Laura fanned herself. “Ugh, it’s so hot. Let’s at least go around the side, I think there’s shade.”
“Yes!” Faith said. She felt like diving into a swimming pool right at that moment, feeling the cool water ripple up around her. “It seems weird, though, for him to kill Karen for that. Surely he’d just expose her, like Nico was doing?”
They found a spot where the building created shade on the ground outside, and leaned against the wall for some cool relief. “That would make much more sense,” Laura said. “Do you think Marigold has a motive?”
“Well, she did for Wilhelmina,” said Faith. “She said she reinstated her after that whole nasty letter business because she was a good baker. But maybe she wanted to kill her for it instead. Some people take these things very personally.”
“True,” Laura said. “Though it seems a bit of a stretch. But let’s say that’s why she killed Wilhelmina. What about Karen?”
Faith crossed her arms and looked out over the uninspiring view – a parking lot in front of a launderette. It certainly was a lot easier to think by the beach at Paradise Point, or at their new ravine hangout. “I don’t really know their history.”
“Ugh!” Laura said, throwing her hands up. “You just hit the nail on the head! I feel like I don’t know any of these people. I think there are some stories behind this baking contest, like how all these people know each other and stuff, and we don’t know any of it. I’m sure there’s some real funny stuff going on. Like that whole thing with Tamalynn and Chad, and her accusing him of cheating with Wilhelmina. There’s got to be more to that.”
“Do you think he did?” Faith asked.
Laura shrugged. “She’s quite a bit older than him, but she was an attractive woman. And Tamalynn and Chad’s relationship seems to be a bit… up and down. So maybe, I guess.”
“You know what?” Faith said. “I think we need to go talk to Chad. He seems to be at the center of everything right now, and I’ve barely spoken to the guy. I just have to go to the drug store. See you at the tearoom in a bit, right?”
*****
“So,” Chad said, smiling, “how can I help you two ladies?”
Faith had come up with a quite ingenious plan. She’d called up Krystle - the editor at the Paradise Gazette, to which they contributed a baking column every month – and told her they’d forego their usual recipe that month and include an interview with one of the Cupcake Marathon judges instead.
“We just want to ask you a couple of questions,” Faith said. “We wanted to include a little about the history of the contest for our readers.”
Chad was leaning back in his chair, looking relaxed and actually quite handsome. When he wasn’t scowling or looking like the world was on his shoulders, he had a very nice face with a light tan and expressive hazel eyes.
They sat in the conservatory of the Paradise Inn, a lounge area with glass walls, white wicker furniture, and tropical plants galore. A glass topped wicker table between them held tea that Faith felt too hot to drink – Chad had ordered a whole pot. Faith took up her iced tea and plate with a dainty French pastry on it, and tried to look as casual and friendly as possible. The last thing they wanted to do was make it look like an interrogation.
“Does that sound all right?” Laura asked. “You know, you telling us how the contest started?”
He smiled. “Of course. I’d love to share the history. Especially as we’re planning to continue on for years to come. Despite the very tragic… tragedies that have happened. Sorry, please don’t write that in your column, the wording was very unsophisticated.” He smiled in a charming way. “I’m not much of a wordsmith, I must confess. When I write my reviews, I always have a professional writer put a much more eloquent spin on them.”
“Your reviews?” Faith asked, interested.
“Yes…?” he said.
“Sorry,” Laura said, “we don’t know what you actually review.”
His eyes flashed wide for a moment as he poured himself a cup of tea. “Oh, well, since you’re not from New York, perhaps you wouldn’t know. I am a pastry critic for one of the top lifestyle magazines in the city.” He smiled conspiratorially. “So I get to make a living by going around and stuffing my face with delicious treats. And get paid handsomely for it, too. What could be better than that?”
“Sounds like a dream,” Laura said cheerfully, but Faith could hear the impatience in her voice. “So you’re an obvious pick for the judging panel. We’d love to know a bit more about how the panel came together.”
Chad nodded, stirring sugar into his tea. “Well, Karen knew Marigold from…” He trailed off, staring into the whirlpool he was creating in his teacup, then sighed. “Karen. I can’t believe… I just… Well, we had our differences, but she was goodhearted, I guess, despite her mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” Faith asked.
“It’s Marigold’s fault, really,” Chad said. “She’s too trusting of people. She thinks because someone makes a good friend, they’ll make a good judge. Marigold met Karen at culinary school. Marigold wasn’t actually very good – she always tried to meet my Aunt Cynthia’s expectations but didn’t have the natural flair. On the other hand, Karen was brilliant. Excellent, excellent chef. And baker, too. Always has been. She started the Baking Babes back in her college days when they used to have regular baking contests. Over time it grew and grew. Then she ended up opening her own chain of restaurants – Pizza Ricci – so didn’t have time for the Babes anymore. The lineup switched a few times, but Karen was always their queen, even when she wasn’t involved. She should have never been a judge in the first place. There would always be that bias.”
Faith nodded. “Doesn’t really seem fair to the other competitors. Nico implied there was money involved, too. Bribery, basically.”
“I can’t speculate on that,” he said. “But it’s no wonder Marigold didn’t really think that through. She’s practical-minded, sure, but she’s not fully invested in this contest, anyone can see that.”
Faith privately thought differently. It seemed Marigold poured a great deal of time and effort – not to mention her father’s money – on making the contest a great experience for all. All that community outreach stuff was especially impressive. But Faith nodded along, wanting to keep Chad right on side.
“I heard Marigold saying maybe she wouldn’t like to continue running it,” Faith said. “Do you think you’d step up to the plate?”
Chad tried to stay nonchalant, but he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. “Oh, maybe,” he said, then sipped his tea. “I was in contact with Cynthia Rochford throughout, so one might even say she’s more my mother than Marigold’s. Marigold only reinstated contact five years ago, the same year she did the first contest. Out of guilt, if you ask me, but don’t put that in the article. This contest was just a sorry attempt to try to gain those twenty years she’d lost with her mother back. I should have run the contest from the start. My Aunt Cynthia would have liked it better that way. Marigold doesn’t bake or cook anymore, either, so I don’t see what her qualification is as leader of this thing, anyway.”
“It sounds like you’re much more qualified, to be honest,” Laura said, playing along. “So how did Tamalynn get on the judging panel? And, more importantly, how did you two love birds meet?
His face softened. “Tamalynn… she’s an amazing woman. I couldn’t wish for a kinder, sweeter woman to be married to, I really couldn’t.”
Faith didn’t get the impression he was lying, but that he was holding something back. Now, how to wiggle it out.
“What’s her interest in baking?” Laura asked.
“Tamalynn’s always taken a great interest in my work,” Chad said. “She always comes along to the pastry restaurants with me and records my thoughts via a Dictaphone.”
“Oh, right,” Faith said. So basically, no interest at all except eating it.
Chad beamed. “She even said she’d love to go to culinary school one day and
start her own little bakery. It’s a kind of daydream of hers, but I’ll help her to make it a reality if she wants. The thing is… she’s not a very resilient person, Tamalynn. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s great, like, in every way. But when it comes to being tough, she’s not your girl.” He laughed. “I have to be extra careful around my princess. One wrong look and she’s in the bedroom crying. You know how it is for us men, we try to say the right thing but we’re not always very good at it.”
Faith smiled sympathetically.
“Anyhow, since she started going to the gym, she’s been a lot happier. She was having some digestion problems and her naturopath recommended taking more exercise, so she’s going down there regularly and building her strength up. She finds it makes her happier, too, so that’s all good with me. Even though that gym is darned expensive. Once of those fancy ones, you know, with personal trainers and spa baths and advanced HIIT machines, whatever they might be. But I’m glad to pay for it. Anything to keep my princess happy.”
Faith nodded. “Okay, so that makes sense. Marigold put Karen on the panel because she knew her from culinary school, you because of your pastry experience, and you being family, of course, and Tamalynn because of her doing some assisting work for you and aspiring to go to culinary school.” Faith knew it sounded ridiculous, but hoped her cheerful demeanor would make it look like she truly believed Tamalynn had enough qualifications to be judging a $50,000 contest. “So the prize money comes from sponsors, then, right?”
Laura frowned at her.
“Actually, no,” Chad said. “It’s Cynthia’s inheritance.”
“Right,” Laura said, “from her—”
“Mom,” Chad interrupted. “Cynthia was a waitress, so naturally everyone thought she had no real money to speak of. But aha,” he said, with a wide smile. “She tricked everyone! She was a waitress out of choice. She did the occasional baking here and there, but her real passion was serving people. Her secret, though, was good investments. She got a lump sum when my grandparents passed away, and put it into good investments, then didn’t touch it. She wanted a cruise… at the end… of her life. She told me, but then the… well, the Alzheimers...” His face clouded as he trailed off. “She was unique, my aunt. Truly one of a kind.”
“Oh, right,” Faith said, trying not to look too surprised.
“Anyway, like I said,” Chad continued, “the contest didn’t start in the purest of ways. A means of assuaging Marigold’s guilt at estranging herself from her mother, if we’re brutally honest. But we don’t have to be. I shall take over from next year, and will make it more highbrow. I’ll open it to pastry chefs, and have prestigious sponsors. Please don’t take offense, as I mean none, but cupcake baking is not exactly…”
Faith already felt that uncomfortable buzzing feeling she got when anyone looked down on baking. She felt she had to defend it to the hilt.
“Well, it does not require the same degree of precision and skill that the medium of pastry demands,” he said.
Laura nodded along, but Faith’s neck wouldn’t let her.
“Cupcakes can be an art,” she said. “One look at Wilhelmina Roby’s portfolio would tell you that.”
Chad’s open, receptive face suddenly changed. It was abrupt, a door slamming shut. “Maybe it would be better if she had been a pastry chef,” he said, his voice cold. “For everyone involved.” He glanced at his watch and sipped back a last swig of tea. “That’s enough to go on for now, isn’t it?” Before they could reply, he offered them a false smile and said, “Great. Well, I have to be taking care of my contest duties for now. We all know what Marigold’s like, don’t we? Thanks, ladies, I’ve put everything on my tab so there’s nothing to pay.”
All Laura and Faith managed to say was, “Bye,” before he was gone, taking off across the conservatory and out the door at a pace that made it clear he’d rather be anywhere but there.
“What was that all about?” Laura said, looking bemused.
Faith sipped her sweet iced tea, frowning at the door he went out of. “I have no idea.”
*****
Chapter 14
If there was one thing Laura, Faith and Nathan could almost never agree on, it was music. While Laura had a penchant for upbeat 80s classics, and randomly, K-Pop, Nathan loved soft rock and the occasional headbanging heavy rock song that Faith and Laura both agreed was so mind-numbingly awful that he could only listen to that CD when he was in the van on his own.
Faith’s mom Diana was a huge Celine Dion fan, and ‘Dion binges’ had been a common occurrence through Faith’s life. She’d picked up the bug, too, so Celine was one of her staunch favorites, along with Lighthouse Family, which reminded her of childhood memories, and there was one Bob Marley CD she would listen to over and over again. Her choice in music had certainly not made her any friends through high school, that was for sure. Most of her choices weren’t popular with Nathan or Laura, either, to be honest. But luckily for Faith, out of all their favorites, Bob Marley was the only one they all liked somewhat.
So in the evenings when their work down at Paradise Point was done, they often settled down at Faith or Laura’s apartment with a good meal, the evening sun setting outside, and Bob Marley rocking through the warm air, making everything feel relaxed.
That evening, Thursday evening, Faith needed that kind of atmosphere more than ever. The contest was coming up – just the day after tomorrow – and they hadn’t come up with a proper recipe yet. The murders were still a complete mystery, and Faith couldn’t stop herself worrying the killer would strike again.
Plus, Grandma Bessie had gone a bit missing in action. Though Faith knew she was at her sheltered accommodation and living it up with her new friends, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong. She’d felt – and tried not to feel, like it might go away on its own - a rift between them, that had started as a crack, but was slowly expanding… growing, growing, growing, until it would become a huge jagged crack holding an abyss to nowhere.
As Faith stirred the rice – the side dish for the roasted eggplant and tomato curry Nathan was trying his hand at – she couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling anymore. She turned to Laura, who had both Cirrus and Nimbus draped over her, purring like car engines as she stroked them under their chins – a perfect excuse not to have to get up and help with the cooking, she’d said with a wink. “Laura, do you think Grandma Bessie’s all right?”
“Sure,” Laura said, stroking Cirrus. “What made you think otherwise?”
Faith shrugged. The rice was still too watery so she replaced the lid, and put the spoon back down on her floral melamine spoon rest. Pink roses bloomed in the foreground, and the background was, of course, teal. “I don’t know… It’s just… well, she seems different from before.”
“Really?” Laura wrinkled her nose, which always made her look like a cute little rabbit.
“Definitely,” Faith said. “But… I’m not sure. Like… I don’t think she’s mad at me or anything, but maybe she’s being… off with me?” Grandma Bessie would have never won any awards for Most Affectionate Grandmother Of The Year, but she’d always had a kind of brisk, no-nonsense approval for Faith that Faith could feel, even if it wasn’t always expressed. But ever since Grandma Bessie had started working with them again on the cupcake contest, Faith felt something was different, and not in a good way.
“She seems the same old Miss Bessie to me,” Laura said with a laugh. “Brilliant at baking, and crotchety as you can get.”
Nathan picked pieces of eggplant from the grill with his bare hands and flung them into the pot, where tomato paste and oils and spices were blending, sending a rich, piquant aroma billowing around the apartment.
“Use an oven mitt!” Laura said.
“I’ve done them all now,” said Nathan, then grinned. “Plus, I’ve got man fingers.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”
“Maybe it’s just because you’re working with her now,” Nathan said
to Faith. He grazed his hand ever so gently along her back. She always got good shivers when he did that. “Let’s face it, you’re both brilliant and creative…” A slow grin spread over his face. “And stubbornly like to do things your own way.”
“I am not stubborn!” Faith said.
Nathan and Laura gave each other a meaningful look and Laura snorted.
“Hey!” Faith stuck her hand on her hip. “I’m very flexible, thank you very much!”
“Do a split, then,” Nathan said with a taunting smile.
“Not funny!” Laura flapped her hands at him. “Faith, you are flexible, right, but you’re stubborn when it comes to baking. You say it has to be done exactly a certain way. And Grandma Bessie’s the same way.” She smiled ruefully. “Shame you both have different ways.”
“But I always just do what she says when she’s there!” Faith had made sure that out of respect she let Grandma Bessie take charge when they were all in Slice of Paradise together. There sure were a lot of things she had to swallow on those days.
Laura raised her eyebrows. “Yep, but then you’re all tense.”
“You should tell her you’re the boss now,” Nathan said. “Not in a rude way, but that you’re the one taking responsibility for the place. You have your way of doing things.”
Faith checked the rice again, even though she knew it wouldn’t be done yet. “I couldn’t do that. No way.”
“Are you scared of how she’ll react?” Laura asked. She wasn’t mocking at all.
“It’s not so much that,” Faith said. Though that was a big part of it – Grandma Bessie could be quite harshly spoken when something happened she didn’t like – it wasn’t the main thing. “It’s that… well, the tearoom is ours now, but it’s still hers, to me. She poured her heart and soul into it. That’s why she barely did anything else in her life.”
The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Page 9
