"So, where to now?" Joey started the car, and we pulled out of the parking lot onto Seneca Meadows' main street.
It was still too early for most of the businesses, but Candy's Sweets and Treats was open. In my humble opinion, it can never be too late for coffee or too early for chocolate. I'd be able to take care of both in one spot.
Candy's eyes lit up when we walked in. "Hey, Joey, Mrs. B! Boy, am I glad to see you." Her arms were covered in flour up to the elbows and the usually clean apron was smeared with chocolate. "Wanna clock in and give me a hand, Joey?"
Joey and I looked at each other. I could tell that he wanted to acquiesce, but Merry's welfare was foremost in his mind. It was in mine as well; just standing in the bakery sent a twinge of guilt through my thoughts.
"What's going on, you two?" Candy glanced from one to the other of us, concern on her face. "Is it something I said?"
I shook my head. "We're worried about Merry. She's missing." I jerked my thumb at Joey, standing silently with his hands thrust into his pockets. "He went by her house and couldn't find her anywhere."
Two floured hands flew to Candy's face, leaving white imprints on her cheeks. "Oh, my God, you guys! Do you think this has something to do with the murders? I mean, do you think she did it?"
"Did what?" I looked at Candy in consternation. "Do you mean, do I think that Merry killed Lucia? Or Mick?" I shook my head emphatically. "Absolutely not! Why would she do that?"
Candy shrugged, an uncomfortable look on her face. "I don't know, Caro. I just, you know, I saw a lot of friction between those two." She gave a nervous laugh. "Not that I'd blame her, believe you me! That Lucia could be a real devil some days."
I could see that Joey was getting upset, and I hastened to change the topic. I had enough to handle at the moment without refereeing a fight.
"If you've got some coffee ready, Candy, I'd appreciate a cup. Joey?"
He shrugged. "I guess. I'm gonna need something to get me going, that's for sure." He moved toward the glass display counter. "And I sure could use something to eat. How about one of those chocolate croissants?" He pointed at a luscious-looking pastry, its golden crust dusted with powdered sugar. "Caro, you want one?"
As if I needed to be asked twice.
Armed with chocolate and coffee, we made our way to the table closest to the kitchen. Candy had rushed off to frost a batch of cinnamon rolls and make sure that the peanut butter cookies were not burning.
"You might consider giving Candy some help, Joey," I said, wiping crumbs from my mouth. "If anything comes up, I'll make sure you know right away."
"And leave it to the cops to find her?" He shook his head in exasperation. "I'd rather be out looking for her myself."
"And where would you go?" I sipped my coffee and watched him over the rim of the mug. I could tell that he understood my meaning, but stubbornness kept him silent. I sighed. "Look," I said, "I'll keep in touch with Officer Scott and pass on anything he tells me, okay? That way we'll both stay informed. Besides," I added with more confidence than I was feeling, "I'm sure they'll find her out at the time-share." The kitchen door swung open, emitting a mélange of wonderful aromas and a very flustered Candy. I nodded in her direction. "Be a good sport and lend her a hand, Joey. She needs you, you need money, and I need some time to think." I beamed at him. "It's a win-win-win for all of us."
"Fine." He took the last sip of his coffee and abruptly stood up, nearly sending his chair flying across the room. "But you'd better call me as soon as you hear anything, Caro."
"Scout's honor," I said, giving him a snappy salute. "Now get over there and tell her you're on the clock as soon as you run me home. I'm heading back to the police station and then over to the bookstore. I forgot that someone needs to put a Closed sign on the door until Merry gets back."
With Candy and Joey squared away and a hastily written notice taped to Murder by the Book's front door, I headed back to Seneca Meadows Police Department. Even if Officer Scott was still out searching for Merry—and he had better be—I figured that I could sit in the station's public-friendly lobby and go over my notes.
I'd forgotten about the station's answer to Grumpy, he of Walt Disney fame. If looks could kill, I'd have become the first fatality in the newly-redecorated lobby of the Seneca Meadows' police station.
Ms. Greenbriar rose to her feet, her bearing almost majestic as she strode over to me. I kept my eyes on my notebook, scribbling busily away. When I felt her bulk looming over me, I shifted my eyes upward, past the polished name badge and the mouth set in a prim line. I noticed a few dark hairs protruding from a mole growing near her bottom lip and had to force myself not to gawk; I had a feeling that she wasn't coming over to get my opinion on facial waxing.
"And you're back here why?" Arms crossed high over an imposing bust line, Ms. Greenbriar stared down her nose at me. I noticed the other employees glance our way, and I could have sworn that they wore sympathetic expressions on their faces.
I decided to use a casual approach. "I'm waiting for Officer Scott to get back. I have some information I need to share with him, and I'm sure it will be vice versa."
My neck was beginning to ache from looking up. I wanted to stand up but was sure she'd see it as an offensive tactic on my part; I had no desire to be tackled and handcuffed by Seneca Meadows' own Amazon Woman. I settled for scooting my chair back, allowing me to lower my head and alleviate the growing pain in my neck.
"Really." It was not a question. I watched, fascinated, as the mole disappeared under her outthrust bottom lip.
"Officer Scott and I are friends," I said with a slight sneer of my own. Two could play that little game.
"Really," she said again. The mole reappeared.
"Yes, really." In my growing agitation, I gave the word a regal trill, rolling the r in my best upper class imitation. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" My husband would have been horrified. He tends to see the litigious side of things and would have been quick to soothe Ms. Greenbriar's ruffled feathers.
To my relief, she spun around on her large feet and all but stomped back to her desk. I caught a surreptitious thumbs-up from one of the other officers and grinned at him. Ms. Greenbriar did not find it amusing.
* * *
I'd been sitting there for nearly two hours—mostly from spite, since it seemed that Officer Scott was not going to show—when the door opened again. I nearly dropped my notebook when I saw who it was.
Detective Leonides, the poster boy for Brooklyn Police Department, strolled in, a ready smile on his face that faded quickly when he saw me sitting there. Since I am one for immediate action when feeling cornered, I stood up and approached the detective, hand held out in greeting.
"Detective, how nice to see you in our little neck of the woods," I said, grabbing his hand and pumping it enthusiastically. "What brings you here, if I might ask?"
"Absolutely not," he replied, snatching his hand back and thrusting it into the pocket of his impeccably tailored slacks. Slacks that fit him, I noticed, like a glove. Or a second skin. I wondered how he'd be able to sit without losing a seam or two.
"And how might we be of service?" The voice was almost unrecognizable in its coating. I turned to see Ms. Greenbriar standing there, bosom thrust out like a ship coming into harbor. To my great amusement, I saw the detective flinch.
"I'm here to see an Officer Scott," he said, right hand firmly in his pocket. He was probably afraid of it being crushed by Ms. Greenbriar's great paw. "Is he available?" He glanced at his wrist, a gleaming gold Rolex wannabe riding just below an equally shiny cufflink.
"Not at the moment he isn't," she said, tossing a triumphant look in my direction. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. The sheer pettiness of some people never ceases to amaze me, and Ms. Greenbriar wore hers like a royal robe.
"Not a problem. I'm running a little early anyway. Is there an office I can use while I'm waiting?" Detective Leonides began edging away from the over-powering presence that
was Ms. Greenbriar.
"I can walk him back." The officer who'd given me the thumbs-up stood up and motioned for Leonides to follow him. "I'm heading that way right now."
The expression of relief on Detective Leonides' face was truly priceless. Without another word, he spun on his heels—a pair of Italian-made leather loafers, I noticed—and all but ran out of the lobby. I didn't bother to hide my grin; I can wear pettiness as well as the next person.
With Ms. Greenbriar safely ensconced behind her desk once more, I began going over my notes again. I was missing the connection that I knew was staring me in the face, and it was making me irritable. I'd have to rely on my sticky note format and lay the entire thing out as if it was a manuscript in order for the synapses to connect.
I sighed, glancing at my mobile for the time, and saw that I'd missed a text. Not recognizing the number, I decided to live dangerously and open it anyway. It was from Joey. He informed me that he'd be getting off work at the bakery at eleven and wanted to meet up. Could I let him know where I was? I could and did, asking him to join me at the police station. Between the two of us, surely we'd be able to extract information from Officer Scott.
When he finally arrived, Joey was still sporting a dusting of flour on his face, giving him the appearance of a very large, very fit sugared pastry. I had to smile: he seemed the perfect fit for Candy's bakery, and I was glad that Merry had some family in town.
Thinking of Merry erased the smile from my face. It had been nearly ten hours since I'd last spoken to her, and if she wasn't at the bookstore or her house, I had no idea where she could have gone
"Hey," Joey said as he slid into the chair next to me. "How's it going? Any news?" I could see the concern on his face, twin lines of worry etched between his eyebrows.
I shook my head. "Not yet. Something interesting, though," I added. "A detective from the city is here to speak to Officer Scott. I wonder if it's about Mick O'Reilly, the guy you replaced at Candy's." I didn't mention that "the guy" was dead, but Joey knew.
He shrugged, yawning. "Could be. I'm gonna shut my eyes for a minute, get a catnap in while we're waiting. Wake me up when the fuzz gets here." With his legs stretched out in front of him, Joey leaned his head back against the wall.
I wiggled myself into a more comfortable position, tempted to put my head over on his shoulder. If I wasn't so worried, I'd be in my own bed, snoozing alongside Trixie.
I must have drifted off. The next thing I knew, a firm hand was on my shoulder, shaking me awake.
"Mrs. B? Are you okay?"
I forced my eyes open and stared up at the anxious visage of Officer Scott. Sitting upright—apparently my head had bobbled over onto Joey's muscular shoulder—I resisted the urge to scrub at my eyes with my fists, a childhood response I'd never fully shaken. "I'm fine. Did you find Merry?" I peered around his bulk as if my friend would be standing there, her eyes twinkling mischievously at the fuss she'd caused.
He nodded. "I sure did." He smiled down at us. "In fact, she's right behind me. Or should be," he added with a glance at the station's front door as it opened to admit Merry Holmes, a chagrined expression on her face.
I flew up from my chair, Joey close on my heels, and threw my arms around her, too relieved to be anything but happy.
"Hold on there, pardner!" she exclaimed, hugging me back just as tightly. "I'm still in one piece, no thanks to Officer Scott." The two of them exchanged grins. "We just got to talking over coffee and completely forgot to call you."
Joey wrapped an arm around his cousin's shoulders and gave her a swift hug, the worry lines gone from his face. "Next time you decide to go off the grid, gimme a holler first, okay?"
"Sheesh," said Merry, returning Joey's hug. "You'd think I'd been kidnapped or something."
"That's exactly what we were thinking," I said. "That. Or worse." A chill ran down my spine, and I grabbed Merry's hand. "Look, you. Next time you feel the need to hide out, check in with me first, okay?"
"And me," chimed in Joey. "I nearly got my head bit off by your pal here when I woke her up this morning." He ducked as I aimed a friendly swipe at his shoulder.
"If this little love fest is over, I'll need a word with the three of you."
In the ensuing melee, I'd completely forgotten about our resident hero: if anyone deserved a group hug, he certainly did.
"Do you know how long this will take?" Joey checked his watch. "I promised Candy I'd be back to help her shut things down and get a few recipes prepped for tomorrow."
"As long as it takes." The smile was gone, and a sterner, more sober persona now stood there. "We've got a lot to discuss. Now, if you'll follow me."
The three of us followed meekly, exchanging shrugs and glances. An uncomfortable suspicion began growing in my mind; was Detective Leonides' presence a part of this discussion? I tugged on Merry's arm, drawing her closer.
"That detective from the city is here," I hissed in her ear. "Remember the one who thinks he's a model for GQ?"
She gave me a brilliant smile in return. I shook my head; typical Merry, I thought to myself, recalling her reaction when she'd met the good detective. Well, what would be would be. Que sera, sera, as Doris Day might say.
As Officer Scott held open his office door, we trooped in and dropped into the nearest chairs. Detective Leonides sat behind the desk going through paperwork, a stack of folders in front of him. He glanced up briefly as we appeared and gave each a tight smile, lingering the longest in Joey's direction. To my amusement, I saw two bright spots of color appear on Joey's face. Hmmm. Another interesting side note to file away for later perusal. Merry, I noticed, was not as amused as I.
Four pairs of eyes watched as Officer Scott shut the door, effectively sealing off the office from the rest of the station. With an almost mind-boggling slowness, he sauntered over to the desk and hefted himself up on the corner, one leg swinging in a jaunty manner. The soberness was still apparent in odd juxtaposition to his posture. I was aware of my heart, its rate picking up in concert with my nervously tapping toes. Why was this beginning to have the feel of an interrogation? Greg, I was certain, would not be happy.
"Detective Leonides, whom you've already met," said Officer Scott with a nod at me and Merry, "has kindly agreed to join forces"—here I almost giggled at the unintended pun—"and solve this ongoing case." The leg stopped its swinging, and he slid off the corner of the desk, knees cracking in unison. He grimaced, reaching down to give each offending joint a rub. "I think we need to hear everything you two know. And I mean everything," he added, his eyes two laser points aimed directly at me.
"But of course, Officer Scott," I said, careful to keep both tone and face agreeable in spite of my growing ire. "I've never kept anything from you before, have I?" When he did not answer and only continued to look at me, I capitulated, saying, "Oh, very well. Maybe I did leave a few details out before, but that was, as they say, so last year."
Officer Scott executed a world-class eye roll. I grinned. We were back on familiar ground. It would be Detective Leonides, I thought, who would throw the proverbial spanner—or monkey wrench—in the works.
* * *
"Did you really need to spill your guts like that?" Joey took a bite of the arugula and turkey croissant, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, really, cuz. This isn't the FBI or anything."
"Murder is serious business, Joey," said Merry severely. "And when my name is connected with it, you'd better believe I'm gonna tell all I know."
"Alright, alright," he replied mildly, hands held up in mock surrender. "Don't get your panties in a wad."
I had to laugh. The phrase sounded so comical next to the British version: don't get your knickers in a twist. Learning to understand American English certainly had added spice to my otherwise semi-predictable life.
"Listen," I began briskly. "We need to figure out exactly what that dress horse was doing here in Seneca Meadows."
I was sure there was more to the story than what we'd heard in O
fficer Scott's office. In my mind, Detective Leonides' presence equaled something fishy.
"I think he's adorable. Period." That was Merry in response to my flippant poke at the detective's ensemble du jour. "And it looks like my sweet cuz has the same opinion as well. Isn't that right, Joey?"
Joey flushed, his attempt at nonchalance overridden by the color in his cheeks. "Yeah, well, what of it? I'm not blind."
"And apparently neither was Detective Leonides," I couldn't resist saying. This time it was Merry's turn to roll her eyes.
"Who's Detective What's-his-name?" Candy slipped into an empty chair, sighing as she stretched out her legs. "Is he a new hire at SMPD?"
The four of us were sitting at the table next to the window. The Open sign was flipped over to read Closed, giving Candy and Joey a chance to catch up with orders taken over the phone as well as the next day's baking. The tasty croissant sandwiches we were enjoying, new to the menu at Candy's Sweets and Treats via Joey's contributions, were perfect for a stomach that had been operating on coffee and not much else since early in the day.
"I may never cook again," I said as I swallowed the last bit of buttery goodness. "Joey, you are a marvel in the kitchen."
"And he thinks he's a marvel in other places too." Merry ducked as Joey tossed a balled-up napkin her way, grinning around the table.
"Are we still talking about sandwiches here? Or am I missing something?" Candy looked from me to Merry to Joey, his color high once more. "Or do I even want to know?"
"You do not want to know," I said firmly. "Trust me on this, Candy." I smiled at Joey and Merry to take the sting out of my words. "We three ended up on the wrong side of a 'discussion' today, care of our friend Officer Scott." I mimed air quotes as I spoke, something I'd only recently added to my repertoire of conversational talents. "It seems a certain detective from Brooklyn has come to our pleasant burg to revel us with his criminal acumen."
When the Cat's Away Page 13
