“What? I didn’t even know you could order stuff like that.” Lexy’s heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. “That was so nice of you.” She turned and crushed Cassie in a hug.
“Well, you are my best friend … and you did trust me to make the most important cake of your life.”
Cassie had worked as Lexy’s assistant since she’d opened the bakery and was becoming quite proficient in baking with a particular flair for cake decorating. When she’d offered to make Lexy’s wedding cake, Lexy had happily accepted, she could think of no one better to trust the job to than her best friend.
“It’s perfect,” Lexy said.
“Well I figured you could use a pick me up after all that business over at Chez Philippe.” Cassie put the topper gently back into the box.
Lexy rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter eyeing the plates of oversized cookies that were waiting to be displayed in the glass bakery cases out front. Her mouth watered and she thought about nibbling on a snickerdoodle until she remembered she’d just wolfed down most of a cheese blintz. Better to hold off on the cookies if she still wanted to fit into her gown.
“I know, I need that like I need a hole in the head … I’m so busy with all this wedding stuff, when will I find time to investigate a double murder?”
“Yeah, John couldn’t believe they put a rookie in charge.” Cassie made a face.
“Tell me about it … worst part is, she seems to be hell-bent on proving I did it. I would feel so much better if Jack and John were investigating it.”
“At least you have Nans and the ladies, right?” Cassie crossed over to the oven, shoved her hands in oven mitts, took two cookie sheets out and deftly scraped the cookies onto racks to cool.
“Yeah, thankfully. Otherwise I might be looking forward to wearing handcuffs instead of a wedding ring,” Lexy said. “Nans and I went over to talk to Veronica’s fiancé yesterday and found out something that will hopefully clear me so I shouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“Oh?” Cassie picked up two trays of cookies gesturing for Lexy to take the others. Lexy picked up the trays and told Cassie about the couple’s fight and disappearance of the fiancé while the girls walked to the front of the store.
Cassie slid the door of one of the glass pastry cases open and leaned in to arrange the cookies. Lexy took a moment to look around the front room of her shop and her lips curled up in a smile. She’d always dreamed of owning her own bakery and a few years ago, thanks to a loan from her parents, her dream had come true.
Her bakery, The Cup and Cake, was situated in an old mill building that sat in the middle of downtown Brooke Ridge Falls. In the back was the kitchen where she and Cassie did all the baking, and the front room had glass display cases full of pastries along with café tables that sat next to a floor-to-ceiling window with a picture perfect view of the falls the town was named for. A self-serve coffee station was setup near the tables and the pungent aroma of fresh brewed coffee spiced the air.
“Wait a minute, I thought John told me Chez Philippe got broken into last night,” Cassie said looking back over her shoulder and interrupting Lexy’s thoughts.
“Yeah, I know. I just found that out from Jack. I figured Stuart—her fiancé—would be halfway across the country by now.” Lexy moved to the second pastry case and opened the door, reaching in to rearrange some of the items to fit the cookies.
“Maybe he broke back in to remove evidence or something,” Cassie suggested.
Lexy frowned at the peanut butter cookies she was stacking in the case. “Maybe, but Jack said the place had been searched. You’d think the evidence would be right out in plain sight … why would he have to search?”
“That’s a good question.” Cassie stacked the last of her cookies in the case and stood up, one giant chocolate chip cookie in her hand. “Maybe there was something in the store or their files he didn’t want the police to find? Just where, exactly, did he search?”
Lexy finished with her display and stood up. “I don’t know … I’ll have to ask Jack.”
Cassie broke the cookie in half and handed half to Lexy. “Well in any event, it seems like the fiancé running away is a sure sign of his guilt, so that lets you off the hook.”
“Yep.” Lexy nibbled her half of the cookie. “I’m going to stop by the police station later today and get my shoe back.”
“Your shoe?” Cassie wrinkled her forehead at Lexy.
“When I found the bodies I ran over to see if I needed to do CPR or something and I stepped in blood. They took one of my Jimmy Choo’s as evidence.”
“No wonder you want it back. Those things cost a mint.”
“Yeah, I just hope I can clean it off.” Lexy’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to wear bloodstained shoes, but she’d splurged on that pair and her budget didn’t allow for too many expensive shoe purchases. “Anyway, I’m sure detective Davies will have figured out the fiancé is the killer by now and will be willing to knock me off the suspect list.”
“One can only hope. I heard she was kind of ditzy.” Cassie shoved the last of her half of the cookie into her mouth.
“You might say that, but I feel pretty confident that even Watson Davies will agree the case is closed.” Lexy nibbled on her cookie thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious Stuart Wiggins is the killer—why would he have disappeared if he wasn’t?”
Cassie shrugged. “Right, he would have no reason to run, so it makes sense to me that he did it.”
“He probably killed her in a fit of anger. They had the fight. He chased her in the car and found her at Chez Philippe.” Lexy frowned. “Poor Philippe just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That explains almost everything … except the break-in,” Cassie said.
Lexy sighed. “I know … and I know exactly what Nans is going to say once she finds out about it.”
“What’s that?”
“If there’s something in the store Stuart didn’t want the police to find, then there may be more to this case than meets the eye.”
Chapter Ten
It was mid-afternoon when Lexy pulled into the Brooke Ridge Falls Police Department parking lot. She’d finished the day’s baking and left Cassie in charge at The Cup and Cake, then dropped the final guest list off at the wedding planner and reviewed the menu. Now she just had to get her shoe back and her day would be complete.
She felt pretty confident that she’d be welcome at the BRFPD because she’d brought her secret weapon—a box of goodies from the bakery.
Pushing open the double glass doors, she walked up to the desk.
“Help you?” the woman behind the chest high desk that separated the lobby from the inner workings of the station asked mechanically without even looking up. Lexy recognized her from previous visits to the station. The name on her uniform—Bristlecone—helped jog Lexy’s memory.
Lexy slid the oversized box onto the counter “Hi, Officer Bristlecone. I was hoping I could talk to Detective Davies.”
Bristlecone looked at the counter, her eyes lighting up when she saw Lexy … or was it when she saw the pastry box? Either way, she seemed receptive to Lexy’s request.
“Oh, hi Lexy. Let me see if she’s in.” Bristlecone stood up and peeked under the lid of the box.
“Please, help yourself. I brought them for everyone,” Lexy said.
Bristlecone picked out a brownie, wrapped it in a napkin and stashed it under some papers on the corner of the desk. “Thanks. I’ll go get Davies.”
Lexy tapped a cherry red nail on the counter while she waited. There wasn’t a lot of crime in her little town and the station was quiet. A few of the uniformed officers were sitting at metal desks in the squad room, busy with paperwork or phone calls. She knew from previous visits that the door on the left opened to the hallway that led to the regular offices and interrogation rooms. She’d been back there many times to visit Jack in his office and now wondered if Davies had her own office.
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She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The door opened and Davies appeared wearing skintight black jeans, and a black tee shirt with what looked like graffiti on it.
She snapped her gum at Lexy. “Ahh, Ms. Baker. Did you come to confess?”
Lexy frowned at the small blonde. “Hardly. In fact, I’m sure by now you have enough evidence on the fiancé … or you should.”
“Come on in so we can talk.” Davies jerked her head toward the hall and held the door open.
Lexy grabbed the pastry box and followed her. Pastries always worked when she wanted information out of Jack and the other detectives. She didn’t know if they would have the same effect on the disagreeable Davies, but it was worth a try.
Davies’ shoes clickety-clacked on the beige industrial tile floor and Lexy studied them with envy. Black patent leather stilettos with steel spiked studs. Davies might not be the sharpest detective on the force but she sure did have good taste in shoes. Lexy wouldn’t mind a pair of those herself and was debating the wisdom of having the same shoes as the detective when Davies stopped in front of one of the offices causing Lexy to almost knock her over.
Davies turned around and gave Lexy a mashed up face look. “Hey, do you mind?”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were going to stop here.”
Davies rolled her eyes, pushed the door open and gestured for Lexy to go in first. The room was large with four desks set up one behind the other. Lexy remembered that it served as an office for several people—only the higher-ranking detectives, like Jack, got their own office. Davies led her to the last desk and pulled a chair over for Lexy to sit in. The top of the desk was littered with papers, post it notes and a several bottles of nail polish. Lexy pushed the pastry box across the surface.
“So, tell me, what evidence should I have on the fiancé?” Davies sat with her elbows splayed on the desk, hands steepled in front of her, her chin resting on top of her fingers.
“Well, I assume you know he’s missing,” Lexy said.
“Yes, I know that, but how do you know that?”
Lexy felt a tingle of uneasiness. “Umm … well he wasn’t at home yesterday when I took my grandmother there … to visit the neighbor.”
“Right. I forgot you were visiting the neighbor.” Davies flipped open the lid of the pastry box, took a sniff and then leaned back in her chair. “That’s a pretty big coincidence that he happened to live next to Ms. Maynard’s fiancé.”
Lexy shrugged. “What does it matter? Surely you can see the fiancé disappearing after a big fight as a pretty big clue that he did it.”
“Fight?” Davies left brow rose a fraction of an inch.
She didn’t even know about the fight? Lexy wondered how much of Davies’ job she’d have to do for her in order to get the case solved properly. “Yes, his neighbor heard Veronica and her fiancé—Stuart—having a big fight the day she was murdered.”
Davies sat up in her chair and grabbed a notepad. “What about?”
“I have no idea, but he said she drove off and Stuart peeled out after her,” Lexy said. “So, I’m pretty sure that clears me and I was hoping I could get my shoe back.”
“That suede Jimmy Choo? That’s a nice shoe.”
Lexy nodded.
Davies pulled out a piece of gum and shoved it into her mouth. “I’m not convinced about this. Plus, I think it’s strange that you know so much—you might be the real killer lying to make it look like—”
The phone ringing on Davies desk interrupted her and she picked up the receiver.
“Davies,” she barked into the phone.
She narrowed her eyes at Lexy. “And where did you find him?”
Davies scribbled something down on a piece of paper and Lexy fidgeted in her seat—she just wanted to get her shoe and get out of there.
“I’ll be right there.” Davies slammed down the phone and stood up.
“Was that about Stuart Wiggins?” Lexy wondered if they’d found the fiancé and hoped that he’d confessed.
“Yes it was.” Davies came around the side of the desk and sat on the corner facing Lexy. “He’s dead.”
Lexy sucked in a breath. She wasn’t expecting that, but it made perfect sense. He was probably so distraught over killing Veronica that he killed himself. Such a sad thing.
“Did he leave a suicide note? Did he admit to killing Veronica?” Guilt battled with hope in Lexy’s chest as she asked the question, feeling bad that someone’s suicide could clear her of suspicion.
“Suicide note?” Davies wrinkled her face at Lexy. “Stuart Wiggins didn’t commit suicide … he was murdered.”
Chapter Eleven
Lexy drove out of the police station parking lot and pointed her car toward Nans’—she’d called her grandmother with the news of Wiggins’ murder as soon as she left the police station and was told to come right over. The news of Wiggins’ murder blew their theory all to hell and she needed to brainstorm with Nans and the ladies to try to figure out just what was really going on.
Davies had given her the evil eye before rushing off to the scene of the crime—Lexy had a feeling the detective was seeing Lexy as the killer of all three victims. Of course, it probably didn’t help that she had fought with Veronica, discovered the bodies and then was seen at Wiggins’ townhouse just yesterday.
She whipped into the Brooke Ridge Falls Retirement Center parking lot and sprinted into the building, waited impatiently for Nans to buzz her in, then practically ran to her apartment. The ladies were seated around Nans’ dining room table with cups of tea steaming in front of them.
Lexy collapsed into an empty chair, and Nans pushed a mug already filled with hot water toward her.
“Did you tell them about Wiggins?” Lexy asked Nans.
Nans nodded. “There’s more to this than a simple murder done in a fit of anger.”
“Yeah, but what?” Lexy picked through the basket of herbal teas in the center of Nans’ table. Settling on “Lemon Zinger”, she dunked the tea bag into the mug, the soothing scent of lemon wafted up to tickle her nose.
“I think we’ve made some assumptions in this case and it might be best if we start from the beginning … think it through logically,” Ruth said.
“I agree,” Helen added.
“Just like we would with any new case.” Ida slurped her tea. “Did you bring any pastries?”
Lexy grimaced. “No. Sorry. I rushed over from the police station.”
“That’s fine, dear.” Nans patted her hand. “I have some left over from the other day.”
“Helen, help me get out the white board so we can start tracking what we know,” Ruth said. The two women got up and headed down the hallway toward Nans’ bedrooms while Nans rummaged in the fridge.
A minute later, Helen and Ruth appeared in the hall … well mostly Helen’s backend appeared as she backed down the hall pulling the gigantic whiteboard which stood five feet tall and was about six feet wide. It was set in a wooden frame on wheels so Nans could move it around her apartment easily.
When the ladies were on a case, Nans set up her living and dining area as a command post and the white board stayed out there. If she was having visitors, she could simply wheel it into the spare bedroom.
Nans slid a crystal plate filled with pastries onto the dining room table and Ida eyed them uncertainly. “No biscotti?”
Nans raised a brow. “Really Ida, you can’t find something you like on there?”
Ida smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, you know how I love Lexy’s biscotti.”
“Ahem …” Ruth stood at the white board, marker in hand. “Are you guys ready to start?”
“Let’s list the suspects,” Nans said.
The room was silent while everyone thought about the suspects. The only suspect Lexy had was the fiancé, Stuart Wiggins. “Wiggins could have killed Veronica and Philippe, but then who killed Wiggins?”
“Good question,” Ida said. “Do you think we have two killers?”
&n
bsp; “Perhaps. But I think it’s all related to one motive,” Nans answered.
“And what’s the motive?” Ruth asked.
“Well, at first we thought Wiggins killed Veronica in anger and Philippe just got in the way,” Lexy said. “But, maybe there is another motive that we haven’t considered.”
“The only things that ever drive people to kill are love and money.” Helen picked a cheese danish out of the box and bit into the edge.
“What if Philippe was the target and Veronica just got in the way?” Ida asked.
“Then how does Wiggins tie in?” Nans peered at Ida over the dainty china teacup she held to her lips.
“Good question,” Ida answered.
“I guess we need to do this the old fashioned way … list out all the people we need to talk to and then check them off one by one,” Helen said.
“Right.” Nans tapped her index finger on her lips. “Who do you think could give us information on the Chez Philippe murders? Our main suspect for that is Stuart Wiggins but since he’s dead we need to talk to anyone he was close to.”
Ruth made a “Suspects” column and wrote “Stuart’s associates” underneath. She turned to face them. “Can you think of anyone else?”
“If Philippe was the target, then someone close to him might have been the killer—his spouse or significant other,” Lexy said.
“Was he married?” Helen asked, taking another dainty bite of the Danish. “I thought he was gay.”
“Let’s get on the computer and see if we can find out anything about his marital status … girlfriends—or boyfriends,” Nans said. “And while you are at it, let’s check his financials … and Veronica’s too.”
Ruth made another column with “To Do” at the top and listed the items below it. “How about the fiancé?”
Nans nodded. “Yes, we should check his background and financials too.”
“I guess we should also talk to Veronica’s friends.” Nans turned to Lexy. “Do you know who she was friendly with … her maid of honor or bridesmaids?”
7 Wedded Blintz Page 5
