She hadn’t put her earbuds in, working too quickly to even stop to do that, so she heard the noise at the back door, quiet though it was. Erin froze, elbow deep in a vat of bread dough, and listened.
It was just a tree branch rubbing against the outside of the building.
Or something equally innocuous.
Though she tried to make herself get back to work, she couldn’t focus on her work, trying to hear what was going on. Was somebody trying to pick the lock of the back door? They had to be able to see the lights on in the bakery and know that someone was there.
Or was that part of the plan? Maybe it was someone who wanted her to be there. Someone who wanted her out of the way. She had thought that Angela was her only real antagonist. The competition. But what if there was someone else? Someone who had previously picked the lock or used some other method to get into her bakery. The entity who had broken her mug and shifted the papers in her office.
It was just paranoia. Anxiety. Because Erin was tired and because she was involved in a police investigation of an unexpected death. Her imagination was getting away from her.
Erin determinedly went back to kneading her bread. Though, since gluten-free bread doughs were more liquid than gluten bread dough, it was really just mixing rather than kneading.
The noise continued. Eventually, Erin’s anxiety subsided. No one was going to take fifteen minutes to pick the lock of an occupied shop and keep at it. It had to be a branch rubbing against the building, like she had initially thought. Or just the building itself making noises.
After it ceased to be anxiety-producing, it became an irritant. She should just put her earphones in and keep working, but she would know, even with music on, that the noise was still there. She’d have to keep taking the earphones out to check one more time whether it was still there.
She hadn’t heard the noise other days that she had been there.
And there hadn’t been a wind when she had arrived at the shop.
With an angry breath out, Erin extricated herself from the dough, scraped it off of her hands and arms, and washed up. She wiped sweat from her forehead and went to the back door. The door to the stairs was open. She closed it, irritated that the police had left it sitting open. She didn’t want to have her attention drawn to the basement.
The scratching at the door resumed. Erin stood there for a moment, breathing shallowly and staring at the back door. It was low on the door. Animal-like. She was sure it would just be a branch.
She unlocked the door and tentatively pushed the door open a few inches to have a look.
There was a movement, a silhouetted shape in the dimness, that made Erin gasp and jump back.
And then a dirty little head thrust through the door, and a slim, lithe shape followed it into the shop.
A cat.
A little, bedraggled, mostly-orange kitten.
“Oh, my goodness.” Erin let out another breath. “Where did you come from?”
The kitten looked up at her and meowed silently. Something too ultrasonic for her to hear.
“You must be a stray. It doesn’t look like anyone has been taking care of you.”
The little cat rubbed against her legs, but when Erin moved toward it, it took off, streaking away from her.
“No you don’t! I don’t want a cat in here. Come on. Out you go.” She pushed the door open wider and went after the cat, trying to shoo it back out of the shop. “Out, out, out! No animals in my bakery.”
The cat avoided her, moving much faster than she would have thought possible, and wedged itself back behind the fridge. Erin was afraid to move the fridge in case she hurt it. After considering the situation for a few minutes, she decided to leave the door open, and the cat would eventually wander out and leave the shop once she was occupied with something else. It was only afraid of her because she had chased it.
She went back to work, keeping an eye out for the kitten. It stubbornly stayed out of sight. Erin looked at her watch. It was getting late and she knew she had to be heading home. She covered up the loaves of bread and cleaned up the various mixing bowls. As she put away milk and eggs, a little head poked out inquisitively from under the fridge.
“Well, hello,” Erin murmured to it.
The kitten mewed and came out from under the fridge. It again rubbed against her legs and this time Erin did not try to pet it. She continued to put things away, ignoring the kitten. It became gradually bolder, not flinching away whenever she moved. Erin took the garbage out to the back lane, expecting the kitten to follow her out the door. But the perverse little creature didn’t. It just sat in the kitchen waiting for her to come back.
“It’s time for you to go,” Erin told the cat firmly.
The cat tilted its head and looked at her.
Erin went to the fridge and looked over the contents. The cat watched as she got the carton of eggs back out again, then got out a saucer and cracked the egg into it. It meowed and wound itself around her ankles.
Erin whisked the egg with a fork and bent over to hold it close to the kitten. “You see that?” she asked. “You smell that? You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
The cat meowed eagerly, following the saucer. Erin moved slowly, not wanting to scare it away. It followed the saucer closely, sniffing at the air and occasionally standing up on its hind legs to try to get a better look. She walked out the back door. For a moment, the kitten stayed inside the warmth and shelter of the kitchen, but it was drawn by the smell of the egg and eventually followed her out. Erin put down the saucer. The kitten hovered close by, not approaching while she was still too close. Erin moved back to the door of the shop and the kitten closed in on the saucer, bending down to sniff and then to lap at the raw egg. Erin stepped back into the shop and closed the door.
#
Erin unlocked the front door of the bakery, her stomach tied in knots with her anxiety that she wasn’t going to get any business. The lost day meant that she didn’t have any momentum. People would be afraid her goods were contaminated. Or they wouldn’t want to eat somewhere that someone had died. Or they would decide not to frequent her establishment out of loyalty to the deceased. There were so many reasons for people to avoid going to Auntie Clem’s and few she could think of for them to go.
But there were already a few people waiting outside the door. Erin smiled and greeted them and went back behind the counter to serve them.
“I just can’t believe about Angela,” Melissa said, after Erin had served the first two customers, who had been tactful enough to avoid the topic. “Who would ever have thought that such a thing could happen?”
“I’m told she had had several bad reactions before,” Erin offered, trying to keep her face pleasant and not rise to Melissa’s tendency toward drama.
“Well, I know, but here, of all places!”
“It’s possible that she had developed a new allergy. That happens sometimes, you know, especially once you have one severe reaction. She might have been allergic to something she had never had a reaction to before. Another ingredient in the muffins, or something in the air or something she touched. It could have been nothing to do with the muffins or the shop. Maybe she took a cough drop or some other medication. We don’t know anything yet about what she actually reacted to.”
“That’s a very positive way to look at it, I’m sure.” Melissa looked around at the other customers and leaned closer to Erin. “Have you seen the paper this morning?”
“No. I thought the paper came out Thursdays?”
“They did a special print run today. Because of breaking news.”
Erin wasn’t so sure she wanted to know what the breaking news was. In fact, she was sure she didn’t want to know.
“Did you want a muffin this morning?” she asked Melissa. “Maybe some rustic bread for supper tonight?”
But Melissa wasn’t even looking at the baked goods in the display case or at the price board. She was digging around in her oversized shoulder bag. The businessman behi
nd her was shifting impatiently and Erin made a show of looking around Melissa at him.
“Could I help you, sir?”
He smiled and stepped forward beside Melissa to make his breakfast selection. Erin rang up his order, ignoring Melissa, and looked to the next person in line. She saw Peter and his mother. She had the baby in a sling again, but the two little girls were not with them. Peter eagerly stepped forward to point out which muffin he wanted. His mother bent in close to Erin.
“Peter didn’t have any reactions,” she said.
Erin blinked at her. She smiled tentatively. “That’s good,” she said. “I’m glad to be able to provide products that he can eat…”
“What I mean is… there couldn’t have been any gluten in the cookies or bread, or Peter would have had a reaction. I don’t think any of your food is contaminated.”
Erin breathed out in relief and gave her a more genuine smile. “Thank you for that. I’ve been worried about what people would think. I’m sure there are all kinds of rumors going around about what happened and the people who really need the bakery will end up avoiding it.”
The bells over the front door jingled several times. Erin looked up. The bakery was getting rather busy. Even busier than on opening day, when she had offered complimentary cookies and muffins. She didn’t recognize all the faces as people who had been there before. A lot of people who normally went to Angela’s bakery must have decided to try out Auntie Clem’s instead. Gema had said that Erin no longer had any competition. Angela’s bakery must have closed with her death, which was odd if she was the owner but didn’t actually work out of the bakery herself. Wouldn’t her business keep operating until it was transitioned to a new owner?
Erin settled up with Peter’s mother, her mind elsewhere. Then Melissa had finally sorted out what she was looking for in her bag and thrust the slim little town newspaper in front of Erin’s face.
“There! That’s what I’m talking about.”
Erin pulled back slightly to look at the big black headline.
POLICE DETERMINE ANGELA PLAINT’S DEATH A HOMICIDE.
Chapter Six
ERIN’S MIND IMMEDIATELY FLASHED back to the questioning by Piper about what Erin knew of Angela’s allergies and autoinjector.
Auntie Clem’s no longer had any competition.
Did Piper really think that Erin would murder the competition? What kind of person would jump from having a discussion about the competition between the two bakeries to murdering her opposition? Even if Piper interpreted the sidewalk collision between the two women as a physical altercation, what would make him think Erin was capable of murder?
“Are you okay?” Melissa asked.
Erin blinked. She had customers. She didn’t have time to be panicking about Terry Piper’s speculations. She smiled at the next person in line behind Melissa.
“Can I help you?”
Melissa still didn’t move away from the counter or choose a muffin. Erin continued to serve customers while Melissa tried to engage her in conversation.
“Can you believe it? Murder?”
“No,” Erin snapped. “I can’t believe it. Why would he think it was murder? It was obviously just an allergic reaction. An allergy. No one could have predicted it.”
“Someone could have caused it,” Melissa countered. “It could have been malevolent. Contaminate something that Angela had with wheat. Steal her autoinjector. It would kill her as surely as a bullet between the eyes. In fact, it did.”
Erin counted cookies into a bag, and then had to go back and count them again to be sure she had the right number.
“But why? If it was murder, then someone had to have motive. Who had motive to kill her? And who could have gotten close enough to her to steal her autoinjector? I don’t see how it could be anything other than a tragic accident. She left her autoinjector at home. She ended up reacting to something she didn’t know she was allergic to. End of story.”
“It was the end of the story for Angela,” Melissa agreed, her dark eyes glittering. She folded the paper and put it back into her bag. “And the police determined that she did not leave her autoinjector at home. Or in her car. It is missing.”
“Officer Piper told the newspaper that it wasn’t at her house?”
“Officer Piper wrote it in his official report. The report that he gave to the coroner in the city.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because I do transcription for the police department.”
Erin closed her mouth before she could blurt out a comment about police reports being confidential. That would be shooting herself in the foot if she wanted Melissa’s insight into the investigation. Erin rang up the next order and collected the customer’s money.
“She could have dropped the autoinjector somewhere. Officer Piper can’t search the entire town.”
“He doesn’t think so. He thinks it was intentionally taken from her to prevent her from saving herself from a fatal reaction.” Melissa looked at Erin expectantly.
Erin sighed. “I could never do something like that. It would take someone pretty sadistic to take away her autoinjector and just watch her choke to death.”
Melissa looked thoughtful. “They didn’t necessarily watch her,” she pointed out. “They could have taken it before she had a reaction. Or left before she died.”
“This is morbid.” Erin took a breather while the next customer stared at the display case, mulling over her choices. “If he thinks it’s murder, he doesn’t think someone just happened to take her autoinjector and then she just happened to have a reaction and needed it. He thinks…” Erin swallowed. “He thinks that someone intentionally took her autoinjector and caused a reaction. Or caused a reaction and took her autoinjector.”
“You?”
“Did he… name me in his report? As a suspect?”
“Not in the report to the coroner.”
Erin let out a sigh of relief. She put blueberry muffins in a box, smiling at her customer, a wrinkled little Asian woman with cherry cheeks and sparkling eyes. The sweet vanilla smell of the muffin filled her nose.
“But he does name you in his report to the Sheriff.” Melissa smiled broadly, as if Erin should be proud of herself for being a prime murder suspect.
“How could he think I had anything to do with it? I can understand him thinking that she was the victim of accidental cross-contamination of something she bought here. But murder? I don’t have a motive, I only just met the woman!”
“You are competitors for the town’s business.”
“Competitors don’t kill each other!”
The next customer in line was Mary Lou Cox, looking as coiffed and put-together as always. “I gather you’ve heard the news,” she said in a low, sympathetic voice.
“I was just filling her in.” Melissa gave Mary Lou’s arm a conspiratorial nudge. “Isn’t it awful news about Angela?”
“Worse news for Erin than for Angela. Angela is dead whether it was an accident or homicide. But for Erin to be implicated in the crime…” Mary Lou tsked and shook her head. “You’re the one I feel sorry for.”
“I can’t believe anyone could think I would kill her!”
“How about a dozen assorted cookies?” Mary Lou suggested, peering into the display case. “That would be a nice treat for a couple of hardworking boys, don’t you think?”
Erin nodded and started putting cookies into a bag.
“Only don’t give me a baker’s dozen. Just twelve. Thirteen doesn’t split evenly and they’ll give me all kinds of grief.”
Erin smiled. “You could eat the thirteenth and they wouldn’t know any better.”
“Oh, no.” Mary Lou smoothed her pantsuit. “Straight to the hips! I have to watch so carefully.”
“How are the boys?” Melissa asked. “And Roger?”
“Just about the same.” Mary Lou gave a tranquil smile. “You know, every day above ground is a good one.”
Erin realized that she knew little
or nothing about the families of the women she had met. As a businessperson, she would do well to learn about their families and their tastes, so she could make recommendations and build a close working relationship. It sounded mercenary, but she needed to get out of her comfort zone and ask people about themselves and their loved ones if she wanted to grow her business.
“How old are your boys?” she asked, unintentionally cutting Melissa off.
“Teenagers, fifteen and seventeen. They both have part-time jobs and work hard to contribute to the household. And working keeps them out of trouble.”
“Great!” Erin too had started working young. She had known that she was going to have to support herself once she aged out of foster care, so she started earning her own income as soon as she could. “And your husband? Roger, is it? What does he do?”
Mary Lou and Melissa exchanged glances.
“He’s… not been well,” Mary Lou said eventually. “But we’re hoping he’s on the upward climb.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Erin waited, unsure of whether Mary Lou wanted to share what illness her husband was suffering from, but Mary Lou didn’t say and Erin was afraid to ask. “I hope he gets better soon.”
Both ladies nodded.
“Did you get anything?” Mary Lou asked Melissa, taking a step toward the door. It was plainly her intention to walk Melissa out. Erin could have hugged her.
Melissa scanned the display. Erin was pretty sure by now that Melissa had never planned to buy anything. She had just come in to gossip and see what Erin’s reaction would be to the news that she was a murder suspect. “How about one of those trail mix muffins. They look good.” Melissa examined her muffin while Erin rang up the purchase. “Does it have nuts in it? It seems like everyone is allergic to nuts these days.”
“No, no tree nuts, no peanuts. A few kinds of seeds, dried fruit, and chocolate chips. Very power-packed, great for hikes or a post work-out meal.”
Melissa patted her belly. She wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t as slim as Mary Lou or Erin. “I won’t be hiking anytime soon. I apologize to my body in advance.”
Gluten-Free Murder Page 6
