1 Death by Chocolate (2 page)

“That’s just a dollar for the water,” I said.

He fumbled with a zippered pocket in his vest and handed me a damp five.  Rachel fished in her cape and came out with cash and handed it to me, as well. I moved to the register for some change.

“So, I can expect you both, then?” Rachel asked as I gave her the change.

“I’m sorry Rachel, but I have plans for tomorrow evening. Another time, perhaps,” I said as sweetly as I could.  I tried to quell the dopey smile at the thought.

He took the change and he stared at me. His expression seemed slightly angry or maybe it was just curious?  I felt a little uncomfortable as lately he’d seemed more like the old Mark.  My smile faded. Mark and I dated in college for about a year, but it had ended when he’d started a fight at his fraternity after another frat brother poured me a drink.  He’d gotten completely out of control.  Years later, we’d bumped into each other again in the city and had coffee.  He seemed more mature, calm, and together and even focused.  He’d just bought the theater here in Fish Creek Falls and brimmed with plans for movie nights, plays and community events.  I’d been added to his newsletters and Facebook pages so when he found out about my split with Rick, he’d told me about the building waiting to become my bakery.  He’d turned out to be a good friend.

“Oh, well, Mark dahling, I’ll see you there, then, TTFN!”  She swooped out the door.

“So, you’re escaping the festivities tomorrow? Something fun planned?”

“Yeah, you’ll just have to hang out with all the cool people without me,” I avoided the question about plans. Somehow, it felt odd to tell him that I had a date.

My phone buzzed, probably with the reply text from Lizzie.  I glanced in the phone’s direction, but stayed at the counter to not be rude.

“Go ahead,” he said and winked. “I’m gonna hit the road.  It could be about your plans for tomorrow.”

Once he closed the door, I grabbed my phone and read the text. It was from Lizzie: Be over in 10.

I texted: K, and hit send as the shop door opened again and I heard the jingle bells of Lizzie’s phone and looking up I saw her red beret and white coat as she bounced over to the counter looked quickly around and then leaned on it.  Lizzie loved to shop and I knew the white coat looked new.

“So, I want to hear ev-er-y-thing about Detective Hunky.  I can’t believe you scooped him before I did. I’ve been single much longer than you.  Well? Details,” she took a breath.

“New coat?  It’s nice,” I said with a smile.

“Ugh, really?  Yes, it’s new, so tell me?”

“There’s not much to tell.  He asked me to dinner tomorrow night and I couldn’t speak, so he thought I agreed,” I grabbed the rag from the bleach water and wiped down the counter again.

“You said nothing? How could you not say anything?  Did he say where you’re going? Seriously, MB, you are killing me here.”

Before I could answer, the door opened again and in came the other half of the town’s detective squad, Peter Lynch, the district attorney, Abe Redmond and his wife Millie, the secretary to the mayor. While I loved having more people come into the shop, these three had only come in for the grand opening to check things out.  They had been solid patrons of Barbara’s.

“Morning everyone,” I said in a cheerful voice.  Lizzie stepped aside to let them order.

“Good morning, Ms. Bailey,” Abe said cordially.

Millie smiled and nodded as she looked over the scones. Peter just stared.  He, among all of the people that I’d met had been the most difficult to get to know.  Since he’d grown up here, I’d guessed he just didn’t like strangers, or maybe he just didn’t like me for some reason.

“I think I’ll have a scone and a small decaf with just cream,” Millie said quietly.

I nodded and looked at the gentlemen.  Since neither spoke, I fixed her coffee.

“Just a black coffee for me,” Peter mumbled.

“I’ll have a French Vanilla with cream and sugar,” Abe said. “I didn’t know you had flavored coffee, Ms. Bailey.”

“I usually have French Vanilla and sometimes I add another flavor.  Call me Myra.”

“Well Myra,” Abe said, “I think I’m glad that Barbara’s was opening late this morning,” he handed me a twenty and gestured to all of the items on the counter.

“Why is it closed?” Lizzie asked.

“The note on the door said that she had an appointment this morning and would open at lunchtime,” Millie answered in her hushed voice.

I smiled at the small town way of doing business as I rang up the sale.  Handwritten notes sufficed.

“Thank you very much.  I hope to see you again,” I said as I handed the change back to Abe.  He gave me the fifty-three cents back to me.  Small town.

“Have a nice day,” Abe said and the three filed out.

“Cheerful crowd, huh?” Lizzie commented.

“Yeah, but it’s weird that Barbara is closed.  Why didn’t she have Ron open for her?”  Ron, Barbara’s ex-husband had just come back to town.  He’d been in prison for insurance fraud.  He’d been helping Barbara out, or maybe she’d been helping him out by letting him work with her.

“No idea, but it’s good for you, right?”

“It is,” I smiled.

The morning passed quickly because there were more of Barbara’s customers that came in and Lizzie even helped a few times before she headed out to work.  By lunchtime things had calmed down and I put the last of the Death by Chocolate cakes in the case, put on a batch of rolls and made a few loaves of bread.  I sat down at the desk for the first time at around two during a lull, checked email and browsed through my recipes for the next business card offering.  The siren startled me since I’d really only heard them during a parade in town.  When I heard a second one, I went outside to see what had happened. I could see a crowd forming and an ambulance, police car and the fire rescue truck, but I couldn’t tell exactly which shop they were going to down there.

I grabbed my coat, locked the shop and went down the road to join the crowd.  When I got there, I realized that they were all gathered around Barbara’s Bakery Brilliance.  The door hung only by the bottom hinge at a crazy angle and the gurney from the ambulance blocked the doorway.  I could see movement from inside, but the large lettering on the window made it tough to make out how many people were inside.

“What happened,” I asked of no one in particular.

“It’s Barbara.” Someone answered. “I think she’s dead.”

I swallowed hard. How could she be?  I saw her just the other day at the Main Street Merchants meeting.  We’d joked about having a bake off to see whose apple pie tasted better. I thought she’d had an appointment this morning.  Had she been ill, I wondered.

“Step back, folks,” David said in a very official voice.

The crowd milled around a bit, but didn’t really move all that much.  Then questions started erupting.  “What happened?” “She’s gonna be alright, won’t she?”  “Did anyone call her husband?” “Is she dead?” “What’s going on, Dave?”

The last question came from Abe Redmond.

“Not sure, yet, we’re still processing the scene.  Want to come inside and we’ll brief you on what we know at this point.” 

The crowd stayed eerily quiet at the interchange and then the gurney got pushed out of the bakery and the hush continued.  White sheets covered the figure on the stretcher, but there could be no doubt that it held a lifeless body.  I stared like everyone else.  Stunned and a bit shaken. 

“Give us some room,” called Peter Lynch and the startled crowd parted.

Backing up myself, I caught Peter staring at me.  I felt really uneasy by the piercing look he gave me, but then he looked away and scanned the crowd.  He looked as though he was taking a head count or attendance.  With that David came out also interested in the spectators.  He saw me and came over.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sirens and came to find out what was going on.”

“Okay folks,” he bellowed.  “Let’s get going.  Show’s over.”  Then he took my elbow.  Lightening shot through my body.

“Listen, go back to your shop and stay there.  I’ll be over as soon as I can.  Don’t talk to anyone until I get there.” He said quietly.

Dumbfounded, I walked back to the shop and fumbled with the lock to get inside.  I thought about placing the closed sign on the door, but then I didn’t.  Don’t talk to anyone? Why?  What’s going on? I wondered.

A few minutes later, the door opened and in strode David.  His expression seemed intense and worried. 

“Green eyes, what time did you get here to open this morning?” he asked as he leaned toward me over the counter.

“Same time as usual, about 4:15.” I backed away a step.  “Why?”  My legs felt numb and wobbly.

“Did you see anyone or talk to anyone?”

“No.”  The full weight of what he asked hit me and I felt dizzy.  “You’re asking me for an alibi.  How did Barbara die?”

“You tell me,” he said looking at the counter.

“What?  David.  What is going on?”

“Okay, Barbara didn’t die of natural causes.  I can’t tell you any of the details, but Myra, you are the main suspect.”

“Are you kidding?  Me? Why on earth would I be a suspect?” Becoming indignant actually helped me to chase the shock away, but I tried to keep myself under control.

“I wish I was joking, but Barbara was murdered this morning between three and four and one of your recipe cards turned up under the body.”

“No. It’s not possible.  You can’t think it was me.  David, say you don’t think I had anything to do with it.”

He looked at me directly in the eye with his piercing eyes and I stared back pleading with mine for him to believe me. Tears started to well up, but I sniffed them back.

“I don’t think you did, but Peter and friends think your motive is pretty strong and will be coming to question you soon.  That’s why I wanted to talk to you before that all happened so you could be prepared.”

“Prepared? You’re preparing me by accusing me of murder?”  My heart raced.

“Hey, try and calm down.  I wanted to talk to you about it before the others.  I thought somehow it might be easier for you to hear it from, a—a friend.”

I stepped back to the counter, took a deep breath and reached for his hand. 

“Thanks, friend.”

“Look, I don’t think that they can convict you on a recipe card at the scene, but I won’t lie, the investigation won’t be easy to take and in this town, perception is sometimes more powerful than reality.”

“You’re saying that I’m not just a suspect; I am THE suspect, aren’t you?”

He just stared at me.

“This is insane.  They’re going to make the case fit me?  I’m going to be framed for murder?”

“No, of course not, but you should have a good lawyer in your corner.  I’d call Brian Cahill over in Caraway.  He’s a good man and he grew up here.”

“I need you to tell me more about what happened.”

“I can’t right now.  I need to get back to the station.  I’ll swing by later.  Just keep your head down, okay?”

“I’m going to prove to you and everyone in this town that I had nothing to do with this.”

He smiled for the first time since he’d come in and said, “That’s the spirit, Green Eyes.”

I grabbed my phone.  I had to call Lizzie and tell her what happened.