They reached the door of 308 and Eva swiped the keycard. “Hurry up,” she hissed, pulling the door open a crack.
Faith slipped inside to find the room strewn with clothes. All Tamalynn’s. Tamalynn was such a tidy and put-together person, with her curls immaculately styled and her curls pristine, that Faith would have expected a pin-neat room. But it looked like a clothes bomb had exploded.
Her heart in her mouth, Faith looked around. She had no idea what she was trying to find, but something, anything, might be a clue. First, she got on her knees and rummaged through Tamalynn’s clothes, but came up with nothing. Then she tried the drawers in the bedside tables and the dresser. Nothing. The wardrobe was empty, too, the wooden hangers clanging against each other.
With every passing moment, Faith was beginning to doubt herself. What in the heck was she doing, anyways? Sneaking into someone’s private hotel room and snooping around was nuts.
She’d almost convinced herself to run like the wind out of there, when she saw a washbag on top of a neat suitcase. It must have been Chad’s, because none of Tamalynn’s stuff was packed.
Faith hurried over and snatched up the washbag, then opened the zip. Yep, definitely Chad’s. A man’s electric razor. Facewash for men. There was so much of it, Faith had to tip it out onto the bed, her heart pounding. Come on, come on, come on, give me something.
She scrabbled through the stuff – an electric toothbrush, a mini size tube of toothpaste, deodorant, aftershave, shampoo. Then a tiny little bag right at the bottom. Faith opened it and tipped the contents out.
“Voila!” she whispered.
A bottle of aquamarine nail polish. And nine unpainted nails.
*****
Chapter 18
“Faith, I think you might just have gotten this right,” Grandma Bessie said as she frantically beat an egg, ready to go into the cake mix.
They were standing on the stage in front of a crowd even larger than the one for the semifinal – Nico’s Teabags had turned up from all over the nation, for one thing. The Florida sun was beating down, but the ocean breeze cooled everyone and made it comfortable.
Faith glanced over to where Nico was whipping up a frosting storm, but didn’t dwell on that for too long, as she had her own creations to bring to life.
“I hope so, Grandma,” she said as she arranged cupcake papers into the baking tin. “I thought it was the best of both worlds. The traditional, comforting fare, like you said, with a tropical twist.”
Laura looked up from her bowl of tamarind frosting and nodded. “And beauty and attention to detail.” She gave the plastic box by her feet a gentle kick. “We have all our stuff in there to make it a real Slice of Paradise experience for the judges.”
Faith glanced over at the judging panel, now made up of just Chad and Tamalynn. Marigold had said she’d stand in as the third judge, but she was still the hostess, strutting around the stage and commentating for the audience. Faith had tuned her out a long time ago, or she’d have never been able to concentrate.
Since they were deep in their baking flow, Faith felt safe and in control of herself. That’s what was so great about baking for her – everything seemed so much easier. Even talking to Grandma Bessie didn’t feel like trying to chip through a brick wall. “Grandma, I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday,” Faith said. “I really didn’t mean to.”
“No, no,” Grandma Bessie said. “It wasn’t you, Faith. Sometimes people have things to deal with, that’s all.”
That answer made Faith feel even more worried. Was Grandma Bessie going through even more troubles? Was there another health scare? Before Faith had even thought of what to say, her imagination and fear had already run away with her. She was imagining Grandma Bessie would turn around and say she had a terminal illness. That was why she wasn’t interested in the knee operation.
“Grandma,” Faith said, her heart beating. “What do you mean?”
Grandma Bessie mixed the beaten egg with some sugar, and didn’t look up. “Oh, it can be hard, giving up things.”
“The tearoom?” Laura asked.
Faith was shocked. For the most part Grandma Bessie wasn’t ever there, preferring to hit the pool or the bowling alley with her senior friends.
“I shouldn’t have come back to do this contest with you, really,” Grandma Bessie said. “It’s my fault, I should have said no.”
“Why’s that?” Faith asked.
Grandma Bessie stirred vigorously. “Because it’s taking me back to my old life, tearoom life. And I’m getting all nostalgic for it, when I know it’s not what I want.”
It was such a relief to Faith to hear her Grandma opening up and speaking about how she felt. Grandma Bessie was such a closed book sometimes.
“I’m sorry if you feel like I pressured you to come back,” Faith said.
Grandma Bessie laughed, then grabbed Faith around the shoulders in a side hug and squeezed. “Oh, you silly girl,” she said affectionately. “You think anyone could pressure me to so much as bake a single tiny cupcake? No. I just thought… well… it might be fun.”
Laura laughed. “You got more than you bargained for, then. We all did.”
“Right,” Grandma Bessie said. “So after this, I won’t be coming back to the tearoom again. Not even to visit, I don’t think. There are so many things to be done in this world. And I won’t do any of them if I’m thinking about tea and cakes and all. I’ve done my service there. Now it’s time to do something else.”
Faith nodded. “So are you still going to Kenya on safari? After you get your operation?” It made Faith a bit sad as she said it, though. How would Grandma Bessie ever be able to afford such a trip?
“Probably,” Grandma Bessie said quickly, then changed the subject. “Better stop chattering and get a move on, girls. That tattoo guy is rushing about like a headless chicken.”
So they did. And as they did, Faith looked over at Chad and Tamalynn, trying to work out exactly what was going on. As far as she could work out, Chad definitely had something to do with the murders, or at least the second one. Maybe Tamalynn did, too. But what would they stand to gain from killing Karen? Tamalynn had motive for killing Wilhelmina – Chad’s supposed affair – but there didn’t seem to be any reason she’d want to kill Karen. And sure, it didn’t like Chad and Karen really saw eye to eye, but he seemed to have great respect for her as a baker, and not getting on with someone was definitely not a realistic motive for murder. Otherwise the world would be positively littered with dead bodies.
Then Faith glanced over at Nico. Could he have somehow been involved? Well, he could definitely have been involved in the first murder. In fact, it seemed quite likely. If there was some way he could have known about the scores, then he would know he would be getting through if he killed her. But Karen? They’d had their fallings out, but killing seemed extreme. In fact, murder looked extreme, whichever way Faith looked at it. It was a cupcake contest, for goodness sake. Plus, was Nico really paying that much attention to gifts Chad gave to Marigold to think of framing her?
Then Faith’s eye wondered over to Marigold. Her nail was found at the scene of Karen’s murder. She’d had 10 intact nails when Deputy Valdez had checked, but she could have easily replaced one. Since she obviously wore stuck-on fake nails, it would only make sense to carry a few spares. But killing Wilhelmina and Karen seemed over the top in the extreme. What would she be trying to gain?
“Oi,” Grandma Bessie said, nudging Faith. “Concentrate, girl.”
“Sorry.” Faith started preparing the vanilla sponge. She looked forward to sampling the mandarin frosting again – it was simply heavenly, and something she’d never done before.
But when she was up there in front of a crowd, it wasn’t quite the same as being in her own baking paradise. Sure, it always felt good to bake. But she could feel the thousands of pairs of eyes on her. The crowd wasn’t strictly watching the bake off. After all, it would have been very boring for them to stare at the actionless
stage as the cupcakes baked in the oven. Most people milled about between stalls. Others had picnic rugs or deckchairs. Marigold had even hired a bouncy castle for all the little kids. Nevertheless, Faith couldn’t quite relax.
Her mind kept buzzing with thoughts about the mystery. It was all still a complete fuzzy blur, and she couldn’t stand it. It was like her whole life had this cloud over it, or a fog, maybe. Until she knew who had done it, she couldn’t relax. Her thoughts ended up in one huge tangle, the more she thought about it. It reminded her of the ball of wool Grandma Bessie had been failing to knit when Faith first arrived in Florida. Her hands had been tangled up in it and everything. That was the first and last time she attempted to knit.
Before Faith knew, they were done preparing, and all the cupcakes were in the oven. She turned to see how Nico was doing, but he wasn’t at his workstation. It took Laura to point him out for Faith to spot him – tucked up in a group of adoring Teabags at the side of the stage. Faith sighed deeply, then looked over at Chad and Tamalynn.
Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning.
Her mind began to race. Had she really solved it?
Laura was leading her to the side of the stage, towards the chairs that had been set up for them to rest in. But Faith couldn’t sit down. There was no way. She scanned for Nathan in the crowd by the mango tree – the mangoes had been such a hit in the semi-final he’d decided to reprise his role as mango picker – and spotted him lifting a little boy to pick one of the low hanging fruit.
“Just a moment, yeah,” she said to Grandma Bessie and Laura. Before they could even reply, she was gone, down the steps by the side of the stage, and running through the crowd toward Nathan.
It wasn’t only that she wanted to see him. She did, badly, and the depth of her wanting to be near him surprised her. But it wasn’t only that. She just needed to be moving, to be out there. She couldn’t stand to be near them – Nico, Marigold, Tamalynn and Chad – and think straight. The theory in her mind was explosive. But was it really true?
It wasn’t far from the stage to the mango tree, and it was so large that she could see the top of it poking out among all the other trees of Paradise Point. But despite it being close, the journey proved more difficult than Faith could have imagined.
For one thing, every square foot was crammed, it seemed. Faith found herself weaving in and out between picnic rugs and groups of teens and kids playing and people sitting on deck chairs drinking. It was like a festival, and it felt so different being down there in the crowd than up on stage.
But this turned out to be the least of her worries.
Unbeknownst to Faith, a young woman had been steadily staring at her as she hurried through the crowd, hampered, but trying at least to head in the direction of the mango tree.
Faith first noticed her when the woman blocked her path and folded her arms.
“Excuse me,” Faith said.
“I won’t,” the woman said. She was very pretty, but the malice in her eyes and facial expression canceled it all out. Her pale skin contrasted vividly with her dark brown hair, and Faith knew instantly she was from out of state – no one in Florida was that color, especially not at that time of year.
“Sorry?” Faith said.
“Faith Franklin, isn’t it?”
“Sorry, but I really have to go.” Faith sidestepped her.
The woman was fast and blocked Faith as soon as she moved. “No.”
“What is this?” Faith burst out.
“Go back up those steps and onto the stage,” the young woman said. “Then go and turn up the heat on the oven. All the way up. Now.”
“No,” Faith said, trying to push past her.
But the woman was quick and strong, and soon had Faith by the shoulders. “You have to. Nico has to win this thing.”
It was only then Faith realized who she must have been. “Oohh, so you’re a Teabag?” Faith crossed her arms. “Queen Teabag, probably.”
The woman shrugged. “Maybe. Just do as you’re told.”
Faith got a flashback of being bullied in high school, and it made her mad. So mad that she squared up to the Queen Teabag and spat fire from her eyes. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Ha!” Faith said. “You’re joking, right? You do realize you look like some lame character out of some B-movie on cable?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Just do it,” she said. “Or you’ll regret it, Faith Franklin.”
Then she stalked away. But being called ‘Faith Franklin’ in exactly the way the bullies had done it made her so mad she wasn’t about to shrug it all off. “You don’t scare me!” she shouted out after her. “You’re pathetic. Just as pathetic as the liar you love so much.” Faith certainly hadn’t forgotten about how Nico had lied.
The girl didn’t turn around. Faith would have loved her to – she felt so fired up she could have taken on an army. But at least Faith could hold her head high. She didn’t break down and cry, or feel like a victim. She felt strong and confident. Now, just to get to the mango tree and work out her theory…
“Could all the contestants come back to the stage!” Marigold called out.
“What?” Faith spun around and sighed. She certainly hadn’t expected that. Would she ever get a spare moment to work this thing out in her head?
“I want to make an announcement!” Marigold said over the PA system.
*****
Chapter 19
With Laura, Faith and Grandma Bessie on one side, and Nico on the other, Marigold was beaming from ear to ear. “This is the last ever Cynthia Rochford Cupcake Marathon. It has been a wonderful journey for me, and I’ve been so honored to do this in my mom’s memory. But now… well, we’ve come to the end.”
Faith’s eyes flickered over to Chad, who, quite unsurprisingly, looked furious.
“And to that end, I’ve decided to do something quite special,” Marigold said. “As a final celebration, we’re going to be raising the prize money. From $50,000 to $100,000.”
“Wow!” Grandma Bessie said.
Faith cast a look over at Nico and saw his eyes shining with greed.
“Now,” Marigold said. “I know your creations are still baking, but I wanted to ask you all a couple questions. I know this contest has been… rather more eventful than anyone of us expected or hoped for. But I’m a firm believer in turning difficult experiences into enlightening ones. So, Nico, tell us what you’ve learned so far from being in this contest?”
All of a sudden, a syrupy sweet look took over his face. Faith couldn’t bear to look at him, he looked so fake. “Ah, Marigold, I just want to say thank you so much for holding this great competition, and I’m really sorry that it’s ending. I guess I’ve learned that winning is not the most important thing.” He gestured over to Laura and Faith and said, “I’ve made some really firm friends here, and that’s the thing I’ll cherish most.”
“What a phoney,” Grandma Bessie said into Faith’s ear. Faith couldn’t agree more, but that’s not what she was focusing on.
“Faith,” Marigold said, strutting over in her high heels. “What do you think you’ve learned?”
Faith’s mind was racing, but she thought she felt it click into place. Before she knew what she was saying, she’d blurted out, “I learned who killed Wilhelmina and Karen.”
Faith heard nothing but the gasps ripple around her. She felt like she was in a trance. Marigold stood, frozen almost like a statue, and Faith took the microphone from her hand. She had no idea where her surge of bravery came from, but she felt no fear as she looked out over the crowd. Only a deep desire to see the truth out.
“I know who killed Wilhelmina and Karen, yes,” Faith said. The normal doubting voice that would have been circling in her head saying, ‘Will this work? Will this work?’ had been replaced by a much more life affirming one. This is going to work. I know it in my bones. I know it.
“Who?” Laura said, coming up behind Faith.
&n
bsp; No turning back now.
“Chad.”
Tamalynn had been snuggled into his arm. But she sprang away from him with a huge, dramatic gasp.
“And Tamalynn,” Faith said. “They worked together.”
“No.” Chad got to his feet, his eyes pleading. “Faith, why are you saying this?”
Faith’s voice nearly wobbled, but she managed to hold on to composure, just about. “Because it’s the truth. Isn’t it, Tamalynn?”
“No!” Tamalynn burst into tears, and Chad took her into his arms, staring up at Faith.
“Faith, you’re wrong,” he said strongly. “Please, stop this now. Please.”
“No,” Faith said. Her hands had a shaking grip on microphone but she couldn’t go back now. “It is true. You did kill both of them. Even though you were just the muscle. Tamalynn was the brains behind the operation.”
Tamalynn continued to sob into Chad’s shoulder.
“You’ll be in jail for a long time, Tamalynn,” Faith said, then looked around the stage. “A very, very long time. Don’t think that because you didn’t hit Wilhelmina over the head with the apple corer, or strangle her with her own scarf, or plant Marigold’s nail, that you’re innocent. And don’t think you can just cry either, and everything will be okay. The judge isn’t going to think you’re innocent just because you turned on the waterworks.”
“Faith!” Chad’s voice was full of emotion. “Please, stop! Can’t you see how much you’re upsetting her?”
Marigold tried to take the microphone from Faith, but Faith snatched it back and hurried over to the other side of the stage, near Nico. “I don’t care,” Faith said. “It’s the truth. Don’t you think we should care more about Wilhelmina’s and Karen’s lives than we should about a murderer’s feelings?”
“I’m not a murderer,” Tamalynn cried out hysterically.
The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Page 12
