Bun for Your Life (6 page)

“Anyone other than Trey have a grudge against her? Employees, ex-employees, family members?”

“My cousin is Calista's farrier,” Olivia volunteered right away. “That means he specializes in equine foot care—”

“I'm aware of what a farrier is, Ms. Williams. And?” Corsino made a speed-it-up motion with his finger.

She looked irked at his interruption as she repositioned herself in the chair. “He was out at Calista's and overheard Trey trying to convince her to marry him. He heard Trey tell her she'd be sorry if she didn't.”

The detective frowned. “When? Sorry how?”

“Right before he confronted the Jandellas. I don't know what Trey meant when he said she'd be sorry. He didn't say, I
guess. Or else my cousin didn't hear that part.”

He pulled out a notebook. “Can you give me your cousin's name and a way I can reach him?”

“Jamie. Jamie Williams.” She recited his phone number.

The detective pushed back the chair and rose. “Thanks. An autopsy is being done. The toxicology report won't be done for a couple of weeks. Neither of you are planning on leaving town, are you?” His eyes darted from me to Olivia. “Just in case I need to talk to you again after the report comes back.”

“I promise you, we aren't going anywhere,” I said.

He fished out two business cards and handed one to each of us. “Call me if you think of anything you want to add.”

We followed him back to the front of the bakery.

“Thank you, ladies. I appreciate your time.”

“You're welcome,” I said as I tore the note I'd placed on the window off. “I hope you find out who did this, Detective Corsino. I don't like thinking there's a killer running around our town.”

“Next time we see you I hope it's because you're buying a bagel or a doughnut,” added Olivia.

“Jeez!” Olivia exclaimed when Detective Corsino had closed the door. “How is he not married?”

I stared at her. “Really, Liv? The man was questioning us about Calista's murder, and the only thing you're questioning is his lack of a wedding ring?”

“Come on, I didn't take him seriously. If he really thought we killed her, he would have arrested us, or taken us in for real questioning.”

“Even so. Just having him here asking about Calista was traumatizing. And the fact she was killed with one of our T-shirts? I'm going to have nightmares.”

Olivia got serious. “The poor thing.” She looked at the wooden bookshelf we had against the wall filled with our T-shirts, mugs, and tote bags. “I don't know if I can even wear my Bread and Batter Bakery shirt again.”

“I know. I was thinking that myself.” I had to stop thinking of Calista dead, a Bread and Batter Bakery T-shirt around her neck. Don't think me irreverent, but a change of subject was in order. “Just because he's not wearing a ring doesn't mean he's not married.”

“So you looked, too?” She grinned at me.

“A little glance,” I admitted. “You think we're too old to use the word ‘hunk'? But he could be spoken for.”

“I know. I wonder where he's from? I don't hear an accent.”

“I have a feeling he's going to be back with more questions. Maybe you can ask him.”

She nodded. “I feel kind of wiped out after his questioning. And hungry. You want to have lunch at Joe's with me before you go home?”

I nodded. “Please. I'm hungry, too. Let's go. We'll see if Emily can join.”

Joe's is a small café in downtown Destiny. It's across from the courthouse and has been in business since the fifties.
I don't think it's been redecorated since then, but the food is delicious and would be just the thing to get our minds off our troubles after a hard day.

Calista's funeral service filled St. Mary's Episcopal Church. Olivia and I shared a pew with both sets of our parents. The town had pretty much come to a standstill for the afternoon. Bread and Batter was closed until the next morning.

Addair's Funeral Home was handling the funeral, which was no surprise, but there hadn't been any viewing. Under the circumstances, I couldn't blame Calista's family. There was talk that her will had left everything to a cousin who owned an orchard a couple of hours from Destiny and he would take it over. I hoped so. I scanned the crowd between prayers. I saw Detective Corsino across the aisle and one pew ahead of ours, but he was more interested in watching the crowd than in listening to the priest.

Enid was sitting in the front pew. She was dabbing her eyes with a tissue handed to her by the man beside her. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. I hoped no one had the bad taste to bother her here about her books, talks, or anything related to writing. Her gray hair was in a neat bun, and all I could see was a heavy yellow woolen sweater.

Every time I saw her, which actually hadn't been more than four times total, she reminded me of Queen Elizabeth. Enid favored the plaid skirts, knee socks or panty hose, and sensible flat shoes I've seen Her Royal Majesty wear in pictures when she's out walking her dogs on the moors.

Next, I noticed Brian with Lola. His parents were in the same pew as they were, as well as Jane, who actually looked wonderful, but a little thinner. She was staring at the large crucifix hanging from the ceiling in front of the church, her lips moving.

I couldn't tell if she was praying or mumbling unintelligibly. Brian and Lola both looked subdued. Lola had toned down her makeup, and I actually liked her dress. Almost classy. Maybe she would be a good wife for Brian if he decided to marry her. Maybe. I didn't want to think about it, so I looked down at the red prayer book in my hands and concentrated on saying my private good-bye to Calista.

When I looked back up, I noticed the Hamiltons. Even Trey. I watched Detective Corsino give him a cursory glance. Everyone else was giving him much more than a cursory glance. If we weren't in church he would probably be bullied out of there. Most people still thought he had killed Calista. He was the logical suspect, but I still couldn't imagine him killing her. Maybe I was being naive. Whoever it was, I hoped he or she would be caught soon.

I planned on making a brief appearance at the cemetery, but after that, I had a little packing to finish. The movers would be at my apartment tomorrow morning. Then, there was the bachelor auction tomorrow night.

Olivia and I had gone shopping yesterday afternoon. I ended up with the ever-popular little black dress—sleeveless even though it was November—a Kate Spade cardigan, new perfume, and a pair of black slingback much-too-high heels I hoped I could walk in for more than thirty seconds. I was more of a sneakers and jeans or yoga pants woman. But I was ready to buy my bachelor. I was about to return my attention to the prayer book when Detective Corsino looked over at us.

Olivia elbowed me. “There's the detective. He's looking at us,” she whispered.

He didn't smile, but he did nod his head slightly in greeting. I smiled back, as did Olivia. He was alone, his hotness factor still a nine. The man did know how to wear a suit. I wondered if he was taking notes on everyone. I would love to see said notes.

Maybe if I went to the library and researched the Hamilton and Danforth feud back to its beginnings for him, I'd find an important clue, and the detective would be so appreciative that he'd share his notes with me.

I ran over my own mental list of suspects. Trey. Trey's brothers. The Jandellas. Except they stood to make a lot of money from the Calista Sugar Pink, so Jacob and Sharona Jandella as suspects made no sense. Scratch them. Blake Ellsworth. Someone in our book club. Now I was just thinking of random people. I really had nothing.

Maybe it was a burglary gone bad. We had little crime in Destiny, but it existed. Usually caused by someone jumping off the interstate, robbing one of the jewelry stores or a bank, then getting back on the interstate before the cops arrived.

Maybe whoever killed her intended on robbing Calista, thought she was out, then panicked when she was home and killed her. With a Bread and Batter T-shirt. I shivered. Was someone trying to frame Olivia and me for her murder? Is that why a bag from our bakery was at the crime scene? Why frame us? Because they didn't like our cupcakes? We'd run out of our salt bagels? We didn't have a T-shirt in their size? No, that was absurd. I knew the T-shirt just happened to be there because Calista had snatched it. No, it wasn't personal. Trey was the most obvious suspect, and the one with the most motive.

I realized the service was over and people were standing to leave. I stood, too, following the other mourners to the back of the church and out the door. At least it was sunny, the sky a brilliant blue. I'm sure you agree there's nothing worse than a miserable, gray, rainy day for a funeral; it only adds to the melancholy.

I hugged my ex-in-laws, did a few minutes of small talk, and half listened while my parents chatted with them. Sometimes, this town is a little too friendly. More personal and social boundaries may be in order.

“Hello, Molly. It's been so long. How's the bakery? Put aside a dozen of your carrot cake cupcakes for me, will you, doll? I'll come by tomorrow and get them. My bridge club will be thrilled.”

I turned around. “Jane?” I stared at her, nonplussed.

“Of course.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “It doesn't become you to be silly, Molly. Who else would I be? What's the matter, is my hat on crooked? Why are you looking at me like that, silly girl?”

I was surprised at how . . . well . . . normal, she sounded. I hugged her. “I'm happy to see you, that's all.” She wasn't wearing a hat, but I refrained from pointing that out.

“There's that woman with the lovely sweater.” She stretched out her arm and pointed her index finger. “She was wearing it the last time. Wasn't she? What is the name of the . . . the . . . color? Is that the word? It won't come to me.” She frowned, then her eyes widened. “Someone stop her! Please, just stop her! She must be stopped!”

“Shhh, Jane. It's okay.” I gently lowered her arm while my ex-mother-in-law, Kate, put an arm around her shoulders. Thankfully, those who had turned at her outburst just smiled, seeing it was Jane. Most everyone in town knew about her
dementia issues. I looked to see who she had been pointing at.

I saw Enid and her companion making their way through the people still milling around. “I think you mean yellow. Her yellow sweater?” I had no idea when Jane would have seen Enid before; maybe at the bookstore with Kate, or at Mary Sue's House of Beauty, but I thought it best to answer at least part of her question. I wondered why Enid wasn't wearing a coat; it wasn't exactly balmy out.

“Yellow? What sweater?” She looked at me, clearly perplexed. “What's yellow? You wouldn't believe how tired I am. I'm . . . I'm . . . What's your name again? Didn't we just meet?”

I took her hand. “I'm Molly, Jane. You can rest soon, I'm sure.”

Brian and Lola had come up to our little group, too. I greeted them both, ignored Lola's chilly smile, and whispered to Brian, “She knows me again? Well, sort of.”

“It's the medication I told you about. Sometimes she does very well. It's a crapshoot. Maybe bringing her wasn't such a good idea.”

“It's lovely to see you, my dear,” Jane was talking to me again, but her smile slipped, and as she looked around, her eyes clouded with confusion. “I'll see you and Brian for dinner later tonight. It's so sad, I seem to be burying all my friends at an alarming rate. This is my fourth funeral this week. Poor Ella. We just spoke the other day.” She brightened again. “I'm having a roast with those red potatoes and green peas with baby onions you love. Don't you and Brian be late!”

I'm sure Lola totally loved hearing that. “We won't.”

Brian winked at me, shrugged, and smiled, except it was a sad smile. My heart went out to him.

“And sometimes she doesn't do so well,” he said. “The other day she told my father to get out of her bedroom, that he wasn't her son. She accused him of being some old man trying to steal her purse.”

“Heartbreaking,” sighed Lola with as much sincerity as a wet washcloth could be expected to exude. “She belongs in a nursing home.”

“Oh no,” I cried. “She's fine where she is.” I didn't want to think of Jane in a nursing home, withering away. Not that I had any say in it.

Lola, clearly bored judging from the blank look on her face, grabbed Brian's arm. “Ready to go to the cemetery, baby?”

He nodded. “We'll see you there?” he asked me.

I didn't answer, because Detective Corsino picked that instant to appear. “Ms. Tyler. How are you?”

“Hello, detective. I'm fine as I can be, considering this is a funeral.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lola tugging on Brian's arm, but he didn't budge. He was busy giving the detective the once-over.

“Detective Corsino, this is Brian Addair, owner of Addair's Funeral Home. And this is Lola Lipinski.” I wasn't sure how to describe her. “Girlfriend” sounded too high-schoolish, “significant other” sounded like too much information, and “lover” too personal. I didn't want the detective to have a picture in his mind of them naked, tangling and romping between
the sheets. I didn't want that picture, either, except now it was too late. I let the introduction stand on its own.

Brian shook Detective Corsino's hand. “You're new in town, aren't you?”

“I moved from New York a few weeks ago. I wanted to get away from the city, come to a smaller town.”

“Welcome. You'll find us to be a very friendly town. The lake is gorgeous if you're into water sports.”

“Thanks for the welcome. Appreciate it. I'm definitely getting myself a boat. Trying to decide between a Sea Ray and a Chris Craft.”

“I've got a Sea Ray 190 Sport.” Brian pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to the detective. “Call me if you want to go for a ride.”

“Hey, thanks. I'll probably do that.”

“I bet you didn't expect to find yourself investigating a murder so quickly,” Brian said.

He gave Brian what passed for a smile, which is more than Olivia or I'd ever gotten from him. “You got that right.”

“Any leads?” Brian asked.

“We're working on a few things. Nothing I can discuss, though.”

Of course not.

“Her murder has really shocked this town. Hope you find whoever did it quickly,” replied Brian. “Please excuse us, Detective. We're going to head over to the cemetery. Pleasure meeting you. If I can be of any help, drop by in person. Addair's is right on Main. Call me about going out on the boat.”

Corsino nodded. “Call me Sean. Will do. Thanks.”

I watched Brian and Lola walk away. I caught a whiff of the detective's cologne. The spicy scent blended well with the smell of fall in the air.

“Any breakthroughs on Calista's murder, Detective Corsino?” That was from Olivia, who had just come up beside me. She looked up at him expectantly.

“Hello, Ms. Williams. Still working on it. If you two will excuse me, I'll go ahead and leave.”

He didn't literally wait for us to excuse him before he sauntered off, and was gone before either Olivia or I could even say good-bye.

“I just thought of something,” Olivia whispered to me.

“What?”

“They say murderers often come to the funeral of their victim. To gloat or something. I don't know, but do you think the murderer was sitting among us in church?”

I glanced around. The crowd had thinned, what with everyone on their way to the cemetery. “I couldn't even begin to guess on that one, but it's not a cheerful thought.”

*  *  *

The movers arrived right on time Saturday morning. I was up, dressed, all packed, and had my breakfast finished when their truck pulled up in the driveway. I'd asked for three men, just to make the process go faster.

I ran downstairs and threw open the door for them, then moved the iron pig that sat outside in front of the door to hold it open for them.

One of the guys came up to me with a clipboard in his hand. “Good morning. Are you Molly Tyler?”

“Good morning, yes I am.”

“I'm Pete. I'll have you sign this and then we'll get started.” He looked around. “Funeral home, huh? Are there . . . um . . . dead bodies around? We aren't going to be seeing any, are we?”

I refrained from rolling my eyes and delivering a loud sigh. Pete had to be at least six feet tall and two fifty. He was worried about dead bodies? Then again, he's not the first person who, upon finding out I live on the grounds of a funeral home, have asked me if there are dead bodies around. Well, of course there may be dead bodies around, it's a funeral home.

Not to worry, I assure everyone, they aren't going to make an appearance, demand you take them for a stroll around the block, then ask for dinner. The whole time I've lived here, I've never seen them frolicking on the grass at midnight. “They're all napping at the moment.”

He laughed, but probably to humor me. I really don't think he got it. I signed the paperwork he handed to me on the clipboard, then let them do their thing. Something told me they wouldn't be dawdling around, as movers are prone to do unless you keep a sharp eye on them.

I'm delighted to report that once they removed my dresser, I found my phone, where it had fallen out of my sight who knows when. Olivia would be overjoyed. I blew the dust off it and turned it on. Nothing! The battery was dead. I tucked it in my purse, and made a mental note to get myself a new battery later.