“So, what’s his motivation for wanting to kill your father? On his deathbed?”
Lance pretended to stretch, but I could tell he was trying to check on the mysterious guy in the biker jacket. I wanted to see if the man was still watching us, but I fought the urge to look. “I can only guess, but it has to be money. Everything is about money, isn’t it? Leo’s been putting on a good show, feigning concern and having Sarah, his personal assistant, sit at our father’s bedside around the clock. But I know better.” He sighed. “If you had asked me even a month ago if I thought my brother was a killer, I would have said no. Leo’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I never pictured him as a cold-blooded killer. Greed—Shakespeare had it right. ‘Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.’ You know, ‘The Scottish Play.’”
Unlike the Professor, Lance wasn’t usually prone to quoting Shakespeare.
“If Leo doesn’t think he’s getting enough from the trust then our father’s death will ensure a large payout from the company.”
“That’s terrible.” I’d never had siblings, but couldn’t imagine arguing over money if I had. Nor could I fathom even considering the thought of harming my parents.
“That’s my family.” Lance tried to put on a brave face, but I could see through his façade.
“How can I help?”
He sighed. “Yes, well, just getting this off my chest is helpful. Thank you for listening.”
“Of course. I’m always here for you, Lance.”
“The feeling is mutual, darling.” He patted his heart. “On to the Brown family crisis. I’ve hired a private investigator to do her own digging. I have to find out exactly what’s in the will, and what Leo stands to gain.”
“A private investigator?”
“Yes, yes. I’ve been assured that she’s the best money can buy. The Professor is doing some sleuthing for me as well.”
“He is?” Suddenly I realized the connection. The Professor had been making several trips to Medford lately. I had assumed it was because he was trying to work on finding a replacement. When he had proposed to Mom, he decided that it was time for him to scale back. He intended to stay on as a consultant and pass his detective badge on to Thomas and someone new—most likely Detective Kerry, who had been filling in recently. Now I wondered if one of the other reasons that he’d been spending so much time in Medford was due to Lance.
“Close your mouth, Juliet. It’s not becoming to sit there gaping.” He winked.
“Thanks,” I said with thick sarcasm. “If you’ve hired a private investigator and the Professor is helping you, what do you need from me?”
“Other than delicious coffee, pastry, and to stare at those starry blue eyes?”
This was more like the Lance I knew.
“From you, darling, I need a few extra invites to the wedding of the century.”
“You want invites to the wedding?”
“Yes. I know it sounds odd, but it was Megan the PI’s idea. She wants to come as my date. She’s worried about leaving me alone, knowing that someone is tailing me. Once she hatched the idea to tag along to the wedding, she decided it might be a good idea to invite my dastardly brother and his goons. She seems convinced that we’ll learn something revealing if we can get them out in the wild so to speak.”
“You think someone would follow you to the wedding?” I was sure that my face must have revealed my confusion.
“What better place than at a wedding? From what I hear it’s going to be the party to end all parties.”
“Right.” I sat up. “Will Leo even come? He doesn’t know anyone in Ashland.”
“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll bring his entourage. He doesn’t go anywhere without his lawyer and personal assistant, and trust me, he doesn’t want me out of his sight right now.”
Perhaps that was in the Brown family DNA. Lance was known for being flanked by young actors and theater groupies whenever he was seen around town.
“Rumor has it that you’ve been doing some devious planning of your own. Color me impressed. When you mentioned that you were going to throw a surprise wedding, I didn’t realize that everyone would be in on the gig. The entire town is absolutely ready to burst.”
“How did you hear that?” I felt my jaw open again.
“Please, it’s me. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He sounded exasperated. “Don’t worry, the Professor is none the wiser. He and I met for a slice of pie yesterday and he’s positively beside himself trying to come up with a fall date and the perfect locale. He has no idea what you have up your sleeve.”
“You think?”
“That. Or he has a fabulous game face.” His eyes twinkled devilishly. “In any event, it’s the perfect excuse to invite Leo. I’ll tell him I want him to get to see me in my element, and what could be better than a Midsummer Night’s Dream wedding? Inviting him to a wedding would be too obvious. This, however, is simply a town celebration. A grand reopening of my new winery. He’ll never know, and hopefully Megan will get what she needs to lock him up.”
“Okay, if you think it will help.” It still wasn’t clear to me why Megan, the PI, wanted to observe Lance’s brother out of his typical routine. I would have to ask the Professor. Maybe it was a police tactic.
“You’re the best.” Lance checked the expensive silver watch on his wrist. “Oh dear, is that the time? Must run. Ta-ta.” He stood, blew me air kisses, and then pranced to the front door.
I checked to see if the biker guy was watching. He must have left because Sterling was wiping down the table.
Was Lance right? Was he being followed? I thought about the woman I’d seen wearing similar black biker gear. I had wondered if she was following me. Oh no. Could Lance be rubbing off on me? Was I paranoid too?
It was possible that Lance was overdramatizing things about his family. The theater was his business after all. But my gut told me to believe him. I was going to have to keep my eyes open and be sure to pay extra attention to anyone out of the ordinary. If the biker guy returned to the bakeshop I was going to confront him, regardless of what Lance said.
A new thought pushed through as I picked up our coffee cups and plates. Lance might be in danger. If his brother was trying to kill their father, what would stop him from trying to kill Lance too? If their father was dead and Lance was out of the picture Leo would inherit everything. As in millions. If that wasn’t motive for murder, what was?
Chapter Five
Mom breezed in not long after Lance left. She balanced a box of creamy embossed invitations with red wax seals. “Your invitations arrived,” she said, tucking her gingerbread-colored hair behind one of her ears. It was cut in a stylish bob that accented her apple-shaped cheeks and warm, walnut eyes. She wore a pair of red clogs and a light cardigan.
I reached for one of the elegant invites.
“You know, I’m not sure why you were stressing about ordering official invites,” Mom said, placing the box on the pastry counter. “Everyone in town already has next weekend on their calendars. I think at this rate the grand reopening of Uva is going to be the biggest party Ashland has ever seen.”
“I know, but Lance insisted,” I lied, setting the invite on the top of the pile. We had already handed out secret invites to friends, family, neighbors, and business owners, but these were decoy invites that I had made just to throw Mom and the Professor off the trail. “It’s probably silly, but relaunching the winery is a big deal and Lance thought it would be best to send a formal invitation. You know how he is.”
“True.” She surveyed the bakeshop. “How’s everything coming along? I feel like I’m completely out of the loop up here. I’ve been in the basement so much lately. Roger has been keeping us busy with these final decisions, and then Doug and I have been touring every venue around trying to firm up a plan for this fall.” The lines around her eyes crinkled. “There’s so much activity up here. It looks like every square inch of counter space has pastries on it. Have we had
a boon in orders, or is that for the relaunch party?”
I tried to block her view. “It’s not as much as it looks. The Green Goblin is hosting a brunch and we had two last-minute custom cake orders.”
She started to move toward the kitchen. “I should be helping. It looks like you’re slammed. Why didn’t you say anything? I feel terrible leaving you in the lurch.”
“Remember, you’re supposed to be scaling back,” I reminded her. “We have it under control. You just focus on the basement and the wedding plans. I’ve got everything else covered.”
Mom stood on her tiptoes to steal another look at the kitchen. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I steered her away from the kitchen. “Are you hungry for lunch? Sterling made some delicious Italian subs. I can snag us a couple and fill you in.”
She gave me a suspicious look. Was she onto us? Mom was Ashland’s resident baker/therapist. She had an incredible listening ear and a knack for getting people to open up. I wondered if she had managed to butter up an unsuspecting local with her understanding smile and get them to dish on what was really going on at Torte.
“Hey, Mrs. C.,” Andy called, rescuing me. “You’ve gotta come try my cold-brew special.”
With a parting grimace, she headed in his direction.
Whew. Saved by espresso.
I watched her hug Andy and greet a group of regulars. She was a fixture at Torte. I didn’t know how I was going to fill her shoes when and if she ever decided to retire permanently. Before I made it to the kitchen, the bell on the front door jingled and Thomas walked in. He wore his standard blue police uniform with blue shorts and hiking boots. “Hey, Jules. Do you have a sec?” He motioned toward Mom, who was happily chatting with our customers.
“Sure.” I handed him an invite. “Outside?”
“Yep.” He held the door open for me.
“Are you on park duty today?” I asked, pointing to his shorts and hiking boots. Ashland’s small and friendly police force were tasked with a wide range of duties, including patrolling Lithia Park.
Thomas laughed. “You know me, I wear shorts any chance I can get.” He paused and held up a finger. Then he turned to a group of women who were loaded with shopping bags and about to step off the curb next to us. “Crosswalk, ladies! Use the crosswalk, please.”
I smiled to myself. This was life in Ashland, where the police had to caution tourists to use the crosswalks and spent a good chunk of their day giving directions and restaurant recommendations.
The ladies blushed and offered an apology. They hurried to the crosswalk where they squealed with delight when they spotted Lance. He was quickly enveloped in the group of theater lovers.
“Poor Lance,” I said to Thomas.
“Nah, he loves it.” Thomas pointed to Lance who had whipped a pen from his pocket and began signing autographs.
“Fair enough.” I chuckled. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in on operation wedding 111.” Thomas peered inside Torte’s front door. He had given our efforts to keep the upcoming nuptials under wraps the code name 111. When I asked him why, he had grinned and said, “It’s kind of like an emergency. A love emergency.” If memory served, I think I gave him a playful punch.
Thomas glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “My mom said to tell you that the flowers for the bouquets will be in by Friday. She said if you have time you should stop by. She’s putting garlands of greenery and flowers together to go with the Midsummer Night’s Dream theme.” We had decided to have the ceremony take place underneath a giant oak tree above the vineyard. We would string strands of golden twinkle lights from the tree and then intertwine them along the rows of grapevines so that the entire hillside was aglow.
“Great.” Thomas’s parents owned A Rose by Any Other Name and had offered to make the bridal bouquets, boutonnieres, and reception flowers as their gift to Mom and the Professor. That had been a consistent theme among many of the shop owners in the plaza. From the decoy invitations to the musicians, and even the wedding spread, everyone in town had come forward and insisted on giving us huge discounts or donating product for the festivities. My friend Chef Garrison, at Ashland Springs Hotel, was going to oversee catering. He was bringing a team of his servers for prep and cleanup at a majorly reduced rate so that our staff could enjoy the wedding. I had been humbled by the town’s response, although not surprised given how much both of them had contributed to the community over the years.
“How’s it going with your mom? Do you think she has any idea?” Thomas asked.
I reached over and tapped one of the window boxes. “Knock on wood, no. But she just noticed how many pastries we have piled up in the kitchen. I’ve got to keep her out of there. What about the Professor? Are you keeping him busy?”
“You have no idea, Jules. I looped Detective Kerry in on the secret. She’s actually been really helpful. She’s been making the Professor go over every single manual and police procedural with us. He never would have believed it if it were me asking, but with Detective Kerry asking he hasn’t even raised an eyebrow.”
“Brilliant.”
His cheeks warmed with color, giving his youthful face an even more earnest look. “I do what I can.” He winked. “I’ve also convinced him that we need an app.”
“An app?”
“Yep. An Ashland mobile app. One of the department’s goals is two-way communication. Kerry and I were talking about it and it’s a great way to keep citizens informed. We’ll send text alerts with emergency updates. People can submit anonymous tips, even send in photos from local events. What do you think?”
“Great idea.”
Thomas beamed with pride. “Thanks. Designing it is going to be fun and hopefully another distraction for the Professor. Anything else you need help with? I heard Carlos is coming in soon.”
I stiffened. When I had returned home to Ashland, Thomas and I had rekindled our friendship. He’d been a great shoulder to cry on, but given that we had dated during high school there had been a constant, underlying tension between us whenever Carlos was around or even when his name was mentioned. “Yeah, he and Ramiro are both coming.” I kept my tone upbeat. “I really had to stretch the truth with Mom. I told her this was the only week that Ramiro could come. Otherwise, I’m sure that she would have been suspicious.”
“Cool. Let me know if they want a police escort from the airport. Maybe Carlos and I can be a tag team for the Professor. They seemed to get along well when Carlos was here last time, and I could use another distraction besides reviewing moving violations.”
If Thomas was upset about Carlos’s upcoming visit he gave no indication. I felt my body relax. “You bet. Good plan. I’m sure Carlos would love to help entertain Mom and the Professor.”
A homeless man, wearing tattered clothes, wobbled toward us. He was barefoot and obviously under the influence of something. Thomas gave me a fist bump. “Operation wedding 111 continues.” Then he made his way toward the man. “Hey, hey, Mr. Frank, how you doin’ today?” He put his arm around the homeless man’s shoulder and led him away from the plaza.
Ashland was lucky to have Thomas on the beat. His approach, whether dealing with a street person or a tourist, was always kind and heartfelt. He loved technology so creating a mobile app would be a fantastic project for him and for Ashland. I smiled and returned inside.
“Hey, can I steal a couple of those beauties from you?” I asked Sterling, who was slicing thick four-inch stacks of his loaded Italian subs in the kitchen.
“That depends on who they’re for.” Sterling motioned to the window. Richard Lord and Lance were standing across the street in front of the Lithia bubblers. The group of tourists had released Lance from their clutches, but it didn’t look as if he had found relief in his conversation with Richard. “Richard’s not coming in for lunch, is he?”
“Good Lord, I hope not.”
Bethany chuckled. “Good Lord, that’s funny.” Rows and rows of
cooling chocolate chip cookie cups lined the island. She and Steph had filled each cup with melted dark chocolate. Once the chocolate had cooled we could pour vanilla milk into the shots. I couldn’t wait to give the final product a try.
I hadn’t even realized the irony. I smiled at her and then returned my attention to Lance and Richard. Spit spewed from Richard’s lips as he tapped Lance’s collarbone.
“What’s that all about?” Sterling asked.
“Good question. I have a couple guesses. Maybe something about Uva. Or perhaps Richard is mad that his new gastronomic menu is bombing and he’s decided to blame Lance.”
“Why would he do that?” Bethany asked. She removed her apron, which was spattered with red food dye. Her gray T-shirt had a silhouette of a coffee mug with the saying I LIKE YOU A LATTE printed across the chest.
I shrugged. “Why Richard Lord does anything is always a question.”
She dabbed her apron with soap and water.
“What happened to you?” I pointed to her hands. They looked as if she had submerged them in the dye.
“Don’t ask.”
Stephanie picked up a gallon jug of red food coloring. “Things got a little crazy here with the last batch of buttercream. I was whipping the frosting and asked Bethany to add in the food coloring. The cap came off and dye went everywhere.”
Bethany held up her stained hands. “Yeah, it looked like a murder scene. I should have taken a picture before cleaning it up. Hashtag #KitchenFail!”
“Do you need help?” Spills and accidents were common in a commercial kitchen. I’d had my fair share of disasters when it came to food dyes.
Bethany finished scrubbing her apron and walked to toss it in the laundry bin. “No, I think I’ve got it. Should be fun to have lobster hands for a while. How long does this stuff last?”
I cringed. “Uh, maybe a day or two.”
“Awesome.” Bethany stared at her stained hands. “Maybe I’ll have to find a new dress to match my fingers for the wedding.” She gasped and threw her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I forgot that your mom is here.”
Till Death Do Us Tart Page 4
