Chocolate Cherry Cheater

by Becca Bloom

  Jake rubbed his thumb over one particularly profound puncture. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll bring you some dinner?”

  Sylvia dumped freshly ground coffee beans into her percolator. “I’ll fight you for him, Adi. When he wasn’t busy slaving over your dress, Jake helped me in the kitchen.”

  Adi raised her dukes playfully. “No, I can play nice. You taught me how to share.”

  Jake set my plate down in front of me. “I was kind of like a ping-pong ball today, but they kept me busy and I like their company. Except for when Adi gets too bossy.”

  Adi brought me a glass of juice and gave Jake the stinky eye. “I am older than you, and as your big sister, it’s my job to share my wisdom and experience with my little brother.”

  Jake crossed his arms. “You’re five minutes older than me.”

  Sylvia mumbled, “And she never lets him forget it.”

  Adi ignored their remarks. “Here we are blabbing on and on about gowns and work when we ought to ask about your day. Jake said you came by.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, I wanted to see if you wanted to come with us to Ambato.”

  Adi raised her palm to her forehead. “I should have asked before I left. That’s where I went today for a fitting. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to give you a lift.”

  I was quick to reassure her, “No worries. It was an impulse-of-the-moment trip.”

  “How did you get there?”

  Tia Rosa answered in a grave voice, “We take the bus.”

  Sylvia, Jake, and Adi exclaimed in unison, “The bus!”

  Their perfectly synchronized reaction with their equally matched horrified expressions reminded me of the old melodrama theaters where the audience cheered the hero, booed the villain, and said “Oh no!” with the heroine just before the villain tied her to the railroad track.

  I said, “Actually, it was uneventful and … nice. If I want to go somewhere, I wouldn’t hesitate to hop on a bus again.”

  Adi looked askance at me, her eyebrow lifted. “Really? The bus?”

  I nodded. “Really.”

  Jake poured a round of coffee. “Good for you! Adi won’t be convinced there’s anything good about traveling by bus, but it’s one of my favorite ways to get around. You learn a lot about people and see so much more.”

  Adi stuck her tongue out at Jake. “You make me sound like a snob. I’ve had more than my fair share of ‘experiences’ in the bus.”

  “Must be because you’re so much older than me,” retorted Jake.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pest. So, why did you go to Ambato?”

  I gladly accepted the coffee mug Jake handed me. It was just how I liked it. Black with a spoon. “We went to the news station where Christina worked. AmbatoVision.”

  Abuelita added, “We talk with Daniel. He do it.”

  Sylvia sighed. “I hope you find the killer soon. We can’t continue like this.”

  I told them everything that happened from the time we got off the bus until we got back on to come home. Repeating our conversation with Carolina as well as our encounters with Daniel and Hugo just made me more convinced that the reporter and the cameraman knew more than they had said.

  Adi shivered in repulsion. “Daniel’s a creep for hitting on you like that. It sounds like he’s willing to use his girlfriend’s death to advance his own career. I hate to say it, but I agree with Abuelita. I bet he did it.”

  Tia Rosa said, “I think is Hugo. He warn Jessica for no ask the questions. Why he do that if he no have nothing to hide?”

  Sylvia tapped her fingers against her chin. “I think Mom’s gut might be right this time. Daniel just mentioned the other reporters to throw you off his trail. It’s too convenient, don’t you think?”

  Jake suggested, “Or it could be the best friend. She said Christina had some dirt against her. What if she was blackmailing her? What if Carolina resented being under Christina’s thumb?”

  It was another option, although of the three we talked to today, I was least likely to believe Carolina capable of killing her friend.

  Talking about it with everyone helped me see how much we had accomplished. We were on the verge of discovering what had happened and who was responsible for it. It felt so close, I could almost reach out and grasp it.

  The news came on, and Abuelita shushed everyone. “I get to talk in this one. I want to hear my talk on the television.”

  We watched the mayor’s interview, and most of us cheered when Abuelita barged in front of the camera.

  Sylvia, however, dropped her head into her hand and shook it. “Oh, Mom,” she groaned.

  It would have been something else to have been raised by such a force of nature as her mother. Much like Mammy and my dad.

  Abuelita gloated. “Next time, Rosa do the makeup before I go on the television.”

  Tia Rosa perked up. “Next time, I give you more color.”

  “Only if you no give me all the colors. Too much colors is no good. No is…” Abuelita wiggled her fingers trying to find the right word, snapping them when she remembered, “… tact.”

  She was so proud of remembering her new word, I didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t work in that scenario.

  The interview ended. No mention was made or footage shown of the accusations Señora Cabrera had directed at Jake.

  I heard a collective exhale around the island.

  Chapter 22

  Sylvia’s cell phone trilled a Nat King Cole tune. We all knew what that meant. It was Washo.

  Jake asked, “Are you going to answer that?”

  Sylvia slid her finger across the screen in reply. It was a video call.

  She propped the phone up against the fruit bowl in the middle of the island and we crowded around her.

  Washo waved. “It’s the whole family! Hi, guys.” Shyly, he added, “I know you told me not to call, Sylvia, but I needed to see you. I saw Abuelita on the news.”

  Abuelita purred, “You see me?”

  He laughed. “It’s hard not to. I’ve been keeping up on the news at home.” Worry wrinkled his brow. “How’re you holding up?”

  Sylvia replied, “We’re okay. I’m glad you called.”

  “I wish I could be there. How are you getting along with Sanchez?”

  Sylvia exhaled. “We haven’t heard from her lately, and she’s a real jerk when she does show up. Jake’s name is being dragged through the dirt, Señora Cabrera and her troops march in front of our businesses every day, and the tension around town is unmistakable.”

  Washo said, “Sanchez holds her cards close for good reason. But that’s the other reason I called. I talked with her earlier, and she told me she’s close to making an arrest. She only needs enough evidence to justify it so the perp doesn’t slip through her fingers.”

  “Someone other than me?” Jake asked.

  “I wouldn’t be telling you this otherwise,” said Washo.

  Good news must come in pairs. First, the mayor’s interview without Señora Cabrera’s accusations. And now, a new suspect and imminent arrest.

  Except, Sanchez liked to manipulate people to suit her. If she told Washo anything, it was because she knew he’d repeat it to us. What was she up to now?

  I asked, “Did Sanchez say who she plans to arrest for Christina’s murder?”

  Washo shook his head. “No, but she was confident she’d have enough proof to lock him up soon.”

  “Him?” I asked. “Did she say the murderer was a man?”

  “Generally speaking,” grumbled Washo, adding, “Just hang on a little longer and things will calm down. By next week, this will fade into a bad memory.”

  I wasn’t convinced.

  It bothered me that SierraVista had aired those videos in the first place. Who had given it to them? Were they already edited by the anonymous filmer, or had the station edited them to make Jake look guiltier? Didn’t they realize the danger to them in slandering Jake’s name if he turned out not to be the murderer?
They must be convinced of his guilt to expose themselves to lawsuits by doing that.

  At least, I thought with immense gratitude, they didn’t have proof that Jake hadn’t been with us the entire time. What they could do with that information would be catastrophic.

  Sylvia and Washo chatted happily until we heard the bell over the front door of the restaurant jingle.

  Adi opened the swinging door, and we saw Sanchez walking toward us. “The jerk is back.”

  Sylvia ended her call with Washo, dropping her phone into her apron. Pinching Adi’s chin, she said, “Be nice,” then invited Sanchez into our sanctuary in the kitchen.

  Folding her sunglasses and looping them over her shirt, Sanchez asked, “Hiding?”

  Adi crossed her arms. “It’s not like business is booming with the protesters slandering Jake outside.”

  “There are fewer of them today.”

  “They would go away if you’d capture the murderer already,” Adi retorted.

  Jake draped his arm around his twin’s shoulders, mumbling, “Simmer down, sis.”

  Sanchez pretended not to hear. She pulled up a bar stool and sat. “It’s been a long day.”

  Sylvia, forever the kind hostess, pulled open the refrigerator and poured a glass of juice. “Are you hungry?” she asked, placing the fresh-made juice in front of the agent we tried to be nice to for Jake’s sake.

  Sanchez smiled and took the glass. “Thank you for the juice, but I can’t eat right now.” She looked around the table, commenting, “Well, this is a first. You look happy to see me. Agent Vasquez told you I was close to making an arrest, didn’t he?”

  As I thought. She used him to manipulate us. But, why? What did she want?

  Abuelita took a Twinkie out of a cupboard, carrying it like it was the Queen’s crown, and set it in front of Sanchez. “You arrest Daniel, yes?”

  Sanchez took a sip of her juice and inspected the Twinkie. “If you’re trying to bribe me, you must know that I’m a Ding Dong girl.”

  Abuelita held up her finger. “I have Ding Dong.” Returning to her cupboard, she switched the cakes and placed the chocolate treat triumphantly in front of Sanchez. Like that would fix everything.

  Sanchez smiled, and I couldn’t decide if her wolfish grin meant she’d caught Abuelita attempting to bribe an officer with snack cakes or if she was finally going to play nice and level with us.

  “Daniel didn’t do it,” she said, tearing the wrapper off the Ding Dongs and inhaling half of a cake with one bite.

  She sounded so confident, I begrudgingly scratched Daniel off of my list of suspects. That left Hugo, Carolina, and possibly hundreds of jealous female reporters.

  Why was Sanchez sharing this?

  Tia Rosa asked, “Is Hugo the cameraman, yes?”

  Sanchez washed her treat down with a drink of juice. “Nope. Not even close.”

  I was starting to get worried.

  Adi asked, “Who was it then? The makeup artist?”

  Sanchez scoffed. “Carolina? No way.” She drained the rest of her juice, the glass smacking against the butcher block chop island when she set it back down.

  Now, I was worried in earnest. Sanchez had essentially admitted that all of my main suspects were innocent. “Do you know who did it? Are you close to making an arrest?” I asked.

  Sanchez popped the last of her packaged dessert in her mouth and stood. “Don’t you dare ruin this for me, Miss James. I’m too close to making an arrest.”

  “Who?” I insisted.

  “Like I’d tell you.”

  I saw red. “Let me guess … this has something to do with the anonymous video. Does it bother you that SierraVista has targeted Jake?” How could I have forgotten to ask about the video while we were in Ambato? We had been right there. It would have been easy to go over to the other news station and ask around. Now, I was mad at myself because I hadn’t even thought about it until that moment. Between that and Sanchez exploiting my inadequacies, I felt like the worst detective.

  Sanchez watched me with a scrutinizing glare.

  I waited for another jab, my patience waning the longer the silence grew between us. Folding my arms over my chest, I deepened my withering stare, ready to hurl the retort I’d rehearsed in my head.

  “You’re right,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah … what?” I was confused beyond recovery. Sanchez had admitted I was right? Why would she do that? What game was she playing?

  She pulled out her cell phone. “I received an anonymous tip in the mail today.”

  My head snapped up from her phone to her.

  “There was no address or telling markings on the envelope,” she said, anticipating my question. Pointing at the screen, she said, “Look.”

  It was another video. It showed Jake starting to go down the trail with me. After some minutes, which Sanchez sped up, it showed Jake running back up the trail alone. He looked around like he was searching for something. I knew he was trying to avoid another encounter with Christina, but it didn’t look good.

  Sanchez fast forwarded thirteen minutes to show Jake returning alone down the trail at a run. She froze the video on his back.

  “I told Washo and I told you that I ran back up to the store alone to buy something to drink,” Jake said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s not the point.” Sanchez put her phone away. “The point is that I got an anonymous video just like this one right before it aired on SierraVista.”

  My heart sank. “It didn’t air on tonight’s news.” My eyes met Jake’s, and I voiced the only other conclusion left to make. “Tomorrow. It’ll show tomorrow.”

  “It’s likely,” Sanchez agreed.

  I turned to her, crossing my arms again so I wasn’t tempted to choke her. “Then do something! Tell them not to air it!”

  She sighed and shook her head. She might as well have patted my head, saying, “You poor, simple child.”

  “Based on what? Supposition? This might be just what I need to break open the case.”

  “To let them publicly accuse Jake on national television? Don’t you care about anyone?” I gasped.

  “I care about my job.” Calmly, Sanchez added, “Cases always get ugly right before the rubble settles and we see the truth. You should be happy I’m not holding Jake at the station.”

  I was not appeased. “You’d arrest Jake in a flash if it led you closer to the killer so you can add another notch in your belt.”

  Jake spoke before my tongue got the better of me worse than it already had. “But you’re not going to take me to the station, are you? You don’t think I did it.”

  Sanchez shrugged. “Or, maybe I don’t have enough proof that you did.”

  The only takeaway I got from Sanchez was that I needed to find who the source of the videos was. And fast.

  As soon as I could, I stole away to my apartment. I called Martha to let her know I’d be gone tomorrow, then I went down to my shop and pulled out all the ingredients I needed to make Mammy’s famous Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes. They worked miracles. And tomorrow … if I was going to find who gave those videos to the station, I needed a miracle.

  Chapter 23

  I groaned when my alarm went off the next morning. A morning lark, I would never be. But I had things to do and nervous excitement soon chased my early morning surliness away.

  Lady cocked her head from side to side when I let her in hours earlier than normal. She seemed reassured that I hadn’t lost my mind when I set two pieces of bacon on the edge of the counter to cool. She knew they belonged to her.

  After gobbling up her treat, she watched me as I spent a little extra time on my makeup and hair. When her ear flopped over as she cocked her head to the side again, I felt the need to explain. “I’m not taking any risks today. I have to go to SierraVista, convince them not to air that horrible video, and convince them to leak their source. If I don’t glam it up, I won’t get past the reception desk.”

  A retouch here, a little blending the
re, I gave my hair a final fluff, spraying it with a coating of hair spray and stepping back to check my reflection in the mirror.

  “Not bad,” I determined. I really wanted Adi’s expertise, but there was no way I was going to wake her up this early or involve her in my plans when they could get her in trouble. So, I turned to Lady. “What do you think, girl?”

  She sneezed.

  I felt bad leaving Lady behind. Crouching down, I opened my arms. She walked into them, resting her head on my shoulder and wagging her tail happily. There’s nothing like a puppy hug to set the world right. “I promise, the next time I go somewhere, you’re coming along.”

  Lady seemed to understand me, opening her mouth to smile in approval and trotting over to the front door like she knew it was time for me to leave. She was the smartest dog I knew. I bet she’d sniff out Christina’s killer before I could.

  I brushed her hair off my blouse and shrugged into the blazer I’d borrowed from Adi the night before. Grabbing my backpack, containing my e-reader and a few other essentials, I went down to the shop to get things set up for Martha and Fernanda.

  The classic rock station played Survivor’s greatest hit. I scrubbed my hands clean and sang along, feeling like Rocky before a boxing match. I didn’t know how I was going to find out who the anonymous source of the videos was, but I had to try. Maria Escobar had given me her card, so I’d start with her.

  My bakery kitchen smelled like chocolate cupcakes. It was hard not to feel happy and optimistic when surrounded by such wonderful aromas.

  I whipped up a giant vat of chocolate frosting (adding a shot of espresso for good measure) and piped it on the cupcakes, adding a maraschino cherry to top off the look. A few dashes of sparkly sugar crystals and I was satisfied with the final product. I packed four dozen Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes in plastic containers so they wouldn’t get squished during the trip. I left another two dozen for the shop — or for Abuelita. Whoever got to them first.

  Carefully, I nestled the containers in a box, making sure the middles didn’t sag and mess up the frosting. The box was awkward, but it wasn’t heavy. I could carry it on my lap in the bus to Ambato. I wasn’t about to show up empty-handed at the news station, and I wasn’t above using sweet treats to win a listening ear.