1 Death by Chocolate

by Carol Lee

  I grabbed my coat, locked the shop and went down the road to join the crowd. When I got there, I realized that they were all gathered around Barbara’s Bakery Brilliance. The door hung only by the bottom hinge at a crazy angle and the gurney from the ambulance blocked the doorway. I could see movement from inside, but the large lettering on the window made it tough to make out how many people were inside.

  “What happened,” I asked of no one in particular.

  “It’s Barbara.” Someone answered. “I think she’s dead.”

  I swallowed hard. How could she be? I saw her just the other day at the Main Street Merchants meeting. We’d joked about having a bake off to see whose apple pie tasted better. I thought she’d had an appointment this morning. Had she been ill, I wondered.

  “Step back, folks,” David said in a very official voice.

  The crowd milled around a bit, but didn’t really move all that much. Then questions started erupting. “What happened?” “She’s gonna be alright, won’t she?” “Did anyone call her husband?” “Is she dead?” “What’s going on, Dave?”

  The last question came from Abe Redmond.

  “Not sure, yet, we’re still processing the scene. Want to come inside and we’ll brief you on what we know at this point.”

  The crowd stayed eerily quiet at the interchange and then the gurney got pushed out of the bakery and the hush continued. White sheets covered the figure on the stretcher, but there could be no doubt that it held a lifeless body. I stared like everyone else. Stunned and a bit shaken.

  “Give us some room,” called Peter Lynch and the startled crowd parted.

  Backing up myself, I caught Peter staring at me. I felt really uneasy by the piercing look he gave me, but then he looked away and scanned the crowd. He looked as though he was taking a head count or attendance. With that David came out also interested in the spectators. He saw me and came over.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard the sirens and came to find out what was going on.”

  “Okay folks,” he bellowed. “Let’s get going. Show’s over.” Then he took my elbow. Lightening shot through my body.

  “Listen, go back to your shop and stay there. I’ll be over as soon as I can. Don’t talk to anyone until I get there.” He said quietly.

  Dumbfounded, I walked back to the shop and fumbled with the lock to get inside. I thought about placing the closed sign on the door, but then I didn’t. Don’t talk to anyone? Why? What’s going on? I wondered.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and in strode David. His expression seemed intense and worried.

  “Green eyes, what time did you get here to open this morning?” he asked as he leaned toward me over the counter.

  “Same time as usual, about 4:15.” I backed away a step. “Why?” My legs felt numb and wobbly.

  “Did you see anyone or talk to anyone?”

  “No.” The full weight of what he asked hit me and I felt dizzy. “You’re asking me for an alibi. How did Barbara die?”

  “You tell me,” he said looking at the counter.

  “What? David. What is going on?”

  “Okay, Barbara didn’t die of natural causes. I can’t tell you any of the details, but Myra, you are the main suspect.”

  “Are you kidding? Me? Why on earth would I be a suspect?” Becoming indignant actually helped me to chase the shock away, but I tried to keep myself under control.

  “I wish I was joking, but Barbara was murdered this morning between three and four and one of your recipe cards turned up under the body.”

  “No. It’s not possible. You can’t think it was me. David, say you don’t think I had anything to do with it.”

  He looked at me directly in the eye with his piercing eyes and I stared back pleading with mine for him to believe me. Tears started to well up, but I sniffed them back.

  “I don’t think you did, but Peter and friends think your motive is pretty strong and will be coming to question you soon. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before that all happened so you could be prepared.”

  “Prepared? You’re preparing me by accusing me of murder?” My heart raced.

  “Hey, try and calm down. I wanted to talk to you about it before the others. I thought somehow it might be easier for you to hear it from, a—a friend.”

  I stepped back to the counter, took a deep breath and reached for his hand.

  “Thanks, friend.”

  “Look, I don’t think that they can convict you on a recipe card at the scene, but I won’t lie, the investigation won’t be easy to take and in this town, perception is sometimes more powerful than reality.”

  “You’re saying that I’m not just a suspect; I am THE suspect, aren’t you?”

  He just stared at me.

  “This is insane. They’re going to make the case fit me? I’m going to be framed for murder?”

  “No, of course not, but you should have a good lawyer in your corner. I’d call Brian Cahill over in Caraway. He’s a good man and he grew up here.”

  “I need you to tell me more about what happened.”

  “I can’t right now. I need to get back to the station. I’ll swing by later. Just keep your head down, okay?”

  “I’m going to prove to you and everyone in this town that I had nothing to do with this.”

  He smiled for the first time since he’d come in and said, “That’s the spirit, Green Eyes.”

  I grabbed my phone. I had to call Lizzie and tell her what happened.

  ***

  I called Lizzie’s cell, but she didn’t pick up. I hung up because I had no idea how to actually leave a voicemail that said I had been accused of murder. I texted, 911 and waited for the phone to ring.

  “What’s up?” Lizzie asked in a distracted voice. As an accountant, she needed to concentrate on adding or balancing or whatnot which is why she usually didn’t answer calls on her cell while working.

  “Can you come to the bakery, like right now?” I said fighting tears.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Barbara, Barbara’s dead and—“

  “She’s what? Are you serious? How? What happened?”

  “Lizzie, they think I killed her,” I blurted before she could fire any more questions.

  “No way! How could they think that you, that you could? I’m there in five.”

  I sat at the desk and zoned out. I couldn’t think. Then reality struck. A burning smell seemed to suddenly fill the shop. I leapt up and grabbed pot holders. When I opened the oven, I saw the charred rolls and fanned the smoke away as I snatched them from the oven and set them on the small counter next to it.

  I opened the back door to get the smell out and the front door opened.

  “Lizzie?” I waved some more as I plopped the pot holders down before stepping back to the counter.

  “Ms. Bailey. Can I talk to you for a minute,” Peter Lynch and a uniformed officer who I didn’t know by name stood at the counter.

  “Of course, Detective.”

  “I wanted to speak with you about the unfortunate situation from this morning.”

  I waited for him to say more.

  “Well, it seems that Ms. Simpson died under suspicious circumstances. She was murdered.” He stared at me.

  I swallowed hard and tried to keep myself calm. Just look innocent, I told myself. Whatever that means, I thought.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Poor Barbara,” I said fighting tears again.

  The door opened and Lizzie rushed inside.

  “MB, I can’t believe that—“she stopped when she saw Peter and the cop at the counter with me.

  “Well, Ms. Stevens. It seems you have heard about the terrible situation this morning.”

  “Yes, um, I did. Hi Detective Lynch. Don’t let me interrupt your order.”

  “I’m not here for coffee,” he snapped and looked back at me.

  “Where were you this morning between two and five this morning, ma’am?” />
  That’s longer than David said, I thought.

  “I was at home until about four and then I walked here to get things ready to open.”

  “Were you alone the whole time? Did you see anyone while you were walking here?”

  “No one is ever out at that hour of the morning, except the trash guys,” I looked at Lizzie who now looked as angry as she did when Rick told the judge that he paid for my education. He’d bought books for one class when I attended grad school. Her face flushed and her arms were crossed tightly across her chest.

  “You didn’t answer the question, Ms. Bailey.”

  “Yes, I was alone the whole time and I saw no one anywhere this morning. Why are you asking me this?” I knew the answer, but I just wanted to make him say it out loud.

  “Well, we’re looking into her death and have to ask everyone to find out what happened.”

  “So you’re asking everyone if they had an alibi for this morning, then?” Lizzie spoke up.

  “Well, Detective, I live alone, as well and I didn’t see anyone this morning either, so now you know that both of us have time that is unaccounted for like half the world who slept in this morning. Where were you, just for the record?”

  He straightened and the officer stifled a small snicker.

  “Be careful, Ms. Stevens. You don’t want to interfere with an official investigation,” he said without looking at her.

  “One last thing before we go, Ms. Bailey,” he motioned to the officer and turned to leave. “How has your business been lately?”

  “Doing pretty well—its better and better every day.”

  “I can see that.” He gestured to the empty shop. “Thank you for your time,” he said and left.

  “Ooo, the nerve of that guy,” Lizzie said as soon as he had gone.

  “I guess it’s true. I’m a suspect,” I said still trying to grasp the whole situation.

  “How dare he insinuate that your business is in trouble? That is so uncalled for…I ought to—“

  “Don’t you get it? He’s trying to make it my motive for killing Barbara.”

  “How’s that?”

  “If he can make it seem as though I “offed” the competition to make it here in Fish Creek Falls, then they have motive and since I have no one to vouch for me this morning, they’ll be saying that I also had the opportunity to do it.” I paused. “And they found my molten chocolate cake card under her.”

  “Oh.” She came behind the counter and slid into the desk chair. “That’s just rubbish, MB. Even with all that stacked up.”

  “I know it and you know it, but that might not be enough.”

  “What about Detective Hunky? He’ll have to believe that you couldn’t do something like that, right?”

  “I hope so. He told me to call a lawyer that he knows in Caraway and he said he’d come by tonight when he could.”

  “Tonight? That’s great. What will you wear?”

  “Really, Lizzie? Clothes? Come on, this is serious.”

  “I know, but really there’s no way anyone is ser-ious-ly going to think you murdered Barbara, so just try to relax. I’m sure it’ll be fine. You might be on the hot seat for a bit, but then they’ll find the killer and it’ll all blow over,” she sniffed and wrinkled her nose and located the burned rolls. “What’s with the charcoal creations?”

  “Oh, rolls that I forgot about when I went to see what all the fuss was about.”

  “You went to the scene of the crime? What were you thinking? That’ll make you seem guilty.”

  “Now, how would I have known that when I didn’t even know that it was a crime scene?”

  “Oh, yeah. Good point. So any likely suspects in the lookie-loos that came out?”

  “I’m not sure. Again, I didn’t think about being suspicious at the time to really notice.”

  “Well, now is the time to be suspicious because the real killer is out there.”

  The door opened and in came four teenage boys. They laughed and shoved each other as they elected one to speak.

  “Hi. Do you have any Death cakes today?” The boys collapsed into laughter.

  “Sorry, boys. This one is spoken for. Anything else I can get for you?” I answered trying to not lose patience with them. They scrambled out the door erupting again into uncontrolled laughter.

  I went to the door, put up the closed sign and sighed as I sat on the edge of the desk next to Lizzie.

  “Apparently, news has spread. Help me clean up and let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lizzie and I cleaned up and were closing at four instead of five. Just as we stepped out the door and I fished for the key, Nancy Flemming, the reporter for the local newspaper came up.

  “So, Ms. Bailey. I wondered if you had anything to say about the death of Barbara Simpson today?”

  “She has no comment,” Lizzie said quickly and took my arm as she took off at a record-setting pace toward her car.

  Ordinarily, I liked the walk, but today, I felt grateful for the ride. When we arrived at the house, it’d had just started to get dark and the small solar path lights flickered to life. The neighborhood looked still and just about the same as it had this morning. What a difference twelve hours makes, I thought.

  Inside the house, I went straight to my bedroom, pulled off the jeans and shirt and put on my faded blue robe. I desperately needed a shower. Lizzie went straight to the living room to pick up the cooking magazines and other “clutter” so it looked presentable for David’s visit. I stood in the shower for a long time. The hot water helped me feel my numb limbs again and I started to think about my defense. I felt like I really had nothing to defend because I didn’t do it, but on the other hand, there did seem to be evidence that made me look guilty and I had to do something so that I didn’t wind up on trial for murder. I felt sick suddenly. What if they really did put me on trial? Would the truth come out or would I be sent to prison for a crime that I didn’t commit? When the water cooled off a bit, I got out of the shower, wrapped my hair in a towel and put my robe back on again. I found Lizzie fluffing the huge floor pillow in front of the fireplace. She stopped when I came into the room.

  “That’s what you’re wearing? I might’ve chosen something else, like, oh I don’t know—clothes.”

  “I’ll get dressed in a minute,” I said and curled up on the couch and grabbed a pillow to hug.

  “Hey, don’t let this get to you. You need to whip up a batch of spunk muffins or brave bread or some other concoction and get your butt into gear, lady.”

  “You’re right. You’re a good friend. Thanks.”

  “Just remember that when this is all over and someone offers you the big book deal for your story or better, yet; just make sure that I play myself in the made for TV movie, alright?”

  The knock on the door startled me a little. I looked down at the robe and grabbed the towel off my head. Nearly tripping over the pillow I dropped, I sprinted into the bedroom to get dressed. I heard Lizzie let David in as I ripped the brush through my hair.

  A couple of minutes later, I came out clad in my yoga pants and a clean white t-shirt that apparently met with Lizzie’s approval because she gave me the thumbs up sign as I came into the room.

  “Hi David, do you want something to drink? I haven’t been home long, so I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what I have to make for dinner, just yet.”

  “I’ll go and see what I can dig up,” Lizzie said and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Thanks, nothing right now. I just want to sit for a minute. I can’t stay long. I need to meet Pete at Barbara’s house.”

  “Where was Ron this morning?” I asked not really letting him finish his sentence before jumping in.

  “He went to his mother’s apparently. That’s where we got a hold of him to tell him the news.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but I’m worried, Green Eyes, that you’re gonna take the fall
for this, that’s the way it’s looking.”