by CJ Love
Becca got off the back of the bike. “Well, that was just great. The detective probably will show up here any moment and arrest me.”
Oh, I suppose she does have more to worry about than I do.
The girl dropped her goggles into the sidecar, too, and waved at the other cars in the lot. “Not only that. My car won’t start. How am I supposed to make a getaway?”
Man, she’s losing it. Glad I don’t do that.
The thought caused Delia’s head to clear a little. “I’ll give you a ride home, and then I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, at four. You can call Triple-A while you’re here at work.”
“We accomplished nothing.”
Delia shook her head. “Sure we did. Nicolo was at Chu Hua’s house because he thought Mate was there. That means he knows you didn’t kill Jeanette.”
Yes, right. That makes good sense!
She nodded, agreeing with herself. “Right, and now he’ll watch Daniel Curran, too. This is all good news.”
“Right,” Becca said without a lot of emotion.
After dropping Becca off at her apartment complex in Fredonia, Delia headed back home and made it there by ten o’clock.
Whew, this was a big night out for me.
She was on the second-floor landing when Courtney Kent came out of her apartment. The young woman barely looked up, and then suddenly, she jumped back into her doorway.
What the…?
All Delia saw was her reddish hair as Courtney peeked around the door.
“Courtney?”
“Oh, it’s you, Delia,” she said. She stepped all the way into the hallway and shut the door. She was a pretty girl, though she wore a lot of blush. Green eye shadow covered her upper lids, which caused her emerald eyes to look even paler. “I thought you were someone else.”
Without giving it much thought, Delia said, “I can relate.” Stepping farther into the hallway, she took the turn to head upstairs.
“What do you mean?” Courtney asked. She reached behind her and turned the knob of her door to make sure it was locked.
Delia stopped and adjusted the purse on her shoulder. “Didn’t detective Montague tell you that Mate is out on bail? And that he’s missing?”
Courtney reached behind her and tested the doorknob again before taking a step toward Delia. “Yes, he told us, but that’s the least of our problems.”
“The least of your problems?” Had it something to do with what Delia had overheard the other day, when Courtney and Isaac were on the stairs, that they were moving out of Boroughbridge House?
“Nothing, it’s nothing. We’re just…”
From down the hall, Thomi’s voice sounded through her apartment doorway. More like yelling, and the sentence contained the word Dad . That didn’t surprise Delia at all. What did make her brows shoot up was Courtney’s response to Thomi’s voice.
The young woman’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared as though she’d had a sudden anxiety attack. After a second, Courtney seemed to get a hold of herself and walked toward the stairs.
That’s when it hit Delia. Again, Courtney wasn’t wearing her usual casual garb of yoga pants like her bestie, Sanya. The girl wore jeans and a pale blue sweater instead.
Did Courtney think she heard Sanya’s voice? Is that why she jumped? They’ve obviously had a falling out.
Delia asked, “How are you and Sanya getting along these days?”
Courtney stopped mid-stride. Her top lip curled. “We’re not.” Her green eyes really zeroed in on Delia then. “Why are you asking?”
Yes, why am I asking? And, I’m not going to mention the yoga pants thing.
“Um, because Sanya stopped me in the hall the other day, and she seemed, I don’t know, lonely?”
Courtney snorted. “Please. She’s not lonely.” She put her hand on the stair railing, which brought her up close to Delia. “She’s crazy.”
“Well, that’s true…”
The emerald eyes narrowed.
“I’ve lived five steps away from her for years,” Delia explained.
Courtney nodded, her eyes focusing on Delia as though she was trying to judge what to say. Then, she leaned in. “Isaac thinks she had something to do with her sister’s death.”
Delia stood straighter. “Why?”
“Because Jeanette was here, and Isaac saw Sanya spying on her. Jeanette went to that guy Eddie’s apartment, and Sanya kept slipping down the hallway and listening at the door.” Her eyes glanced up the stairway toward the third floor and then down toward the first. “If you ask me, everyone in this building is crazy.” She brought her attention back to Delia. “Except you, of course.”
“And you,” Delia said obligatorily.
“Well,” the girl said, “see ya.” Then she moved down the stairs quickly.
* * *
Delia ran late to pick up Becca the next morning because Clawdius came home with a baby Buddha figurine in his mouth. At first, she stared at it confused. It was just a tiny thing with its hands raised and its belly sticking out of a ceramic robe.
“Did you take this off someone’s altar?”
Clawdius ignored the question and went into the bedroom to get comfortable —without breakfast.
“Oh my … did you eat the food on the altar, too?”
The cat had absolutely nothing to say for himself, and Delia left the little figurine on top of the mailboxes downstairs for someone to find. After thinking it through, however, she took a tissue and wiped her fingerprints off the little statue. That’s all she needed was jail time while she was trying to solve a murder case.
Chapter 10
“The prince of darkness is a gentleman!”
King Lears opened right on time, at seven and three people already waited outside. It was an encouraging sign. No one had been too put off by a murder in the shop.
What does that say about the state of the human race?
Then again, the three customers might be the only three in the entire state of New York that hadn’t heard about poisoned blueberries at the Cupcake Queen’s place.
Not to worry, though, there were plenty of customers to follow. Becca worked the register, and Bogart waited on the people who wanted food from the hot case. Delia continued the baking and dough-rolling at the table in front of the arched window. She’d been the one to come up with the idea to place the worktable there so that people could see her work. She’d imagined a cozy image of entering the courtyard of Bloomfield Hatch on a cool autumn day and watching someone roll out dough or ice a cake. It was nostalgic and so very British. And, it was a hit. Some of the customers brought their treats and coffee outside just to watch Delia make a jam roly-poly.
After twelve, she had the time to get on the computer and placed a help wanted ad on three different employment sites. It felt a little traitorous. Poor Jeanette hadn’t even been buried yet.
It was close to one-thirty and Delia had just put the finishing touches on an Irish cake called Fifteens when someone at the window caught her eye.
Thomi stood on the other side of the glass and waved at her.
Delia grinned in return and pointed to the front door.
Thomi turned the opposite direction, though, and waved to someone.
Eddie Chester hopped onto the sidewalk and took Thomi’s arm.
Delia’s heart fell.
And, oh no, they’d dressed alike in chocolate-colored sweaters and jeans.
Thomi wore her hair back in a broad yellow headband and had dangle hoops swinging from her earlobes. The girl might’ve had stars in her eyes; they shined so brightly.
She looks so happy … it’s a cry for help!
Delia pinched her wrist.
If she’s happy, I’m happy… blah, blah, blah.
Eddie looked like he’d just had a haircut, for his dark sideburns were straight razor-sharp, just like the back of his hair.
Delia wiped her hands with a baker’s cloth and stepped into the customer area. Going around the counter, she hu
gged Thomi warmly. The girl smelled like she was hanging onto summertime with her vanilla and lemon perfume. She said, “This place is amazing, Delia.” She stepped away and gazed around the softly lit room with its bread wall and shining food cases. The floors and walls were brick and the wooden beams had been stained dark walnut. “It’s so you!” Moving to the food case, she studied the pasties and pies.
Eddie had held back, but when Delia shot a look in his direction, he smiled and stepped toward her.
Uggghh.
Reaching forward, Eddie took her hands. It was hard to resist staring into his rich brown eyes. They were like two triple chocolate truffle tarts. His lashes and brows were as black as his hair and the stubble on his chin.
Wow.
“I want to apologize, Delia.”
“Oh,” she said in response and squeezed his fingers —because he squeezed her fingers.
He exuded warmth and absolute gorgeousness. The sweater fit nicely over his square shoulders and fell loosely across his stomach. Delia bet it was a washboard stomach. He said, “I was coarse, vulgar … impolite.”
She shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay. You’ve lost someone special to you.”
His features fell a bit, and a genuine look of pain crossed his brow. “I don’t know when something has hurt this much. Jeanette was like a sister to me. I grew up in an orphanage, but as a teenager, I went to live with the Brewsters.” He shook his head. “I was stupid and angry and didn’t appreciate them. She was a cousin to the family, and she seemed to be the only one who got me. Even though Jeanette was six years older than me, she spent time with me and had gone through similar experiences.”
He was so heartfelt that Delia thought that maybe she’d been wrong about him from the beginning.
That’s unsettling.
“I hope you’ll come to the memorial service this weekend. It’s at the East Shore Funeral Home near Buffalo.”
“I will,” she told him. She wanted to go, but also felt she needed to, since Jeanette was an employee. Delia waved her hand toward the counter. “I’m sure Bogart and Becca would like to go as well.”
“They’re more than welcome,” he said, his eyes finding and remaining on Thomi.
Thomi moved toward the cash register with a sticky toffee pudding on a plate. She turned toward Eddie and held up the dessert. “We’ll share. It’s huge!”
“Save me some,” he told her. “I want to go check out the hat shop.”
Becca leaned across the counter at the same time. “Triple-A is here. I’ll be right back.”
“Fine,” Delia and Thomi said at the same time, moving toward one of the café tables. “He just apologized for the other day.”
“I know, the poor guy.” Thomi set the pastry plate on the table and climbed into one of the chairs. “He’s really taken Jeanette’s death hard.”
Delia sat, too. “So, how are things going? You look happy.”
“I am,” she agreed, grinning —but then faltered. “Except for Dad. But let’s not talk about that.” She nodded toward the counter and at Bogart, who’d already started to sweep. “He’s cute.”
“And he drives a Harley,” she said, leading Thomi on. Her friend was always on the lookout for a boyfriend for Delia.
“Mmm,” Thomi said, spooning through the sticky toffee. “A bad boy.” Her eyes darted toward Bogart, and then they narrowed. “He might be a bit young…”
“I’m a cougar.”
Thomi grinned. “Since when?”
“Since Bogart is gay.”
Her friend laughed and then took a big bite of her dessert. Her features melted, and she leaned into the table. “Oh, Delia. This tastes amazing.”
Grinning, she adjusted her weight in the seat. “So what are you guys doing today besides shopping?”
“I don’t know. Eddie says he has a surprise.” She stopped her spoon midway and sat back. “I think he might propose.”
Delia sat up. “What?”
“Oh, I don’t know, but he’s so secretive, and I saw him on his phone the other day. He’d pulled up a jewelry site.”
“But…”
Thomi lifted her shapely brows. “What?”
You’ve only dated two months, that’s what!
She didn’t say that, of course. “Would you say yes?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Delia’s stomach tightened. “He’s really the one, Thomi?”
She stopped grinning and stared hard. “I am so in love, Delia.”
Reaching across the table, she took her friend’s hand.
Thomi said, “And I’d want to get married fast. I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … Eddie doesn’t want to,” she bit her bottom lip. “He doesn’t want to have … sex. Until we’re married anyway.”
Wait a minute, wait a minute…
Delia thought back to when she saw Eddie with Jeanette one day at the Barcelona lighthouse and how the two of them had kissed.
“He kisses you, though, right?”
“No,” Thomi admitted, picking at the spongey part of the dessert. “Don’t look like that. It’s his conviction.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“Not really, but I love him. And he’s sexy in other ways. He’s such a tease…”
Delia realized her face had frozen into a shocked frown.
Thomi laughed. “Stop it. I’m fine. I’m just saying we need to marry fast because I can’t take the teasing much longer.” She dug into the dessert then.
The silence grew, and Delia tried to think of something to say so that everything would go back to normal between them. But, what sort of game was Eddie playing that he would kiss other women but not Thomi? Why would he say he was holding off until marriage to go to bed with a woman when he was bedding both Sanya and Jeanette?
Wasn’t he? Did I get it all wrong about Eddie?
Suddenly Delia felt very unsure about everything she’d ever known about Eddie.
Say something!
“Clawdius is a Buddhist now.”
* * *
The bakery was spic and span, with the doors locked. Bogart said, “I call this meeting of the Murder Club to order. First business: I think we should have matching t-shirts.”
Delia shut the walk-in refrigerator door. “I’m not wearing anything with the words Murder Club on it.” She shot Becca a look.
Becca was pulling something out of her purse and moving things around in the bottom of it. “Why are we wearing shirts?”
“To be a club,” Bogart told her. He’d switched into his skinny pants and had put on a shiny leather jacket. On the table was his tweed cabby hat. Was he trying to look like he’d stepped out of a Village People poster? “I saw some shirts in a window down the courtyard. They have rainbows on them. I can put them on the store credit.”
“Rainbows?” Delia asked, tapping her fingernails on the metal table.
“Yeah,” he said. “In a show of solidarity.”
“Right. Okay, put them on the store credit.” Then Delia thought a moment. “Unless it’s from the store that’s charging a hundred dollars per shirt, then no way.”
Bogart shrugged. “I can check other places.”
“Yes, do that.”
“Second order of business,” he said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in. “Has anyone seen the delicious detective? Has he approached anyone?”
“No,” Delia said. “And hope he doesn’t seek me out. I don’t like lying to people —because I will deny I was there.”
“Why?” Becca wanted to know, pulling out her cell phone and tapping the screen. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Only trespassed on private property,” Bogart reminded her.
“So was he,” she pointed out.
“But he has a badge. We don’t.”
Delia nodded. “But we will have rainbow t-shirts. They’ve got to be under twenty dollars on Amazon. Now,” she said, le
aning forward as Bogart did, “let me tell you what happened last night when I went home. Courtney…”
“No, wait,” Bogart said. “Becca saw something this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah,” the girl said, lifting her eyes. “That couple that was in here a little bit ago…”
“Thomi.”
“That was Thomi, your girlfriend that you talk about?”
“Yes. She came in with Eddie. The Eddie. And, you know what…?”
“I saw him,” Becca interrupted, enthusiastic suddenly. She put her cell phone down and faced Delia. “When I came back from the car park, he was near the hat shop.”
“Right. Eddie told Thomi he was going there.”
“But, he didn’t go inside the shop. He stood in the pass-through with Daniel Curran.”
Delia pushed away from the table. “Really? What were they doing?”
“Talking, or Eddie was talking, mostly. I couldn’t hear what they said but, I don’t know, I got the impression that they knew each other. It wasn’t a smile and hello type of thing, but rather a deep conversation.”
If Eddie knows Daniel … then he knows Mate.
Delia shook her head. “Eddie doesn’t know Mate. I never saw them together, ever. I mean, not until Eddie stepped in to stop Mate from stabbing me… and took the knife wound himself.” She stared at Bogart and then Becca. “That doesn’t make sense. Eddie isn’t friends with Mate. Is he?”
Becca shook her head, and Bogart shrugged. Bogart said, “I’ve never met either one of them.”
“We all lived in the same apartment building,” she said, still thinking out loud. “Mate only referred to Eddie once, well, that I know of, as the new guy that Thomi liked.”
Bogart’s eyes widened. “Unless they did know each other and never said a word. Maybe Eddie is Mate’s boss, you know, the gangaroo leader.”
Becca frowned. She still had her hair up in a ponytail and wore her gingham uniform. “Gangaroo?”
“Yeah, Papa Smurf, Optimus Prime, the head of the organization.”
“Is that street talk from Disney World?”