Cruel Candy

by Mildred Abbott

  “Yes, that’s true.” Look at that. I could speak. And do so without drooling. “My name is Fred.”

  This time, when he halted a few feet away, his pause was more obvious. His eyes narrowed, but it seemed more out of curiosity than anything. “Fred?”

  “Winifred Page, Sergeant.” Officer Green’s eye roll could literally be heard in her voice. “She’s the daughter of Barry and Phyllis Adams.”

  I started to correct her, but the sergeant stepped up to us and held out his hand for Officer Green’s notes.

  She gave them over reluctantly, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. Anger, I thought. Not embarrassment.

  He flipped through before handing them back. “Thank you, Officer. If you’d help the others, I’ll take over with Ms. Page.”

  For a moment, it looked like she was going to argue, but then she cast an accusatory glance my way. “Yes, sir.” She stomped off.

  He held out his hand to me. “I’m Sergeant Branson Wexler. Nice to meet you… Fred.” A wry smile played at the corner of his lips. “Though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  Though his tone stayed professional, I was certain he was flirting. Which was ridiculous. Men like him didn’t flirt with women like me. Maybe one more symptom of skipping breakfast.

  Granted, he was several inches taller than me, but men like him wanted the blonde bombshell or dark-haired maven. And if they took a walk on the wild side, it would be for the redhead vixen type. Not the curly redhead bookworm. I took his hand, offering him a firm shake. “Nice to meet you as well, Sergeant.”

  He held my hand for just a moment too long. Long enough to confirm the lack of breakfast had nothing to do with what was happening between us.

  Maybe just an interrogation technique?

  He motioned toward the counter in the main room. “I noticed some chairs in there. Care to have a seat?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” I started to head that way, but the sound of his masculine gasp caused me to pause.

  “And who’s this?” Sergeant Wexler squatted down and extended the back of his hand to Watson, who gave a tentative sniff, then cocked his head, allowing his ears to be scratched.

  Not instant love, but not revulsion either. From Watson, it was almost a ringing endorsement.

  “This is Watson. He’s a corgi.” I wasn’t sure why that second detail was needed. Nor was I sure what was wrong with me. I’d gone from nervous with Officer Green to completely flustered with Sergeant Wexler.

  And who was I kidding? I knew exactly what was wrong with me.

  His smile was genuine, and his gaze stayed on Watson as he stretched out his other hand to offer further scratches. “Watson, huh? Like the little guy who helped out Sherlock Holmes?”

  “Yes, exactly. He….” I started to tell him where Watson’s name had come from, but for some reason held back. It seemed too personal, considering I’d just met the man. No matter how attractive he was, or that he was making my pulse do stupid things.

  After a few more seconds, Watson pulled away, and Sergeant Wexler let out a chuckle. “He’s not exactly the cuddly type, is he?”

  “Depends on the moment.”

  He stood. “I suppose the scene of a murder isn’t exactly cuddle time.” He tipped an imaginary hat toward Watson. “Good call, sir.” Then he motioned back toward the main room and smiled at me again. “Shall we?”

  We took seats in some folding chairs that were behind the counter. Sergeant Wexler took out a yellow legal pad from his case and placed it on the counter as he scrawled a quick note across the top. “I know you just went through this with Officer Green, but I like to hear things for myself when I can.” He paused in his writing and met my gaze once more. Though still friendly, any hints of flirtation had vanished, and he was all business. It put me more at ease. Probably a sad commentary that official police interrogations were easier to handle than possible flirting. “Care to walk me through how you found the body?”

  “Certainly.” I folded my hands in my lap and decided to give him the quick version. He could ask more questions if needed. “Watson and I came to check out the store. I’m converting it to a bookshop, so I wanted to get an idea of what work I have to do. When we made our way upstairs, that’s where I found Opal. Well, where Watson found Opal, actually. I saw the bloody rolling pin and then saw her. I think I probably stared at her in shock for a few minutes, and then I called 911.”

  As he wrote, he nodded a few times, then looked up again with the next question. “Did you touch anything when you went in? Accidentally knock over the candy or check for a pulse?”

  I shook my head. “No. She was very clearly dead. And the room was like that already. Candy everywhere. It was what we found first. Or what Watson found first. There were a few pieces of candy outside the door, and he snagged one before I could get to it.” I dug in my pockets and pulled out the two wrapped pieces of candy. The feather fell on the floor, but I snagged it before Watson could get it and shoved it back into my pocket. I held out the candy to Sergeant Wexler. He took them and lifted them to his face for inspection. “You said you found these outside the door?”

  “Yes.”

  “The door to the kitchen was closed when you and Watson went upstairs?” He looked at me over the candy. “These two pieces were on the floor outside the door, and then you went in and found Opal?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Actually there were three pieces, Watson ate one of them.”

  The corner of his lips quirked into a brief smile, and he made another note. “Any idea what Opal Garble was doing in your shop?”

  “No, I….” I sat up a little straighter. In all the hysteria, that question hadn’t even entered my mind. Probably because the store didn’t feel like mine yet. That and considering it was my first time walking in on a dead body, I probably wasn’t thinking too clearly. “I have no idea. Although, it looks like she was baking or….” I thought of the boxes. “Packing?”

  “Yes, it definitely seems that way. Strange that she would be cooking here. Obviously I’ve never inspected it, but I would assume Sinful Bites has its own kitchen. Any thoughts of why Opal would need to bake in your kitchen?” Sergeant Wexler’s tone wasn’t accusatory or dismissive like Officer Green’s had been, but there was definitely a different feel to it now. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

  “Like I said to the other officer, I just got into town yesterday. And I’ve only met Opal once. And this morning was my first time to ever walk into the shop. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the kitchen even looked like, or where it was, much less why someone was using it.”

  “But your father and mother own this property, correct?”

  “Yes. Though Barry is my stepfather. My father passed away several years ago.”

  His expression softened for a moment. “Sorry for your loss.”

  I nodded but didn’t offer anything else.

  “Do you think your stepfather or your mother were allowing Opal to rent the space for extra cooking room or something?”

  “I don’t—” I cut off my explanation. Somehow, answering Officer Green’s questions had been easier, despite her obvious dislike. Sergeant Wexler’s charm and good looks were throwing me off, which was frustrating. I didn’t care how charming and good-looking the man was. I wasn’t going to say anything incriminating about my stepfather if I could keep from it, not that I had the slightest worry that Barry would do such a thing. The man refused to even use mousetraps, let alone bludgeon an old woman with a rolling pin. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to offer up that he hadn’t cared for Opal Garble.

  “Not that I know of. It was their idea that I open the bookshop at this location. Granted, I arrived a few weeks earlier than I’d intended, but they’d made it very clear the shop had been vacant since the previous tenant’s death.”

  “Very well, then. Thank you.” Another note. “I’ll need to speak to them, of course. Do you have their number handy? If not, I’m certain I can get i
t easily.”

  “Of course.” I pulled out my cell to retrieve their numbers. There was no reason not to give him those.

  Before I could answer, another police officer approached. “Sergeant, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  “I’m in the middle of questioning a witness, Officer Jackson. Give me a moment please.” His tone was dismissive, almost arrogant, and at odds with how he’d spoken to me.

  The other policeman hesitated and then motioned over his shoulder. “Sorry, sir. But we found something rather important in the basement.”

  There was a basement?

  “Is there another body, officer?” Again, Wexler seemed irritated to be interrupted.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then please give us—”

  “The basement is a grow house, sir. A large one.”

  Sergeant Wexler sat up straight, and I gasped. Both he and the other policeman looked at me. His green eyes showed surprise. “You know what a grow house is, Fred?”

  I nodded. “Yes. An illegal marijuana-growing operation.”

  More surprise, and this time obvious suspicion.

  At the look, I figured a little more explanation was in order. “My father was a detective. One of the cases he was working on was bringing down an illegal drug ring.” The last case he worked on. The one that had gotten him killed.

  As Sergeant Wexler got up to follow the other officer, I stood as well. We’d taken a couple of steps before he looked back at me, a thick, perfectly shaped brow cocked, and an air of amusement in his tone. “And where do you think you’re going?”

  I hesitated. “To the basement.…” As the words left my lips, I knew it was ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t be allowed to go.

  “Did you already know about the basement, Fred?” He turned toward me fully, his professional demeanor back in place. “Did Watson sniff that out as well?”

  I shook my head. “No. He’s typically on the search for food, not drugs.”

  Sergeant Wexler’s lips twitched once more. “I’ll make sure to document that in my notes, just so suspicion doesn’t fall on your corgi.” There was that flirtatious tone again.

  The officer who’d discovered the basement snorted out a little laugh. “I doubt he would smell it, especially if he wasn’t trained for such smells. The room seems to be extremely well insulated.”

  When Wexler spoke again, any hint of flirtation was gone. “Be that as it may, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you and Watson to stay up here.”

  I started to nod, then a wave of claustrophobia seemed to wash over me. “Actually….” I motioned toward the front door. “Do you mind if I get some fresh air? I need to get out of here for a little bit.”

  He hesitated, considered, then smiled. “Of course, but don’t go anywhere, please.”

  “I’ll stay right outside.”

  He gave another nod and then followed the other policeman to the back of the store.

  I didn’t bother to look down at Watson, just patted my thigh and headed toward the door. “Come on, boy.”

  I blinked as we stepped outside, the sunlight hurting my eyes after hours in the dim shop. I checked my watch. Nearly eight in the morning. The other stores were opening, and though it was winter season, a few tourists already wandered the sidewalks, most of them pausing to inspect the police cruisers in front of the shop, then glancing at me.

  I considered going back inside to avoid the curious looks, but the thought made my skin crawl. Instead I leaned against the wall of the shop and folded my arms, trying to look unapproachable.

  Now that I was outside in the brisk November air, the strangeness of the situation became more pronounced. There was a dead woman in the top floor of my soon-to-be bookshop. A murdered, dead woman. And as if that wasn’t enough, a marijuana-growing operation was in the basement.

  How had Mom and Barry not noticed it when they’d removed the taxidermy? Although, knowing them, they wouldn’t have thought to check a basement. Who knew if they were even aware they owned a basement.

  A basement! What a nice thought. I wouldn’t have to use the top level for storage after all. I realized I was smiling and then shook my head. Dear Lord. I couldn’t allow myself to be that awful. Being happy about a basement when a woman had lost her life? Although, I supposed it was okay to try to find a bright side. I glanced at Watson who was staring up at me. “Don’t look at me like that, Judgy.”

  At the sound of the door opening beside my right shoulder, I jumped and turned around to see someone looking up at me.

  “Fred!”

  It took me a second to put a name to the pretty round face. “Katie, hi.” I glanced behind her into the interior of Sinful Bites. The cases were still filled with candy and sweets. My stomach rumbled. Then I recalled that the owner of Sinful Bites was currently getting a chalk outline above us.

  “I didn’t realize you were here. Do you know what’s going on with all the cop cars?” Katie stepped fully outside. “I arrived about fifteen minutes ago. They were already here.”

  “Yes, unfortunately I do. I hate to—” Katie’s words sank in and I paused. “You just got here?”

  She nodded, looking confused.

  “Don’t most bakers have to get up in the wee hours of the morning to get the day’s treats prepared?”

  Watson whined, causing Katie and I to look down. He lifted a paw.

  “Oh, I said the word, didn’t I?” I reached down offering an apologetic pat. “Sorry, boy.” I grinned at Katie. “I said the T-word.”

  “I caught that.” Katie sighed, her demeanor shifting to something like annoyance. “And you’re right. Most bakers do exactly that, and if it was my shop, that’s what I’d do as well. But Opal doesn’t like me to come in outside of business hours. I’m supposed to do the baking in between customers during the day. She’s very strict about the times I can be here.” Katie attempted to look over my shoulder, though it didn’t do her any good, considering the windows were still papered over. “The police are in your shop?”

  “Yes.”

  Katie looked up at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” We stood awkwardly for a few moments while I considered what to do. I was certain I shouldn’t tell her anything, but it felt strange to know her boss was dead inside my shop and to just stand out here and pretend everything was normal. I glanced around, making sure no tourists were nearby, and lowered my voice. “Actually, Katie. I’m sorry to tell you this, but….” I swallowed. Crap. What was I doing? I’d never had to break the news of anyone’s death before. Although now I’d started, I couldn’t think of a way to finish without simply telling the truth. “It seems that… Opal was killed in my store this morning. Or last night. I’m not really sure which.”

  “Opal was….” Katie took a step back and bumped into the doorframe. She shook her head as if to clear it. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Opal is dead.” Katie shook her head again, then repeated the phrase. “Opal is dead.” Her brown gaze flicked up to me. “Killed, you said? As in… murder?”

  I nodded, something about Katie’s reaction seemed off.

  “Wow.” Katie blinked a couple of times, her voice seeming far away. “Wow. Murdered. That’s really… wow.” She glanced back into Sinful Bites and cocked her head. “Huh. Maybe that means….” Her words trailed off, so I didn’t get to hear what that might mean, and when she looked back, there was a blush over her cheeks. “Sorry. That’s awful. About Opal.”

  I couldn’t keep from saying, “You don’t seem all that upset.”

  She let out a snort and a half laugh, though it was a dark sound. “You have to forgive me.” She gave a little shrug. “I tend to be blunt. And that can throw people off sometimes. But no, I’m not all that upset. Surprised, definitely. Upset? No. Opal wasn’t a very nice woman. Wasn’t a very nice boss either.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that yesterday.”

 
; Katie’s eyes widened at my words.

  “Well, I did.” I gave a shrug of my own. “I tend to be blunt myself, most of the time.” Growing up with a father who was a detective, death wasn’t a new topic in my world. Not that he shared his cases with me that much, but he’d never been one to live by the notion that a person shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

  Something passed between Katie and I, an understanding perhaps. Once more, I felt the kinship with the woman that I’d sensed the day before. “I’m sure this is absolutely horrible, but I’ve been up since before dawn, and with all the drama, I haven’t had a chance to eat anything. I think my blood sugar is crashing. Any chance you have something more substantial than chocolate in there?”

  She beamed. “I do! I have this amazing ham-and-cheese roll that I baked at home last night. I brought it for my lunch. But you can have it if you want. Opal never lets me bake things like that for the store.”

  “Oh my God, you’re a godsend!” I glanced back toward the front door of my bookshop, hesitating. Whatever. I wasn’t under arrest, and I wasn’t exactly wandering off. I was right next door. And I needed breakfast and to get out of the cold.

  Katie hung up the Closed sign and warmed up the roll.

  Despite myself, I was unable to keep from making almost embarrassing sex noises as I ate it. And not just because I was ravenous. The thing was pure perfection. A stunning combination of buttery, flaky crust, salty ham, and creamy cheese. Proving just how much I loved Watson, for every two bites I took, I ripped off a piece and tossed it to him. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. “Katie, what are you doing working in a candy shop? You need your own bakery.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve been trying—”

  At that moment, a door slammed somewhere in the back room, and a second later, Lois Garble stepped into the doorway, her long gray hair wild and her eyes wide. She looked between Katie and me, and when she spoke, I could hear the fear in her voice. “Have either of you seen Opal? She wasn’t at home when I woke up. And then I get here to find police cars outside.”