Bun for Your Life (4 page)

I frowned. “She was only fifty-six, Bri, and looked about forty. She was perfectly healthy as far as I know. She wouldn't suddenly drop dead.”

“I agree it's unlikely, but it's been known to happen.”

I shook my head. “No. Someone killed her. I feel it.”

“You want to stay here for the night?” he asked gently. “You look a little freaked.”

He was always good at reading my mind and gauging my feelings. For a second it was almost as if we were still married, but I quickly squashed that feeling. No need to go down that rocky road right now. “What about Lola? If she doesn't want me in the apartment over the garage I can't imagine she'd want me in the bedroom down the hall from you.”

“She'll understand. I'm talking to her later tonight.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “She's got a yoga class until eight. I'll call her then. Go get your pajamas and whatever else you need. I'll order a pizza for dinner. Maybe Lola can join us.”

Peachy. I wasn't so sure Lola would understand my presence, but I'd rather risk her wrath in the safety of Brian's house than the wrath of a serial killer alone in my bedroom.

I opened my eyes to sun streaming in between the blinds. I remembered falling asleep on Brian's couch before the eleven o'clock news. Lola had declined his invitation to pizza and, I gathered from his side of the conversation, was only slightly miffed at my presence after he explained it.

How I arrived in his spare bedroom, I didn't know. The logical answer was I sleepwalked myself in here. The real answer was probably Brian carried me in and tucked me into bed. I glanced over at the clock. It was a little after eight. Olivia was opening Bread and Batter today, so I didn't have to be in until later. I wonder if she'd heard about Calista. I'd call her if only I knew where my phone was. I'd probably find it when I packed to move.

Now that it was daylight, I felt a little silly, never mind awkward, being in Brian's house. The chances of a serial killer running around Destiny were minuscule. Right? I was even less sure that Calista had been murdered. Maybe Brian was right and it was from natural causes. Maybe she'd had an undetected heart problem. I still felt sad and brushed at the tears leaking out from the corners of my eyes.

I finally got out of bed, peeled off my pajamas, and got dressed in my clothes from yesterday. I pulled a brush out of my purse and tried to do something with my hair. I ended up twisting it into a ponytail and sliding a rubber band on it. At least it looked halfway neat that way. I was way overdue for a trim. I didn't wear a lot of makeup, so not having it didn't bother me too much. I opened the guest bedroom door at the same time Brian opened his bedroom door. We “good morninged” and I headed for the bathroom.

“Did you hear any more about Calista?” I asked when I found him in the kitchen.

“I fell asleep, same as you. It was after one when I came to.”

“How did I get to bed?”

He grinned at me. “I carried you. You slept right through it.”

“Thanks for doing that.” I felt myself blushing. Why, I'm not sure. Being that we were married once, it wasn't the most intimate moment we've ever shared. We've even had some fairly decent kisses since our divorce. Pre-Lola, naturally.

“No problem.” He switched on the TV sitting on the counter and turned it to the local news channel. “Maybe they'll say something about it soon. Breakfast?”

I shook my head. “No thanks. I'm not hungry. I'm still shocked about Calista.”

“I know what you mean.” He placed his hand on the back of my head for a few seconds, and I fought the urge to arch my back like a cat and purr.

I knew I should go home. I had packing to start, movers to call, but I didn't really want to be alone just yet. I glanced at the TV. Commercials were still playing. “I found a place yesterday. A Victorian over on Bradley. It's perfect. You can tell Mr. McCray I'm moving Saturday.”

He leaned against a kitchen counter and muted the commercial. “That's great. You know I'll miss seeing you around here.”

“Me too. I mean, I'll miss seeing you, not seeing me.” Tears filled my eyes again. This time they were only half for Calista. “How's your grandmother doing? My new landlady knows her.”

I thought about Jane Addair, Brian's grandmother. She might be perfect for Ed McCray, if she were still Jane Addair. She used to live in the apartment I was being asked to vacate. Now she lives with Brian's parents next to Danforth Orchards, because she's always in one of the stages of dementia or another.

When Brian and I started dating in high school, Jane was the family matriarch. She ran the Addair Funeral Home with all the aplomb of a drill sergeant. I worked as a receptionist there on and off while I was in high school and college, so I saw firsthand what a savvy businesswoman she was. She took no nonsense from her employees, but her heart was as soft as melted ice cream.

Back then, she carried herself like a queen and took no crap from anyone, yet was gracious and loving to everyone. She was the president of the Destiny Welcoming Committee, Destiny Gardening Club, Destiny Bridge Club, Destiny's chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (she actually had no relatives in the Revolution, but no one else wanted the position, so she took it), Destiny Equestrian Club, and so on and so forth. For a small town we are quite active.

She never wore pants, never forgot her pearls, and had a standing appointment at Mary Sue's House of Beauty every Tuesday for her hair and nails. She still does. Brian's mom takes her, but it means nothing to her. Shortly after Brian and I got married, Jane began to deteriorate. By the time our marriage was over, so was the Jane Addair we all knew and loved. Now there are only glimpses here and there of the woman she was.

“She's actually doing pretty well sometimes,” Brian replied. “She's on a new medication. It's pretty amazing. She's had some fairly lucid days. Other times she's up and down.”

“I need to go visit her. Even if she doesn't know me.”

“That would be nice. Mom and Dad would like to see you, too.” He handed me a glass of orange juice. “News is back on.”

I drank my juice while sitting on the edge of my chair.

We watched for a few minutes, but there was nothing about Calista's murder. Brian reached for the remote to turn it off, and all at once, her picture filled the wall behind the news guy, who looked young enough to be in junior high. It was surreal, not to mention disturbing, seeing her like that.

“The police in Destiny continue this morning to investigate the death of orchard owner Calista Danforth-Brody,” the baby news guy read. “No one is being allowed near Danforth Orchards, or the roads leading to the orchard, until further notice. Ms. Danforth-Brody was found dead inside her house yesterday afternoon by her neighbor Trey Hamilton, who immediately called the police. Police Chief Ronald Carly refused to comment to Channel Six news, except to say the death was not accidental and a full homicide investigation is underway. The body was released to the coroner and family members
have been notified. We will bring you updates as they are available.”

The rest of the story was about the Calista Sugar Pink. Brian turned it off. “That's scary. I feel so damned bad for her. She didn't deserve that. I hope the cops get to the bottom of it quickly.”

I nodded. “Somebody killed her. Who?” The questions started bouncing around in my head again. “Do you think it could be a serial killer?”

“I doubt it. I hate to say it, but Trey comes to mind, except like I said last night, I can't see him as a cold-blooded killer. But someone is.”

Honestly, I couldn't picture Trey as the killer, either. I didn't know if his claim that the Calista Sugar Pink was really on his property had merit, but why kill her because of that? Maybe he just lost his mind and did kill her. He was the only one in town who made sense. I really couldn't picture anyone in our town as the killer. It was too much to contemplate. “I guess Addair's will be handling her funeral.”

“Probably. I can't even think about that yet. It doesn't seem real.”

Calista never had children, and her parents were dead. She had some aunts, uncles, and a few cousins scattered here and there. Her death . . . murder . . . seemed eerily unreal. “Thanks for letting me stay over. I'm going to call some movers this morning and get estimates.”

“No problem. My brothers and I can move you, don't pay for movers. You don't have that much stuff.”

I smiled at him. “It's okay. I'll get movers. I'm not going to impose on any of you.” I got up, picked up my purse and the bag with my pajamas in it, and we hugged. It was nothing romantic. It was more for the connection with another human being, and the assurance that life is still sweet despite the ugliness that occasionally creeps in.

I spent the morning talking to movers and found one that was available on Saturday morning, and whom I could pay without taking a withdrawal from my puny IRA. I made a run to Home Depot to buy boxes, then stopped at the bakery on the way home.

“Can you believe the news about Calista?” Olivia asked the second I walked up to her. She was outside of Bread and Batter talking to Emily.

“Horrifying,” added Emily. “Hi, Molly. People are saying it's Trey.”

“I've been thinking about it since last night,” I said, not bothering to announce I had stayed with Brian. It wasn't as if anything happened between us other than sharing a pizza and the couch, but I didn't want any “looks” from my two best friends. “They didn't arrest him, did they? The news on TV this morning didn't say anything about him being arrested.”

“No,” Olivia said. “But I bet they will soon. He thinks the Calista Sugar Pink was on his property. I read in the paper this morning he's going to claim it now that she's dead.”

“He'll have to get in line behind her heirs. I'm sure she left a will,” I said.

“Can he prove it was on his land?” asked Emily. “I don't think so, despite his claims. He should keep quiet before they arrest him just to keep him quiet. Let's talk about something else.”

“If it wasn't Trey, who was it?” Olivia asked, ignoring Emily's request. “That's the scary part. It's not like we're a town full of killers.”

Just then, our famous author, Enid Middlebrook, came out of Emily's bookstore. She created quite a stir when she first arrived and rented a house in Destiny. The poor woman could barely go to the bathroom, out to eat, or grocery shopping without fans accosting her for autographs, asking for instructions on how to write a best seller, or shoving their manuscript in her face. I'm sure she's relieved that we're all pretty used to her now.

She managed to make friends with Calista despite the fact Enid looked to be at least thirty years older. Not to mention Calista's abrasive personality. God forgive me for speaking sort of ill of the dead.

“I'm leaving now,” she said, addressing Emily after glancing at Olivia and me and giving us a perfunctory nod. “I'm so upset about dear Calista. I can't even watch the news. I keep picturing her lifeless body on the kitchen floor.” She shuddered. “Such a tragedy. I've left some autographed copies of
Death Has the Last Say
for you, Emily. Hope your customers enjoy. I don't know when I'll be in town again. Oh, I hate even saying the word ‘death' right now.”

“Thank you, Enid. I appreciate it,” said Emily. “Drive carefully.”

She turned and waved her hand above her head as she trotted away.

“Having her around is so good for business,” said Emily. “I can't wait until she does another talk at the bookstore. She's so distraught over Calista's death, though, it will probably be a while. I think Calista was really the only good friend Enid had here. Maybe there's more to Calista than we knew. She dated two men that in a million years you wouldn't think she would, and she became friends with Enid. Strange. Guess I'd better get back to the store. See you guys later.”

“Okay,” Olivia and I answered in unison, then went into the bakery.

“How come you're here?” Olivia asked me. “You were coming in later. Not that you really need to—it's been kind of slow.”

“I'm on my way home. I picked up some boxes. I found a place to move yesterday,” I told her.

“Really? Where? I still can't get over Brian asking you to move out. What a jerky thing to do.”

“He didn't mean it to be. I was upset at first, but I've decided maybe it's a good thing.”

“In the back of my mind, I always hoped you guys would get back together.” She blinked her big green eyes at me and smiled. “You were like Ross and Rachel, Sam and Diane, Jim and Pam.”

“Who are Jim and Pam?”

“Hellll-o . . .
The Office
? Have you watched TV since the nineties?”

“Well, it's not going to happen for Brian and me.”

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You never know. He hasn't put a diamond on Lola's left hand. So, when are you moving? You want me to help pack?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday?” she croaked. “This Saturday?”

I nodded. “Brian has someone interested in the apartment already. I met him. A really nice older gentleman. You don't need to help, but thanks for the offer. The place I found is an apartment that's part of an awesome Victorian. You'll love it.”

“I can't wait to see it.” She frowned. “Are you going to be done moving by Saturday night?”

“I certainly hope so. The movers are coming at eight in the morning. Why? What's Saturday night?”

“Remember that bachelor auction I told you about a few weeks ago?”

I racked my brain. Not at all. “Sort of.”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, clearly annoyed. “I'm sure your mother's told you all about it, too.”

“She mentioned an auction to help raise money for the library expansion. I thought she said book auction. Honestly, I wasn't paying that much attention.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “That's the one. Only it's bachelor, not book. Really, Moll, who's going to go to a book auction? I signed us both up this morning on the way over here. You owe me fifty dollars.”

We were interrupted by two customers, so we both waited on them.

Once they left, I turned to Olivia. “Fifty dollars? For what? What did you sign me up to do?”

“You don't have ‘to do' anything. It's fifty to get in the door of the auction to bid on the bachelors. Tickets are limited, so I wanted to make sure we got ours. I had a feeling you forgot, and truthfully, I kept forgetting about it, too.

“Emily's going. It's being held in the Palace Theater.” She sighed. “Picture the stage full of law enforcement, firemen, doctors, lawyers, construction workers, computer guys, accountants with those dorky, yet sexy glasses. Whatever you're into. It's going to be awesome; like being in a chocolate shop with too many choices. I can't wait.”