The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Nancy McGovern

  It was at that moment that Deputy Valdez came down the stairs, his face grave and pale. Everyone fell into a hushed silence as he made his way across the lobby to where they were. Tamalynn reversed her path to the bathroom and scurried back next to Chad.

  “There is no pleasant way to say this,” the Deputy said. “Karen is, indeed, as we suspected, dead.”

  Faith put her head in her hands, listening to the murmurs of the people around her.

  “This is getting too scary now,” Tamalynn whispered to Chad. Faith’s vision was covered by her hands but she had a mental image of Tamalynn snuggling into his shoulder.

  No one else said anything for a while.

  “We will be questioning each of you one by one,” Deputy Valdez eventually said. “Please remain where you are. No one is permitted to leave the building.”

  Faith had eaten a chicken salad sandwich for lunch. It had been delicious, but now she could taste it in her mouth, feel it in her stomach, and it all felt deeply unpleasant. The moment that lunchtime, sitting on the bank of the sun-glittering, whispering ravine, with the tropical green vibrant all around her, felt like a whole world away.

  “Faith Franklin, I will begin with you. Come with me.”

  A whole universe away.

  *****

  “What were you doing this morning?” Deputy Valdez asked.

  “I went with Laura for our morning jog at 6.30am, as usual,” Faith said. She had decided not to get emotional this time. She’d answer his questions, detached and cool, then go back to Slice of Paradise strong and ready to work. The last thing she wanted was to be a quivering mess all afternoon, ending the day with another whole tub of ice cream and nonsense TV. If she kept on going like that, her whole month would end up a total write off. “Then Nathan took us to a nature spot with a waterfall where he wanted to get some plants for the Paradise Point grounds.”

  “And when did you return?”

  “Marigold was ringing me constantly but I didn’t have my phone on,” Faith said. “I turned it back on to see plenty of missed calls so I called her back and she told me you’d requested I come here.”

  “Okay. And who was with you at the nature spot with a waterfall?” It seemed so mechanical to Faith, the way he repeated her exact words. He looked into her eyes with piercing scrutiny, and she only just managed to hold eye contact.

  “Nathan, Laura and Yale Trigg, Laura’s boyfriend.”

  As soon as she said ‘Laura’s boyfriend’, his gaze snapped away from her. He was looking down, in the direction of his papers, but Faith could tell he was staring right through them. She felt sorry for him for a moment.

  But as soon as his gaze lifted again, all that disappeared. His eyes were so cold she could have shivered. “Karen Spencer was strangled in her hotel room. It was in the same type of situation as the Wilhelmina Roby murder, only that the means of delivering the fatal injury were different. This time Karen’s own silk scarf was used.”

  Faith shook her head. “What a horrible way to die.”

  “Put your hands on the table, Miss Franklin.”

  “Sorry?”

  The Deputy stared her down until she lifted her hands and placed her palms flat on the table surface. Faith bit her nails and was always a bit self conscious of people staring at her hands. Deputy Valdez certainly wasn’t easing her feelings by peering right at them, even putting his eyes down to the table level to get a proper look.

  “Why are you doing this?” Faith asked.

  “Do you ever wear false nails, Miss Franklin?”

  “It’s not a good idea to bake with them,” Faith said defensively.

  “Answer the question.”

  “No…” He said nothing, and her self consciousness made her burst out, “You shouldn’t be commenting on people’s personal appearance, anyway.”

  “A false nail was found at the scene of the crime,” Miss Franklin. “In a very identifying color.”

  “What color?”

  “Aquamarine.”

  *****

  Chapter 12

  Deputy Valdez insisted on leading Faith out of the interrogation room and back to the hotel lobby, as if she couldn’t walk down a thirty-foot hallway without being tempted to murder someone else, in addition to her two previous victims.

  “No, Chad,” Marigold said heatedly. “I will not be carrying on, and I will not be transferring the money so you can carry it on yourself. Absolutely not!”

  Faith gasped as she looked down at Marigold’s hands and saw her nails as she made her passionate gestures in Chad’s direction – false, and painted aquamarine.

  Deputy Valdez froze when Faith gasped, then tracked her eyes down to Marigold’s hands. “Aha,” Faith heard him say under his breath.

  Faith’s brain whirred. Marigold? Why would she kill Karen?

  Deputy Valdez strode up to Marigold. “Miss Rochford.”

  “I prefer Ms.,” she said. “What?”

  Faith secretly felt a bit glad to hear Marigold being so abrupt – the Deputy Sheriff got a taste of his own medicine.

  “I see you have aquamarine finger nails,” Deputy Valdez said.

  Tamalynn actually laughed, then clamped her hand over her mouth. In truth, it did sound a bit comical, a straight down the line serious Deputy Sheriff commenting on someone’s fingernail color.

  “Is this a joke?” Marigold said, shoving her hand on her hip.

  “Hold your hands out.”

  “What?” He made the same icy stare he had at Faith, but that wasn’t enough to whip Marigold into shape. She repeated herself, her tone sharpening by the second. “What?”

  “Please hold your hands out, Ms. Rochford,” Deputy Valdez said. If Faith was hearing right, she swore she could detect a tiny quiver in his voice. Was he intimated by Marigold?

  “Why?”

  “Just do as the man says,” Chad huffed.

  Marigold clasped her hands behind her back. “What is this? Why are you marching in here, demanding I show you my fingernails?”

  “Ms. Rochford,” Deputy Valdez began so loudly and forcefully that it made Faith buzz with anxiety.

  Suddenly, Tamalynn was up from her chair, laughing nervously. Her eyes darted from Deputy Valdez to Marigold and back again, an appeasing look in them. “Please, don’t fight,” she said. “Look at my nails.” She waggled them. “I don’t normally opt for red, because it’s such a bold shade, but since I usually get French tips I thought I’d go for a change,” she gabbled. “I do actually think it’s too bright, and I should have gone for a more subtle shade. Red wine, perhaps.”

  Chad took her by the hand, surprisingly gently, Faith thought, compared to his previous actions. “Come on, honey,” he said, pulling her close.

  Immediately she sunk into him, snuggling her face up against his chest. It looked like if she could shrink herself and jump in his top pocket she would.

  Deputy Valdez was not in the least bit distracted. His cold blue eyes were fixed on Marigold. “Show me your nails, Ms. Rochford. Lift your hands so I can see them, please.”

  Marigold sighed, then flung her hands up in front of his face. “There. Happy now? What is the relevance of this, Deputy Sheriff?”

  “Marigold, you’ll need to come in for questioning.”

  “Yes,” she said impatiently, “you’ve already informed us of that.”

  “No, not down the hallway,” Deputy Valdez said. “Down at the Department. One of my colleagues will continue the questioning here.”

  Faith watched Marigold closely, trying to see if she could spot any signs of innocence or guilt. Marigold looked wired, in all honesty. Her body was ungainly and wiry at the best of times, but now her movements were more jerky than ever. Her eyes were wide and frantic, shining and glazed over, almost like an animal’s eyes. Fear? Faith wondered.

  “I can’t,” Marigold said. “No, no, I can’t.”

  “Just go, for goodness’ sake, Marigold,” Chad said. “Or you’ll make it worse for yourself.”
>
  “No,” Marigold said, and Faith was beginning to feel concerned. Marigold looked genuinely terrified. Was that because she was guilty? That thought flashed through Faith’s mind, but… something didn’t feel right. Marigold looked like she wasn’t quite… there. Like she didn’t really know what was going on. Like a fear had gripped her in its snare and now she couldn’t think straight. She was backing toward the back wall of the lobby, saying, “No, no. I can’t go. I can’t.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Deputy Sheriff Valdez said. He took firm steps toward her, then slapped handcuffs on her. “You’re not under arrest,” he said, looking into her shell shocked face. “This is just as a precaution.”

  “I… I can’t,” Marigold said again, this time less certainly.

  Deputy Valdez led her toward the front entrance. When Marigold passed Faith, her eyes regained focus for a moment. “Come with me,” she said, trying to grab Faith with her handcuffed hand. “Please,” she said, all the lines around her eyes looking deeper than ever. “Come with me.”

  Faith felt a twisting in her gut, but she didn’t know what it meant. Was Marigold guilty? If she wasn’t, then something weird was definitely going on, the way Marigold was acting. There had to be.

  She hurried along behind them, out the front entrance and down the stone steps. “Deputy Valdez,” she said. “Please can I come? Marigold wants me there.”

  She expected some smart remark about them being partners in crime, or otherwise an outright no. But he actually said, “Get in the front of the car next to me and don’t say a word to her.”

  Faith sat up in the front as she was told, while Deputy Valdez bundled Marigold into the back and buckled her seatbelt, then got into the front seat and started the squad car.

  Faith looked back at Marigold, who was staring numbly out the window. “Marigold, are you…” she began, then remembered what Deputy Valdez had said. “She doesn’t look okay to me. At all. Maybe we should get her to a hospital? I don’t know. Something just isn’t right.”

  Deputy Valdez snorted. “Convenient, isn’t it? That as soon as I saw her nails, she goes into full on breakdown mode. No, Miss Franklin, I am sure that if she is capable of running a very well attended cupcake contest, then she is equally capable of answering a few questions in an air conditioned office with a reasonably comfortable chair. There is nothing for her to fear.”

  “Except the fact that you haven’t told her what’s going on or why she’s being carted there,” Faith snapped. She kept looking back at Marigold, who was so glazed over it seemed she was in another world altogether. It certainly didn’t look like she was listening, or could even hear them. “Seriously, couldn’t we get her a nurse or something? Or a counselor?”

  “When you’ve been in this profession for as long as I have—” the Deputy Sheriff began, but Faith didn’t have time to listen.

  She was scrambling in her bag for her phone. She needed someone who knew about psychology and dealing with people in distress. And that someone, of course, was Laura, who was acing the psychology section of her class on emotionally disturbed children. Faith found Laura on her last made call list and hit the green button.

  “What are you doing, Miss Franklin? You do not have authorization to make calls.”

  “I’m sorry,” Faith said, the phone ringing in her ear, “but there’s something not right. And if you won’t get a counselor or anything, at least Laura might know what to do.”

  Faith was hoping the mention of Laura’s name would shut Deputy Valdez up for at least a few moments, and it did. That gave her enough time to relay the situation to Laura in a couple of frantic sentences.

  “I’ll get Stephanie to cover,” Laura said without hesitation. “I don’t know if I can do much but I’ll try my best.”

  *****

  When they got to the Sheriff’s Department, there turned out to be a saving grace. The two interrogation rooms were occupied, so Marigold had to be put into a holding cell until one freed up.

  “Please can we talk to her, Tyler?” Laura asked as Deputy Valdez closed the barred door behind Marigold and turned the key with a horrible metallic sound that went all up Faith’s spine. “Just until you’re ready to speak to her?”

  Deputy Valdez stared steadily at her for a moment, then made a flickering glance at Faith. “Okay,” he said quietly. “But only because… but only for a moment.” Then he hurried down the corridor without a backward glance.

  “Marigold,” Faith said, rushing up to the bars and not wasting a minute. “What’s going on?”

  Marigold sat on the bench in the cell, staring into space. Faith and Laura waited for a half minute or so, but she said nothing.

  “Marigold,” Laura said. “It looks like you feel numb. Spaced out. Is that true?”

  A long pause, then, “Yes.”

  Faith opened her mouth to ask why, but Laura quickly put her finger to her lips. “Wait,” she mouthed.

  Then, after what seemed like a painfully long time, Marigold said, “How could someone do that?”

  Laura stood by the bars, looking intently at Marigold. “You’re surprised about what someone has done.”

  “Yes,” Marigold said with passion, then got up from the bench. “How could he? How could he dare?”

  “I know, right!” Faith burst out. “Deputy Valdez is—”

  “Not him!” Marigold said. “Chad.”

  “Okay,” Laura said calmly. “So Chad’s done something?”

  Marigold paced up and down. “Yes, I mean, no. I don’t know. He… the nails… but… I don’t know, I really don’t. Just forget it.”

  Laura’s voice was so soothing and calm that even Faith was feeling more relaxed. “You have a lot of confusing thoughts right now?” she said.

  “He was the one who gave me the beauty kit,” she said. “With the file and the bath bomb and the shower gel, and the nail polish and the tweezers, but that doesn’t mean… I…”

  Faith wondered if Marigold really was losing her mind after all, since she was talking about something so random. “Chad gave you a beauty kit?”

  “He always did,” Marigold said with an empty, faraway smile. “I liked them. As an apology for his temper. And yet it flared again this morning.”

  “You were arguing over the future of the contest,” Faith said.

  “Yes.” Marigold shook her head. “Polynesian Sea. But…”

  Laura frowned, but her voice was light. “Polynesian Sea?”

  “The nail polish…”

  “Oh!” Faith said. “Chad gave you the beauty kit and the nail polish was in there?”

  Marigold kept on striding up and down the cell. “Your aquamarine fingernails…”

  Faith said, “Yes. Deputy Valdez said that an aquamarine false fingernail was found at the scene of Karen’s murder.”

  Marigold flopped down on the bench like Faith had punched her in the stomach. “But all my nails are here. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

  Faith peered through the bars. Indeed it did seem like all of Marigold’s nails were intact. Though she could have still lost one and replaced it, Faith supposed.

  Laura was beginning to look skeptical. “So… your cousin gave you a beauty kit with aquamarine nail polish in it called Polynesian Sea? Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  Faith shot a meaningful look in Laura’s direction. “Marigold, you wanted to stop the contest and he wanted to carry on,” she said. “I heard you saying this morning that you didn’t want to, and you wouldn’t be providing the money. Sorry if this is prying, but it might be relevant to know where the money actually comes from anyway.”

  Marigold looked up, that wild animal look replaced with total and utter defeat. “It’s my father’s. Truman Rochford. He never really saw me growing up. Left my mom and came back just one day every Christmas. I thought he was a poor farmer in Tennessee. That’s what he always told us, anyways…” She trailed off, looking up into a random corner.


  “But…?” Laura pressed.

  “Turned out he had thousands of acres in Tennessee. I only found out after he died, so I don’t know if he used them or what his story was. But I sure didn’t want them, so I sold ‘em. Since my momma…” She gulped. “Since my momma didn’t see a penny out of him all those years, it made sense I… do something with it… for her.”

  *****

  Chapter 13

  “So Chad framed her!” Faith said as soon as they emerged from the too-cold air conditioned atmosphere of the Sheriff’s Department and out into the Florida heat. The parking lot was sparse, with one dry tree curling over and looking like it needed a good watering. Nathan would have had plenty to say about it.

  “Hmm, I don’t know,” Laura said. “I mean, she did look pretty convincing, but this could all be a ruse. Maybe she just bought the kit for herself, painted her nails, killed Karen for whatever her reasons were. Then when she got caught she just blamed it on Chad because they were already fighting.”

  “Maybe,” Faith said. “But think about it. Maybe Chad is trying to get his hands on the money Marigold got from her father. That’s why he wants to keep the contest going, perhaps? He could have killed Karen, then framed Marigold so she would go to jail and he could step in as the good nephew, reviving the contest for his favorite aunt Cynthia.”

  “Yeah, but why kill Karen?”

  Faith was already sweating, and looked around for some shade. Apparently the Sheriff’s Department weren’t all that keen on trees. “I don’t know. Maybe because of the whole Baking Babes thing?”