Wedding Cake Murder (43 page)

“He said that it was his cake in the first place and he’d spent months trying to teach her to bake it. And the only reason he’d hired her in the first place was because I was his child. And he’d thought that he could get some use out of supporting us, but she was too dumb to learn anything.”

“And that’s when you killed him?” Hannah asked, her fingers scrabbling at the edge of the plastic wrap. Another few inches released their hold on the lip of the bowl and almost all of the oil was now exposed.

“I didn’t kill him then. I wasn’t planning to kill him, even after he said that about my mother. He grabbed a knife, told me to follow him, and led me to the walk-in cooler. He said he’d show me what he thought of my cake.”

“But he cut a piece of mine, instead of yours!” The oil sloshed slightly as the rest of the plastic wrap came loose. Hannah dropped it on the floor and readied herself for what was about to come. “I understand why you did it now, Rodney.”

“What else could I do when he stuffed a bite of
your
cake in his mouth and swallowed? And then he said I was a lousy baker, just like my mother. He told me my cake was pretty, but it had no taste, just like my mother. And that’s when I picked up the knife and stabbed him for my mother!”

“He really was a devil,” Hannah said, hoping that she could buy just a bit more time. But that was when Rodney picked up a knife and moved toward her.

Everything happened very fast, so fast that she had trouble believing how rapidly she moved. Hannah threw the bowl of oil in his path, pivoted on her feet, and raced toward the kitchen door. She heard him fall heavily, but a split second later, she was out of the kitchen and in the back hallway. She pulled the back door open and the alarm sounded, just as she’d expected. She ran out and saw a garbage truck parked by the back door.

The driver of the truck was moving one of the Dumpsters from the back wall so that he could get behind it and wheel it to the truck. Hannah didn’t hesitate. She dashed up the ramp and into the trailer of the truck. He’d already loaded several Dumpsters, and Hannah lifted the lid of the closest one. She scrambled inside and closed the lid just as Rodney ran out the door, looking for her.

“Hey, fella! What are you doing out here?” the driver called to Rodney. “You set off the alarm.”

“Sorry!” Rodney answered. “I just came out for some air. I didn’t realize that would happen.”

“No sweat. I’ll take care of it.”

Hannah lifted the lid of the Dumpster just enough so that she could see what was happening. Rodney followed as the driver punched in the code, the alarm stopped ringing and they both stepped inside. Then the driver retrieved the Dumpster from the hallway, said goodbye to Rodney and shut the door behind him, wheeled the Dumpster outside, and reset the alarm.

She was safe! Rodney was back inside and there was no way he could get out this way again without setting off the alarm. Hannah was about to raise the lid on the Dumpster when the cargo door at the back of the truck slid down all the way. She heard the ramp rumble back into place below the door, and she wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or frightened. Rodney couldn’t get to her now, but where would the driver be taking her?

“Help!” she called out, but the driver must not have heard her because the cargo door remained closed and the engine turned over with a roar. She was trapped in the truck, and she had to get out of the Dumpster and bang on the wall that connected the back of the truck with the cab where the driver was sitting.

Hannah raised the lid of the container and attempted to climb out, but every time she thought she’d be successful, the contents of the Dumpster shifted and she sank back down again. It was squishy on the bottom and she really didn’t want to think about why that might be. She was stuck and she could feel that the driver was picking up speed.

She heard a car horn honk, and the truck lurched to the left. There were several other honks and the noise of traffic passing the truck. She was on the freeway in the garbage truck. Where was the driver taking her?!

Chapter Thirty-two

H
annah felt a moment of pure panic before her rational mind took over. The driver was taking her to the dump, of course. All she could do was hope that it was a local dump and she’d be there soon.

What time was it? It had been almost seven when Rodney had come into the kitchen. And her wedding would start at eight-thirty. What would happen if she wasn’t there? Would they wait for her? She had to find out the time!

That was when she felt it, the weight on her shoulder. It was her purse! Somehow, she’d grabbed her purse in her mad flight to get away from Rodney.

Hannah used both hands to rummage around in her purse. Her cell phone was in there somewhere. All she had to do was find it and she could call the sheriff’s station.

It took several anxious minutes, but at last she grasped it. It was right where it should be, in the inside pocket at the back of her purse. Her panic was slowing her brain. She had to think clearly if she wanted to get out of this Dumpster and marry Ross.

Did the garbage truck have a compacter? Would the driver use it? There was another brief moment of panic, and then Hannah sighed loudly. Of course the driver wouldn’t use a compacter, even if he’d had one. This garbage truck was like a moving truck. It didn’t have a trash compacter. And even if the driver’s truck had contained a compacter, he wouldn’t have used it. Dumpsters were expensive. You might dump out the trash and put it through a compacter, but you would never compact the Dumpster itself.

Hannah wiped her hands on her sweatshirt and felt for the buttons on her phone. It was off and she had to turn it on. But it wouldn’t turn on! There was something wrong! Had she forgotten to charge it again?!

The moment she thought of it, she knew it was true. So much had been on her mind with the murder, and the competition, and her wedding that she hadn’t even considered charging her phone. What could she do now? She was cut off from the world and stuck in this Dumpster inside a truck that was going to some location that only the driver knew.

She had to think and she had to think clearly. Tracey had taught her how to use her smartphone. And Tracey had said that there was a way to get an extra charge out of the battery by pressing a certain sequence of key numbers. The numbers were different for some carriers and some phones, but Tracey had given her the sequence of numbers that would work on her particular phone.

First, she had to think of the numbers and the sequence. And then she had to decide who to call. The sheriff’s station would be the logical choice under any other circumstances, but Delores had invited all of the deputies to the wedding. There would be only a skeleton staff on duty, and in the worst case scenario, they’d be dealing with other calls and she would be put on hold!

“Think. You’ve got to think clearly.” Hannah said the words out loud, hoping they’d sink in more rapidly that way. She’d be better off calling an individual deputy, one that put duty ahead of anything else and who wouldn’t turn off his or her phone.

Mike. The moment Hannah thought of it, she knew she was right. Mike was a cop through and through. Even during the ceremony, he’d have his cell phone in his pocket. It would be set on vibrate so that it didn’t disturb anyone else, but he’d check it if he got a call.

Now all she needed was the sequence of numbers and the name of the garbage service. She’d seen the name on the side of the Dumpster. It was something starting with an A. She was sure of that. And it was someone’s name, a name that had reminded her of a professor she’d had in college. History. That was it. Alquist. Professor Alquist. That was the professor’s name, but the garbage service’s name was something slightly different. Alquin. That was it. Alquin Trash Removal.

That was when something wonderful happened. Hannah’s mind kicked into high gear. She remembered the sequence of numbers, punched them in, and heard a most welcome dial tone. Then she hit the speed-dialing number for Mike and she heard his phone begin to ring.

“Kingston here,” Mike answered and Hannah gave a little sob of relief. She had to be fast. She had to be thorough. She had very little time to give Mike all of the information he needed.

“It’s Hannah. I’m in an Alquin Trash Removal truck that left the Lake Eden Inn ten minutes or so ago. Rodney Paloma tried to kill me. Pick him up. He murdered Chef Du . . .”

The dial tone sounded again and then her phone went dark. Hannah gave a little sob and sent up a silent prayer that Mike would act fast.

“Where
is
she?” Delores asked. “You don’t suppose she fell asleep, do you?”

“No, Mother.” Andrea took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Since she was right here in church, perhaps her prayer would be answered. They’d been trying to calm their mother down for almost an hour, and she’d asked this and other questions countless times before.

Michelle reached out to pat their mother’s hand. “I called the condo five times, Mother. There’s no answer. And Doc contacted the hospital, just in case she’d been in an accident.”

“And Bill checked with the sheriff’s station.” Andrea began to go through the list of calls everyone had made. “Michelle and I called everyone we knew who isn’t already here, and no one’s heard from her.”

“Eat this, dear,” Grandma Knudson said, handing Delores a chocolate bar that she’d run back to the parsonage to get. “It’ll help to calm your nerves.”

“
Nothing
will calm my nerves at this point!” Delores insisted, but she opened the candy and took a bite.

Just then, Lisa’s cell phone rang and she glanced at the display. “It’s Herb. He sent me a text. He says he located Hannah’s cookie truck in front of the Lake Eden Inn. He’s going inside to look for her.”

The five women exchanged bewildered glances, and then Grandma Knudson asked, “What is she doing out there?”

Delores, who’d jumped to her feet when Lisa had told them about Herb’s text message, sat down heavily in her chair. “I just knew something like this would happen! My baby’s been kidnapped and we haven’t even held the wedding yet!”

“Have they heard from her?” Ross asked, not pausing as he paced the floor of Reverend Bob’s office.

Norman shook his head. “Not yet.”

“How about Mike? Have they heard from him?”

“No, not a word.”

Ross swallowed hard. “You don’t suppose that . . .” he paused, unable to go on with his unwelcome train of thought.

“Absolutely not.” Norman was very definite. “Don’t even think it, Ross. If Hannah had second thoughts about marrying you, she’d march right in the door of the church and tell you.”

Ross smiled. “You’re right, she would. It’s just that I feel so . . . so . . . I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Helpless?”

“Yes! I’m stuck here just waiting. She could be in trouble and maybe there’s something I should be doing.”

“The only thing you can do right now is try to relax. She’ll show up. It’s just a matter of time. Hannah wants to marry you. She loves you, Ross. She told me that. This wedding will start a little late, that’s all. And it’s only eight-fifteen.”

Hannah raised the lid and let it bang back down again. She’d been doing this for the past few miles, but the driver didn’t seem to hear her. It was probably because he had the radio in his cab turned up to full volume. It was tuned to a country-western station that played classic songs, and Hannah had listened to a man sing a plea to his girlfriend to send him the pillow she dreamed on, a woman who’d sung about her lost love and her broken heart, and several singers who’d lamented everything from cheating husbands to divorce, suicide, and accidental death. Right now, the subject was lonely nights and someone was wailing about it. Hannah just wished the next song would be something soft enough so that the driver could hear the lid on her Dumpster clanging shut. If he did, he might pull over to the side of the road, get out of his truck, and open the back to see what was making so much noise.

She banged the lid on the Dumpster until her arm was tired and then she stopped. It was no use. The radio was just too loud. And then she heard it, a siren coming up behind them. Could it be Mike? It just
had
to be Mike!

The Dumpster rolled as the driver pulled over to the side of the highway. Hannah’s foot slipped, and she fell against something wet and gloppy. Somehow she managed to stand up again and raise the lid on the Dumper just in time to see the back of the truck start to open.

“There she is! I told you she was back here. I’ll get her out.”

“No way, Officer.” The driver put his hand on Mike’s arm. “Looks like you’re all dressed up for a wedding or something, and it’s nasty in there. I got on my work clothes. I’ll get her out. How did she get in there anyway?”

“She was hiding from a killer,” Mike answered as the driver lowered the ramp and climbed into the truck.

“Figures. That’s the only thing that would get me into something like this.” The driver opened the lid of the Dumpster all the way and braced it open. “Give me your arms, lady. I’ll lift you out.”

It took three tries, but the driver was strong and he managed to lift her high enough so that she could climb out. He helped her down, and then he went to the back of the truck and came back to hand her a large orange garbage bag. “Better sit on this,” he told her. “Drape it right over the seat so you don’t get the officer’s car seat dirty.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said and made a move to hug him, but she noticed that unidentified goop was clinging to her clothing and she gave him a grateful smile instead.

Mike shook his head as he walked her to the cruiser. “Use that bag, okay? The car wash will never get my seat clean if you don’t.”

“Did you get Rodney?” she asked as she lined the passenger seat with the plastic garbage bag and sat down.

“Yes. He was waiting at the dump for you and he had a knife. Lonnie and Rick rushed him and took him into custody.”

Hannah reached for her seat belt, but a gesture from Mike stopped her. “You’ll never hear me say this again, but don’t use the seat belt. The car wash will never get that clean, either. I’m going to have to take your statement later, but I’ll wait until the wedding’s over.”