Custom Baked Murder

by Liz Mugavero

  “She wanted the best of both worlds. She was obsessed with politics, thought there was big money potential there. I think she was training her daughter and some other lackeys to run the business so she could reap the profits.”

  Big money potential with a small-town politician? It still made no sense to Stan. “I just don’t get why Tony. Or why all of you were at my mother’s party.”

  Michelle stared at her. “You really don’t know?”

  “Not a clue,” Stan said.

  “Eleanor used to work with Tony. They were both lobbyists in DC.”

  Stan stared at her, openmouthed. Had her mother known that? Or had her mother’s story about reaching out to Eleanor been a lie?

  “Oh, yeah. They both had agendas,” Michelle said. “Eleanor had big plans for Tony. Thought he’d make a great governor. She’s been relentless on the guy, pushing him to commit to running. She said she’d planned this for years, that she’d done so much for him to get him here. And we were going to help make it happen. The corporate contingency. She wanted to show him she had support built for him before he even hit the trail.”

  Stan leaned against the wall, her head spinning. Tony and Eleanor had a history? Tony wanted to run for governor? He’d just been elected as mayor not even a year ago. That would really get his supporters riled up, not to mention his dissenters. How much of this did her mother know? “But Tony’s platform has been about small towns and farming. Where does the corporate agenda fit into that?”

  Michelle shrugged. “Who knows? In Eleanor’s brain it did. That’s all that counts.”

  “But what was in it for Eleanor?” Stan asked.

  “Payback, sounded like. She did something for him, now she thought he could repay the favor. She wanted to attach herself to his rising star. I also think she wanted her kids in politics. Especially the oldest. And positioning her with Tony from day one, first as part of her company, then as maybe an intern on his staff, would’ve been the girl’s ticket in.”

  Stan remembered Eleanor’s introduction of Monica at the party, the special mention of her daughter’s love for politics and her double major in politics and economics. That poor kid. Patricia Connor was overbearing and opinionated with definite ideas about what her girls should do, but at the end of the day they had each done exactly what they wanted anyway.

  They were both silent, each lost in her own thoughts.

  “So who do you think killed her?” Stan asked finally.

  “Honestly?” Michelle shook her head slowly. “I have no idea. Like I said before, enough people couldn’t stand her.”

  “But ‘can’t stand’ is a long way from kill,” Stan said.

  “Yeah,” Michelle said.

  They stood there for a few minutes. “Listen, I need to get back,” Stan said. “If you think of anything, please call me, okay? And don’t mention this conversation to anyone.”

  Michelle nodded. “Will do.”

  “Please tell Richard . . . I was asking about him.” Stan turned to go back inside, then looked back. “I’m glad you were able to get him released.”

  Michelle’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t post bail. Are you kidding me? Two million bucks?” she laughed without mirth. “I certainly don’t have that to show for all the time I’ve wasted in that job. If I did,” she said wistfully, “you think I’d be sticking around?”

  Chapter 36

  When Stan got back to the table, they all looked at her curiously. “Sorry,” she said. “There was a line.”

  “Isn’t there always?” Brenna said sympathetically.

  Jake leaned over and slid his arm around the back of her chair once Scott and Brenna started talking again. “Everything okay?” he asked in a low voice.

  She nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell you later.” She sipped the espresso martini waiting at her place, then smiled at him. “This is awesome.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  A waiter came by and poured water into their glasses, then looked at them expectantly. “Appetizers?” Scott asked.

  “One of everything,” Brenna said. “I’m starving.”

  They all stared at her. “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Crab Rangoon, then.”

  They also ordered scallion pancakes, edamame, and seaweed salad, then decided to take advantage of the never-ending sushi for their meals. While they waited for their food, Brenna said, “So what did Jess want today with Caitlyn?”

  Stan smiled wryly. “Caitlyn tried to get her ex kicked out of town. Long story,” she added for Scott’s benefit. “So Jessie had to explain how she can’t make people leave town just because someone doesn’t like them.”

  Jake tried to hide his smile. “And did she get through?”

  “We’ll see,” Stan said.

  “Did her ex do anything?” Scott asked. “Is he bugging her?”

  “He sent over a musical trio to serenade her,” Stan said.

  “That sounds romantic,” Scott said.

  “I suppose in other circumstances it would be. But they had a . . . dramatic uncoupling.”

  “Ah.” Scott thanked the waiter as he set down the first of their plates. “Happens. At least he’s trying to fix things.”

  “Isn’t she in the middle of a divorce, too?” Brenna asked.

  Stan nodded. Scott arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like she has a lot going on.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Stan said.

  “Your sister must have a lot going on, too. With that murder the other night,” Scott said to Brenna and Jake. “How crazy was that?”

  “Pretty crazy,” Jake agreed. “But Jess doesn’t talk much about work.” He pushed the edamame plate out of the way so the waiter could deliver the sushi.

  “I do think it was nice of Tony to offer to set up the fundraiser,” Brenna said.

  Stan kept her mouth shut and tasted her miso soup. Brenna didn’t know much about the events preceding the murder, and there was no reason to tell her.

  “That was nice of him,” Scott agreed, digging into his spicy tuna rolls.

  “It’s so sad,” Brenna said. “Mom drove me crazy in high school, but I can’t imagine her not being around.”

  “She drove you crazy? I think it was the other way around,” Jake said.

  “Oh please! After dealing with you and Jessie I was nothing,” Brenna said.

  Thankfully, the conversation turned away from Eleanor and the murder after that. Scott told them more about the new job he expected to be offered any day now. “So if that comes through, you’ve got yourself an extra pair of hands for the pub,” he told Jake. “Since I’ll be living here.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jake glanced at his sister, the question clear on his face.

  “Yeah,” Scott went on, oblivious to Jake’s transition into protective big brother. “I’ll probably get rid of my apartment since my new office will be closer to Frog Ledge.”

  “We’re still discussing living arrangements,” Brenna said defensively. “But there’s no reason why Scott shouldn’t move in with me. It’s silly to pay for an extra place, especially if it’s far away.”

  Scott glanced from Brenna to Jake, finally getting it. “Look, I’m totally in it for the long haul with Bren,” he said. “And I’m happy to help you out any way I can. I can pay you more rent. And I can help you, too, Stan. With the shop. Like I mentioned the other day.”

  “I don’t need more rent,” Jake said. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. You’re both adults. I think you can figure out that if you mess with my sister, there’ll be a problem.” He smiled to take the sting out of the words. Brenna shot daggers at him with her eyes.

  But Scott nodded emphatically. “I hear you. I get it. You won’t be sorry. I have to get the job first anyway.”

  Brenna nudged Stan with her elbow. “Can’t you control your boyfriend?” she muttered, only half-kidding, but Stan had drifted back to Michelle’s revelations.

  “Sorry,” she said, forcing her mind back to the table. �
��Jake, be nice.”

  But Scott took it all in stride. When they walked out of the restaurant later, the rain, which had held off all day, pounded the pavement like it had been saving up all its energy for this moment.

  “Wait here,” Scott said to Brenna. “I’ll grab the car.” He jogged off into the parking lot.

  Brenna grinned. “He’s sweet, right? If you don’t go get your car you look like a jerk,” she told her brother. “Which you already look like, by the way.”

  “I just wanted to make sure he was clear on how things worked with our family.”

  “Yeah, you were a big jerk.”

  Stan held the keys up and winked at Jake. Laughing, he grabbed them out of her hand. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “He’s such a pain,” Brenna said affectionately, watching her brother dodge the rain as he ran for the Audi.

  “He loves you. So you’re really thinking of moving in together?”

  “It’s been a couple of months. Just because it took you guys forever doesn’t mean it has to take us that long,” Brenna said. “I like having him around. Usually I don’t want the guys I date around all the time.” She shrugged. “That must mean something, right?”

  She had a point. “You’re right. I’m happy for you. You guys coming back to Frog Ledge tonight?”

  Brenna nodded. “Scott’s not working until tomorrow afternoon.” She glanced up as a car pulled to the curb a few feet ahead of where they waited. Stan turned to see if it was Jake, but it wasn’t her car. It was a red sedan that looked vaguely familiar. Then her eyes landed on a black oval sticker on the back with white writing: SOCIAL WORKERS ROCK.

  Red car. Black sticker. Something something rock.

  Stan froze. This couldn’t be the car she’d seen in front of Tony’s house on Saturday night picking up Monica Chang. That was crazy. Tons of people had stickers saying something rocked.

  Scott leaned over and opened the passenger door from the inside.

  “See you tomorrow,” Brenna called, jumping into the car. Scott waved, then drove off.

  “Yeah,” Stan murmured, watching the car drive away, squinting to see the license plate in the rain. This time, she could make out the whole thing: 487 BDR.

  Her sushi rolled over in her stomach. The sticker could’ve been a coincidence. The license plate and the sticker? Not so much.

  This was the car Monica Chang jumped into when she’d slipped out of the party.

  Chapter 37

  “What do you mean, the same car?” Jake kept his eyes on the road—the weather was horrible—but Stan could see his hands tense on the wheel. She hadn’t wanted to tell him until she was certain, but figured he’d never forgive her if she kept a suspicion like that to herself.

  “I can’t be sure, but it looked like the car Monica got into Saturday night,” Stan said. “I went out the back door to see if she was out there, after Sturgis told me she was gone. A red car pulled up. A red car with a sticker like Scott has, but I only saw the last word: ‘rock.’ He has a sticker that says ‘Social Workers Rock.’” She hesitated. “And I only saw some of the letters on the license plate, but those letters are on Scott’s, too.” She grabbed the door handle as Jake hit the gas. “Hey. Slow down.”

  “Sorry.” He eased up. “But if this guy is involved in this somehow, he’s alone with my sister. And moving in with her, apparently.”

  “I know. But how he would be involved? That would mean Monica had something to do with it. And she didn’t look like she was in good enough shape to stand up, never mind strangle her mother.”

  “Can you call Brenna? Make sure she’s okay?” He pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

  She took it from him and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”

  “I’m crazy and overprotective. But that’s my little sister.”

  Stan dialed. Brenna answered on the second ring. “Hey. I’m almost there,” she said, figuring it was Jake. “I told you I was going to help with the cleanup, so you don’t need to come.”

  “It’s Stan. Jake, uh, wanted me to call and make sure you were okay. You know, with the weather. The driving’s kind of bad.” She raised her eyebrows at Jake.

  “He’s too funny. We’re fine, just getting back to Frog Ledge now. Tell him thanks for calling.”

  Stan disconnected. “She thinks you’re crazy.”

  “You couldn’t have come up with something better than that?”

  “I have too much on my mind to be clever.” Stan handed him back the phone and rubbed her temples. “I’ll talk to Jessie. She can run the license numbers and see if there’s another red car that’s similar. It can happen.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “But most coincidences really aren’t coincidences. I’m going to have her run a background check on that guy.”

  Stan leaned her head back against the seat. “This whole thing is so crazy. I saw Michelle Mansfield. In the bar. That’s why I was gone so long tonight.” She gave him the abridged version of the conversation.

  “You’re kidding,” Jake said.

  “Wish I was. I’m trying to figure out if my mother knew they had a history. Or if my mother lied to me about how Eleanor and Tony started working together. But if they were such good friends . . .” She trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

  “Doesn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of falling out,” Jake said grimly. “Stan, I don’t know about you being in close proximity to Tony. I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  But she was already shaking her head. “There’s no other way. If I can get a handle on Tony, maybe this will help Jessie get the case reopened.” What she didn’t say: If Curtis Wallace brawling with Eleanor can’t make that happen, it could be a long shot.

  Chapter 38

  Tuesday morning Stan awoke with the roosters across the green, buoyed by the bright sunlight streaming into her window. At least the town would dry out after yesterday’s rainstorm. But even during a rainstorm, most days in Frog Ledge could be considered beautiful. Instead of waking to a loudly beeping alarm, stumbling downstairs to make coffee, finding an outfit that made her look perfectly put together and locking herself away in an office all day, she kept her own time. She still rose early most days, but now she didn’t rush out of the house. She worked—and lived—in yoga pants or jeans. She took her dogs walking on the green whenever the mood struck, hung out with Jake at the pub when he worked, visited her friends around town, and sat on her porch, listening to the sounds of the country instead of honking horns, traffic, or other altercations. Frog Ledge was peaceful.

  Right now, though, a sense of unease hung over the community. Eleanor’s death—the death of an outsider at the home of another outsider—shook everyone despite news of an arrest. Tony’s position didn’t help. People were left wondering if they could trust him. Even if he personally didn’t have anything to do with Eleanor’s death, it still called into question his choice of associates, and their associates.

  Ugh. So much to figure out. Stan slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Jake sleeping. She’d brew some coffee and take it to the back deck where she could sit and think.

  When she went down to the kitchen, Caitlyn already had coffee going. She stood at the stove stirring oatmeal, looking . . . normal in her fuzzy slippers and pajama bottoms peppered with well-dressed ladies in various cityscapes. She even looked a little frazzled. Stan was used to seeing her wearing designer dresses and matching shoes. Never doing lowly things like making oatmeal.

  “What are you doing up?” Stan asked.

  “Getting Eva some breakfast before she wakes up the whole house. I put her out in the backyard with the dogs for a bit.”

  “Your daughter?”

  “What?” Caitlyn asked, offended.

  “You put her out in the backyard?” Stan said.

  Caitlyn sniffed. “You can make fun of me all you want. The nanny helped with these things. I had to get rid of her because
Michael made such a stink about everything. The nanny, not Eva.”

  Stan didn’t have a comment for that, so she beelined for the coffeepot. “Plans for today?” she asked instead.

  Eva banged through the back door, the four dogs hot on her heels. “Mommy! The dogs want oatmeal, too.”

  “The dogs can’t have oatmeal,” Caitlyn said. She glanced at Stan a little desperately. “Anyone Eva can have a playdate with around here?”

  Eva pouted. “I don’t want a playdate. I’m playing with the dogs.”

  Stan hid a smile. Her niece reminded her of herself as a child—animals over people. “I don’t know a lot of kids, but maybe go to the library?” she suggested. “They have all kinds of kids’ programs. I can let Betty know you’re coming. She could find a friend there.”

  “I guess.” Caitlyn stirred the oatmeal, then spooned it into a bowl and handed it to her daughter. “What are you doing today?”

  “Work,” Stan said breezily. “What else? Things are crazy, getting the shop ready and keeping up with everything else. Hey, you could also go to Izzy’s. Her café is a cool place to hang out. Or—I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before! You could talk to our animal control officer. She has a small shelter area set up in the new vet clinic. I’m sure she’d love some new volunteers.”

  Caitlyn brightened. “Eva would love that. Will you show me where it is?”

  Stan nodded. “It’s right on Main Street. I can take you over when I leave. I’ll call Amara and let her know.”

  Clearly cheered at the prospect of getting out for a bit, Caitlyn turned to Eva. “We’re going to go meet some of the other dogs and cats in town. Does that sound fun?”

  Eva squealed and clapped, forgetting her spoon was in her hand. Oatmeal splattered the table and floor. The dogs hurried to clean it up. “Oops. Sorry. Can we bring some of them home?” she asked hopefully.

  Stan and Caitlyn looked at each other. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” Caitlyn muttered.

  Chapter 39

  Brenna arrived at nine sharp with a shopping bag full of fresh ingredients, two lattes from Izzy’s, and Francie on her heels. Stan and Eva had a head start—two batches of treats. Baking usually helped Stan untangle any problem, or at least calmed her down. Today her problems seemed worse than normal and she still didn’t feel particularly untangled or calm, but at least she’d been productive.