Death by Scones (20 page)

She'd pointed at me. "Well how can we get back together with her in the way?"

Jared had glanced at me, confusion still smothering his face, and scoffed. "Go back to New York, Erin." Then he'd grabbed my elbow, and we'd walked to his car.

After repeating all of that to Tara, I added, "He drove me home and didn't come inside. Maybe she went crying after that, but she didn't strike me as the crying type. It was more likely Susan saw all of this and made up Erin crying to her so she wouldn't look like a gossip." Unless Erin had fake-cried and was playing the victim.

"All I know is that the stars have finally aligned for you," Tara said. "I told you he was interested in you."

I wasn't so sure though. Yeah, we had kissed, but what if he was rebounding from Erin? What if I was just the first warm body he'd seen? I nearly chuckled. No, Jared wasn't that kind of guy. He didn't use people, but I kept wondering why all of a sudden now. He'd just returned home. I had nagging thoughts about whether or not it was smart to try a romantic relationship with him and possibly ruin our friendship. The kiss had been amazing though.

Last night I'd allowed these newfound suspicions to take over my mind, and when I'd finally fallen asleep, I'd dreamt I was seated in the witness box in a courtroom. I was being tried for adultery, which in my dream world was punishable by law, and Jared was prosecuting me. He'd kept accusing me of not saying "I love you," but I wasn't sure who I was supposed to love. The whole thing left me weirded out when I woke up. Of course, watching old reruns of
Law & Order
before I fell asleep probably hadn't been a great idea.

No sooner had I hung up the phone with Tara than Detective Lester Marshall stepped into the bakery. His expression was gruff, and when he didn't stare longingly at the desserts or my breasts, I knew this wasn't a sale or social call.

Before I got a chance to ask what he wanted, the door opened again, and Detective Bud Ohlsen walked in. He was a big guy with broad shoulders and a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair that was definitely more salt than pepper. It had been years since I'd seen him up close. Not since my parents had died. He'd been the only adult in my world who hadn't been telling me how to live and when to stop grieving. He'd been the only one who seemed to really get the pain I was in.

"Hi, Riley. It's good to see you." He smiled and his entire face crinkled.

"You too. How can I help you?"

"We need you to come to the station," he said.

That big, red-blazing warning sign flashed in my mind. "For what?"

"Questions about Nathan Dearborn's death," Lester blurted out.

This must've been serious and no longer a one-man job if Detective Ohlsen had joined Lester on this.

"What about him?" I was alone and didn't want to lock up the bakery. Business was slow enough. I didn't want to lose any more income. Besides, my curiosity practically leapt off my skin. Why couldn't they ask me here? Were they finally going to admit Nathan had been murdered? Maybe that was why Detective Ohlsen was here.

"We need to do this at the station," Detective Ohlsen said in his usual calm tone.

Lester, however, didn't look all that calm. His face had reddened as if he was about to pop a vein or he'd just eaten a ghost chili pepper. "Yeah," he eloquently added.

I glanced at the windows, to the people passing by, hoping someone would come in and I could use that as an excuse not to leave. But no one was going to rescue me. I wasn't even sure why I was concerned. No one had been here today anyway.

I reached behind myself and untied my apron. "Fine, but I'll have to lock up and make some calls to my other employees first."

Lester opened his mouth to say something, but Detective Ohlsen cut him off by nodding.

I grabbed my cell and hesitated, dialing Amber and Mrs. Hendrickson. "Are you sure this can't wait until the next shift comes in?"

"We have to insist," Lester said while tapping his dingy black shoe on the linoleum.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as it dawned on me they weren't being this adamant over routine questions.

"Okay, but what is this about exactly? Why do I need to come down to the station to talk about Nathan again?"

Detective Ohlsen took a step closer to the counter. "Riley, this is about your relationship with Mr. Dearborn."

Surprise smacked me across the face. "
My
relationship?"

"Yeah," Lester began. "And how you neglected to tell me that you have a motive to kill him."

Holy scones! They suspected me.

The interrogation room was small, dim, and in need of a fresh coat of paint. They'd had me sitting there for ten minutes so far. The aluminum chair was uncomfortable, and I continually patted the back of my head to make sure my updo hadn't become undone. I wasn't sure why. I'd used enough bobby pins and hair spray to keep a small country still. It must've been nervous energy, but knowing that didn't stop me. And I was probably just making it worse with each pat, especially since I hadn't taken off my black gloves with the lace cuffs.

When we'd first arrived, Lester had asked about the security footage from the bakery. I just so happened to have the flash drive in my black square vintage purse with the top clasp, and I'd handed it over. They were watching it now. They'd each offered me something to drink, but I used to watch
The Closer
. Kiera Sedgwick was a phenomenal actress, and Brenda Leigh Johnson was a hoot. I'd seen enough episodes to know to not accept anything that would leave my prints or DNA behind. Besides, my stomach was already a jittery mess, and I doubted I could keep anything down.

I stopped fussing with my hair and smoothed the lap creases of my charcoal-gray pencil skirt, then picked a piece of fuzz off my black top, and finally fidgeted with the five-strand pearl necklace. They weren't real, but they were nice enough to not look like costume.

Finally the door opened, and both Lester and Bud entered the room. Bud was the senior detective in terms of who had been a cop longer, but he was new to the case, so I wondered who the lead was. I assumed it was Pizza Grease Man. Sure enough, there was a grease stain on Lester's burgundy tie.

Bud pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. Lester leaned against the glass pane that looked out to the hall. The blinds were down, so I couldn't see if anyone was out there. This room had a mirrored wall that I assumed was a way for others to stand and watch us. But there was also a camera in the upper corner pointed straight at me. A bit redundant if you asked me.

"Do you actually think I killed Nathan?" I blurted out. Maybe I should've waited for them to ask me the questions, but this was unreal. Here I was spending a lot of my time trying to figure out who had really hurt Nathan, and these fools thought it was me.

"You brought the scones to my attention," Lester said.

I widened my eyes. "Because I didn't put them out, and they are in the video."

"You can't see who is carrying them, so how do we know it's not you?" Lester asked.

Seriously? "Why would I point all of this out if it was me? Why wouldn't I just keep quiet? You stupidly thought it was an accident."

His face reddened. So maybe calling his actions stupid wasn't the best choice.

"Because you were trying to deter suspicion."

I scoffed. "That's absurd." Actually, it would've been brilliant of me if I'd killed the man.

Detective Ohlsen leaned forward and spoke softly. "Why don't you tell me everything you remember about that day?"

I almost tried not to roll my eyes, but I couldn't say I was feeling any love in here, so I rolled them extra hard. Then I jutted my chin toward Lester. "I already told him everything."

Detective Ohlsen reached across the table and tapped the back of my hand. "Yes, but I'd like you tell me." He emphasized "me" in a way that had me wondering if he didn't trust his partner.

I swallowed and nodded. Detective Ohlsen had been there for me, so I didn't mind helping him out, especially since I knew he was a rational man, and as soon as I finished telling him what had happened that day, he'd know I wasn't responsible. "Fine."

I laid it all out, just as I had the first time, and when I was done, Detective Ohlsen leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw.

The seconds dragged by, and I wished I could crawl into their minds to figure out what they were thinking. Well, maybe not Lester's. It was probably full of pizza and centerfold memories. But I'd bet Detective Ohlsen's mind was racing with information pertinent to the case.

After another minute, the silence crept up and was suffocating. "Well?" I asked more sharply than I meant. "Someone say something." I wanted to add, "Do you believe me?" but I didn't. I was afraid of their answer.

Detective Ohlsen spoke first. "According to our investigation, the ingredients in Nathan's stomach were consistent with cinnamon scones made with peanut oil. But the tape gives no indication of who set out the scones. It could've been anyone."

"Like you," Lester said for dramatic effect.

"Did you talk to anyone else there? Everyone should be able to tell you that I didn't leave the register area. I couldn't have possibly been behind the counter and walking by with a plate of scones at the same time."

Detective Ohlsen nodded. "We spoke with several of the customers who were there that morning, and none of them remembered where you were."

I nearly cried out but just whimpered. My confidence in being ruled out was plummeting fast.

"They said it was crowded, and they were only focused on getting something to eat before it was all gone. A couple of people remembered the scones and had eaten some."

Well, that was far from helpful.

"What about the e-mail telling everyone about the freebies?" I asked, feeling like I was grasping at any detail to try to save myself.

"The account is under your name," Lester said with a chuckle.

"Yes, but anyone can make a dummy account. It didn't come from my house or the bakery."

I was about to fill them in on Amber's friend tracking the IP address, but Detective Ohlsen said, "We checked into that too."

Great. They sure were fast when they finally believed it was murder.

"The e-mail was sent from the Danger Cove Public Library," Detective Ohlsen said.

"Which means you could've written it at the library to throw us off," Lester said.

I almost added "Cause that wouldn't be hard to do," but I refrained. Lester had to be a Scorpio simply because that was Taurus's opposite sign, and he sure was grating on my nerves.

"Okay, but I haven't been to the library in over a month. Yes, I'm not proud of my reading habits, or lack thereof, but I've been busy with the bakery and haven't had time."

Lester frowned and shook his head. "No one's going to remember not seeing you there. That's crazy. And the library doesn't have cameras."

I took a deep breath, feeling a bit triumphant. "No, but in order to use the computers, you have to sign on using your name and library card number. They must keep records."

I expected Lester to suggest I'd stolen and used someone else's name and number, but he didn't. They both looked mildly surprised. Mild or not, I'd take it.

Detective Ohlsen turned to Lester and whispered, "Look into that."

Lester scrunched up his face as if annoyed to be told what to do. Or maybe he already knew I wouldn't be listed. But this also meant that the killer would be, and that made me feel like singing.

"Besides, there's still no reason why I would kill Nathan. There's no motive. I didn't even know the guy. He was a hermit and hardly ever left his house. Why would I want to create this elaborate plan to do him in?" I couldn't help wanting to shove their ridiculousness in their faces. Me, a killer? That was beyond laughable. I once cried after drowning a spider in the bathtub. Okay, so it was that time of the month, and I was exceptionally emotional, but I wouldn't kill a person.

Lester smirked though. "Motive we do have. You decided to kill him in an act of revenge after learning he killed your parents."

Oh crap! They knew that? "You know about the accident? I only just found out. How did you?"

I stared at Detective Ohlsen directly. If he'd known all of this time, or even some of it, he'd had a duty to arrest Nathan. I couldn't imagine he'd kept it to himself.

He cleared his throat. "There was an anonymous call to the station."

Someone else knew too? Obviously this person wanted me framed, which meant it was probably the person who had killed Nathan. But why? I assumed the killer's motives were about Nathan. So why set me up? Just to throw suspicion off of them? I thought of a couple of sisters who hadn't seemed to like me much. I wouldn't have been surprised if Holly or Gloria thought this was the perfect opportunity to point a finger in my direction.

I pushed my chair back and stood. "Is that all? Am I free to go?"

Suddenly, there were things I needed to do. I wasn't sure of the steps yet, but somehow proving who killed Nathan had become ever more important.

They both reluctantly nodded.

"Great." I grabbed my bag and held my head high as I walked out of the room. But I stopped in the hall when I remembered I had no way back to the bakery to collect my bike. Screw it. I'd walk. It wasn't that far.

*   *   *

By the time I arrived home, I was exhausted, and my feet were killing me. I'd walked from the station to the bakery and then bicycled to the house, which wasn't easy to do in a pencil skirt. I had to hike it up to midthigh and change into flats. I really needed to remember these things in the morning before I got my heart set on a particular outfit. My phone had buzzed nonstop on the ride over, but I hadn't wanted to stop to answer any of the calls and texts. Now that I was inside, I plopped onto the sofa, kicked off my super narrow but absolutely adorable kitten heels, and pulled out my phone. I had four missed calls and eleven texts from Tara, Amber, and Jared.

I threw my arm over my forehead. I just wanted a long, hot bath and a big plate of food. But before I got the chance to savor each idea, the doorbell rang. It had to be one of the three. I opened it and smiled. It was all of them.