* * *
She arrived a little more quickly than expected and found Clancy waiting out front, fingering a philodendron that sat in a pot. She wondered if he was worrying about the poisonous properties it had—it was something that had crossed her own mind more than once when she passed the plant. They hardly needed more murder weapons growing nearby. He greeted her, led her inside, and then raised a finger to the girl at the station. She smiled and picked up two menus. Clancy held his elbow out and Cam took it, feeling very bad for the questioning she was about to put him through. Clancy Huggins was clearly a very nice man.
He gave non-verbal clues as he sat that told Cam to wait on questions. She kept quiet as he ordered, only ordering coffee and a fruit plate herself. She wished she were hungrier, but the oatmeal had stuck, so, even if the bacon smelled good, she had to pass.
“You don’t want to eat anything?”
“Oh, I wish I hadn’t eaten already, but I did. I had oatmeal before the morning visit that caused me to call you.”
“And I wish we could trade. My doctor would be pleased if I were too full of oatmeal to eat an omelet; surely your cholesterol rating is better equipped to handle three eggs with the Santa Fe fixings.” He smiled kindly. “So what’s all this about?”
Cam bit the inside of her cheek, looking for the right words.
“Mr. Huggins, I don’t know how to say this, except just to say it. I saw some incriminating photos of you this morning.”
“Oh,” he said, his coffee stopping just before his mouth.
“I’ve also seen sort of similar pictures recently of Telly Stevens.”
He sighed. “It’s a long story. Jessica thought . . . one-upping him on those photos would stop Telly from using them.”
“Using them, how?”
“Well, I suppose this will come out, and for my part, it’s really only shameful that I was so gullible. It’s ironic, really. I was contacted by a woman claiming to be putting together a fund-raiser for breast cancer—men in women’s shoes. Jessica took some pictures of me in various dresses. We then sent the pictures to the woman. Then a few weeks later, Telly and I were up for the same broadcast journalism award. A man claiming to have a duplicate file threatened to sell the photos of me to Telly so he could use them against me. I thought it would have ruined the fund-raising campaign. Turns out there was no campaign; it was all a trick. Jessica, as my good friend, without my knowledge, managed to get comparable pictures of Telly so that we had the means to keep him quiet. That was it. As far as it went.”
“He didn’t threaten to go public then?”
“No! He had more to lose than I did! My public is rather more liberal than his—public radio is very different from network television, and my pictures had been taken for the purpose of a campaign, or so I believed. And as a radio personality, people wouldn’t necessarily recognize me. Besides, the pictures of me have considerably more clothes.”
“What’s your relationship with Jessica?”
“I’m terribly fond of her.”
“It’s not romantic?”
He narrowed his brows, then said, “I didn’t say that.”
“It is romantic?”
“I didn’t say that, either. We’d really prefer it was nobody else’s business.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He really was sweet and she felt bad for prying. “Are you willing to share anything about the lingering look Telly threw at Jessica at the opening supper party?”
“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but there is no denying the man was a letch.”
“Did you know Judith at all?”
“Of course. She was a producer, and I have done a fair bit of broadcast production myself, though she is . . . was . . . a much more broad programmer, whereas I’ve just done a few special series. Still . . . well-researched, accurate series, rather than the fluff Telly was known for . . .”
Cam thought that statement actually had to do with the award competition, but she didn’t bite. She wanted to pursue Judith. “What did you think of her?”
“We worked together smoothly a handful of times. Until Telly’s infatuation with Jessica, she was always very pleasant.”
“Why would that stop her being pleasant?”
“Jessica and I are very open about our friendship. I think Judith assumed I’d take sides.”
“Would you have?”
“I don’t see that sides needed to be taken. Telly was awful to both of them, and Jessica never asked for his attention. I think they might have been friends. But I think Judith meant to defend her husband no matter what.”
“Would that defense of her husband extend to . . . an illegitimate child?”
“Yes, I imagine it would. Was there one?”
Cam wasn’t sure he looked quite as clueless as his words, but she didn’t want to accuse him of lying, so she just went on.
“I think so, though as far as I know, it hasn’t been tested,” Cam said.
“Poor little tyke.”
“The little tyke in question is my age, or nearly.” This did appear to surprise him and she wondered if there were other little tykes. “I think he will land on his feet . . . unless somebody succeeds in framing him for murder, which they seem to be attempting.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I think you’re not the kind of man who lets an innocent man be framed. You seem nice.”
“Well, I really hope to not disappoint you on that point, Cam. I try to be nice.”
After just a bit more small talk, she left him to his breakfast and decided to brave the day.
* * *
She checked in briefly with Evangeline, but things seemed in order, so she decided to double-check on Petunia. It would be the pageant’s night for a sit-down supper, and it was quite a large group for Spoons’ typical capacity.
Nick answered. “Yeah?”
“Nick! Happy Saturday! How are you?”
“Oh. Hey, sis.”
Cam rolled her eyes, glad for the phone between them. She felt very much like she wanted to give a schoolmarm-style manners lesson.
“So are you guys okay for this evening?”
“I guess.”
“That’s not very convincing.”
The phone crackled and Nick whispered. Cam thought maybe he’d stepped outside.
“Okay, so Petunia’s not doing so hot. She’s got that . . . morning sick . . . but all day long. She’d kill me if she knew I said so, but we could use a little help.”
“I’ll be there.”
Cam was now familiar with the wave of guilt that washed over her. While Petunia was pregnant, Cam would need to be more attentive. She should have thought more about morning sickness, but her only friends who’d had babies lived far away, so she hadn’t been through this before.
* * *
She arrived at Spoons a little after eleven. She’d taken the time to go home and change into restaurant-worthy clothes—no bare shoulders, no toeless shoes—and then came back toward town to join Nick and Petunia without Petunia being warned.
When Cam arrived, Petunia’s face soured briefly, then she sprinted toward the bathroom and Nick came over and hugged Cam.
“She’s miserable. I can’t get her to go home, but she spends half her time in the bathroom or washing up from being in the bathroom, so we really appreciate the help! Erm . . . even if Petunia says we don’t need it.”
“I’ve been Petunia’s sister for thirty years, so I know what she’ll try to do here. Thanks for letting me help you,” Cam said.
“If she asks, you just had a hunch.”
“I got it. How can I help most?”
“Chicken?”
“What?”
“That’s what keeps sending Petunia out. We’re doing stuffed breasts for supper, but it’s raw chicken at the moment, and everything about it sets her off—the texture, the smell, the sight.”
Cam felt her own stomach turn. She wasn’t vegetarian, but almost, for this ver
y reason. Raw meat was repulsive.
“It’s half a breast, sliced this way,” Nick showed her how to split them into thin, wide half breasts. “Then spread this paste on it, roll them, and stick in a toothpick.”
The mixture for inside smelled of prosciutto, rosemary and garlic, and she thought maybe hazelnuts. Nick had put a few spinach leaves under the mix and a sprinkle of crushed roasted red pepper over when he showed her how to prepare them. She was willing to bet the rolled half breasts would be delicious, cooked. At the moment, though, a little gross.
“You have a nut allergy alternative?” Cam asked. She knew hazelnuts were actually a seed, but she didn’t think complicated explanations would help the night go any more smoothly.
“Did them already,” he said. “That will be the first batch to bake. They’re in the walk-in already.”
Cam turned to eye the gleaming walk-in refrigerator. A grant from a foundation heavily supported by Evangeline and Neil Patrick had bought that recently, which ironically caused Nick some grief. Cam knew, though, Nick wouldn’t blame the fridge for that. He was just glad for the state-of-the-art business support to keep his fresh things fresh.
“Got any gloves?” Cam asked, eying the chicken breasts suspiciously.
Nick pointed to a box of thin kitchen gloves, and Cam pulled two out. The chicken would still feel gross, but at least she’d be protected from the slime.
“Show me one more so I don’t screw it up,” Cam said.
Nick did, slicing the breast the long way and setting half aside, layering the stuffing mixture, and then rolling the whole thing.
“Okay! I think I can manage.”
Her first effort wasn’t as nice as Nick’s, nor the second, but by number three, she thought she had it. Cam heard water run around the corner, and Petunia returned from the bathroom.
“That bimbo Jessica!” she shouted. “You know my body was happy with plain old nausea until I saw her puking her guts up! Oh!”
Petunia had walked around the corner. She seemed to have forgotten Cam was there.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just knew you had a busy day, so I thought I’d offer to help a little.”
Petunia narrowed her eyes, suspicious as always.
“Jessica who? Benchly?” Cam asked.
“That prom queen at that party of yours.”
“She was sick?”
“Yeah. When we were delivering food, I found her puking behind a gardenia. Got her dumb life story. I haven’t been able to walk past a gardenia without puking since—stupid cow! That used to be my favorite smell!”
“And her life story was?” Cam said, hoping to get Petunia back on point.
“Blah, blah, blah, baby daddy, couldn’t handle it, something something.”
Yes. Petunia had a gift for storytelling, Cam thought, though at least she’d gotten the important detail: Jessica was pregnant. “Did she say who the baby daddy was?”
“Just that he was at the party and something about him was what set off the puking.”
Cam pretended to concentrate on the stuffed chicken breasts, though she was remembering Jessica running out after Judith had shrieked. So Jessica Benchly was pregnant by somebody at the party. And it couldn’t be Clancy Huggins, or she wouldn’t have accompanied him if seeing him would make her sick. Cam had been under the impression Jessica had refused Telly, but he really was the obvious answer when Judith had reacted like she did.
“Did she say how far along she was?”
Petunia frowned. “What do you care?”
Same old irritable Petunia. “Just a hunch about something.”
Petunia opened her eyes wide and stared. Cam recognized the expression as meaning, “And?”
“And I think this baby daddy in question was murdered not long after.”
“She offed him?”
“I don’t know, Petunia. I doubt it. But the secret pregnancy certainly gives a couple people another motive if I’m right that he’s the baby daddy.”
“Who besides her?”
Cam looked to Nick for help, but he just winked. Petunia could be tenacious and he wasn’t willing to cross her.
“Well, anybody who cared about her, if Telly was treating her badly or refusing to acknowledge her. Or Telly’s wife, if Telly planned to leave her for Jessica . . .”
“Those rich people are all sick.”
That had been the response Cam had been waiting for. Petunia thought the rich were a bunch of undeserving, lazy, pampered wastes of space. This was amplified if the person in question was attractive or famous. At least this judgment ended what Petunia had to say on the matter.
Cam finished helping, and finally all the trays were stacked in the walk-in. They’d need to be baked that evening, but that was a straightforward task that Nick could handle.
“Thanks for helping out,” Nick said as she left.
Petunia just rolled her eyes, but Cam knew she was at least a little grateful. Being Petunia, though, Cam was certain her sister was annoyed to feel that way.
CHAPTER 15
As Cam walked home, her cell phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Cam, Mindy thought you might be able to help me.” Cam scrambled to recognize the caller, but the inexplicable kept coming back up. This was Barry Blankenship.
“Erm . . . no offense, but why would I help you? As far as I can tell, you’re a creep who’s been stalking one of my friends while cheating on another.”
“I know I deserve that. I’ve been lousy to Mindy—I’m a bad husband. But really . . . this is about protecting Mindy. I’m being stalked now, and I’m worried the woman will do something to Mindy because of her obsession with me.”
“Something besides framing her for murder, you mean?”
“Yeah. That was what clued me in.”
“Look, I don’t like you, Barry. And if you have a stalker, I think you deserve it. But I like Mindy and this might be related to the murders, which I’m looking into for other reasons, so I’ll talk to you. I want my friend Jake in on it, too, though.”
“He’s the cop?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if we need the police involved.”
“Humor me.”
Barry agreed to meet Cam and Jake at Metro!, which was pretty chichi for a working lunch, but Barry had named the location and it sounded like he was buying. Honestly, eating there on Barry’s dime was sort of appealing. Heck, eating there on anybody’s dime was divine. She’d only been there a few times, and it was very nice. When they hung up, Cam gave Jake a call.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Cam. We’ve got something going down and I can’t get involved in this supposed stalker thing. Olivia’s already being investigated by internal affairs.”
“But it’s connected to the murders!”
Jake gave a pained laugh. “No, Cam, it’s not. I think we have that one about wrapped up. I’ll tell you what: Stop by the station before you meet this guy. I’ll leave you a recorder and you and Rob can talk to him—a little investigative journalism. Then, if he says anything important, you have it on tape.”
Cam growled and told Jake that Rob had his own recorder and thanks for nothing, then clicked her phone shut.
Rob agreed to go with Cam, so at least something went right. When he got to her house, she told him what she’d learned that morning about Jessica as they drove.
“You really think it’s Telly’s baby?”
“I sure do.”
“You know they’re bringing someone in this afternoon. They think it’s the guy.”
“Who?”
“That Dylan guy.”
“No!”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’ve talked to him. I know his story. I think they have the wrong guy.”
Rob shook his head, his expression disgruntled. Cam knew it was about the inexplicable attraction between her
and Dylan more than anything else. She decided to drop it for the moment so they could concentrate on Barry.
* * *
Downtown spaces didn’t always have plant life, but at least Metro! had a couple large planters out front, which looked well attended. There was some greenery Cam thought was permanent, but it was complemented by annuals. The space inside was open and light and the window front invited in the daylight. There was a modern elegance and clean lines, the space was spare on extra decorations, and Cam wished she could just enjoy it.
“You’re not Jake. You’re that reporter,” Barry said to Rob as they sat.
“And you’re not some idiotic jerk, you’re a jerk with some observation skills,” Rob said. He sat, like he’d never been more bored, and clicked on the recorder.
“Jake’s busy, but he asked us to record this in case it sheds any light on anything.” Cam knew Barry would not see this as a huge effort in making nice, but then, he was the one asking for a favor.
“So I didn’t know Olivia was . . . bad news until you told me about framing Mindy . . .”
“Why don’t we ask the questions?” Rob suggested. “That way we aren’t stuck with any more of your excuses than we want.”
Cam pinched Rob under the table, but he ignored her. She was worried being too harsh would scare Barry off, or worse, make her laugh. It hadn’t yet, though.
“I know I deserve your scorn. I’m a bad husband,” Barry repeated the mantra he’d told Cam earlier, and she felt like she might reach across the table and thunk him in the head. It was a good thing the restaurant was so elegant, or she might have done it.
“When did you meet this . . . Olivia?” Rob asked.
“When I was training for the position here.”
“What do you even do?” Cam asked. She knew he sold real estate, but Mindy had said he was successful, which didn’t seem to fit with the location change he’d made.
“I’m a regional sales manager—real estate. When I accepted my promotion and transfer, the company put together a training with representatives of several local resources . . .”
“Don’t tell me. She was public safety,” Cam said.
“Well, yes . . .”
The Begonia Bribe Page 17
