Crepes and Crimes

by Constance Barker

  Peeking through the small window that led from the back kitchen to the front of the bakery, I saw Sam holding a dented mixing bowl in one fist. He waved it in the air crazily as if it had personally affronted him at some point in its life. That wasn’t any way to treat a respectable mixing bowl.

  “I had a right mind to toss this right through your front window.”

  “I’m so pleased you didn’t. There would have been a lot of glass for me to sweep up,” Masie said sincerely.

  If he’d come in looking for a fight, Masie wasn’t the one who would give it to him. His face softened. “Yes, I suppose that might not have been fair to you,” he surmised.

  “I can take the bowl off your hands if you’d like, and then you can be on your way. No point in you wasting such a beautiful day in this old place.”

  Sam started to hand the bowl over to Masie. It was obvious he liked her more than me. He probably would have hurled the thing at my head.

  I tossed the piping bag I was holding back onto my workstation and a giant glob blooped out the tip onto the counter. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I smeared frosting across the screen, as I texted Masie.

  Me: Interrogate him!!!

  Masie looked down at her phone by the register and then cleared her throat. She took the bowl and set it on a shelf under the counter. “It sure is too bad what happened at the engagement party. What with the whole fire alarm and murder and all.”

  “I’m sure if I had been in charge, things would have gone much smoother,” Sam stated confidently.

  Me: Ask him if that’s because he wouldn’t have had the time to murder anyone.

  “I’m sure you would have done a wonderful job, but then you wouldn’t have had time to enjoy the celebration,” Masie said instead.

  “That’s not what I said to say,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “Maybe I could have kept some of the riff-raff out, at least,” Sam said.

  Me: Is that because he would have killed Derrick before he arrived?

  “I was home sick with a cold the night of the party. Did many riff-raff show up?” Masie asked.

  For crying out loud! Why couldn’t she follow directions?

  “Let’s just say, I’m not impressed by the company my niece’s future husband chooses to keep.”

  Me: Did he hate Derrick enough to kill him?

  “I would never want to speak ill of the dead, but I suppose, sometimes, there’s nothing worthy to say. It sounds like this might be one of those times,” Masie suggested.

  “Humph!” Sam huffed.

  “I’m sure you have an excellent reason for not being fond of Derrick,” Masie coaxed.

  “Do I ever. That lousy son of a gun broke my daughter’s heart. He’s the reason she left town and won’t ever come back to visit me!” Sam’s tirade was short but emotional, and his breath hitched on the last few words.

  “I’m so sorry. Of course, you have every right to be upset. No father would ever want to watch his little girl get hurt,” Masie cooed, reaching out to pat the hand Sam had placed on the counter.

  He nodded his head in agreement.

  Me: Did he pull the fire alarm to distract everyone?

  “It sure is a coincidence the fire alarm was pulled at the same time Derrick was killed. I’m curious to know if the police were able to get any fingerprints,” Masie wonders.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t have any knowledge about that. I better be on my way, now,” Sam grumbled, as he turned and hurried out the door.

  “Seriously? You can’t ask one question, right?” I asked, pushing through the kitchen door.

  “It worked, didn’t it? We know why Sam hated Derrick so much,” Masie smiled.

  “I guess we do. Now we need to figure out if it was enough to push him to commit murder.”

  Chapter 7

  Rose strode through the door as Masie and I finished cleaning up for the day. Masie grabbed her purse and headed out. She gave Rose a quick hug when she passed.

  “Don’t forget to tell Rose what we found out,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “What is it?” Rose questioned eagerly.

  “I’d love to tell you, but I have a hot date tonight.” Masie grinned saucily.

  “With the accountant?” I hollered after her.

  “Oh, no, silly. He couldn’t keep up with me. Tonight, I’m going out with the firefighter.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave before disappearing out the door.

  “She’s sure in a great mood. What’s that all about?” Rose asked, setting her purse on the counter.

  “Sam Porter came in today, and Masie got him to give up some info,” I told her.

  “Did he admit to killing Derrick?”

  “I wish. He did, however, tell Masie why he hates Derrick so much. Apparently, he dated Sam’s daughter and then dumped her. Broke her heart so bad that she completely left town and refuses to ever come back.” I said.

  “That sounds like the kind of motive a father might need to justify a revenge killing,” Rose contemplated.

  “That’s what Masie and I were thinking. When she tried to ask him about the fire alarm being set at the party, he got agitated and ran out. It all seemed very suspicious,” I assured her.

  “Sounds like it. You and Masie might be onto something,” Rose agreed.

  I needed to bake up a batch of test cupcakes for the cake tasting, so Rose and I headed to the store to get supplies. Rose drove, even though the store was only a few blocks away. It was a pleasant enough day to walk, but then we would have to carry everything back.

  When we arrived, we heard loud voices coming from inside the store. A small group of people gathered around the entrance and peered inside. At the register, Maribelle argued with the cashier, who refused to sell her the bottles of alcohol sitting on the counter.

  “I am a grown woman of legal age to purchase alcohol. Who do you think you are not to let me buy what I came in for?” Maribelle’s words came out sloppy and slurred. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy.

  “Maribelle, darling, what seems to be the problem?” I said, placing my hand on her arm.

  She turned to look at me. “Oh, Coco! This simpleton won’t let me by my wine. I need it. I don’t want to think anymore.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she hiccuped loudly.

  “She’s already wasted, if you can’t tell. We have a policy of not selling alcohol to people who are inebriated.” The clerk stated.

  I wrapped my arm around Maribelle’s shoulder. “Rose, would you mind finishing the shopping for me. I’ll meet you outside in a bit.” I handed my list to her.

  “Sure thing, Coco.” Rose answered. She grabbed a cart and tread deeper into the store.

  “Why don’t you and I go get some fresh air?” I suggested to Maribelle, guiding her toward the door. I mouthed sorry to the cashier, but he shook his head, as though he saw this kind of drama on a regular basis.

  “Are you okay, sweetie? You seem a little out of sorts.” I directed her to sit on a bench near the sidewalk.

  “I don’t know what to do. How can this be happening? It doesn’t make any sense. We were so happy.” Her sentences ran together, like she couldn’t keep track from one thought to the next.

  Maribelle reached into her coat pocket. Her fingers wrapped around a small object she rolled along her palm. It was small and shiny. The silver glinted when the sun hit it just right, but I couldn’t make out the shape or what it was.

  “Are you worried about the wedding? I’m sure everything is going to be fine. I was working on the flowers for the cake earlier, and I’ll have the cupcakes ready for the cake tasting.”

  “Things are never going to be fine again! I don’t know what to do!” She wailed. Her head fell against my shoulder, and I reached up to smooth her hair away from her face.

  “Why don’t I take you home? Maybe a nice warm bath and a good night’s rest will help.”

  A silver Audi pulled up to the curb in front of where we were sitting. Rodney jumped out of the d
river’s seat, storming towards us.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Stay away from my sister!” he yelled at me.

  “I was...” I started.

  “One of her friends was just killed with a bottle of champagne. She doesn’t need you bothering her with a bunch of nonsense about the wedding right now.”

  The crowd of onlookers grew larger. People had nothing better to do than watch an overwrought woman having a break down on the sidewalk. Her brother added to the ordeal by yelling at the only person trying to help.

  I heard the murmurs among the watching eyes.

  “She was friends with that man who was murdered.”

  “Serves him right for stealing money from poor defenseless old ladies.”

  “You know he was having affairs with several of the girls in town.”

  I tried to see who was saying what, but Rodney still yelled in my face making it hard to discern who was gossiping and who was simply watching the scene unfold.

  He grabbed Maribelle’s arm and pulled her up, dragging her towards the car.

  “You were always jealous of Derrick because he was so much more popular than you!” Maribelle screeched as Rodney ushered her into the car and then drove away.

  “You know he was involved in some shady dealings at the hotel.”

  I made eye contact with a woman in the crowd. She raised her brows at me as if this was common knowledge, daring me to discount it.

  Something about this whole scene seemed wrong somehow, but I couldn’t quite place what.

  Chapter 8

  I was a bit worried that Maribelle seemed to think that she didn’t have much time to decide what to do. That might be wedding nerves of course but I didn’t think so. I thought it was something a lot more ominous and that our local beauty had her own suspicions as to why her husband’s ex-best man turned up dead at her engagement party.

  I couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear as I waited for Rose to join me at Daisy, my little car, so we could load up the supplies for the bakery. I didn’t know Maribelle all that well, but like most people in town I was fond of her and her usually sunny attitude. If she was really worried or scared then it was my duty to help her out.

  As a concerned citizen, of course.

  Rose hurried up just then with armfuls of bags and not a hair out of place. I took a moment to hate her just a little bit. Rose was a great friend, but there’s something annoying about her ability to be perfectly put together no matter what was going on.

  “What was all that ruckus about?” she said as we popped the trunk open and started stacking bags in the car. “Was Maribelle Willcox as scrambled as three eggs for an omelet?”

  “And then some. Took her brother showing up to get her to leave. I think she’s thinking on Derrick’s death a bit.”

  “She’s not the only one.”

  I looked up and saw that Rose was giving me a hard look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that we’ve barely recovered from the last time you found a body, Coco. You don’t need to be going off looking places only the police should be looking again, the bakery isn’t going to survive another scandal.”

  That’s another thing about Rose. She always spoke her mind.

  I huffed a little as I got into Daisy and started the engine. “I don’t think it can be called a scandal if I’m not doing the killings.”

  Rose rolled her eyes at me and the topic was put to rest, but as I went about my day I couldn’t get Maribelle Willcox’s pale worried face out of my head. It didn’t help that everyone I served coffee to seemed to be half-expecting some other body to just drop at my feet. I confess...I was expecting it myself.

  Being linked to a murder was not as good for business as you might think. I know people say things like ‘no publicity is bad publicity’ but no one wants to eat a red velvet cookie if they’re worrying about being the next victim.

  By the time I closed up I was well and truly sick of the whole business. Since the police force wasn’t doing anything about it, at least not quickly enough for my taste, I was going to have to have a poke around on my own. It crossed my mind briefly to see if Rose or Masie wanted to come along but Rose’s candor earlier was enough to put me off that idea.

  Instead I called a number almost as familiar to me by now.

  “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” Stella said after picking up, tone sharp and commanding.

  “It’s Coco,” I said, and found myself smiling at the bite in the old lady’s voice. “Would you and Vivian like to help me break into a house?”

  “Who’s that?” I heard Vivian say in the background.

  “Coco...she wants us to break and enter with her.”

  “I’ll get my quietest shoes!”

  “We’ll be at the bakery in fifteen,” Stella said to me and then the line went dead.

  It was the work of a couple of minutes to finish locking up and then I waited outside my bakery and tried my hardest not to look suspicious. It felt as though everyone who went past surely had to know what I was planning, even if all they were doing was nodding or asking me what tomorrow’s specials would be.

  By the time Stella drove up I was hopping from foot to foot in sheer anxiety and I was glad to bundle into the back and listen to my friends bicker over music choices in the front seat. Something about some country star that Stella seduced in her heyday who should really have been Vivian’s.

  We drove to Derrick’s house without event and I was surprised to see that there was very little sign that the man who had owned it had been so brutally murdered. No crime scene tape, no cops lurking about, nothing. Stella strode confidently up the front path and knocked on the door while I followed Vivian around to the back and watched in faint horror as she pulled a packet of hairpins out of her bra.

  “Nothing better,” she said, seeing me looking. “Or at least there won’t be until men give us some darn pockets that fit more than a mouse’s sneeze in ‘em. Now stand back and keep watch.”

  I did as I was told and she had the door open in ten minutes while Stella banged away at the front door and muttered loudly about naughty young men who couldn’t be bothered to come open the door for their dear old grannies. As soon as we were inside, Vivian gave a loud whistle and Stella scuttled around the side and joined us.

  Her cheeks were flushed red and she only grinned when Vivian accused her of deviating from the script.

  I hurried through the house, noticing how there seemed to be a chilly pall over the place as though the house itself knew that its master was dead. Vivian and Stella were already poking through his kitchen and shrieking about how no man should live on nothing but white bread and fancy cocktails.

  The desk was what really interested me. I wanted to see if I could find out if there was some reason besides philandering and money troubles that someone might have to kill off charming Derrick Todd. There was a stack of magazines on the top of the desk, exotic locations and sun-tanned people grinning away at the camera as though they’d just found a diamond in a diaper.

  It seemed a bit odd to me that Derrick had these seeing as he’d never been traveling, and even odder when I noticed that there were post it notes all through them. Perhaps he was planning to move away? Under the stack was a lot of bills and notes from various companies and a thin piece of paper folded and re-folded a dozen times.

  I was unfolding it and had just had a chance to read ‘Your one and only’ at the bottom when Vivian came rushing up and waved a framed picture in my face.

  “Look what we found in his bedroom,” she said triumphantly.

  It was a picture of Jordan, Derrick and Maribelle at the local crazy golf, arms around each other. They looked very close indeed and I was about to comment on it when the piercing sound of police sirens rent the air.

  Oh no. The jig was up!

  Chapter 9

  I sent Stella and Vivian a panicked look. While I had certainly amassed a rather patchy reputation with the police afte
r ‘helping’ with the last body I discovered, I wasn’t sure they’d take kindly to finding me in a victim’s house.

  We hurried out the back door, closed it behind us and looked around the side of the house. Lights flashed up the road. There were two cars so someone must have heard Stella’s shouting in the front of the house and called it in to the police station.

  “This is your fault for over-acting,” Vivian hissed at Stella, who put on an offended face and huffed.

  “I never overact, you just have no sense of style.”

  “Well how do we get out of this mess, Doris Day?”

  “Just leave it to me, ladies, I’ll rescue you both.” With that, Vivian hurried up to the front of the property and then did an excellent fainting fit over the sidewalk. I think she didn’t need to pop her head up and gasp dramatically as many times as she did, but the effect was eye-catching at the very least.

  I heard Stella mutter something about Hollywood wannabes and thought it more polite to pretend I hadn’t heard. The cop cars swung up in front of the property and a few fresh-faced young policemen leapt out and surrounded Vivian.

  Toss my eyes into a pickle jar and throw away the key, someone was giving her the kiss of life. And Vivian was heartily enjoying it.

  Stella grabbed my hand and tugged me after her and the two of us made an ungraceful but stealthy escape while the police were paying attention to our melodramatic friend. Stella looked so unsurprised that I almost asked her if this had happened before. Then I thought better of it, when would something this crazy have happened before to anyone?

  Vivian joined us a little later, waving and blowing kisses to the policemen behind her. “Lovely lads,” she said to us, getting into the car. “They wanted to drop me by the hospital but I told them that I was fine enough to walk.”

  Stella grunted and started the engine. “Attention seeking old bag.”

  “Bitter crone,” Vivian said back blithely and plugged in her seat belt with a snap.