I directed them to drive us back to the Mad Batter while I texted Rose and Masie in our group chat and told them that they had to get over here stat. There’s just too much to go over on our own and I wanted all the help I could get.
As we waited, I made sure Vivian and Stella had the best seats in the bakery and I made them up some of my best coffee. They were beaming so I knew that at least someone enjoyed this evening.
Masie turned up only about fifteen minutes after I called her, her hair in a tangle of frizz around her face and her eyes bright. “Tell me everything!” she said loudly, and plopped down at the same table as Stella and Vivian.
“We’re waiting for Rose. Want a coffee?”
“Oooh yes please. Is miss perfect joining us, then?”
I shrugged and got her coffee just the way she liked it, almost all sugar and cream. As she sipped and sighed in delight, Rose swept in and perched on the table looking like a particularly leggy bird put out by its noisy neighborhood.
“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”
“If you think I broke into Derrick’s house,” I started, only to have Vivian and Stella interrupt.
“We broke in,” they chorused, and pointed at the three of us.
“I had help. And we found something really great!” I dug in my pocket and pulled out the love note, spreading it out on the table for everyone to see. “Look at this.”
One by one, each of them read it and put it back down. Even Rose was starting to look interested despite herself. Masie was gleefully exchanging ideas with Vivian in hushed tones while Stella took off her glasses, wiped them twice and put them back on again.
“A bit racy, isn’t it?”
Wait, was it? I picked up the letter and skimmed through it, feeling my cheeks heat up. This was not a ladylike letter at all. “Maybe Derrick was serious about someone and was planning to run away with her?”
“Enough about that fiddle faddle,” Stella said, smacking the photo down on the table. “What about this? This proves that the bride and groom were close friends with the victim, doesn’t it?”
“That’s not evidence they murdered them,” Rose said.
“No, but the fact that I hear it was Maribelle who wanted him out of the wedding party is pretty juicy,” Masie said. “Especially seeing as they look so cozy here.”
Could one of them be the killer? I doubted it, but Masie was right that things just didn’t add up.
“You two should be focusing on getting the wedding cake sorted not on dredging up people’s pasts,” Rose said. “This is a job for the police.”
I ignored her, turning the photo over in my hands. She might have a point, but I had a mystery to solve and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Maybe there was a clue to be found in the close embrace between three friends captured here. I wondered what Jordan and Maribelle had really thought when Derrick turned up dead.
Had they been sad? Relieved? Surprised?
Or had one of them planned it all along?
Chapter 10
“Scooter, help!” I cried, slamming through the back door of the bakery.
He was already set up at his workstation, concocting a monstrous monster madness cake. This boy had talent to spare, but right now I didn’t have the time to appreciate it.
“Coco, what’s the matter?” He set down the fondant he was shaping and ran towards me.
“Everything is ruined! All the cupcakes I baked this morning are flatter than flipping pancakes. I don’t know what happened!” I exclaimed between clenched teeth.
He grabbed the staggering stack of containers from my arms and set them down on one of the counters. “Is that all? I thought you might have found another dead body back there, or something,” he teased.
“You know, I am handy for more than finding dead bodies.”
He grinned at me, and it was hard to stay mad at the kid.
“Jordan and Maribelle are supposed to be here in a couple hours to pick out their cake flavor,” I explained. “I was trying to save some time and get half the work done while I was still at home. I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps, I was too flustered by this whole murder investigation thing, and I forgot my recipe.”
“You have been especially focused on trying to figure out who the murderer is,” he agreed.
“Can you help me whip up a new batch? There’s not time to do all the flavors, but with your help, I could at least get a few done.”
“Sure.”
Usually, I would have had a dozen flavors ready for clients to choose from. Since I was short on time, I’d just do a vanilla, chocolate mousse, spiced apple, and raspberry swirl. Hopefully, Jordan and Maribelle would be happy with one of those.
“I can’t believe the wedding is only a couple weeks away,” I uttered. I gathered up all the ingredients and turned the oven on to preheat.
“That’s coming up fairly soon,” Scooter surmised.
When I was hired for this event, it appeared like there was more than enough time to prepare. Now that the cake tasting day had arrived it felt like time was my enemy, instead of my friend.
How was I going to get the cake ready and solve the murder before the wedding day was here?
I worked quickly, paying extra attention to each ingredient I added so the recipe would be perfect. With Scooter’s help, I was able to get the four flavors baked and frosted with a few minutes to spare.
“Thank you so much, Scooter. You’re the best,” I complimented him.
“Always glad to help,” he answered before he went back to the cake he’d been working on when I came in.
“I hope you’re charging enough for your genius creations,” I remarked, heading for the front of the bakery.
Jordan walked through the door as I stepped out from behind the counter.
“Good morning,” I greeted him.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked around the shop, seeming a little distracted.
“Is Maribelle on her way?” I wondered.
“She’s not coming. She’s too distraught to focus on the minutiae of the wedding prep. I’m getting everything sorted out.” His voice was confident, but his eyes glanced around nervously.
I was surprised Maribelle would miss such an important part of the wedding planning, but I ushered Jordan to the tasting room to get started.
The table was set up with the cupcakes and a tall glass of milk. There were two place settings, so I took one away and sat down next to him. He glanced at the cupcakes almost in a daze, as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, now.
“It’s nice of you to do this for Maribelle. A lot of grooms don’t want to have anything to do with the planning part of the wedding,” I said, motioning for him to start with the vanilla cupcake.
“I just want to get this done and over with. The wedding, that is.” He took a bite of the cake.
“This is tasty,” he commented after swallowing.
I explained to him what each of the flavors were and apologized for not having more than four for him to choose from. He rebuffed my offer of coming back at a later time to try out some other flavors.
Making small talk, I asked him about the wedding and the possibility of pushing it to a later date, given the circumstances. He was adamant that changing the date was not an option.
“We honestly need to move forward. I don’t want to delay any longer,” he revealed.
It sounded as though he was afraid that something might happen to stop the wedding, altogether.
“I’m so sorry about Derrick. You were friends for a long time?” I asked.
“We weren’t that close. What flavor is this again?” He took a second bite of the cupcake in front of him.
“The chocolate mousse. Derrick was your best man before he was removed from the wedding party, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t care for chocolate,” he said, taking a giant swig of the milk.
When I asked about Derrick’s death, and i
f he had any ideas about who might have hated him enough to kill him, Jordan dismissed my questions.
He didn’t act at all that concerned. You’d think he would be a little more upset about someone he’d been friends with dying so suddenly and violently. Maribelle acted more devastated by Derrick’s death than Jordan did.
“We’ll go with the vanilla,” he stated, after tasting all the flavors.
“For the cake only? Do you want a different flavor for the icing?” I asked.
“Vanilla will work for both,” he replied.
Standing up, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. I followed him out to the main customer area of the bakery and watched him walk out the door.
After I cleaned up the mess from the tasting, I went into the back and stared dumbfounded at Scooter. Why wouldn’t Jordan be more upset about Derrick’s death? Why did he remove him as best man from the wedding party? Could he have had something to do with Derrick’s being murdered?
“What’s up?” Scooter questioned, glancing up from his cake.
“Jordan came alone for the tasting. He didn’t seem at all upset by Derrick’s untimely demise. And to top it off, he picked vanilla for the wedding cake,” I said, exasperated.
Chapter 11
“What sorta weirdo picks out boring, plain vanilla for a wedding cake?” Scooter asked in shock.
“My point exactly!” I exclaimed.
“He seems sketchy. I wouldn’t trust him,” Scooter added solemnly.
“I know, right? That decision, alone, puts him fairly high up on the suspect list. If he was, at least, a tad bit upset about Derrick, we might possibly ignore it, but I don’t think so.” I plopped down in the chair at my station and leaned an elbow on the counter, resting my chin in my hand.
“Uh oh. I’ve seen that face before. You’re contemplating something,” Scooter suggested.
“I don’t have a contemplating face,” I scoffed.
“You do, and you usually have it right before something crazy happens,” he insisted. “I enjoy crazy so make sure I'm in on it this time. Vivian and Stella don't have to have all the fun.”
“Everything is getting so complicated. We keep adding names to the suspect list instead of eliminating them. How many enemies can one guy have, for criminy sakes?”
“It would appear a lot in Derrick’s case. All done.” He stepped back from the cake he’d been working on all day, hands raised in surrender.
“You’ve really outdone yourself with that one,” I mused. “Who’s it for.”
“Some kid's fifth birthday party tomorrow.”
“He’ll be so excited, he’ll probably wet his pants,” I guessed.
“That the plan,” Scooter laughed.
I started sorting through my supplies, pulling out the tools and decorations I needed to begin work on the wedding cake in the coming days. Since Scooter didn’t have any pressing orders to start on, he helped me dig through the drawers and cupboards. He also started a list for me of anything I would need that I didn’t already have on hand.
The kitchen door was propped open, so we were able to listen to the comings and goings at the front of the shop. No one was coming. The bakery was quieter than a dead church mouse.
When the bells on the front door jingled, Scooter and I shared a startled glance. How sad when an actual customer was cause for concern. I peeked through the door and saw Warner Abernathy walk into the shop followed by one of his receptionists.
Mr. Abernathy was the manager of the big hotel in town. The same hotel Derrick had been working at before he was killed. He was regal looking, with salt and pepper hair and a thick bristly mustache that covered his entire upper lip.
“There have been too many inconsistencies in the financial records lately, Celeste. How can such an exorbitant amount of money just vanish?” Mr. Abernathy questioned.
“I’ve gone over the books several times, sir. I can’t figure out where it disappeared to.” Celeste answered meekly.
Raising my eyebrows at Scooter I whispered, “Someone’s been stealing from the hotel.”
“Sounds that way,” he answered.
“One thing’s for sure, it won’t be continuing. I’ve never been one to condone the use of unnecessary violence, but at least everything has been sorted out. Even if we can’t find what’s already been taken, we can rest assured knowing the culprit is no longer...functional,” Mr. Abernathy said.
“We certainly could have had him arrested. I find it terribly sad when a life is taken. Regardless of how terrible that person may have been,” Celeste mused.
“Yes, well, I treated that boy as my own personal protégé. I took him under my wing, taught him everything I know, and he betrayed me. That kind of behavior is unacceptable and deserves consequences,” he seethed.
Wow! Was Derrick stealing from the hotel and Mr. Abernathy found out? Scooter and I exchanged concerned looks. This sounded bad.
I wasn’t about to go out there and confront him about it, though. Warner Abernathy was a distinguished member of this town. He had a lot of respect and power with the community. The hotel he managed was the go-to venue for weddings, anniversaries, birthdays. Practically any party you’d think of, the hotel would host.
As such, he had influence over whether or not those parties chose my bakery to do the catering for their celebrations. He was a huge potential customer. If he wanted to, he could crush the Mad Batter. Offending him was the last thing I wanted to do.
I stood up and smoothed out my apron.
“Be careful, Coco. Don’t let your mouth say anything your brain knows could get you into trouble,” Scooter warned. He must have been thinking the same thing I was.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Abernathy,” I greeted, as I stepped out from the kitchen.
“Miss Foster. Call me Warner, please,” he nodded in reply.
“What can I get for you today, Warner.” My throat was dry and I had to swallow several times. Was I standing in front of a murderer?
“I’ll have a coffee, thank you. Celeste, would you like something?”
“Oh, the red velvet cookies are divine. I’ll have two of those.”
After Warner paid, and I handed them their order, the two of them headed back out the door. I stood behind the counter and watched through the window until they disappeared from sight.
“Is it possible Warner Abernathy is a murderer?” I asked Scooter when I walked back into the kitchen.
“It sounded that way. But, he’s probably more the type of guy who would hire out that sort of thing, as opposed to doing it himself. You know...like a mob hit,” Scooter answered.
Scooter was probably right. I couldn’t picture Warner grabbing a bottle of champagne and whacking someone’s head over and over with it. He was too composed for that.
“So, who do we have on our suspect list, so far? We added Jordan this morning. His behavior was too blasé and nonchalant. Derrick was supposed to be his friend, and he acted like he barely knew him,” I started.
“And now Mr. Abernathy. His and Celeste’s entire conversation was sketchy,” Scooter added.
“I can’t see him doing something like that, though, even from the sidelines.”
“Anyone can be a killer under the right circumstances,” Scooter conjectured.
“There’s also Sam. He hated Derrick because of how he treated his daughter. A father’s anger can be volatile when his little girl has been hurt,” I reminded him.
The bell on the front door jingled for only the third time today. Scooter and I peered out to see Logan enter the bakery.
Chapter 12
“Coffee?” I asked. I started pouring a cup before Logan even had time to reply.
“You’re a lifesaver, Coco,” he answered, accepting the cup of steaming liquid I handed him.
“Have you eaten anything today?” I wondered.
Logan glanced down at his watch, his brows pulled tight over his dark eyes. “It’s possible I had a crusted bagel at the station this
morning, but it might have been last night. I don’t think I’ve gotten more than a couple hours of sleep in the last few days.
“How’s the investigation coming?” I asked.
I gathered up some bread and lunch meat and started putting together a sandwich.
“We’ve run flat smack into a foot-thick brick wall. If I end up buried under it, you’ll know I didn’t make it through,” he laughed feebly.
“What’s the problem?” I smeared mayonnaise on one slice of bread and mustard on the other.
“Jordan and Maribelle are our two main suspects, but I can’t get to them to ask any real questions. Jordan’s dad is blocking access. That man has lawyers whose shoes cost more than I make in a year,” he alleged in exasperation.
“Rose and I ran into Maribelle at the grocery store yesterday. She was cork high and bottle deep, fighting with the checker who refused to sell her more alcohol. I coaxed her outside, and she had a regular breakdown right there on the sidewalk,” I informed him. I grabbed some lettuce and sliced up a tomato.
“Did she say anything to you?”
“She was mostly incoherent. Something about not knowing what to do and not believing this was happening and how nothing would be fine. She was completely distraught.”
“If she was that upset over Derrick, I’d have a hard time believing she wanted him dead,” Logan mused.
“Jordan doesn’t seem upset by Derrick’s death at all,” I stated, layering turkey thickly over one slice of bread.
“What do you mean?”
“He came in today to pick a cake flavor for the wedding cake. Everyone knows he and Derrick were best friends, but he was brushing it off like they barely even knew each other. It was eerie how disinterested he was in the whole thing,” I explained.
I added a slice of Swiss cheese and stacked the second piece of bread atop my creation. Logan grinned as I slid the plate over to him.
“That does sound odd. This looks great, Coco. You should do this for a living,” he teased, gripping the sandwich between both hands and biting off a giant chunk.
Crepes and Crimes Page 4
