Murder in the Oven: A Camellia Cove Mystery Book 1

by Jessica Preston

  Ethel smiled at Kim. “There's a meeting in town tonight. They're discussing the City Council plan for the new sewage treatment plant. I was going to go to it, but I don't have anything to wear.”

  Kim raised her eyebrows. “Do you usually go to City Council meetings?”

  Ethel frowned. “Do you know anything about worm farming? I think I'll start a worm farm. I hear the droppings are good for plants.”

  “I don't know anything about worm farming,” Kim replied. “But you should ask my dad. He knows a lot about gardening. He could tell you how to do it.”

  “I brought a picnic basket,” Ethel told her. “I packed some cheese and apples and some of your cookies. They were delicious. I would offer you some, but I ate it all for lunch about an hour ago.”

  Kim made a face. “If you packed my cookies, they must have been very stale. I haven't made any cookies for days.”

  “I saved these from last week,” Ethel replied. “They were just as delicious as ever.”

  Kim's jaw dropped. “Last week? You could make yourself sick eating food that old.”

  Ethel grinned. “Your cookies could never make anybody sick. They have magic powers.”

  Kim turned away. “Tell that to Pat Malloy.”

  Ethel faced into the wind. It blew her white hair off her cheeks. She closed her eyes into the breeze. “I remember the first time I ever used a computer. It was 1989, and that thing was as big as a small car. It could barely do basic mathematical calculations, but we all thought it was the greatest thing since the Hula Hoop. We all thought we were on our way back to the future.”

  Kim laughed. “I missed you, Grandma. I've been so busy with my cookie shop I don't get to spend any time with you anymore. Even when you came into the shop every morning, I didn't get to talk to you. I was too busy with my customers.”

  “Can you remember when the curbside recycling comes?” Ethel asked. “I need to put my recycling out, but I can't remember when they do the pick-up.”

  “I can't remember,” Kim replied, “but you can watch your neighbors and put your recycling out when they do. That's what I always used to do.”

  “I'm going on a nature walk with the hiking club tomorrow,” Ethel told her. “We're going up to Colonial Peak. I'll pack another picnic lunch, but I don't have any more cookies. I'll take some Dappley Donuts instead.”

  Kim's head whipped around. “What? You….you get Dappley Donuts?”

  “Sure, all the time.” The old lady twirled her grass stem and munched the end. Then she used the frayed stalk to pick her teeth. “They're the best donuts in town.”

  Kim stared at her grandmother and swallowed hard. “How long have you been going to Dappley Donuts?”

  “Oh, ever since they opened,” Ethel replied. “There's a craft shop right down the road from my house, you know. I go there to get my embroidery thread and my ribbons and glue for making my Christmas decorations.”

  Kim grabbed her grandmother by the shoulders. She tried to control herself, but she couldn't stop her voice from rising. “Pay attention, Grandma. This is important. Do you hear me? Listen. This is important. When was the last time you went to Dappley Donuts?”

  Ethel peered into her granddaughter's eyes. No doubt she thought Kim had gone completely off the deep end, and maybe she had. “What are you saying? I wasn't talking about Dappley Donuts.”

  “But I was,” Kim screamed. “Tell me the truth. When did you go to Dappley Donuts?”

  “I told you I went there all the time,” Ethel replied. “They have really good donuts, almost as good as your cookies.”

  “Did you see anything there?” Kim asked. “Did you see anything unusual there?”

  “What would I see there?” Ethel asked. “I saw Ivor Wilson there. He runs the shop, and he serves all the customers. He's not as nice as you, darling, but he serves free coffee to everyone in his loyalty club.”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “Great. Just great.”

  “And he gives an extra discount on baker's dozens,” Ethel went on. “That's how I get extras to keep in my refrigerator. That's how I have extras to take on picnics.”

  Kim cocked her head to one side. “Are the donuts in your fridge a week old, too?”

  Ethel gazed up into the sky. “The last time I went to Dappley Donuts, I tried to get a baker's dozen, but I couldn't get anywhere near the counter. Ivor was too busy helping Natalie Malloy, although I didn't see her get any donuts. She left without getting anything, but they were standing there at the counter talking for hours. None of the other customers could get served.”

  Kim opened her mouth and shut it again. “What were they talking about?”

  “Somebody should complain to the Better Business Bureau,” Ethel went on. “That's no way to treat your customers, and half the people waiting were loyalty club members, like me. We should be more important to Ivor than Natalie Malloy.”

  Kim swallowed, but she could hardly make her voice work. “Please think, Grandma. What were they talking about?”

  “Oh, I don't remember,” Ethel replied. “Ivor was talking about some problem he had, and Natalie was telling him not to worry about it.”

  Kim sensed her hands tightening on her grandmother's shoulders and forced herself to take them off. “Are you sure you can't remember what he said the problem was?”

  “What's a woman like Natalie doing talking to Ivor Wilson in the middle of the day anyway?” Ethel asked. “She's a married woman, and he's got a business to run.”

  Kim shook herself. “I'm surprised they would be seen together in public at all. Whatever they were talking about must have been important.”

  “Not as important as serving your loyal customers,” Ethel shot back. “You shouldn't let one person gum up the works like that. But I suppose a handsome woman like Natalie can throw her weight around wherever she wants.”

  “Did you see Natalie anywhere else in town, Grandma?” Kim asked. “Did you see her anywhere that you can remember her doing anything out of the ordinary.”

  “I saw Natalie outside your cookie shop once,” Ethel replied.

  “Outside my cookie shop?” Kim repeated. “But Natalie is a health nut. Everybody knows that, and she's got the body to prove it. She wouldn't eat my cookies, and I would remember her coming in there to buy them.”

  “I thought at the time it was unusual,” Ethel agreed.

  “She didn't come into the shop,” Kim went on. “So what was she doing?”

  “I don't know.” Ethel waved her hand. “Just hanging around, I guess.”

  Kim smacked her lips. “She wouldn't be just hanging around. She must have been doing something.”

  “She was standing there looking at the shop,” Ethel told her. “She wasn't doing anything.”

  “When was this?” Kim asked. “When did you see her?”

  Ethel put her head on one side. “Oh, now let me see. It must have been early Wednesday evening.”

  Kim gasped. “Wednesday evening! But that was the night before Pat was killed. What was she doing there then? I wouldn't have been there at that time. The shop would have been closed.”

  “No, you weren't there,” Ethel countered. “I don't know where you were, but you weren't there.”

  “This is very suspicious,” Kim remarked. “She was there the night before, just mooning around after the shop closed. And then Ivor was there right after I got back from the police station. What could those two have been up to?”

  Ethel beamed. “Could you help me with something, darling?”

  Kim's shoulders slumped. “Anything, Grandma.”

  “I need help hanging up a curtain in my living room,” Ethel explained. “I can't reach the rod, and you're so tall, you can reach it easily. Would you hang it up for me.”

  Kim squeezed her arm. “Sure, Grandma. Anything you need.”

  Chapter 8

  At sunset that night, Betts came back to Kim's house on Chestnut Street. Kim met her at the door. Betts scanned her black suit up and
down. “All set, I see.”

  “We're going prowling around after dark,” Kim pointed out. “I thought black would be the best color to stay hidden.”

  “Are we walking there?” Betts asked.

  “Why not?” Kim asked.

  “Natalie Malloy lives all the way on the other side of Ravensborn,” Betts told her. “She lives in Tinkle's Hollow, which is beyond the highway at the bend in the river. It's a fair hike to walk.”

  “How do you know where Natalie Malloy lives?” Kim asked.

  “I looked it up in the phone book,” Betts replied. “I wouldn't come on a stake-out unprepared.”

  “Stake-out!” Kim cried. “Who said anything about a stake-out?”

  “Isn't that what we're going to do?” Betts asked. “Aren't we going to stake out her house?”

  “That's not what I'm going to do,” Kim replied.

  “What are you doing?” Betts asked.

  Kim sighed. “Honestly, I have no idea.” She shut the door behind her. “Come on. We'll take my car. If we're going to stake out her house, at least we'll be comfortable and relatively well hidden.”

  Betts smiled. “That's more like it.”

  Kim followed Betts's directions across town and through a maze of streets to a luxurious neighborhood of beautiful Victorian homes surrounded by ornate gardens. The last light of day streamed through the trees, and the shadows hid Kim's car when she parked outside Natalie's house.

  “I can't picture Pat living here,” Kim remarked. “He couldn't have been making enough on a Health Inspector's salary to afford a place like this.”

  “Maybe Natalie has her own money,” Betts suggested.

  “Then what's she doing going after my insurance policy?” Kim asked.

  “You know what they say,” Betts replied. “Nothing is ever enough. Some of these rich people spend their lives obsessing about getting more money.”

  Kim shook her head. “And Pat was such a level-headed guy. I'm sorry to lose him. I hope my next Health and Safety Inspector is as nice as he was.”

  “You better watch what you say about him,” Betts warned. “Some people already think you two had something going on the side.”

  “Yeah,” Kim shot back. “Natalie accused me of that the minute Aaron took me downtown for questioning.”

  Betts' eyes widened. “Wow, she's really got it in for you.”

  Kim shrugged. “I don't think so. I think she just wants to get Pat's killer put away. It's grief. That's all.”

  “It isn't grief if she's guilty,” Betts countered.

  “Good point.” Kim went back to gazing out at the neighborhood. Darkness fell, and lights winked on in porches and along the street. “I hope she's home. I would hate to sit out here all this time for nothing.”

  “She's home.” Betts pointed toward Natalie's door. “Look.”

  In front of their eyes, a light came on in the front window of Natalie's house. Then the door opened, and Natalie herself came out. She wore a tight-fitting sleeveless dress, high-heeled shoes, and her jewelry glittered in the porch light. “You're right, Betts. She must have money.”

  Then the two friends gasped in unison. Another figure joined Natalie on the porch, and Kim recognized the bushy hair and mustache, the baggy clothes, and the loping gate. Natalie threw her arms around his neck, and they shared a passionate kiss right there on the porch.

  “Ivor Wilson!” Kim whispered. “What's he doing here?”

  “Can't you see?” Betts asked. “He's got his tongue halfway down her throat. I guess they don't have to worry anymore about Pat finding out.”

  “But that means…..” Kim broke off.

  “Double motive,” Betts concluded. “Triple, quadruple, quintuple motive. They bumped off Pat, and now they're going after you.”

  “But how?” Kim stammered.

  Betts shrugged “Who knows?” She yanked Kim down in the seat. “Get down! He'll see us.”

  Ivor tore himself out of Natalie's arms and hurried down the path to his car. The two friends cowered behind the dashboard. They only came out after he drove away. “Now what are we going to do?”

  Kim turned her key in the ignition. “We're going back to the scene of the crime. We're going back to Pembrooke Bakery.”

  She revved the engine and hit the gas. Back in Pembrooke, she parked down the street and shut off the headlights. Betts peered into the darkness. “What are we looking for here?”

  “Aaron told me we had to find proof that someone came into my shop and tampered with the cream cheese frosting,” Kim replied. “If any proof exists, it will be here.”

  “Aren't you worried about getting caught?” Betts asked. “You don't want another trespassing charge on your rap sheet.”

  Kim threw open her door. “I've already got a long enough rap sheet. Another trespassing charge won't make much difference now. Besides, this is my property. I won't be trespassing.” She started across the street.

  Betts hurried after her. “But what about the cordon tape? You can't cross that. You'll be charged with obstruction of justice and tampering with evidence and who knows what else.”

  Kim called back over her shoulder. “We aren't crossing the tape. We're going around the back.”

  She led the way back to the loading dock. Betts stumbled against the concrete ledge and crashed into Kim from behind. She lost her footing and fell back on her seat. “Oof!”

  Kim grinned at her. “Are you quite finished, because we've got a murder to investigate here.”

  Betts climbed to her feet and brushed herself off. “How are you going to find clues in this dark? I can't see a thing.”

  Kim pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket. “We don't need to see much. We just need to examine the padlock.”

  Betts moved closer to her and craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “Where did you get that thing?”

  “I brought it from home,” Kim replied. “I thought we might need it on our stake-out.”

  Betts shook her head. “You're a real detective, aren't you?”

  “I am not,” Kim shot back. “All I ever wanted to do was bake cookies. I'm only doing this to clear my name. After this is over, I'm going back to my own business. I'll leave the murder cases to the police.”

  Betts elbowed her. “If you get Aaron for a boyfriend, you might get involved with solving more mysteries. You might get to be the next Agatha Christie.”

  Kim shook Betts off. “I am not getting Aaron for a boyfriend.”

  Betts leaned back. “Come on, Kim. You can't fool me. You go all mushy whenever he comes around, and he gets cookies and coffee from you every morning. He wouldn't do that if he didn't like you.”

  “He's a nice guy,” Kim countered. “We've known each other since high school. He just wants to support my business.”

  Betts looked away. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “Can we get back to work here?” Kim asked. “I won't be doing anything with Aaron or anyone else if I'm in prison for murder.”

  Betts bit her lip to suppress a smile and nodded. Kim trained her flashlight beam on the padlock and turned it over in her hand. “Can you see anything?”

  “It's an unusual key shape,” Kim replied. “I noticed that when I bought it. You couldn't mistake that key shape for any other key. There couldn't be more than half a dozen of these in town. I remember when I bought it the locksmith told me it was a really good lock because the barrel is protected in its housing.”

  Betts tapped her foot. “Fascinating.”

  Kim flipped the lock over and looked at the back of it. “Well, I guess there's nothing to see here. Let's go.” Betts turned away, but all of a sudden Kim gave a gasp of surprise. “Hey! Take a look at this. There's a screw missing from the back of the lock.”

  “What?” Betts asked.

  “See for yourself,” Kim replied. “There's a screw missing. Someone tampered with this lock.”

  Betts took a step closer. “Are you sure?”

 
“You can see the hole right there,” Kim told her. “These barrel locks are supposed to be tamper-proof. Someone must have taken it apart to tamper with it.”

  “Maybe the screw fell out,” Betts suggested.

  Kim smacked her lips. “These locks don't just fall apart like that. Maybe someone tried to pry it apart.” She scanned the ground with her flashlight. “Maybe the screw is still here in a crack in the pavement.”

  Betts bent down to take a look, too. She pushed a crumpled paper bag out of the way with her foot. Then she yelped in pain. “Ow!”

  Kim peered at her. “What's the matter now?”

  “Something sharp hurt my foot,” Betts replied.

  Kim pointed her flashlight at the bag. “I don't see anything.”

  “Something stuck into the toe of my shoe.” Betts picked up the bag and shook it. A metallic object tinkled to the ground. “What is it?”

  Kim leaned over and shone her flashlight beam at the object. “What do you know? It's one of those little pen screwdrivers. Whoever tampered with the lock must have dropped it here.” She twirled it between her fingers. “And I think I know who did it.”

  “You're not thinking of Ivor again, are you?” Betts asked.

  “Who else could it be?” Kim asked. “I caught him messing with that lock when I got back from the police station.”

  “You caught him messing with it after the murder,” Betts pointed out. “Whoever killed Pat must have tampered with the lock before the murder. Why would Ivor come around after the fact?”

  “Maybe he came back for his screwdriver,” Kim replied. “What other explanation is there?”

  “If what you say is true,” Betts replied, “how come the Crime Lab didn't notice the screw missing? Isn't it their job to pick up on that sort of thing?”

  “The Crime Lab didn't search this part of the building,” Kim told her. “If they had, maybe they would have noticed the missing screw and found the screwdriver. All I know is we've got Natalie Malloy running around with Ivor Wilson. We've got Natalie telling Ivor she's going to solve his problem. We've got Natalie hanging around the shop the night before Pat was killed. We've got a screw missing from my padlock and we've got Ivor handling the lock after Pat was killed. That spells murder to me.”