“So you have no idea what this person could need help with in regard to him?”
“None at all, if it is in regards to him in the first place,” Margot said, taking a sip from her own iced tea and following Adam out onto her small porch. She didn’t have nearly as nice a view as Bentley did from his apartment in the senior living complex nor the backyard that Adam had, but her small porch was shrouded with vibrant green trees and she enjoyed the privacy and shade they provided.
“Just in case, I can look into him if you’d like.”
“Maybe.” Margot turned her attention toward the greenery surrounding them as she thought. “After I meet with whoever it is, I’ll know more and can maybe home in the direction of the information I’d need.”
“You’re becoming the regular private investigator, aren’t you?” Adam teased.
“Hardly. I’m just a baker.”
“Speaking of baker, have you found someone to do our cake yet?”
“No.” Margot let out a forced breath of air that made her bangs flap up.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do it and that’s why you’re dragging your feet?”
She shot him a look, but he was grinning.
“You know I’m kidding. There really isn’t anyone?” he asked.
“I should have had this taken care of months ago, I realize that, but due to the quick nature of our wedding, the people I would have picked to do the cake are all booked up already. It is a busy time for weddings.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to go with someone you’re in competition with?” Adam asked with a smirk.
“We’ll see.” She wasn’t done looking yet. She still had hope one of her friends would have a cancellation or perhaps she’d come across someone she hadn’t considered or known before, but that would be nothing short of miracle.
“Anything else I need to do for the wedding at this point?”
Margot shook her head. “You’ve got your tux taken care of and you’ve booked the rehearsal dinner, right?”
“I did,” he said, nodding. “I also paid the deposit for the florist yesterday and will do so with the DJ as soon as you’ve made your choice.” He waited a few moments, then said, “Margot?”
She blinked out of her thoughts, realizing she’d heard him but hadn’t responded. “I’m sorry.”
“Thinking about the meeting tomorrow?”
She nodded. Her thoughts had trailed to the argument she’d overheard. She’d told Adam the gist of it, but now she was wondering what it could be that someone would contact her needing help? Or, was it possible she was jumping to conclusions?
“Adam, you don’t think they are asking for my help about baking, do you?” She leaned forward, her expression no doubt showing utter surprise.
“Baking? You really think so?”
“I feel so foolish, but I assumed—after hearing the argument—that someone had heard about my crime-solving exploits, but like I just told you, I’m a baker, not a P.I.”
He leveled his gaze on her. “I know you say that, but I’m afraid that the recent publicity you’ve gotten has labeled you as both baker and investigator—thankfully, they haven’t added candlestick maker,” he said with a laugh.
“Oh, you,” she said, unable to help her own smile from emerging. “Either way, it’s good for me to remind myself of this. I can’t walk into this meeting thinking that it’s going to be bad.”
“You can’t assume it’ll be good either,” he said, pointing at her. “There was no name on the note and you said the woman was very cryptic.”
“Perhaps Chef Franco would be hurt if he knew one of his workers—or his daughter—wanted to pursue baking rather than work at the bistro? I mean, there are several reasons.”
Adam relented with a soft smile, his hand reaching over to cover hers. “Just go the meeting as you. I’ll be there just in case, but maybe we’ll both be surprised.”
She laced her fingers through his and leaned back, enjoying the coolness of the evening and putting thoughts of the next day’s meeting aside until the morning when they would matter.
Margot was pleased with the progress she, Dexter, and Julia had accomplished that morning. She didn’t usually have them all there working together, but with the festival coming up the next day, she knew that they had to have a good stock of items that would last and then they would have to prep the kitchen for early morning baking.
Her head hurt from the sheer logistics of it all, but she had already arranged for Adam to borrow a truck to take all of the setup items to the festival so that she and her workers could stack pastries in their cars. It would be quite the procession, but this was the fourth year Margot had participated in the festival and she knew it would be worth all the hassle.
It wasn’t so much that she did it for the money, though she did sell well through her booth, but she found that her pastries made others smile and gave them something sweet for the morning and early afternoon—or as long as supplies lasted.
“You’re leaving at one today?” Dexter asked, consulting their schedule.
“Yes, but I’ll be back by two, I’d assume.”
“Got it.” He walked past Julia and Margot caught the smile he sent her. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Julia about how things were going between her and Dexter recently, but from what she could see, it was going well. Margot made a mental note to ask Julia to grab coffee or do dinner in the near future so they could catch up.
The front bell rang and Julia rushed off through the swinging doors to the front. She was back almost seconds later with a bright smile on her face. “It’s Bentley. He’s wondering if the bakery owner will deign to speak with him. His words—so not mine.”
Margot laughed and wiped off her hands. “Of course. Let me prepare his cinnamon roll first.”
Minutes later, she was carrying out a caramel pecan cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee to one of her favorite patrons. The older gentleman, his white hair combed just so and his smile in place, greeted her with a hug after she’d set down his usual order. He had once been a lawyer in D.C. and now lived in North Bank and was an active member of the senior center and his senior living complex. He’d helped Margot in many cases in the past and she’d come to see him as a father figure.
“You ready for the festival, Margot?” he asked, cutting into the cinnamon roll and savoring his first bite.
“I think we’re almost there. We’ll be baking each morning, of course, but other than that we are ready. Some things are just better fresh, you know.”
He gave her a tightlipped grin as he chewed.
“I heard the good news,” she said.
“Which?” he asked, swallowing a sip of coffee.
“That you raised the money you needed for the senior center finally.”
“More like we were given the money,” he said, giving her a pointed look she couldn’t quite interpret.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his fork resting near the plate and ready to cut his next piece. “The fundraiser we did a few months ago almost got us there, but then we hit some unforeseen issues in the project—you know, just like they do on those home improvement channels—and we were set back again. Then, all of the sudden, the money is there and we’re good to go.”
“Why do you seem suspicious? Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy, just curious. You don’t become a lawyer without curiosity.”
Margot nodded slowly. “There’s no way to look at the donation receipt?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. But every time I go in there to get a look, Jan shoos me off like I’m about to break into Fort Knox.”
“You think she knows who it is and is protecting them?”
“Nah.” He leaned forward and got another bite ready. “I don’t think she knows either, but Mister Westin Danbury knows and he’s forbidden her to let anyone in there. Threatening her job or some nonsense like that.”
Margot m
ulled over this information. She’d heard of the illustrious Mr. Danbury only in passing comments. He almost never, from what she could tell, visited the complex that he owned. Word was that he spent most of his time at a luxury complex he owned just across the D.C. state line in Maryland. It catered to the elite and wealthy of the district and occupied a lot of his time—so the rumors went.
Either way, she hadn’t met the man and had no idea why he would wish to keep something like a charitable donation secret. Then again, many people donated anonymously and wished to remain private. It didn’t mean they had anything to hide.
“What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours, Margot?” Bentley asked, settling back with his cup of coffee now that his cinnamon roll was finished.
“I’m just thinking that, considering the fact it’s a charitable donation and not a donation to a campaign fund or something—” She grinned. “—your attention to it makes me curious. What do you think is going on?”
“I wouldn’t claim to have a theory as of yet. I don’t know why, but it just strikes me as odd. It’s not like we’ve got wealthy patrons or anything. Besides, it’s been clear from the start that we were fundraising and in need of money. Why now?”
“You’re just out for a mystery, Bentley,” she said with a sardonic smile.
“As if you aren’t,” he joked back.
“True enough. Oh!” Margo jolted forward and checked the time. She still had things to get done in the back of the shop before her coffee meeting that afternoon. “I’d love to hear more of your theories, but I’ve got a meeting at one and must take care of a few things in the back.”
“Go,” he said with a good-natured wave. “I’ll stay on the case.”
She winked at him and rushed to the backroom. With the festival coming up and her meeting that afternoon, she had enough mystery and busyness to deal with on her own.
3
Margot walked up to her favorite coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans filling the air. It was one of her favorite places to go to relax or read a book when she wasn’t busy working. Sadly, today would not be that type of visit.
She stepped into line in the small shop and casually observed those sitting at tables outside. She immediately spotted Adam at the corner table. The café boasted tall palms and other exotic plants that provided coolness as well as helped create a barrier from those walking by on the street to those sitting in the cafe’s outdoor courtyard.
Adam had his nose in a book, but he was still wearing his dark sunglasses so that he could easily look around when needed. Though he didn’t acknowledge her, she knew he saw her.
She ordered an iced coffee with cream and then stepped into the open doorway that connected the small shop to the patio. A few tables had been blocked from her view inside and now she saw a petite woman with a straw hat sitting in the corner. She recognized the hat immediately.
“Hello,” she said, sliding into the seat across from the woman.
“Margot Durand?” the young woman asked.
“Yes. I believe you left me a note.”
The young woman removed her large, dark glasses, though she kept her straw hat on, and Margot could clearly see that it was none other than Chef Maurice Franco’s daughter.
“I did,” the woman said.
“You must be Chef Franco’s daughter.”
She winced as if Margot had shouted. “I am, but he doesn’t know I’m meeting with you.”
Margot leaned back, observing the woman and waiting for her explanation.
Sighing, the young woman leaned back in her seat. “My name is Jacquelyn—though everyone calls me Jacqui—and I reached out to you because I need your help.”
“I’d surmised as much, but what exactly do you need my help with?”
Jacqui bit her lip, her gaze trailing to those closest to their table. Margot was happy to see she completely ignored Adam in the corner table.
“I…I think there is something bad going on.”
“Something bad?” Margot repeated. “What exactly do you mean?”
The young woman’s brow creased. “You met Lindsay, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Margot agreed.
“I think that she’s using my father’s catering business for bad things.”
“What do you mean?” Margot needed specifics, not feelings at this point.
“A few weeks back, I had to take something to her from my father. They flirt, he kind of does that even though he’s not serious, but she’s never let him get too close. Anyway, he wanted me to drop off her check since she’d been sick a day and unable to come in. He said he knew she didn’t make much working for him and he didn’t want her to go through the weekend without getting paid.” Jacqui’s eyes met Margot’s. “But when I got to the address in her file, I realized there had to be a mistake.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It listed an address in part of a new development down on the water as part of a high-rise development. Apartments go for crazy prices there, I’d seen as much when I was looking for a new place. But, sure enough, she came to the door. She hardly looked sick but played it up when she knew it was me. She took her check and that was it.”
Margot took a sip of her coffee and regarded the woman in front of her. She was timid in how she spoke, but there was determination behind her gaze. Still, there were hardly any facts at this point.
“Is it possible she lives with someone? A roommate or significant other perhaps?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Does she have another job?”
“I don’t know.”
Margot nodded as she remembered Lindsay’s comment. Was Jacqui jealous?
“I know that I don’t have a lot of evidence to go on, but I just have this feeling.” She twisted her hands on the tabletop. “She wears designer clothes when she comes to the restaurant on off days. She drives a really expensive car. She has that apartment. None of those things point to someone who’s in need of money like my father thinks she is.”
“What is it that you’re accusing her of?” Margot’s question hung in the air for a few moments before Jacqui could answer.
“I think she uses the waitstaff she hires to steal—or something like that. We cater a lot of high-profile clients, even all the way down here in North Bank. It’s the perfect opportunity for her get a cut or something.”
“Sounds like you’ve been watching crime shows,” Margot said good-naturedly.
“I know I sound crazy, Missus Durand…” The young woman turned her gaze to the tables around them one more time. “But I promise you, something is going on. I even saw Lindsay meeting with some scary-looking guy last week. She didn’t have him come into the restaurant but was out at one of the hiking trails that goes along the bluffs. It was really suspicious.”
While suspicious-looking people were to be noted, it still wasn’t enough for Margot.
“There’s no proof. I haven’t heard of any local thefts, have you?”
Jacqui shook her head.
Margot stared at her drink, twisting it back and forth in her hands while she thought. Finally, she met the woman’s gaze again.
“I have a festival this weekend—you’ve heard of it?”
“Oh sure, we’ll have a booth there too.”
“Okay then. As soon as it’s over, I promise to look into this for you.”
The woman looked relieved. “That would be amazing. I wish it could be earlier…”
“I’ll be swamped at the festival. You know what that’s like.”
“I do,” she agreed.
“We’ll set a time to talk later then, all right?”
Jacqui nodded in agreement.
“And to think I considered you may want advice on baking,” Margot said half to herself.
Jacqui grinned. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know who else to go to. When you showed up at our restaurant, I was shocked. I’d seen your photo in the newspaper a few months ago and knew you were smart as we
ll as resourceful.”
Margot laughed at this. “You’re quoting the newspaper now?”
Jacqui blushed.
“I’m glad you reached out to me. I’m just not sure if there’s anything I can do. I am just a baker.”
“I’m sure you’ll try, which is all the matters. I’d do something myself, but I can’t begin to know the first thing about solving mysteries.”
Margot wanted to say she didn’t either, but her track record begged to differ.
“It was nice to meet you, Jacqui.”
“You too, Margot.”
They said farewell and went their separate ways, though Margot waited out front until Adam exited the café and joined her in the car.
“Well, how did it go? Baking or mystery solving?”
“It would appear,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance, “that a mystery is afoot.”
Adam came into the kitchen carrying two bags of Chinese food, Clint trailing close behind him. After Margot had shared about her meeting with Jacqui, he’d agreed to look into local thefts to see if what the young woman said could be supported by other evidence. They’d then agreed to meet up at his house for dinner that night.
Margot sat on the bench seat that lined one side of the kitchen table and watched as Clint, Adam’s mutt of a dog, sat obediently at his feet while he dished out their plates.
“He just wants a little,” Margot said, amusement lacing her words.
“And he’s not getting anything. He’s already had his dinner.”
“Spoilsport.”
Adam laughed and sidestepped the large dog to deliver plates to the table. He then brought over two tall glasses of lemonade and finally slumped in the chair next to her.
“Long day?”
“Little bit. I should have ordered a double-shot while I sat there waiting for your meeting to be over.”
She laughed and gently clasped his hand for a moment. “Thank you for coming,” she said, smiling appreciatively.
“Of course.” They kissed lightly then turned their attention to the meal in front of them.
Catering and Crime Page 2
