The woman immediately teared up. Her hands shook as she brought a tissue to her face. “Mrs. Baylor just called me. She said the police now think that he didn’t die of natural causes. She said they think he was poisoned!”
The girls and I all exchanged uncomfortable glances. We hadn’t attested to the fact that Mr. Bailey was poisoned. Just great, now that rumor was going to be all over town.
“I just can’t believe this is all happening. Poor Vic. He was such a sweet man. One of my oldest and dearest friends!” She opened the wadded tissue in her hand and then re-folded it in a different direction before mopping up the underside of her nose. “I’m sorry, I’m still so sad that he’s gone.”
We all stared at her uncomfortably. We had no idea if we were supposed to comfort the woman, keep asking questions, or if we should just excuse ourselves and beat feet back to the street.
“We know how close you were,” nodded Jax finally. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“We’re trying to help figure out who did this, but we need some help from others that were at the party. Sally, did you see anything odd that day?”
Sally dabbed at the corners of her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. She was trying hard to pull it together. “Odd? Like what?”
“Well, you and Mrs. Baylor were in charge of pouring the champagne and cutting the cake. Did anyone get near the champagne?” asked Sweets.
Sally made a face. “Not that I remember, but once everyone was told to hide, the kitchen filled up quickly. I didn’t necessarily have my eyes on the champagne glasses, so I suppose anyone that hid in the kitchen could have had access to them.”
“Can you recall who hid in the kitchen?” I asked.
She frowned. “Oh my goodness, practically the whole town hid in the kitchen!” she exaggerated.
“Was Mr. Turner in the kitchen?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes, he was. He was standing right behind me, in fact,” she said with a nod. “Right in front of the walk-in freezer. The cake and champagne cart was parked right next to me.”
“What do you know about Mr. Turner?”
“Eli?” her face grew serious. “I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Vic. I’d warned Vic about Eli for years and years.”
“Why?”
Sally sighed and leaned back in her seat as if she had a story to tell us. “Years and years ago Eli Turner started a smear campaign against Vic. Both of their businesses were very young at the time, and there was a bit of a competition brewing between the men. To Vic, it was a good-natured rivalry. There was room in Aspen Falls for both bakeries. But to Eli, he didn’t want to compete. So Eli decided to play dirty. He took out a full-page ad in the Aspen Falls Observer claiming that Vic was doing black magic at the bakery. Of course, that scared a lot of folks off. So much so that it just about ran Vic out of business!”
“You’re kidding?” breathed Sweets.
Sally shook her head. “No. I wish I was. Vic didn’t seem too shook up about it. But if you knew anything about Vic, you’d know that the dear man didn’t get too shook up about anything.”
She was right about that. Even with his own murder investigation going on, the only thing Mr. Bailey seemed concerned about was his poor Char, and maybe the fact that we’d turned him into a dog.
“So what happened?” asked Holly. “Obviously Mr. Bailey overcame that attack. I mean, the bakery seems to have been doing well.”
Sally nodded. “Oh heavens, yes. That was years and years ago. Vic just rode it out. It slowed business at first, but those that were suffering from things like arthritis and bursitis kept coming. The aches and pains were too bad to let Eli spoil the good thing they had going with Vic. Little by little all the people came back. Eli tried other things throughout the years, but Vic’s history is just too proven. People know he’s a good man with a good heart and a good product. And by now there really isn’t anything that Eli could have done to bring Vic down.”
“Except kill him?” whispered Sweets sadly.
“Except that,” Sally agreed with a watery-eyed nod. “Now I’m not saying he did it. But I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.”
“What about Louis Albertson,” I asked. Regardless of our suspicion for Mr. Turner, it didn’t change the fact that Louis had the vial of poison in his apron, and he tried to use it to frame Sweets.
Sally shrugged. “Louis is an odd duck,” she said knowingly. “Ask anyone in town, and they’ll tell you the same. Could he kill Vic?” she pondered aloud. “Most definitely. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for, you know. Louis is as quiet as they come. He still lives at home with his mother, you know,” she said.
“Yeah, Mrs. Baylor mentioned that,” said Alba.
Sally’s eyes flitted nervously upwards. “I heard the little tiff they had at the party,” she admitted in a hushed whisper. “Everyone did. Louis was upset because Vic and his new wife were giving more hours to Sweets. I could see that sending Louis over the edge, most definitely! The bakery was his life. That man has nothing without the bakery and his mother.”
“Sally, if you remember anything else about the day of the party that would be helpful, would you give us a call?” asked Alba.
“Absolutely. Give your number to Suzanne before you leave. I’ll see if I can remember anything else to help you out. I loved Vic,” she began before tearing up again. “It’s so – so sad that he’s gone. After my Milton died, Vic made sure I was taken care of. He brought me food for dinner until I got my strength up and could cook for myself again. Then once I got back to work, he was always checking in on me and keeping me company. In the winter, he cleared the sidewalk out in front of my store when he did his sidewalks, and when roads got bad, he always called me to make sure I made it home safely. He was such a good man. This whole thing is terrible, just terrible,” she cried, her voice breaking under the stress of her words.
Sweets walked around the desk and gave Sally Westminster a hug. “I’m so sorry, Sally. We’re all grieving right now, but I can promise you. We’re going to get to the bottom of this and bring the killer to justice.”
Sally nodded. “Thank you, Sweets. You’re such a good girl. Mr. Bailey loved you like the daughter he never had. He talked about you a lot.”
“Thank you for saying that, Sally,” said Sweets with a tight smile. I could tell she was working hard not to start crying again herself.
After leaving our number with Suzanne, we hit the streets again. I looked down at Mr. Bailey. “Sally really seemed broken up over your death,” I said.
“She was a good woman,” said Mr. Bailey with a heavy head. “We were such good friends.”
“Now where to?” asked Holly, her head swiveling from side to side as she glanced down the street in both directions.
“Now, I think it’s time to pay Mr. Turner a visit,” said Alba with a grimace. “Signs are starting to point in his direction.
“And Louis’,” I said. “We can’t discount him either.”
“I completely agree,” said Alba. “We can’t close our eyes to anyone. If we do, we could be letting the killer slip through our fingers!”
23
We piled into Sweets’ four-door Ford Taurus, and she drove us to the Rise and Shine Bakery. Mr. Turner’s bakery was almost as cute as Bailey’s Bakery and Sweets, though I got the distinct impression that Mr. Turner was trying to copy Mr. Bailey’s bakery. Inside he had a brick hearth oven behind the counter, warm, pecan colored wood floors, and a similar glass case with all of his treats in it.
A short woman with dimpled arms and grey hair piled on top of her head was busily rearranging the items in the glass case. When the door chime alerted her that she had guests, she stood up and peered at us out of the pair of dark tortoise-shell glasses she had perched on the tip of her nose. “Hello, welcome to the Rise and Shine Bakery. What can I get for you today?”
“We’re looking for Mr. Turner,” said Alba curtly.
The woman pushed the glasse
s up higher on her nose. “Eli? He just ran to the bank. He should be back any minute,” she said pleasantly.
“Mind if we wait?” I asked.
“Not at all. Can I get you a snack while you wait?” she asked.
Sweets looked into her glass case. “What’s your best-selling item?”
“Oh, probably our gluten-free Seven-Layer-Caramel-Cake,” she said. “Gluten-free has become the new ‘big thing’ lately.” Her voice seemed to emanate from the depths of her belly, especially the giggle that followed her last statement.
Sweets frowned as she eyed the glass case. “I’m not allergic to gluten. In fact, I’m kind of a fan of it. What do you have that has gluten in it?”
“Our Salted Caramel Chocolate Tart is very popular right now,” she said pointing down to the glass case.
“We’ll have six of those please,” said Sweets with a smile. “It’s way past snack time.”
Behind the counter, the woman’s eyes brightened, and she set to work serving up the treats. Once Sweets paid the woman, we all took a seat around a round table in the back of the small restaurant.
“Thanks for the treat, Sweets,” Jax said brightly as she slid her spoon into the little dessert.
“Yeah thanks, Sweets,” we all mumbled in unison, our mouths sticky with caramel and chocolate.
From the floor, Mr. Bailey grinned up at Sweets, his white and yellow whiskers were already stained a mottled brown. “Thank you, Sweets. You have no idea how much I needed this! I was starting to think I would never eat anything delicious again in my entire life!”
She giggled while licking the caramel off the back of her spoon. “You’re welcome,” she said to him. Then she looked up at us. “So, what are we going to say to Mr. Turner when he gets here?”
“I think we need to play it cool,” said Alba. “We can’t let on that we’re suspicious of him.”
“But we are suspicious of him!” said Jax, making quick work of her treat.
“Yeah, duh. But if we let on, then he’s going to clam up right away, and we won’t get any information out of him!”
“Oh,” said Jax quietly. “Good point.”
“And since Mr. Bailey was killed by magical means, I think one of the things we need to find out is if Mr. Turner has any contacts at the Institute.”
“How do we ask him that?” asked Holly.
The doorbell chime rang, and we all pulled our eyes up from our treats to see a brute of a man walk into the bakery holding a bank bag. “He’s here,” I hissed. “We’ll just have to wing it.”
Alba stood up and walked over to the large man. “Mr. Turner? Hi,” she began, holding a hand out to him. Eli Turner looked at it curiously before giving it an almost unconscious shake. “I’m Alba Sanchez. My friends and I were wondering if maybe we could have a word with you?”
Mr. Turner looked back at the rest of us. Jax gave a little wave, but Sweets was the one that caught his eye almost immediately. “Hey! You’re Vic’s girl,” he snarled.
Sweets stood up, straightened the pleats on her floral-print skirt and walked over to the two of them with an extended hand. “Yes, I’m Vic’s girl. Or, I was. I’m Sweets Porter,” she said offering her hand to Mr. Turner.
He looked down, sneering at her hand as if it were dirty. “What do you want?”
“We just want to talk to you,” she said.
“I’m busy,” he grunted.
“Did you hear that Mr. Bailey died?” asked Alba sensing we weren’t going to get much time with the baker.
“Yeah, I heard.” His voice was deep, just as you’d think a man of his size’s voice ought to be. “’Bout time that old man bought the farm. I’ve been waiting for years. So?”
I glanced up at Sweets. She gnawed on her lip, no doubt soured by Mr. Turner’s flip comment.
Alba ignored the comment and pressed on. “We were just wondering if we could talk to you about Mr. Bailey?”
Mr. Turner frowned and stuck out his square jowl. “Talk about Mr. Bailey? Why in the hell would I want to talk about that old coot?”
“You don’t seem to be upset about a colleague’s untimely passing. How do you feel about his death?” asked Alba.
“Well, I suppose I feel bad for his widow,” he said, relenting only slightly. “But I’m glad he’s gone. That old man has been a thorn in my side for years.”
“Someone told us that you and he had quite the rivalry,” agreed Alba.
“He’s tried to take business away from me for years, but there are people in Aspen Falls who don’t want to do business with anyone of his kind.”
Immediately, I felt the air in the room thicken, and it became harder to breathe.
“And what kind is that?” asked Alba getting her nose up.
“You know,” he spat. “The magical kind.” He wiggled his fingers in the air.
Mr. Bailey let out a low growl causing Mr. Turner to look down at him.
I pulled Mr. Bailey’s leash closer to me. Mr. Turner ignored him and kept talking. “Lotsa people just want a plain old donut. No magic sprinkles. No fairy dust. They just want plain old sparkling sugar on their donuts. Those people came to me.” He thumbed a squat, sausage thumb into his chest. “People who want a side of hocus-pocus went to see Bailey.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I'd heard just about all I wanted to hear from this offensive man. “Will business improve for you now that Mr. Bailey is gone?”
That seemed to elicit a smile out of him. “It will, once they close up his bakery.”
Sweets’ eyebrows rose up high. “Oh, we’re not closing up the bakery. I’ll be running the bakery now.” I could almost hear the challenge in her voice.
The man narrowed his eyes at Sweets. “Are you spying on me? Is that what this little interrogation is about?”
Sweets’ calm, cool demeanor was shattered now. Her face flushed bright red. “No, not at all…” she stuttered.
“You can just get on outta here if you think you’re gonna try and steal my secret recipes. If you think you can run me out of town at this late stage in the game, you’ve got another think comin’,” he bellowed, pointing at the door.
“No, Mr. Turner, that’s not it!” cried Sweets.
“Get! Outta here before I call the cops and have you kicked offa my property!” he yelled pointing harder. “Go on, get! And take that mangy mongrel outta here with you!”
We followed his finger back out to the street.
Sweets frowned. “We didn’t even get to finish our dessert!”
24
Sweets
After lunch the next day, the girls and I drove back to the Aspen Falls Police Station armed with new information. Mercy convinced Officer Vargas to let us back in to see Detective Whitman one more time. After just having returned from picking up lunch, Detective Whitman was seated at his desk, going through pictures his men had taken at the crime scene.
“Hey Detective,” said Mercy as we breezed into his office. “That burger sure smells good.”
I took a seat next to Mercy and pulled Mr. Bailey up onto my lap so he could hear what Detective Whitman had to say.
With a mouthful of food, he nodded. “I’m starved.” He nodded his head towards Mr. Bailey. “Dog sitting?”
I squeezed Mr. Bailey’s paw. “We’re keeping an eye on him for Char.”
Detective Whitman turned his attention to Mercy. “Well, Vargas said you got news. Whatcha got?”
“We went to see a few of the people on the list and several of them pointed their finger at Mr. Turner,” said Alba, not wasting any time with formalities.
“Eli?” asked Detective Whitman, swallowing down his big bite of burger. “Really? I’ve talked to about half of the list already and no one so much as mentioned his name.”
“Mrs. Baylor and Sally Westminster both said that the rivalry between Mr. Bailey and Mr. Turner was intense.”
“I’m surprised Vic never mentioned it to me,” said Detective Whitman jotting down a note on his yell
ow tablet while wiping his mouth with a folded brown napkin.
“Mr. Bailey was such a good person that he just didn’t let it bother him,” said Jax with a shrug.
We told Detective Whitman everything we’d found out about the rivalry and what the women had said about Louis too.
“It’s got to be one of the two of them,” said Alba with a nod. “They both had access to the champagne glasses and they both had reason to hurt Mr. Bailey.”
Mercy wagged her finger in the air. “But Louis was the one with the vial. And Louis was the one that framed Sweets.”
Detective Whitman nodded as he moved the stack of pictures over so he could pull the container of French fries from the bag. He pulled a half a dozen fries out of the large container and shoved them in his mouth all at once.
Mercy pushed around a couple of the pictures on Detective Whitman’s desk. “What are these?”
With his mouth full of fries, he said, “We had the champagne glasses tested. The poison was definitely in the champagne glass.”
I looked at the picture with interest. And then a thought hit me, causing me to sit up straighter. I lifted the picture of a single champagne flute off of his desk and studied it carefully. “Wait, did you just say this glass was poisoned?”
Detective Whitman grabbed another fry from the heavy paper container and then glanced up at the picture I held. “Yeah, why?”
“I decorated their champagne flutes myself. This was Char’s glass.” I pointed at the picture. I could feel my pulse beginning to pick up speed. “The champagne flutes were his and hers. The big starfish was Mr. Bailey’s and the little starfish was Char’s. I decorated their champagne flutes myself. I handed that one to Char before I took their pictures,” I explained. I remembered gluing the little starfish and pearls on myself. I even told Mrs. Baylor and Sally so they put them on the right sides of the cake!” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly scrolled through to my photo gallery. I touched the thumbnail sized picture to enlarge it. I held it out for Detective Whitman to see. “Look. Here’s the picture I took right before the toast. That was Char’s glass.”
Witch School Dropout: A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery #7 Page 17
