Sweet as Pie Crimes

by Anisa Claire West

  Pursing my lips tightly, I muttered, “Thank you,” and turned to leave.

  “What are you doing here?” A familiar voice demanded from behind.

  Whirling around, I found myself in a deadlock with Betty, looking sour as ever. I stared at her quizzically, wondering how she could come to work the day after her husband was killed in a car accident. Her face betrayed no emotion at all; there was no puffiness to her eyes or blotchiness to her cheeks. The woman obviously hadn’t shed a single teardrop. Her very presence at work incriminated her, and I seriously wondered if she had planned her husband’s death to look like an accident. If she had, though, she was a damn fool for showing up at work the next day rather than staying home and mourning in private...or at least pretending to.

  What am I doing here? I might ask the same of you. That’s what I wanted to say, but I knew that such a statement would unveil my knowledge of her husband’s death. And I wasn’t supposed to know anything about the incident. No one could possibly know yet except for immediate family like Betty.

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” I returned curtly as she glared at me from behind her crimson glasses.

  “Did the ghosts find you yet?” She snapped as I ignored her and ran out the door.

  ***

  Back at the shop, I still had a little time to frost my cooled cupcakes and decorate them with candies before opening time. Icing my specially designed Maple Sweet cupcakes, fashioned from real Vermont syrup, I placed a smattering of leaf-shaped candies on top and took solace in the small action. As always was the case with my baking, worries and problems sailed away and a peaceful catharsis overtook me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear Betty’s razor sharp voice, but the sound evaporated into nothingness as I crowned another cupcake with a heart-shaped candy.

  I was running on empty by the time I opened the doors at noon. If Aunt Marilyn were here, she could grab us some lunch. Without her, managing the shop was arduous, and I wanted to lie down just thinking about all the work ahead of me that day. Taking a seat next to the cash register, I gave myself a mini-break, finishing my thermos of chai tea and even nibbling on a Lemon Swirl cupcake.

  The sight of a very livid Mayor O’Donnell looming outside the front door made me choke on my cupcake. What did he want now? And why did he look so angry? I clasped a hand over my heart, struggling to swallow the cupcake that felt like sandpaper in my constricted throat. As a cough finally escaped my lungs, Mayor O’Donnell started beating his fists against the glass door. Frightened, I wasn’t about to call out to him that the door was open. He figured this out soon enough anyway, pushing his way inside like a heathen and standing over me as I cowered in my seat, still choking on cupcake crumbs.

  Gathering my strength, I cleared my throat and jumped out of my seat. The mayor was a short man, and I met him eye to eye. Still, he had a stocky build and could easily hurt me if he wanted to. And it certainly seemed like he wanted to…

  “I tried to do this in the civilized way, but you wouldn’t take a hint!” He boomed as I wondered if he had lost his sanity. “So now, it would seem that your store is in violation of several health codes. It will have to be shut down immediately.”

  “What are you talking about?” I flailed my arms, gesturing to the brand new health and safety certificates on the wall. “My shop isn’t in violation of anything! Why do you want to shut this place down?”

  “Those certificates were forged and you know it,” he baited me as my blood pressure pounded in my temples.

  “They were not forged. They are completely legitimate. Now tell me why you want to shut me down? Are you the one who planted those toxic ingredients? All that talcum powder and shaving cream and cough syrup?!”

  His enraged face turned haughty. “I did no such thing. A health inspector will be here this afternoon to remove those forged certificates from the wall. You’ll be out of business by tomorrow.”

  As he turned to leave, I shouted after him, “You’re not going to get away with this! I know Lorraine Fallow isn’t really your secretary! And I know you’re behind all the dirt that’s been thrown at my shop since it opened. But you’re not going to get away with it!”

  Fidgety with fury, I paced the entire length of my shop, contemplating what to do next. Calling the police was an exercise in futility as I was ensnared in a “his word against mine” trap. Who could help me uncover the truth? I didn’t have any time to waste before that phony health inspector showed up. He was no doubt on the mayor’s payroll and would rip up my certificates even though they were authentic.

  Suddenly, I remembered where this whole mess had started: down at the Sea Ridge Daily News when Andy the salesman neglected to run my ad in the paper. He must have some information that could help me, some substance to fill in the empty space. And now that he didn’t work for the newspaper anymore, he might be willing to talk. But how would I get a hold of him? Switching on my computer, I clicked on the email thread between Andy and me. His email address at the paper would no longer be valid, but maybe I could track him down by his last name. I grinned triumphantly as I read the name attached to his email address: Andrew H. Brauermann. He wasn’t Andrew Smith or Andrew Johnson. He was Andrew H. Brauermann and surely I could track him down.

  Opening a new screen to a people database, I searched his name, elated to find that there was only one Andrew H. Brauermann in the whole state of California. Punching in my credit card number to upgrade my search and access his home address, I felt like I was finally getting closer to solving this diabolical mystery. The database revealed that Andrew lived in the swanky seaside town of Mission Bay, just a few miles down the coast from Sea Ridge. Scribbling the address on a scrap of paper, I grabbed my purse and hopped in my car for a fateful drive to Mission Bay.

  Chapter 10

  Crystal blue skies and boundless sunshine lent me confidence as I cruised down the highway to confront a man I had never met. Maybe I should have told Aunt Marilyn or someone else where I was going, but there was no time for precautions like that. I was on an unstoppable quest and couldn’t squander even a minute of my time. Pulling off the highway at the Mission Bay exit, I coasted along, opening the window to breathe in the salty air and clear my spinning head.

  My GPS told me that I was only 1.2 miles from Andy’s apartment complex. Goose bumps bubbled over my arms, but I told myself they were from the cool air blowing through the window. Traffic was light in the middle of the day and in the flicker of a candle flame, I found myself on the flawlessly manicured property of Pacific Place Apartment Homes.

  Completely unrehearsed, I had no idea what I would say to the man…if he was even home. Damn it, I had already made one wasted trip that day trying to corner Lorraine. Did the same failure await me again? I glanced at my scrap of paper. Apartment 3E. The parking space with that label was taken, occupied by a run down Chevy sedan. My heart palpitated as I realized that Andy was home and I was going to come face to face with him in a matter of moments.

  My knocks were timid at first, then bolder as I pep talked myself into being strong. No one other than Aunt Marilyn had been there to help me since my father died. I was used to doing things on my own, and this was just another day at the office.

  A young, tow-headed man wearing a pair of running shorts and olive tee-shirt answered the door. He looked at me curiously. “Hi there,” he greeted with a hint of flirtation that I dismissed.

  “Hi. Are you Andy?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yes I am,” he confirmed. “Do I know you?”

  “We’ve emailed and spoken on the phone,” I hedged.

  “Okay, look, I don’t need a stalker. Just because we exchanged a few emails on match.com doesn’t mean you can show up at my door whenever you feel like it.” He started to close the door in my face.

  “I’m not some girl from match.com!” I protested, gripping the edge of the door and trying to yank it open. “I’m Danica Mulrooney, owner of Cupcakes by the Sea.”

 
Andy let go of the door and regarded me closely. “And we spoke on the phone about running an ad for your shop? Yeah, I remember. Sorry that it didn’t run. I was just swamped and got my wires crossed.”

  I could tell immediately that he was lying, and I called him out on it. “You and I both know that’s not true. You were fired from the newspaper, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Andy retorted coldly.

  “Actually, it is. Someone’s been tormenting me since I opened the shop, and I’m pretty sure you can tell me why. My shop assistant, Marilyn, went down to the newspaper and spoke with your boss, Larson. He said you don’t work there anymore but wouldn’t say why. But I’m sure that you were fired because you took my ad out on purpose, right? Someone bribed you, didn’t they? And I think that someone is Mayor O’Donnell.”

  The expression in Andy’s eyes hardened as I mentioned the mayor’s name. “I already lost my job because of that bastard. I’m not going to lose anything else.”

  “So you admit it? You took a bribe from the mayor! But why?” I persisted as Andy grabbed the door and started to swing it shut again. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I grasped the door and pulled it open as Andy fell back a couple of inches, startled.

  “Look, if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police. You’re harassing me.” He stood tall, towering over me and trying to intimidate me with his size. But I had come too far to let anyone bully me into backing down.

  Gently, I tried a different tactic to get him to talk. “You didn’t want to lose your job at the paper, right? You want to be a journalist, not an ad salesman. True? That’s why you were working at the newspaper. Because you want to be a journalist. It’s who you are. Just like a baker is who I am. If it weren’t for your greed in accepting whatever bribe the mayor offered you, then you would still be at that newspaper working your way up the ladder instead of browsing through want-ads.”

  “You have some nerve! Who do you think you are talking to me like that?”

  Okay, maybe my point came out more heavy-handed than I expected it to. But I knew I could reach him if I kept going. “Maybe you can get your job back if you help frame the mayor. I know you said you ‘don’t want to lose anything else’ and I’m assuming you mean your freedom. Accepting bribes is illegal, but if you help police and give away the real criminal in all this, then you probably won’t be prosecuted at all. Best of all, you’ll save my job and yours. Maybe you’ll even be able to get a better job after breaking the story of the mayor’s scandal.”

  I sensed that somehow I had gotten through to him. Without preface or warning, Andy opened up. “Remember the ad that ran where yours was supposed to be?”

  I wracked my brain but found only a blur. “No, not really. I was so upset that day.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you. It was for Sally’s Scones & Sweets. Her shop is famous in Sea Ridge. And until you opened your cupcake place, it was the only gourmet bakery in town.”

  “Okay, but I don’t understand what the mayor has to do with this,” I said, the details still fuzzy.

  “Sally’s last name is O’Donnell.” He left the clue hanging over me like dripping molasses.

  “And she’s related to the mayor?” I surmised, my jaw tightening with impatience.

  “She’s the mayor’s daughter.” Andy sighed deeply, as though he had just unloaded a great burden.

  “Now it makes sense! So he was trying to protect his daughter by getting rid of the competition!” What had seemed so nebulous now appeared perfectly logical. “But there was also a woman named Lorraine Fallow who posed as the mayor’s secretary on the phone. She’s not really his secretary, though. She’s a real estate agent…”

  “And she probably got bribed by him too. He’s a name-your-price kind of guy. No amount is too high for him. O’Donnell’s probably got half of Sea Ridge under his control.”

  I shook my head incredulously as everything fit together. Mayor O’Donnell never intended to be at my ribbon cutting ceremony. He made the date and broke it at the last minute to make me look bad. Betty, while a royal nuisance, had nothing to do with any of the misdeeds executed against my shop. I still didn’t know exactly who had planted the poisonous ingredients, but I knew they were all surely linked back to a bribe from the mayor.

  “Thank you so much for telling me the truth,” I said sincerely, feeling a wave of emotion rush through me to finally be enlightened. “Now if I could just ask you one more favor…”

  “What’s that?” Andy asked warily, but the stoniness was gone from his features.

  “Come with me to the police station and tell the cops the whole story.”

  ***

  At the police station, Andy and I sat in separate rooms, telling our versions of the story to intently listening officers. Apparently, the cops had been eyeing Mayor O’Donnell for a long time and even suspected that he was bribing people after receiving a tip from none other than Larson, Andy’s former boss. Larson’s testimony wasn’t enough to close in on O’Donnell, but the added boost of my story corroborating with Andy’s should be plenty to get the mayor both impeached and prosecuted.

  Eagerly, a police officer escorted me into the room where Andy had been spilling the details. “Do you have all the recording equipment set up?” The officer asked.

  “All ready to go,” his colleague replied with a smirk.

  “What’s going on?” I queried curiously. Andy was cracking his knuckles and looked incredibly nervous.

  “In exchange for immunity, Mr. Brauermann is going to lay a little trap for the mayor over the phone,” another police officer informed. This was turning into a spectator sport as officers piled into the room to get an earful of the conversation.

  “Dial his office. Go!” The sheriff instructed as Andy took a deep breath and prepared to give the performance of his life.

  “Mayor O’Donnell’s office. How may I help you?” A woman, presumably the mayor’s real secretary, spoke into the phone.

  “Um, yes, this is Andrew Brauermann. I’d like to speak with the mayor please.”

  “Just a moment.” Everyone in the room waited breathlessly to see whether the mayor would take the phone call. I feared that he would dodge the call, perhaps suspecting that the walls were closing in on him and have his secretary spin some yarn about being in a meeting. But the next voice we heard was the distinctive nasal rasp of Mayor O’Donnell.

  “Andy? What’s up?” The mayor asked as though he were talking to an old buddy.

  “Hey Sam,” Andy greeted as I raised my eyebrows, shocked that they were on a first name basis. “How’s everything going at City Hall?”

  “Good. Busy. Let’s cut to the chase. Why are you calling me?” Impatience laced the mayor’s response, but he didn’t sound suspicious---yet.

  “Well, maybe you heard that I got fired from my job at the paper. I was let go after my boss overheard one of our phone conversations.”

  “That’s a shame. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you on my payroll,” the mayor promised as all eyes in the room widened to the point of popping. The mayor clearly had no clue that he was being set up. He probably had become too cocky, wrongly assuming that the phone was a safe medium and he wouldn’t be found out as long as he didn’t put anything in writing.

  “Okay, good, I’m glad to hear that because I’m running a little low on cash. Maybe you could help me out?” Andy suggested, reading from note cards that the officers had prepared.

  “How much do you need?”

  “You gave me $1,000 to keep Danica Mulrooney’s ad out of the paper and replace it with your daughter’s. It was just $1,000 right?”

  “Yes,” the mayor replied brusquely. “Aren’t you too young to have memory problems?” He chuckled arrogantly.

  “Since I’m out of work---and not eligible to collect unemployment---I was wondering if you could hook me up with another $5,000. I think the job is worth at least that amount.” Andy’s nervous demeanor had
transformed to cool and calm with each piece of bait that the mayor caught in his drooling mouth.

  “$5,000?! You’re dreaming, Brauermann. If you want $5,000, you’re going to have to do some more work.” The mayor’s voice sizzled with indignation.

  “Sure. What did you have in mind?” Andy asked casually.

  “Well, I need someone to pose as a health inspector and go down to Miss Mulrooney’s shop this afternoon. You’d be perfect for the job. Just make sure you dress up real nice in a suit and tie. Look the part. Your job is to find her shop unfit to serve food. Shut her down once and for all,” the mayor ordered as I shook my head in disbelief. How could anyone be so conniving?

  “You got it, Sam. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “There are plenty of things you can do, but that’s all for now. Once that damn cupcake factory is shut down, I won’t have to worry about breaking in at night to switch out her ingredients. And my daughter will have all the success she deserves.” Satisfaction and revenge were rich in the mayor’s tone as I contemplated all that he had just uncovered. So it had been him who had snuck into my shop after hours! As my mind processed the details, the officers winked at each other. Suddenly, a commotion ensued on the other end of the phone line.

  “What the hell is going on?” Mayor O’Donnell bellowed as the cops switched off the recording.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  “Mayor O’Donnell is being arrested. The cops just showed up at his office. We’ve got more than enough evidence to book him,” the sheriff answered as I sighed with gratitude.

  “Thanks for doing the right thing,” I whispered to Andy. “I’m sure it will pay off for you in a big way.”