A Perilous Cake Pop

by Fiona Grace

  The detective’s words had filled her with dread. And while she already knew she was on her radar, she’d not realized her movements were being so closely monitored. Perhaps that was why Detective Callihan had come over to her apartment earlier, to warn her? Perhaps the enemy who had it out for her was none other than Detective Elton herself?

  With her mind racing through everything, Ali became completely distracted. She ended up wandering far beyond the boardwalk, all the way to one of Sullivan Raine’s new condo developments. She’d not actually been this way since he’d rolled into town, and she was actually a little surprised by the amount it had changed. Gone was the row of big, dilapidated wooden canoe sheds, and in its place was a huge building site of multiple structures, four-story tall blocks. The outer work and floors were all laid, but the windows were currently all empty. It appeared the crew had knocked off for the day—an unmanned crane and a couple of digging machines were parked on the site ready to continue the work come morning.

  It didn’t look like there was much left to do, Ali decided, as she peered up at the new structures. By the looks of the building boards nearby the condos were going to be high-end. Sullivan Raine was clearly going for luxury, and Ali thought of the vendors with their concerns over the changing landscape of the bay. She wondered whether his work may well improve the area, since it would bring in more residents with more wealth.

  “Not that it matters to me anymore,” Ali said, glumly to Scruff. “If my bakery gets shut down, I won’t benefit.”

  She shook her head with misery. All this over one negative review!

  Just then, Ali thought about her conversation with the editor-in-chief at the Herald paper. When he’d been talking about all the “external pressure” he was under to fire Arlo, she’d attributed it to the town’s biggest property mogul, Fat Tony. But now, standing in the shadow of the new luxury condos, Ali realized there was in fact another property mogul in town—Sullivan Raine.

  Had that pressure actually been coming from him? He was certainly becoming more influential in the town. He also had a lot to lose, if Arlo’s bad reviews really were going to end up negatively impacting the boardwalk in the way vendors suspected they would. He was clearly investing a bunch of money in Willow Bay, but if the boardwalk was trashed by a food critic and businesses started failing, then no one would want to move into his fancy new condos or pay to play in his arcade or mini golf. The success of his business was intrinsically tied to the success of the boardwalk.

  “Scruff!” Ali exclaimed, as a buzz of excitement went through her. “I think I have an idea!”

  The stray sprang on the spot, clearly catching her excitement like one does a yawn.

  Suddenly filled with drive for the first time since striking Timothy off her suspects list, Ali glanced over at the small leasing office beside the development. It was one of those temporary structures, a bit like a trailer but without the wheels. For a moment, she thought there’d be no one there, that the admin staff would have left for the day like the builders had. But then, through the window, she caught sight of someone moving around inside.

  Ali set her jaw with determination. It was time to follow this new lead and put it to the test.

  She marched to the office and heaved open the door.

  The female receptionist was standing over by a row of file cabinets with her back to Ali. At the sound of the door opening, she spun around to face her. Her gaze roved from Ali’s feet up to meet her eye and she frowned—clearly in reaction to Ali’s fierce look of determination.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, the manila envelope she’d been filing still clutched in her hands.

  “Yes,” Ali replied with cool, calm composure. “I need to speak to Sullivan Raine.”

  It was only then that Ali noticed the decor. The office was decorated with mounted animal heads—deer, antelope, bears. There was even a bear skin rug under the desk with the head still attached. Ali shuddered as a thousand eyes stared at her.

  Ali wondered if these were Sullivan Raine’s kills. And if they were, what did that say about him as a person? That he was able to kill. And if he was accustomed to killing animals, perhaps the jump to killing a man had felt less dramatic to him…

  “And who are you?” the receptionist asked, breaking her out of her rumination.

  At least she looked intimidated, Ali thought. In her mind, she quickly ran through several different personas and landed on the one she hoped she could pull off.

  “A client,” she said, adopting a haughty Hollywood voice. “A very important one. A very rich, very important one. And I’ve got a bone to pick with Sullivan Raine…”

  *

  Under the bright strip lights of the office and the dead-eyed stare of a hundred animal heads, Ali stood with her hands on hips staring at Sullivan Raine’s receptionist. Her demand to speak to the property mogul still hung in the air between them, along with her claim to be an important, rich client. Ali hoped she’d sounded convincing enough to pull it off, and authoritative enough to get her demands met.

  But suddenly the woman’s face cracked into laughter, dashing Ali’s hopes.

  “You?” the woman scoffed, gaining a composure she’d previously not had before. “Really? You expect me to believe you’re an important client?”

  Ali glowered, not quite ready to give up the act. Perhaps the woman was just testing her.

  “Yes,” she replied boldly. “And how dare you laugh at me! I pretty much pay your salary, with the amount of money I’ve invested in Sullivan’s properties. So quit gawking at me and get him down here to talk.”

  The receptionist pulled a face of disdain and folded her arms. “If you’re as rich as you say you are, why does your dog look like it hasn’t been groomed in its entire lifetime?”

  With a gasp of surprise, Ali glanced behind her. Scruff was waiting on the other side of the glass door, alert, watching on with curiosity. With his tongue out, his ears up, and his fur pointing in every which way, he was very much living up to his name. He was going to ruin her whole ploy!

  “He’s not mine,” Ali said, turning back to face the woman. “He’s just a stray who followed me here.”

  Scruff let out a displeased sounding whine at Ali, and she felt bad for insulting him.

  “Right,” the woman said, and for the briefest of seconds, it looked like she might believe it. But then her gaze slid to Ali’s feet. “And you wear beat up sneakers because it’s fashionable…?”

  Ali, too, looked down at her shoes. They were, indeed, pretty beat up and scuffed.

  “Yes…?” Ali said, lamely.

  But she knew there was no way of arguing that away. The ruse was up. She was rumbled. She’d have to think of some other way to speak to Sullivan.

  “I think you should leave now,” the receptionist said. “Before I call security to escort you out.” She put her hands on her hips, stealing the dominant posture from Ali as she switched the power roles.

  Ali had no choice but to relent.

  But just as she was about to turn and leave, her gaze found the papers on the woman’s desk. A big hard-backed diary was lying open on it. Even though it was upside down, Ali read the neatly printed title at the top of the page: Sullivan’s Schedule.

  There appeared to be a blow-by-blow account of his whereabouts, right down to the hour—each one neatly crossed off once completed. Ali’s eyes were helpfully guided all the way to the current hour, where it stated that Sullivan was currently: inspecting Block A.

  “I said get out!” the receptionist said again.

  “I’m leaving,” Ali replied, turning on the spot to hide the smile that was starting to tug at the corners of her lips. “I’m leaving.”

  And she knew exactly where she was going next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  The unfinished condo blocks were like a maze. Ali and Scruff navigated their way through, searching for Block A. Of course, there were no handy signs to follow, but there were small site maps for the constru
ction workers stuck to the boards alongside various safety warnings. ALWAYS WEAR YOUR HAT! an oft repeated, bright yellow sign exclaimed, right beside the set of blueprints Ali had started to scan. It was a little more technical than Ali’s mind was equipped to handle, but she finally found direction to block A.

  As the big, half=built structure loomed into view on the other side of the building yard, Ali ducked behind a huge, white builder’s bag filled with rubble. Scruff joined her, wagging his tail eagerly. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

  “I think that’s it,” Ali whispered to him. “Block A. If Sullivan’s any good at keeping to schedule, he should be inside...”

  She cautiously peered around the edge of the builder's bag. Her gaze roved from the bottom of the skeletal building to the top. Something on the third floor caught her eyes. It looked like the beam of a flashlight, bobbing around the place.

  “That’s him!” she whisper-cried, feeling elated. “Come on!”

  She ducked out from behind the bag and scurried across the building yard toward the next obstruction—a large digger. She pressed her back against its enormous black rubber wheels, which were bigger than she was tall. Scruff joined her at her ankles, weaving his way around her legs with evident excitement.

  “Shhh!” Ali warned him. While he’d helped her sidestep Detective Elton before, he’d given away her last ruse to the receptionist, so as far as being her sidekick went, he was currently one and one.

  Ali zipped out from behind the digger and dashed the final few meters to the entrance of block A, which was currently just a big gaping gap between the cement columns where a door would one day be. The shadows of the building swallowed her up.

  That explains the flashlight, Ali thought. The shell of block A had no electrics hooked up yet, and since the work day for the construction crew was over, none of the temporary strips lights were on.

  She shuddered, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and peered through the gloom. She found the staircase.

  “Come on,” she whispered to Scruff.

  Although she couldn’t actually see him anymore since it was so dark, she could feel him beside her legs, and hear his panting and the sound of his claws scrambling against the bare concrete ground. She was glad not to be alone. Creeping into an abandoned building in the abject darkness to confront a murderer was understandably making her feel extremely afraid.

  They tiptoed quietly up the steps and Ali counted each floor as she went. Even if there had been signs to indicate where she was precisely, it would’ve been too dark to see them in the stairwell, so she had to rely on her own sense of direction.

  When she reached what she calculated to be the third floor, she slowed her pace. Her heart was hammering from the speed with which she’d flown up the steps, and she felt a brief surge of pride at just how much fitter she really had become since starting Delaney’s yoga boot camp. But now was not the time to dwell on such matters. There was a far more important issue at hand!

  Ali pressed her back against the unplastered cement wall, and listened for sounds coming from the other side. She could hear slow pacing footsteps, and her breath caught in her lungs. Sullivan was definitely on the other side.

  The beam of the flashlight bobbed around in tandem with the footsteps, and Ali deduced that Sullivan must be currently facing her direction, so she waited for him to turn around. She wanted the upper hand here and needed the element of surprise.

  Just then, the light spun away from her, and Ali took the opportunity to peek out from behind the wall. She got her first glimpse of her number one suspect.

  The large figure of Sullivan Raine was heading in the opposite direction, and Ali gulped at the sheer size of him. He was well over six-feet tall, with huge, broad shoulders like a quarterback. He certainly looked like the sort of man with enough strength to throw a body in a dumpster…

  Suddenly, Ali wasn’t sure about what she was doing. Sullivan, if he was indeed the killer, would easily snap her like a twig!

  Ali ducked back behind the safety of the wall, her heart thundering at a mile a minute. Just as she thought about aborting the mission and running away like a coward, the decision was taken from her hands… by Scruff.

  The little stray darted out from beside her and went streaking across the room toward Sullivan. Ali watched on in horror as the beam of light from the flashlight went suddenly skidding across the floor. Sullivan must have dropped it. Then a noise like an elephant falling over sounded out accompanied by a bellow of pain.

  A deep voice in a Texan accent boomed out, “What the hell!”

  Through the darkness, Ali heard Scruff start yapping in what sounded like a triumph. He must’ve woven through Sullivan’s legs and brought the huge man to the ground!

  Ali found her bravery. She clenched her jaw and sprung out from behind the wall. She beelined for the flashlight and grabbed it. Then she shined it in the general direction of where she’d heard the kerfuffle.

  And there he was. The Texan property developer, lying on his back like a stuck beetle.

  In the bright beam of light, Ali could see the shock and fear in his eyes. The huge, hulking man had been brought to his knees by a scrawny little dog.

  “Sullivan Raine!” Ali bellowed across the dark room as she marched toward him. “We need to talk!”

  “Wh—who are you?” Sullivan stammered, holding his hands up in truce position. “What do you want?”

  He was lying on his back, caught in the beam of Ali’s flashlight, looking as startled as the animal heads adorning his reception office.

  Ali towered over him. “I’m Ali Sweet, and I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

  Sullivan hesitated. “Sweet?” he said in his thick, Texan accent. “Are you the lady from the bakery?”

  “You bet I am,” Ali replied.

  She’d tried to say it in a menacing, don’t-mess-with-me kind of way, but she’d clearly failed because Sullivan started to chuckle.

  “You’re the tiny lil’ blonde lady from the bakery?” he said, shaking his head side to side. He peered at her, squinting against the glare. “How’s about you stop pointing that damned light in my face? I’m sure we can talk about whatever it is you need to talk about like two rational people, can’t we?”

  “Oh you know exactly what I’m here to talk about,” Ali said between her teeth.

  “I’m assuming,” Sullivan replied, sounding thoroughly unphased now, “that it’s something to do with Arlo Hudson?”

  Ali faltered. She’d not expected him to be quite so brazen. To jump so quickly to the chase.

  “That’s right,” she said, hesitantly.

  “Thought so,” Sullivan replied. “Now, look. I’mma stand up now. No sudden movements.”

  Ali stepped back and trained the flashlight on him as he drew his humongous body to standing. He was dressed in proper Texan regalia, with jeans and a white button-down shirt tucked into the waist. A big leather, studded belt and a bolo tie completed the look. He straightened the tie, then bent down, picked up the cowboy hat that had flown from his head as he’d fallen, dusted it down, and placed it on top of his thinning brown hair.

  Then he leaned into Ali, proffering his hand. “Miss Sweet, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Raine. Sullivan Raine.”

  Ali was so taken aback by everything, she simply found herself automatically taking his hand and shaking it. The balance of power had switched so quickly and thoroughly it made her head spin.

  “Ali Sweet,” she replied, almost hypnotically, as his big beefy hand enveloped hers and pumped it up and down with vigor.

  “And your pooch?” Sullivan asked, glancing down. “The fella who brought me down.”

  Ali shined the flashlight at the ground to see Scruff was now winding his way in circles around Sullivan’s cowboy-booted legs, like they were best friends. The disloyal little so and so…

  “Scruff,” Ali said. “He’s not mine. He’s a stray.”

  “Well, he
seems like a fine and loyal companion, if you ask me,” Sullivan replied. “To knock a grown man right on his ass for you.” He grinned at her, affably.

  Ali still didn’t know what to make of all of this. She felt Sullivan was trying to disarm her with his big Texan charm, and she knew she had to keep her wits about her.

  “Now, I think you and I need to talk, don’t we, Miss Sweet?” Sullivan said. He gestured for the flashlight. “May I?”

  Ali hesitated for a moment, then handed it over. Sullivan held it up in such a manner that they were both illuminated well enough.

  “That’s better, isn’t it?” he said.

  Ali nodded.

  In the beam of the flashlight, Ali watched as Sullivan smoothed a hand down his bolo tie once again, making sure it was nice and neatly aligned with his buttons. Clearly, looking presentable was very important to him, and Ali wondered if it was all for disguise. If he looked and acted a certain way, no one would ever suspect him. Perhaps that’s what this whole disarming, charming routine was all about, too? Rather than be mad at Ali and Scruff, as he had every right to be, he was acting like they were new best pals. Was it all just a facade to hide the killer beneath?

  “So you want to know about Arlo, do you?” Sullivan said. “About what I did.”

  “That’s right,” Ali said, swallowing her fear.

  Was Sullivan about to confess to her? Right here and now? But why? There was only one reason Ali could think of. He was going to kill her too! He was going to dispose of the witness!

  Her heart started to pound, and she found her gaze darting furtively toward the stairwell—her only escape route—assessing the chances of outrunning the big Texan beast standing before her.

  “Hmm,” Sullivan said, his mood starting to turn. “Arlo. A real spanner in the works, that one. He had the potential to really ruin things for me. Drive down revenue. Endanger my ocean-view condo project by making the boardwalk sound trashy. I couldn’t let that happen. You understand that, right? Business owner to business owner.”