by N. M. Howell
“Thoughts?”
“You look great,” Rory said, beaming at me. “Just don’t embarrass yourself by spilling anything on it, or falling in those boots of yours.” She winked at me.
I laughed. “Oh, you know I’ll screw something up.”
I checked my phone and saw that I only had fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet Jordan.
“Crap, I gotta go.” I grabbed my bag and kissed Rory on the cheek on my way out. “Don’t wait up.”
For the sake of time, I rode my bike into town. Luckily, the clouds had cleared and it didn’t look like it was going to rain.
I locked my bike up in front of work and noticed JoAnn pacing in the window of our office. She had her arms folded behind her head, and she looked upset.
I still had five minutes before I had to meet Jordan, and my conscience insisted I go up and see what was going on. “Dammit,” I muttered to myself as I climbed the stairs.
JoAnn was alone in the office and continued to pace as I opened the door and came in.
“Everything okay, JoAnn?” I asked.
JoAnn jumped as my voice startled her and she stopped pacing.
“Oh, hey, River,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Was just on my way to dinner and I saw you through the window. Are you okay?”
JoAnn sighed and sat down at her desk. “Yes, I’m fine. Just dealing with some personal things.” Her eyes flicked to Zack’s desk, and I could guess who she was referring to.
I didn’t ask for details. Not only was it none of my business, but I really didn’t want to know.
“Anything I can do?” I asked.
She shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but no. I’m okay. You go enjoy your dinner.”
“Will do,” I said. I tried to give her my warmest smile, but she was preoccupied staring out the window, lost again in her own thoughts.
I walked over to her and squeezed her shoulder. “Things will work out. Try and enjoy the rest of your night.”
JoAnn smiled at me and took my hand in hers. “You’re doing a good job, River.”
That took me by surprise, and I paused for a minute.
JoAnn was a very kind person, and I even considered her a friend of sorts, but when it came to work, she rarely gave out compliments. She never hesitated to rip our work apart or request changes we would have to make on our articles. She had really high standards of work and expected us to submit topnotch work every time.
This was the first time I think she’s ever complimented me on my work. The poor woman must really be rattled.
“Thank you, JoAnn.”
I scanned the office before leaving, to see if I could find any clue as to how Zack would have found out the address we had visited in New York. I thought maybe I had left my laptop in the office or something, but that didn’t appear to be the case. The only way I could think of for him to have gotten that address would have been for him to hack into my computer account or something. Zack was a competitive asshole, but even that seemed a stretch for him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I left her alone in the office. I really hoped she’d sort out whatever issues she was going through. A depressed editor meant a very challenging workday.
I checked my phone and realized I was running a few minutes late, and jogged the rest of the way to Joe’s Sports Bar.
Joe’s was really more of a bar, and that definition was even a stretch. It closer resembled a small restaurant with a bar and a few tables on the main floor of one of the old houses on the main strip in town. They claimed to have the best nachos in town, which I believed as they were probably the only place in town you could actually get nachos.
Jordan was waiting for me in front of the bar, and greeted me with a hug when I arrived.
“Hey,” I said as he released me from the hug. “Sorry if I’m late.”
“Not late at all,” he said. “Shall we?” He motioned towards the front door, and I led the way inside.
We were the only ones in the place, apart from one server who, I suspected, was also the kitchen staff as he was wearing both waiter’s apron and chef’s hat.
We chose a table in front of the fireplace away from the TVs and ordered a couple of drinks.
“So, tell me about New York,” Jordan said. “I want to hear all about it.” The sound of TVs buzzed in the background, and I turned my chair so I wasn’t watching whatever sports news show was on.
Ignoring the TVs, I smiled at him. His blue eyes lit up when he talked to me, and it made my heart melt. Just a little bit.
“It was short,” I answered. “We didn’t really get up to much. Just visited a friend and went for a few drinks.”
“River,” Jordan narrowed his eyes at me.
I paused. “Yes?”
“We both know that you didn’t just go down there to see a friend. What were you guys doing in New York?”
Damn, I sometimes forget that he’s an ex-cop. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” I laughed.
Jordan laughed and shook his head. “Not even worth trying.”
I sighed, then looked around to make sure no one could hear me. The waiter had dropped off our drinks and went back to the kitchen, so I assumed I was safe to talk.
“The girls and I managed to trace the spell that killed Trey back to New York City. We went to investigate.”
Jordan stared at me and I noticed a slight flush appear on his cheeks. “River, what did I tell you about getting involved?”
I rolled my eyes. “I appreciate the concern, but I didn’t really have a choice. If we don’t find out who is responsible for Trey’s death, then Mrs. Pots may spend the rest of her life in prison for manslaughter.”
Jordan sat back in his chair and sipped his beer. “How do we know that she isn’t actually responsible? All evidence points to her, and if there’s anything I learned from my time in the force, it’s that you really never know a person. No matter how close you think you are to them.”
I sighed. “I know without a doubt that she’s not the murderer. She doesn’t have one bad bone in her body.”
“I heard her say, with my own ears, that she wished Trey and Grace would just disappear.” He slammed his glass down on the table with force and I jumped at the loud noise it made. “Everyone knows she wasn’t happy about our dessert shop opening up across the street from her bakery. She had every reason to want Trey gone.”
Okay, now I was starting to get a mad. “Jordan, you don’t know her. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. I promise you, there is absolutely no way that she did this.” The anger was starting to show in my voice, and I crossed my arms when I finished talking. He had no business moving to town and accusing one of our own of murder, and I was starting to second guess my decision in going on a date with him.
Jordan obviously caught on to my change in attitude and reached across the table for my hand. Reluctantly, I uncrossed my arms and placed my hand in his.
He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he said. “We really don’t know what happened. Maybe I’m letting my emotions get the better of me.”
Right, I forgot Trey was Jordan’s close friend.
“I’m so sorry about your friend, Jordan,” I said as I gave his hand a squeeze. “This can’t be easy for you.”
He shook his head. “Whenever I begin to feel sorry for myself, I just think of Grace. I have no business being sad when she just lost her husband.”
“I don’t think it works that way, but it’s kind of you to be thinking of her,” I said. “Have you heard from her at all?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, I’m letting her have her space for now. So, tell me more about New York. Did your investigation lead to anything?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said. I figured there was no sense in keeping secrets from him. As an ex-cop, he might even be able to help us make sense out of everything. “We found the guy who sold the spell that poisoned the cookie.”
Jordan nearly jumped out of his chair. “Are you serious? Did you call the police?”
I shook my head. “No. He was just some dumb low-life drug dealer.”
“River,” Jordan was rubbing his eyes. I could tell he was preparing for another one of his lectures.
“It’s done, Jordan,” I said. “No sense stressing out over it, now.”
This date was really taking a turn for the worse.
“What did he say?” he managed to finally say after taking a few calming breaths. At least, he was making an attempt to be supportive. Once a cop, always a cop.
“Well, we know the person who bought the spell was a woman.”
Jordan nodded. “Okay.”
“They also apparently mentioned baking quite a bit, and we suspect the person might have been a baker.”
A knot formed in my stomach as I heard myself say those words.
“Okay,” Jordan repeated. “You realize this doesn’t look good for Mrs. Pots.”
“I know.”
“Have you told Sheriff Reese about any of this?”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”
The waiter couldn’t have chosen a better time to come take our order. It saved me from having to take any flak from Jordan for not reporting everything I knew to Sheriff Reese.
“There’s something else,” I said.
Jordan cocked an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.
“Zack Brendon was there.”
“Who?”
“The other journalist at work. The one JoAnn hired a few weeks ago.”
Jordan sat up straighter and fixed his eyes on me. “He was in New York?”
“We saw him leave the place where the drug dealer was.” I paused, the memory making me feel uneasy. “They spoke, Jordan.”
“You should have led with that part,” he said. “Did you speak to him?”
I shook my head. “No. He left before we went in.”
“Do you think he’s involved?” Jordan asked. “Why would he have been there?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “But he seemed to be interested if we had questioned the guy.”
Jordan pushed his chair back and looked as if he were about to stand. “Classic signs of someone trying to cover up a trail. River, it really looks to me like this guy had something to do with the murder.”
“Or he was just trying to beat me to the story,” I offered. “It’s not out of character for him to do something this drastic just to advance his career.”
“I don’t know, River.” Jordan was shaking his head. “This doesn’t look good. We need to report this to the sheriff.”
“The guy said the person who ordered the spell was a woman, though, remember?” I said. “And I can’t stop thinking about the whole baking thing. I just can’t bring myself to believe any of this.”
“I know it’s hard,” Jordan said. “But the best we can do right now is just offer as much information as we can to Sheriff Reese, and let him take it from there.”
I sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I think I’ve been mildly in shock since the night of the murder. I’m having trouble making sense of anything. Maybe I’m not thinking straight.”
Jordan reached out and took my hands in his. “It’s not your responsibility to solve this, you know. We’ll go to the station together after we eat, and Sheriff Reese can take it from here. Okay?”
I stared at him then nodded a moment later. “I guess you’re right.”
“For now, let’s just enjoy the evening, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m just having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that Zack might have killed Trey. It just doesn’t make sense.”
The giant tray of nachos finally arrived, and the waiter brought us two new beers to replace our empty glasses. “These ones are on the house,” he said, then winked at me.
I raised my eyebrows as he walked away. “Wow, they must really be grateful for our business.”
Jordan laughed. “I’m guessing they don’t get many people in here on weekdays?”
“Or any day, really,” I added.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I tried to push the stresses of my day out of my mind. That was until the TV caught my attention and I nearly choked.
“Is that Grace?” I asked.
Jordan turned to look at the TV, and his mouth fell open. “Sure is.”
I called for the waiter to turn the volume up so we could listen.
The channel was set to an international news station, and the anchor was interviewing Grace in front of the Coliseum in Rome.
“Is she in Italy?” Jordan asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. What is she doing on TV?”
Jordan shook his head and stared up at the television. “She looks surprisingly good.”
The text at the bottom of the screen read, “Desserti Comes to Rome.”
“The announcement that the popular American dessert restaurant chain, Desserti, is coming to Rome has caused quite the stir in the local culinary community,” the anchor was saying through the television. “We are joined today with the new full owner of the popular chain, Grace Wong.”
I turned back to Jordan. “Did you know about this?”
Jordan shook his head. “Trey never mentioned it. In fact, he told me he was hoping to sell every restaurant apart from the New York City one and this new one in town.”
“That certainly doesn’t seem to be what’s happening now,” I said.
Grace was absolutely radiant on the television; a wide smile spread across her face as she spoke to the anchor.
“I am so pleased to announce that Desserti is going global. We’ve just signed contracts in five major international cities, in addition to the nine new restaurants we will be opening up in the United States.”
“Absolutely remarkable,” the anchor spoke directly to the camera. “And this is all happening after the devastating loss of her husband not two days ago.”
The anchor turned back to Grace. “Grace, how are you handling all of this while dealing with so much grief?”
Grace wiped a tear from her eye as she took the microphone from her interviewer. “It is indeed a tragic time for all of us, but the one thing keeping me going through all of this is the fact that I know Trey is watching over us all throughout the duration of this expansion with a big, proud smile on his face. This expansion was Trey’s ultimate dream, and I know he would be so proud of the entire Desserti team. I know my husband is looking down at me right now.”
Grace put her hand on her heart and looked up to the ceiling above her as tears welled down her face. “Trey, baby, this is for you.”
The scene cut from the interview to a montage of photos of the Desserti restaurant chain.
I slowly turned to look at Jordan. His face was beat red, and his glass was on the verge of exploding under his iron grip. He was shaking his head back and forth and muttering something along the lines of, “That lying bitch,” under his breath.
“Jordan,” I managed to say after trying to find my voice.
I paused as he turned to look at me. “A baker. The woman who bought the spell was a baker.”
He raised his eyebrow, clearly not following my train of thought.
“The woman who bought the spell from that guy in New York,” I repeated. “She baked cakes. She told the guy that she made cakes.”
Finally, he clued in. “You don’t think…”
He turned to look back at the TV, which was still showing pictures of the restaurant. A smiling picture of Trey and Grace popped up on the screen, and Jordan’s glass finally shattered under the pressure of his grip.
We both spoke at once. “It was Grace.”
14
Jordan threw some cash on the table and we ran out of the restaurant together towards Jordan’s car. We had to get to the police station before the state police arrived and took Mrs. Pots away.
“How are we going to prove this?” I asked as Jordan drove us to the station.
&nb
sp; “I don’t know, but we can start with explaining everything from the beginning.” He was practically seething, and I realized I probably should have offered to drive.
The poor guy just discovered that one of his closest friends was murdered by his own wife. I wouldn’t imagine what must have been going through his head at that moment.
Jordan pulled us into the station, and we ran inside to find the front office full of people in uniform. Sheriff Reese was behind the desk with his eyes closed, rubbing his temples, and looking particularly stressed out.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
The officers around us ignored me. I coughed, and Sheriff Reese opened his eyes.
“River,” he nodded to me. “Jordan.”
One of the officers checked his watch and looked sternly to the Sheriff. “We don’t have all night, Reese.”
I looked to the officer who spoke. “We have evidence proving Mrs. Pots’ innocence.”
The officer cocked his brow and looked down at me with an amused look in his eye.
“Well, we have evidence suggesting an alternate suspect,” Jordan said.
Sheriff Reese walked over to us. “What have you got?”
I paused and glanced around the room. “Can we go in the back?”
“Whatever you have, you should say it in front of everyone,” Sheriff Reese said. “I’m no longer running this investigation.”
“Who’s in charge, then?” Jordan asked.
The officer standing before me turned to Jordan. “That would be me. Officer Trenton.”
Jordan reached out to shake the man’s hand. “O’Riley. I was with Boston until recently.”
One of the other officers stepped forward and smiled. “Looking good there, O’Riley.”
Jordan smiled. “Hey, Josh. Looking good, yourself.”
The two men shook hands.
“Okay, enough with the friendly talk,” I said. “We have evidence to suggest that Trey was murdered by his wife, Grace.”
Sheriff Reese looked shocked. “Grace? Really? What proof do you have?”
“Motive,” Jordan said. “We think she killed her husband to get take control of their restaurant business.”
“Grace was on television,” I added. “As the new owner of Trey’s restaurant chain, she just announced their international expansion to a bunch of different countries around the world.”
