A Batter of Life and Death (17 page)

The cameraman gave me a minute to assemble gelatin, cream, milk, and sugar. He cued me that he was ready, and I somehow shifted into on-air mode. The panna cotta, like Linda’s pudding, didn’t require any special culinary technique, but I talked through the process and explained how to properly incorporate gelatin into the mixture. There’s nothing worse than getting a lump of flavorless gelatin when you bite into a panna cotta or custard.

After a few minutes of zooming in and out on my hand whisking cream and sugar on the stove, the cameraman announced he had what he needed and that he was hitting the pub. “By the way, I’m supposed to tell you that your call time got pushed back to nine tomorrow morning. Guess you can sleep in.”

“A baker never sleeps in,” I said with a laugh as I walked him to the door. After he left, I poured myself a glass of wine and completed assembling the panna cotta. It would set overnight and I could finish it off with the sweet wine and garnish it with a flourish of fresh herbs in the morning. I considered trying out a few ideas I had for Lance’s party, but I was beat. I did a quick wipe down of the island and wondered what I should do about Marco’s things.

Thomas and Nina were at dinner. I didn’t want to disturb his date, but this was related to a murder case. I figured he’d be angrier if I didn’t call him, so I punched his name on my phone.

He answered on the second ring. I could hear the sound of music and chatter in the background. “Jules?”

“Sorry to bother you, but I was cleaning up tonight and all of Marco’s things are still here.”

“Crud. I totally forgot about that.” His voice sounded muffled like he had his hand over the receiver while he was talking to someone else. “Hang on one sec, Jules.”

I waited while he finished talking to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Jules?”

“I’m here.”

“I was thinking maybe I could head over tonight, but it’s getting kind of late. Can I meet you at the shop first thing tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.” I hung up before he could respond. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t been jealous like this since the seventh grade. Was I even jealous, or was it more that I was lonely and missing Carlos? That made Thomas an easy scapegoat.

Before locking up, I reminded myself that this was my time. I was here in Ashland for me. I didn’t need the distraction or self-sabotage of worrying about what Thomas was doing. The late evening air was cold and a slight breeze rustled leaves from their branches as I stepped outside. I wondered if it might rain.

Nothing compares to a walk in the rain. There’s something about a rainy walk that revives the soul. I scanned the dark sky. The moon was shrouded by clouds. Yep. Rain was coming.

Across the street a group had gathered in front of the Merry Windsor. Lance was speaking expressively with his hands. What was he doing downtown? It was closing night of the show. Shouldn’t he be on stage?

I checked my watch. It was nearly ten-thirty. I had no idea it was so late.

Lance spotted me and called me over. “Juliet, come have a drink! It’s a wrap.”

I crossed the plaza. Lance and his crew of actors and stagehands looked like they’d already engaged in a round of merriment. I couldn’t blame them; after running the production night after night for months, they deserved a celebratory cocktail or two. What surprised me was that they’d picked the Merry Windsor of all places. Richard and Lance aren’t exactly friends.

“That’s it for the season?” I asked as Lance greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. He smelled like gin.

“And what a season it’s been.” Lance bowed to the other members of the company. “My heartfelt thanks to all of you. Who wants another round?”

A shout of cheers erupted.

“You’re drinking at the Windsor?” I asked.

Lance took a step backward and threw his hand to his forehead. “Darling, how could you say something so dastardly? We partook of a postshow martini backstage and now we’re en route to Puck’s Pub. You just happened to catch us waiting for a couple of the barmaids at the Windsor who are joining us.”

“Got it.”

A waitress exited through the carved wooden front doors of the Merry Windsor. She immediately tugged off her apron and threw her arms around one of the actors who scooped her up and swirled her in the air.

Lance leaned closer to me. “Did you learn anything new about our little case today?”

“How many martinis did you have?”

“One, darling. Maybe two.” He intentionally slurred his words and swayed from side to side.

“Right.”

Lance’s friends pulled him in the direction of Puck’s Pub. He called over his shoulder to me, “Join us?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Ta-ta, darling. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He was enveloped in the middle of his company. They crossed the plaza with linked arms, singing aloud. The sound of their cheery celebration echoed on the otherwise quiet streets.

I started toward my apartment.
Maybe I should join them for a drink?
One thing I’d been trying to work on was putting myself out there more. Working on a cruise ship for all those years led to a sort of unintentional isolation. It’s strange because I was always surrounded by people, but not close to them, except for Carlos. It’s the nature of the job. Workers tend to rotate between ships and go wherever the seas take them, so to speak. Being home for the past few months made it painfully clear that I needed to expand my social network.

However, my feet were sore from a twelve-hour day, and I knew I needed to be back at Torte bright and early to meet Thomas and to get my panna cotta ready for the show. Next time, Jules, I promised myself.

I shivered as a gust of wind sent a pile of leaves swirling on the sidewalk. Winter was just around the corner. I hoped I could handle it. I’d spent most of my recent winters on tropical seas. Adjusting to the cooler weather was going to take some getting used to.

Rubbing my hands together, I picked up my pace a little. As I crossed the plaza, I had the sense that someone was behind me. I stopped and turned around. Nothing.

I continued on, but couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. The sound of footsteps made me stop again. I glanced behind me. Nothing.

Knock it off, Jules. You’re just imagining things. It’s probably the wind.
I tried to soothe the on-edge feeling in my stomach as I hurried toward my apartment.

I passed Puck’s Pub where I could see Lance and his crew raising giant pint glasses in a toast. I considered ducking in, but felt silly thinking I was being watched.

I checked behind me one more time before speed-walking to the front entrance of Elevation, below my apartment, which was plunged in darkness. Everyone had gone home hours ago. I stuffed my hand into my pocket to feel for my keys. I wanted to have them out and ready.

Every hair on the back of my neck rose when the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing came near. I don’t usually spook that easily, but I could feel my heart rate spike.

Should I run back to Puck’s or up the stairs to my apartment?

Before I could choose, a figure in black came directly at me from up ahead and knocked me off my feet.

Chapter Twenty

I landed on my butt on the sidewalk, my hands bracing my fall.

“Hey, who’s there?” a man’s voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Who are you?” I responded from the ground.

My eyes tried to focus as the figure bent closer. He was dressed completely in black from head to toe. No wonder he blended in with the night sky.

“Sebastian?” I asked. “Is that you?”

He extended his hand and helped me to my feet. The scent of cigarette smoke made me gag.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, brushing dirt from my hands and coughing. Had he been following me? I didn’t think so. The sound of footsteps had been behind me. It was difficult to make out his features in the dark, but I’d swear he looked as surprised to see me as I was him.

“I was coming from ze Merry Windsor,” he responded. “Until you ran into me.” His accent was thick, much thicker than when he first bumped into me.

“Um, I was the one just on the ground. I think it’s the other way around. You ran into me.”

He crossed his arms. “Non. You should not be sneaking around in ze dark.”

“I wasn’t sneaking around. I was going home. You’re one to talk.” I pointed to his black outfit.

“I do not have time for dis.” He brushed past me and turned across the plaza to the Merry Windsor.

He had claimed that’s where he was coming from when he bumped into me, but that couldn’t be true. He’d been coming from the opposite direction—Lithia Park and the steps up to OSF. Why would he lie?
Had
he been following me?

I watched as he disappeared into the darkness, and raced up the steps to my apartment. Once inside, with the lights on and door securely latched, I let out a sigh of relief. I had no idea why Sebastian had just lied, but I knew for sure that he had.

My apartment was starting to feel like home. When I first returned to Ashland, Mom had arranged with the owners of Elevation for me to stay in the furnished space for a couple weeks. Once I decided to make my stay more permanent, I worked out a temporary lease and unpacked my suitcase. What a concept.

I’d been trying to make the space homier once the tourist rush slowed down. I found a great wooden print that read
EAT MORE CAKE
that I hung over the sofa. I unwrapped some of the treasures I’d accumulated at different ports of call—like my collection of postcards. These I displayed on a cork board near the kitchen.

The kitchen was small but efficient, and I’d stocked it with baking supplies and some of my can’t-live-without equipment, like my coffee grinder and vintage pie tins that I’d inherited from my grandmother.

My run-in with Sebastian left me feeling rattled. Maybe a late-night espresso would help take the edge off. Some people feel the effect of caffeine. Not me. I can drink coffee around the clock, and it doesn’t seem to impact my ability to sleep, or give me the shakes. Carlos used to say that I was immune to the stimulant.

I unwrapped a bag of beans and sprinkled them into the grinder. Within minutes the entire kitchen smelled of coffee. I let the scent engulf me.
Ah, heaven.

With a hot espresso in my hands, I returned to the living room, kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the couch. Most people would probably be watching late-night talk shows at this hour. I’ve never really been drawn to television. In fact, I hadn’t even invested in a TV for the apartment yet. I guess if I was going to be on TV, maybe I should at least own one before
Take the Cake
aired. I had time. It wasn’t slotted to run until February.

Most people probably wouldn’t be knocking back an espresso at close to midnight either, I thought as I flipped through the latest issue of
Cooking Light.
That’s okay, I was content to polish off my coffee and browse the glossy pages of the magazine.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke a few hours later with the magazine on my chest and my empty coffee cup on the floor.

The clock ticking on the wall read 4:15. I didn’t want to do the math in terms of how many hours of sleep (or not) I’d had. I used to think it was a phase—part of the adventure of working on a cruise ship where people were literally awake around the clock. I thought once I returned to land I’d outgrow it, but apparently I hadn’t. At least not yet.

Falling back to sleep was out of the question, so I took a minute to center myself and stretch before returning the magazine to the stack on my coffee table and retrieving my coffee cup from the floor.

I’d left the beans open on the counter last night, fully intending to return once I’d finished my espresso. It felt like déjà vu as I retraced my steps to brew another cup of coffee. Hadn’t I just done this a few hours ago?

This morning I opted for French press. While I waited for the water to boil, I hopped in the shower. The warm water rejuvenated my skin. I let it cascade down my back. One of the things I missed the most about not being at sea was the sound of the water. I didn’t expect to miss it, but I did. I missed the sound of waves lapping against the bow and crashing on the horizon. There’s something so peaceful and soothing about the sound of water. Maybe that’s part of the reason I was drawn to Lithia Park, with its fountains and meandering river.

I downed my coffee and laced up my tennis shoes. The caffeine felt like it took immediate effect. I grabbed a jacket and zipped it up before stepping out into the crisp air.

It had rained overnight. The sidewalk was damp and wet piles of leaves gathered on the storm drain. The air smelled fresh, as if the rain had wiped everything clean. After last night’s run-in with Sebastian, I practically sprinted to the shop. By the time I made it to Torte, my heart was pumping, my cheeks had heat, and my nose dripped. I felt great.

That quickly changed as I pushed opened the front door. Mom stood near the pastry case with a broom in her hand. Glass had shattered all over the floor.

“Mom. What happened?” I stepped around the glass and shut the door behind me.

“I don’t know. Someone broke in last night. Look.” She motioned to the tables in the front and then to the kitchen. “Vandals. It’s a mess.”

Chapter Twenty-one

It looked like something had exploded inside. All of the flower vases on the tables had been shattered. Glass, water, and flowers littered the floor. Coffee beans had been spilled near the espresso bar and napkins and salt and pepper shakers intentionally knocked from the counter onto the floor.

“Oh my God, what happened?” I maneuvered through the carnage on the floor to the kitchen.

If possible, the kitchen looked worse. Flour, sugar, recipes, and Linda’s and Nina’s supplies had been strewn all over the island and on the floor.

“Who would do this?” I asked Mom.

She continued sweeping glass into a pile near the pastry case. “I have no idea.”