trying to console her. Michelle’s usually big hair looked as sad and dejected as she did, hanging flat against her head. She’d traded in her low-cut sweaters and tight skirts for a conservative pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Things must be bad.

  Stan instinctively started to duck her head and hurry past. Michelle probably didn’t want to see her anyway. But guilt got the better of her. She backtracked and hurried over, touching Michelle on the shoulder. Michelle’s companion stopped mid-sentence and looked up expectantly.

  “Michelle. Hey.”

  Michelle turned. A host of emotions crossed her face until it settled into a mask of distrust. “What do you want?”

  Stan took a step back, her hand falling to her side. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “How I’m doing.” Michelle laughed without humor. “I’m doing great. My boyfriend was arrested for murder. How are you doing?”

  “I’m going to use the restroom,” Michelle’s friend said, and fled.

  “Michelle. I’m so sorry this is happening. For the record, I don’t think Richard could ever do anything like—”

  “Save it,” Michelle hissed. “It’s your fault he was out there anyway.”

  “My fault?” Stan asked, stunned.

  “You and your boyfriend had to get him agitated enough that he needed to go cool off. Or do whatever he was doing out there. Which made him easy pickings when they needed someone to take the fall.” Michelle shoved her stool back and stood, ready to walk away.

  Stan blocked her, tamping down her temper. “Listen,” she said. “That was uncalled for. I want to help Richard. I don’t believe he did this. So stop attacking me and tell me what you know about Eleanor. And why someone in that house wanted her dead.”

  Chapter 35

  Stan’s strong words surprised Michelle enough to shut her up. Her anger visibly deflated. “Let’s talk outside,” she said.

  Stan followed her out to the small foyer inside the main door. When they were alone, Michelle faced Stan. “What do you mean you want to help him?”

  “Just what I said. But you can’t tell anyone we had this conversation. It’s . . . complicated.”

  “Why should I trust you? You’re involved with all those people.” She spat the word like one would a bite of salad with a hair in it.

  “I’m probably the least involved with those people out of anyone who was there,” Stan said. “Aside from being a blood relation to Tony’s fiancée. And that’s not my fault.”

  Michelle looked like she didn’t want to believe her but had no other choice. “So what are you going to do to help Richard?”

  Stan hesitated. “First, how is he?”

  “He’s a mess. He spent the weekend in jail. And it’s not over.” There was no drama behind the words, just simple fact.

  Stan knew all too well what it felt like to be accused of something she hadn’t done, even though she’d never spent time in jail while it was sorted out. “I’m going to start with trying to figure out who hated Eleanor enough to kill her. If the police get real evidence about someone else, they’ll have to drop the charges.”

  “I hope you have a lot of time,” Michelle said dryly. “Someone like her has more enemies than friends. Richard was nothing compared to how the rest of us felt.”

  So Michelle was among Eleanor’s group of haters. “Tell me why.”

  Michelle rubbed her neck as if trying to work out a kink. “I’m so sick of thinking about it. This woman takes up so much space in my brain it makes me sick. But she was making all our lives miserable. God rest her soul,” she added with a glance toward the ceiling.

  “Meaning the people who worked with her? How so?”

  Michelle paced the small hallway. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Finally, she shoved them in her pockets. “First she took over your job. You knew that, right?”

  “I heard that.”

  “Yeah. Well, that was the beginning. Then they ‘expanded her responsibilities.’” Michelle used air quotes. “She was basically on track to take over everything. She was already impossible but it went to her head. She was so bent on all that power she thought she was getting. She left a ton of human wreckage in her path, too. Pe
ople quitting left and right, whether they had jobs to go to or not. When they weren’t being brought out on stretchers from their nervous breakdowns.”

  The whole concept of living that way felt alien to Stan now. It even made dealing with her mother seem more bearable. “That’s terrible. What does that have to do with you and Richard, though? Aren’t you guys in a totally different department?”

  Michelle smiled bitterly. “My, how quickly you forgot how the power-crazy work. Like I said, she wanted it all. She was campaigning hard to merge sales, marketing, and the media team, but she wanted to run the show. Anyone who wasn’t on her bus was on their way out. Which is where Richard came in.”

  “Wait,” Stan said. She had a compelling urge to cover her ears like she did when she was five and wanted to pretend she couldn’t hear her mother ask her to finish her milk. “Are you about to tell me Richard had motive?”

  “Honey,” Michelle said. “We all had motive. And he did hate her. They actually did have a fight at the party. All that’s true. But Richard didn’t kill her. The worst he was planning was his own resignation. She drafted him to do some dirty work for her. Fudging some data. She basically threatened to get him fired if he didn’t help her. She’d already made it so his own boss was on thin ice. So Richard was working fifteen-hour days producing these bogus reports and his hands were tied.”

  Stan processed that information as a couple walked in and Michelle stopped talking. Fudging data? Bogus reports? She couldn’t even comprehend it. But that would not look good for Richard’s case if it got out.

  “Who knows about that?” she asked once they were alone again.

  “No one but me,” Michelle said with a sad smile. “I told him he should call the ethics line but he thought it was all rigged. He figured he’d be the one to go down in flames either way.”

  “Whatever you do, do not tell anyone this story,” Stan said urgently. “It’ll look really bad for him.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Michelle snapped.

  “I just don’t get why she was working on the side for Tony if she was so fixated on the top rung of the corporate ladder,” Stan said.