Custom Baked Murder

by Liz Mugavero

  “Wow, you’ve been busy,” Brenna said, surveying the kitchen.

  “We have. I’ve sketched out a couple new recipes, too, if you want to try them.”

  “Awesome. We can play around with those today, right, Francie?”

  “Absolutely,” Francie said. “I’m so glad I’m working with pet food and not human food. I’d be five hundred pounds!”

  Stan laughed. “They’re human-grade, so feel free to sample. I’m going to take Caitlyn and Eva up to the clinic. They’re going to help with the animals.”

  “How nice!” Francie exclaimed. “The younger you teach a child to care for animals, the better. By the way, will you see your mother today? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

  “I probably will,” Stan said. “Why, what’s up?”

  “Pastor Ellis and I wanted to meet with her and Tony about the wedding ceremony. He has some questions, and I have a lot of planning to do.” Francie tied her plaid apron around her waist. “I want to be sure she’s happy. And with everything else going on, she doesn’t need more to worry about. I also wanted to offer to do some meditations with her. Does she meditate?”

  Stan almost laughed out loud, but disguised it with a cough. “I don’t think so. I would love to do some meditations, though, if you want to work with me instead. Heck, I could’ve used one this morning.”

  “I would love to!” Francie exclaimed. “I’m sure you must be feeling some stress. I should’ve thought of that. We can do a yoga and meditation session. You can come to my studio. I have a small one in my house.”

  “I would love to meditate.”

  “Tomorrow, then!” Francie clapped her hands. “Bring your mother, too. She’s a wonderful candidate for meditation.”

  “I’ll try,” Stan lied. “I can’t wait!” She grabbed her latte off the counter and went to get dressed.

  Jake came down the stairs as Stan was on her way up. “Brenna here?”

  “She is.”

  He looked relieved. “You calling Jess? About . . .”

  “Yeah. I have to stop by and see her.”

  “Let me know what happens. I have to go to the pub for my delivery.” He kissed her and took off.

  Stan showered, dressed, then called Amara.

  “Hey. Forgive me yet for the concert?”

  Amara laughed. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s a long story and much better suited for a few glasses of wine,” Stan said.

  “I hear that. Tell me when and where.”

  “Soon. Meantime, can my sister and my niece come help Diane at the shelter today? They’re looking for something to do.”

  “Absolutely,” Amara said immediately. “Perfect timing. Diane’s stressed out because she’s full at both sites. We’re actually going to have a special adoption event on Thursday, so would love the help. Tomorrow and Thursday, too, come to think of it. Vincent and I were going to jump in but we also have a full schedule.”

  “A special adoption event?” Stan asked, her brain kicking into gear. “Any interest in pairing that up with a fundraiser to get the new local K9 a bulletproof vest? Or would that cut into Diane’s fundraising?”

  “No, she would love that. She’s been trying to position us as a community partner. That’s perfect,” Amara said. “It’ll be from six to nine. He can bring the dog, they can do a demo. People love to meet K9s. This is great, Stan!”

  “Sweet. I’ll tell Trooper Colby. Thanks so much, Amara. And Caitlyn’ll be over in a while. I’m taking her to the library first.”

  Two missions accomplished, she grabbed her tote bag, collected Caitlyn and Eva, and drove them to town. Then she took a deep breath and drove to the B&B. Time to tackle her mother again.

  She was thankful to see Patricia’s car parked in a guest slot on the side of the inn. She was less thankful to see Kyle’s car there and wondered how often he and her mother crossed paths. She rang the bell, hearing strains of jazz music from inside. Char opened the door with a champagne flute in her hand and a neon green apron tied over her yellow dress.

  “Sweetie!” she exclaimed, throwing her free arm around Stan. “Come in! I was introducing your mother to dirty rice.” She ushered Stan inside. Patricia sat at the table, also with a champagne flute. Kyle wasn’t in the kitchen.

  Stan motioned to the flutes. “Are you guys celebrating something?” she asked.

  Char shook her head. “Your mother needed a mimosa with her eggs today. ’Course, I had to try it out to make sure it tasted good. Hadn’t made mimosas in a while. I was rusty.” She winked at Stan. “Now she’s learning how to make dirty rice. It’s for dinner, if you’re free.”

  “Sounds great, but being free is highly unlikely.” Stan glanced at her mother. “How are you doing?” she asked stiffly. They hadn’t spoken since their disagreement at her shop yesterday.

  Patricia smiled, but it was more of a grimace. “Fine.” She looked, by her usual standards, like something the cat dragged in. Which, to normal people, meant she’d dressed down, in linen lounge pants and a cashmere sweater. She’d pulled her hair back in a bun and wore barely any makeup. Odd for this time of day.

  “Well. I thought the three of us”—she nearly bit her tongue off saying the words—“could get together and sketch out the kitchen so Frank can officially get working on it.” She pulled out a chair and sank into it.

  Patricia looked at her. “The three of who?”

  “You, me, and Char.”

  “If you want me to be involved, that’s fine,” Patricia said stiffly. “I don’t want to overstep.”

  Stan resisted the urge to bang her head on the table.

  Char poured something out of a pitcher and handed it to Stan. “Here. You need a mimosa, too.”

  Stan accepted the glass without argument. Char nodded approvingly and refilled her own glass. “I would love to help sketch out the kitchen. By the way, Stan, I meant to thank you for helping Francie. She’s over the moon about working for you. She came over last night to tell me.”

  “I should be thanking you. She’s lovely,” Stan said.

  “She’s had a rough go of it,” Char said. “I’m so happy to see her enjoying life a little again.”

  “I don’t know her story,” Stan said. “She did allude to losing her son.”

  Char nodded. “And her husband. She doesn’t talk about it much.”

  “You have someone working for you?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, Char referred her,” Stan said. “I figured you’d be happy that I did something ahead of time. Anyway, I needed to ask you something else.” She took a deep breath. Better to do this while Char was in the room. She could help moderate if the conversation went sideways. “I’ve been thinking about you and Tony, and wanted to offer some help.” The words nearly choked her on their way out of her mouth.

  Her mother glanced at her, interested now. Char froze, waiting to hear where this was going. “I want to offer him some of my time. As an advisor.” She couldn’t bring herself to use the word “coach.” “There’s going to be heavy media attention on this situation, and I can help him navigate it.”

  Patricia remained silent for thirty seconds, then broke into a smile wider than any Stan had seen in a long time. “Why, Kristan! How thoughtful of you. I’m so proud.” She leaned over in her chair and wrapped Stan in an unheard-of hug.

  Stan met Char’s eyes over her mother’s shoulder. Char raised an eyebrow, then turned back to her dirty rice.

  “I’m going to go call him now,” Patricia said. “I know he’s already gotten a number of requests for interviews to which he hasn’t responded. That’s not good for the image. He’ll be thrilled.” She hurried upstairs with new pep in her step.

  Stan let out her breath in a whoosh, picked up her mimosa, and drank. Char brought over a steaming plate of dirty rice. She figured if she was going to keep drinking mimosas, she’d better eat something. “Thanks,” she said, and dug in.

  Char perched on the chair Patricia
had recently abandoned. “What was that about?” she asked finally.

  Stan paused, her mouth full of rice. After chewing and swallowing, she dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. “What?” she asked.

  Char huffed. “You know what! Don’t play dim with me, missy. I’m onto you.” She shook a finger swathed in an enormous gold ring at Stan. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stan protested.

  “Humph.” Char crossed her arms across her bulk. “You’re up to something.”

  Stan said nothing and focused on her rice. “I’m not. I want to help my mother. If helping him does that, then I’ll do it.”

  Char continued to stare at her. Stan ate more rice.

  “Now what?” she asked finally.

  “I’m waiting for the full story,” Char said.

  Stan dropped her spoon. “Fine. You’re right. There’s more to it.”

  “I knew it,” Char crowed, then immediately looked at the stairs to make sure no one was listening.

  “But,” Stan said, “I can’t tell you right now.”

  Char huffed. “What on earth do you mean? You tell me everything! I can keep a secret!”

  Stan refrained from commenting on that. “Look, you’ll have to trust me on this, okay? It’s . . . complicated. But I do need to know if you saw anything weird happening at the party the other night before I got there.”

  “Weird like what?” Char asked.

  “Anything. People arguing, or acting funny?”

  Char’s eyes were like two alien probes staring into her brain. Stan squirmed under the scrutiny. “So your goodwill gesture has to do with the murdered woman,” Char said.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Char dropped her voice even lower. “You need to be careful, sweetie. This isn’t a joke.” She wagged her finger at Stan. “I adore your mother, but there’s something about that man I just don’t trust.”

  “I hope you’re not talking about me.” The voice behind them made them both jump guiltily.

  Chapter 40

  Stan whirled around to find Kyle McLeod grinning at them.

  “Sweetie, of course not.” Char got up and went back to her food. “Come have some rice. I’m making my famous strawberry cake, too.”

  Great timing, Kyle. She couldn’t ask Char to elaborate in front of him. “Isn’t my mother coming back?” Stan asked pointedly.

  “She might be,” Char said. “But they’re all my guests. You don’t mind eating with Ms. Connor, do you?”

  “No way. When she’s my mother-in-law, we’ll be eating together a lot.” Kyle pulled out a chair and sat. “I haven’t seen your mother yet, but I’d love to,” he said to Stan. “I want to make everyone understand that I’m for real.”

  His mother-in-law? Stan rolled her eyes. “You’re for real, all right,” she said. “The musical trio at the crack of dawn sure sounded real.”

  Kyle winced. “In my defense, they weren’t supposed to come at that hour. They ended up booking another job later in the day and had to travel out of state, so they asked if they could visit Caitlyn early. I said yes, but forgot to ask them to be more specific. I certainly didn’t think they meant that early.”

  Stan sighed. “What are you trying to do, Kyle?”

  “Prove to your sister that I love her,” he said. “And convince her that I’ll never, ever betray her trust again. I know I behaved like a real jerk.”

  “Say you do convince her. Then what?”

  He smiled. “Then we live happily ever after.”

  “I see,” she said. Why was everyone so crazy? Char giggled at the stove.

  But Kyle seemed to think it was settled. “So how’s the café planning?” he asked, like they were old pals catching up over drinks.

  “Fine,” Stan said. “Are you still working with Sheldon?”

  Kyle hung his head. “I am,” he admitted. “It’s crazy, I know, after everything that happened. But not for long. I couldn’t pull the plug yet. I need the money. And he needed some help, too. He lost some ground after . . . what happened.”

  “Really? Did he get the Food Channel contract?”

  Kyle grimaced. “No. That was a debacle. Losing Pierre hurt him, and losing you was tough, too.”

  “Me? I’m not even anybody,” Stan said.

  Char gasped and wagged a finger at her. “You don’t talk like that, missy!”

  “Sorry,” Stan muttered. “You know what I mean,” she said to Kyle.

  “I agree with Char,” he said. “You shouldn’t say that. You’re on the fast track. And now that Nutty’s got some recognition—”

  “Nutty?” Char asked. “What do you mean?”

  Kyle looked at Stan. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about Foodie.”

  Char would skin her alive for not telling her. She adored Nutty. “I heard about it,” Stan said with a cautious look at Char. “I haven’t seen it yet. I don’t suppose you have a copy. Nikki was supposed to send me some—”

  “Saw what?” Char demanded.

  “Nutty,” Stan and Kyle said in unison, then looked at each other.

  Kyle grinned. “He’s the cover photo and the feature article subject in the latest issue.”

  Char gasped and screeched at the same time. “Why did I not know this? I knew I shouldn’t have let my subscription lapse. We need to get that framed. What’s the matter with you, Stan? You should be up on your own PR. You’re slipping, doll. I guess I need to order them, if you’re not paying attention!” She bolted out of her chair and grabbed her iPad off the counter.

  Stan looked at Kyle. “Do you have it with you?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I got it last week, and didn’t think to bring it with me. It was a fabulous story. I’m jealous.”

  “I can’t believe the reporter didn’t even let me know,” Stan said.

  “I’m sure she figured you’d be anxiously awaiting the issue.”

  “As she should have been,” Char said, closing her iPad cover with a snap. “I’ve ordered some copies. Twenty,” she added.

  Twenty? “Wow. Thank you,” Stan said.

  “Anyway, since I’m not a big star like him—and you, by default—I’m still figuring out what to do next,” Kyle went on. “A lot of it depends on Caitlyn.”

  “Now that sounds like a love affair to me,” Char remarked, doing a drive-by fill-up of Stan’s mimosa glass.

  “No more,” Stan protested. “I have a lot of work to do today.”

  Char made a swatting motion with her hand, dismissing her protests. “Yes, you do. You have to go buy every copy of the magazine where that baby is featured. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have more mimosas.”

  “But you ordered twenty copies!”

  “Not a bad idea,” Kyle said, nodding at the mimosa. “Especially if you get dragged into a conversation about the dead lady like I did this morning.” He made a face. “Not what I wanted to do before my coffee.”

  Stan stared at him.

  “What? I couldn’t help it. I went to the general store to get some ingredients to cook with Miss Char here”—he winked at Char, who promptly blushed—“and there was a whole lot of conversation about it. Looked like half the town was in there picking apart the details. And a pretty hot debate about who really killed her. I got pulled into it just because I was in the store. Nobody wanted to hear that I didn’t know anything about anything.”

  “What do you mean, who really killed her?” Stan asked. Jessie would have a stroke if she heard this.

  Kyle shrugged. “Some people don’t think that guy did it. The one they arrested.”

  Stan glanced at Char, who listened with interest. “Oh, honey,” Char said. “You think this is the first time I’m hearing this?”

  “It’s the first I’m hearing it,” Stan said. “What were they saying? Who do they think it is?”

  “I heard someone mention the mayor.” Kyle glanced toward the stairs, also making sure Stan’s
mother wasn’t listening. He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice. “A couple of people thought your mother caught them having an affair. Something about an engagement ring. One person said they were in on it together, the mayor and your mom. I know it’s all trash talk,” he added hastily.

  “They mentioned a ring?” Stan asked. “What about it?”

  “I didn’t hear the whole thing. I was trying to find some organic mint leaves, and the selection wasn’t—”

  “Never mind the mint,” Stan interrupted. “The ring. Focus.”

  “That it was with the body.” He scratched his head. “Something about her getting killed over it. So anyway, what’s Caitlyn up to today?” Kyle asked.

  Stan gave up getting more information out of him. “Kyle, she’s angry at you. Whatever you do, do not follow her around town. She’s already called the state police.” Caitlyn’d said she didn’t have to talk to him on her behalf, but Stan didn’t want any more drama in town. If she could prevent Kyle from doing any other stupid things, maybe they could all have a day of peace.

  “She did?” Kyle threw his head back and laughed. “She’s such a spitfire. Are they going to arrest me?”

  “No,” Stan said through gritted teeth. “But you don’t need to make things worse.”

  “I know. I’m going to do everything in my power to make it better. She just needs to give me a chance.” He fixed beseeching eyes on her. “If you could put in a good word for me that might help.”

  “You must not know my sister well,” Stan said.

  He gave her a funny look. “How long is she staying with you?”

  “I’m not sure. But I have a feeling she might leave sooner than planned if the serenades keep up.” Stan pushed her chair back and stood. “I have to go.”

  Char wagged a finger at her for the second time today. “I’ll be calling you, sugar.”