Cupcakes and Killers

by Laina Turner

  “I know, Sally. The extra patrol will be driving by your houses frequently, and if Stephen tries anything, we will be there. I’m making a few calls today to try and get some more intel on him. I just need you three to be patient and watchful. Don’t take any chances. Call me or 9-1-1 at any sign of trouble. Even if you think it could be your overactive imagination. You don’t want to take chances.”

  We nodded our agreement.

  “Listen, ladies, I need to head back to the station. Call me if you need me.”

  “Okay, Clive,” I said. “Thanks.”

  He left, and we all just sat there for a few minutes in silence. Cora put her head on the table for a minute and then lifted it slowly.

  “I feel like I am dreaming. How is this happening?” Cora said. “I thought this was supposed to be a quaint, small town. Quiet, boring. How do all these bad things keep happening?”

  “We’re just lucky?” I said dryly. “We’ve never had things like this happen before in this town.”

  “I feel bad, like we’re doing something to bring this on,” Cora said.

  “You heard Clive. It’s not our fault,” Sally said.

  “She’s right, Cora. We have to make the best of it. You know, when life hands you lemons . . .”

  “Okay, stop. I don’t need the trite clichés,” Cora said in mock horror.

  “We should probably get to the shop and relieve Trudy,” Sally said.

  “You two go on. I want to run out to the Truedoe place and have a chat with Doris. Maybe we can clear up this other mystery. This problem will at least take my mind off our bigger problem.”

  “Are you sure you should go out there alone?” Cora asked. “Just five minutes ago Clive said to stay together.”

  “He said to stay together at the shop. We can’t be joined at the hip.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Cora.

  “I agree with her,” said Sally. “I don’t think we should go off to strange places alone.”

  “Stop. I’m worried too, but I will be careful, and it will be fine. I won’t stay out there long, and then I will come right to the shop. I want to find out who killed Harvey. So there’s at least one less thing to worry about.”

  “Fine, but call us when you get to Doris’s, and when you leave.”

  “Okay, Sally, I will.”

  As I was driving out to the Truedoe place, I tried to put all things Stephen out of my mind and focus on the matter at hand. Who poisoned Harvey? Why would someone murder an eighty-something-year-old man? I admit I was more than a little curious to talk to Doris, as this whole divorce and new girlfriend thing at his age baffled me.

  I pulled into the driveway and noticed a few cars. I assumed maybe friends and family were comforting Doris. I hadn’t really thought about that. I didn’t want to intrude on her grieving time. What had I been thinking? I realized it was an inappropriate time to come out here now. I had just started my car back up and put it in reverse when someone came out on the front porch and yelled, “Who’s out there?”

  I put my vehicle back in park and rolled down my window. I wasn’t sure who it was who had just yelled at me, and feeling ten kinds of foolish, I yelled back, “It’s Trixie Pristine. I was going to stop in and chat with Doris, but I see she has company, and I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Just come on in. Doris loves company. Come on, now!” the lady said, waving toward the house.

  I shut the engine off again and grabbed my purse, wondering what I was getting myself into. I walked into the house to find five women, including Doris, sitting around a big table in the kitchen, drinking coffee. The remnants of a coffee cake and other pastries were evident by the dirty plates stacked up by the sink. It almost had a party-like atmosphere. In the sense everyone looked happy, and even Doris had a smile on her face. Not what I was expecting. Doris sat at the far end of the table, but I wasn’t sure if she would remember who I was. It had been a long time since we’d seen each other. I’d been in high school and looked much different than I did today. I said hi to the women as I walked around the table to Doris.

  “Hi, Doris. My name is Trixie Pristine. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at one of your big summer picnics years ago, when I was just a kid.”

  She looked me over shrewdly, as only a person of her age could without being called out as rude. “I remember. You came with your parents, John and Liza. And you own the place where Harvey was offed.”

  “Yes, I did, and I do. I am sorry to barge in here like this. I know the timing isn’t great, but I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes about Harvey.”

  She cackled. “What do you want to know about that old goat?”

  I looked around, wondering if I should ask her if she wanted to talk someplace more private.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of these gals. I’m too old to have secrets. And have a seat. Your hovering is making me nervous. Barbara, get this girl a cup of coffee.”

  A white-haired lady in a bright print muumuu, who I was assuming was Barbara, got up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it with coffee, and set it down in front of me. One of the other ladies at the end of the table slid the creamer pitcher and bowl of sugar down toward me. Once I doctored up my coffee, I looked back up to Doris, who was watching me expectantly, as were all her friends. I felt a little put on the spot.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I started out.

  Doris said thank you, while her friends surrounding her murmured their “how awfuls” and “that’s too bads.”

  “Because the poisoned cupcake came from my friend Avery’s place, and he was murdered at Read Wine, I would like to find out who did this. I was hoping maybe you had an idea of who might have wanted Harvey dead?”

  “Presuming it wasn’t me, of course,” she said, and I could feel my face turn red.

  “Of course I don’t think that,” I stammered.

  Doris laughed. “It’s okay, dear. The spouse is always the most likely suspect, but I promise you, it wasn’t me. I already told this to Clive, and it’s no secret there was no love lost between Harvey and me, the scalawag. Forty-plus years of chasing skirts I put up with from him, and this was the last straw. But I didn’t kill him. That would have been too good for that bastard. I was divorcing him, so I could enjoy watching him suffer, once he realized his girlfriend wouldn’t like him so much when she had to cook, clean for him, and wash his drawers, all while watching me enjoy his money.”

  I couldn’t help but have a twisted sense of admiration after hearing her talk. “Do you know his girlfriend?”

  Doris snorted. “You mean the current one? That floozy’s name is Shree Pointer. You might know her. She works at Drake’s. What she saw in that old man I don’t know. She’s only in her sixties. She could have younger and better. Guess she can anyway now.” Doris and her friends laughed.

  I did know Shree Pointer. She had worked at Drake’s Bar for as long as I’d been old enough to go in there.

  “I know I may seem cold and callous to you, honey, but when you get to be my age, you’re lucky every day you wake up. That’s why I finally had enough of Harvey’s shenanigans. I decided I was getting too old to let the world pass me by, and out there somewhere is a man who will treat me right.”

  While I admired her spirit, I sat there thinking I surely hoped to not still be looking for Mr. Right in forty more years. If he hadn’t come around by then, I would stop and get a cat.

  “I have no clue who killed him, honey. I wish I did.”

  I sat there for a second, sipping my coffee. “Did he have any enemies?”

  “Besides me? Not that I knew of. He usually just hung around with Arnie Stillman and Don Lupet. If he wasn’t with them, he was with Shree or whomever before her, or here, putzing around with something out in the barn.”

  I finished my coffee and pushed my chair back to get up. “Thanks, Doris. I knew it was a long shot, and I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”

 
“No bother, come out any time. I like visitors.”

  I believed she hadn’t killed her husband. She didn’t seem the type. She wanted to live her life to the fullest, not spend her remaining years in jail. Or, at least, that’s the impression I got. Drake’s was on the way to Read Wine, so I thought I would stop by and see if Shree was in yet. See if she’d talk to me and what she had to say.

  Pulling into the parking lot of Drake’s, I saw a couple of cars and was hopeful one might be Shree’s. Walking in, I took a second to let my eyes adjust to the dimness, and then saw Shree behind the counter, stocking the beer cooler. Even at sixty, she was still wearing tight jeans, a low-cut halter-top, and four-inch heels. And I admit, she had quite a figure. Doris was right. She could have dated a much younger man than Harvey. I walked up to the bar and sat on a stool, waiting for her to notice I was there. It only took a second, since there weren’t many people in the bar.

  “What can I get ya, darling?” she asked.

  “You’re Shree Pointer, right? I’m Trixie Pristine. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

  She looked at me suspiciously, rightfully so, since I was sure she didn’t have a clue who I was.

  “You’re the owner of that new bookstore in town? The one where Harvey was killed, and that other lady a few months back,” she said, snapping the piece of gum she had in her mouth.

  Or maybe she did know who I was. I was less than happy my claim to fame was the dead bodies piling up at my store, but she knew the store existed. That was a positive. “Yep, that’s me.”

  “What do you want? You might have killed my Harvey.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at me.

  “I promise you, I didn’t kill your Harvey, but that is why I’m here. I wanted to ask if you had any thoughts as to who might have killed him, or who his enemies were.” I also wanted to comment she didn’t look all that broken up about it. No more than Doris had. Kind of odd, I thought. Harvey must not have been the type of guy to attract weepy females.

  “Just that bitch of a wife, Doris!” she growled. “She was all that was standing in the way of Harvey being happy with me.”

  “But they were getting a divorce. How was she standing in your way?”

  “She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to leave. She was greedy and wanted his money and was jealous he had me.”

  “Is there anyone else who might have wanted him dead, besides Doris? Maybe an ex-girlfriend?”

  “Before me, he dated Dawn Baker, but she’s with Don Lupet now, so I don’t think she would have done anything to Harvey. Why are you being so nosy, anyway?”

  “Since he was killed at my place, I want to know who did this. It doesn’t make my business look good.”

  “True,” she said. “Two dead people in less than a year. Wow, your place could be considered hazardous to your health. We’ve never had a death here. A few alcohol poisonings, but never a death.” She laughed. I didn’t. I didn’t find anything about this funny.

  I pulled a Read Wine business card out of my purse and set it on the counter in front of her. “In case you think of anything else, would you please call me?”

  She took it, stuffed it in her cleavage, and turned back to stocking the beer cooler without another word. I walked out thinking how different she was from Doris. If this was the kind of woman Harvey liked, it was no wonder they didn’t have a lasting marriage. If you could consider something that made it over forty years not lasting.

  I got to work about ten minutes later, and the place was empty. “Please tell me it hasn’t been like this all day?” I asked Sally, who was behind the counter rearranging the coffee mugs. I couldn’t get over my fear that one day we’d open, and no customers would come in. Ever again.

  “Nah. It hasn’t been super busy, but just a little off from the norm. So stop freaking out. We’re having that mid-morning lull. You didn’t call when you left Doris’s,” she said in an accusing tone.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot. I swung by Drake’s after leaving Doris’s house. Speaking of safety, where’s Cora?”

  “She ran to the bank to make the deposit. You stopped at Drake’s? You starting mid-morning drinking now? I didn’t think things were that bad.”

  “They aren’t. I wanted to talk to Harvey’s girlfriend, Shree Pointer. She works there.”

  “The bottle blonde who has been there since we were twenty-one?” she asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “And she was dating Harvey?” Sally’s eyebrows shot up like she didn’t believe me.

  I held my hands up. “I know, I know. It seems strange, but she confirmed it. Though she was madder at Doris for standing in the way of true love than she seemed broken up over Harvey’s death. She didn’t seem upset at all. I kind of got the feeling it was more money-driven.”

  Sally shuddered. “That’s just weird. It goes to show you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

  “Tell me about it. The older I get, the more I realize everyone has a dysfunction of some kind.”

  “Did you learn anything useful besides the dysfunction of relationships?”

  “I learned Doris was glad to be rid of him, and he had several other girlfriends. Did I learn anything useful in regard to who killed Harvey? Not a thing, just a lot of gossip. Which was all quite fascinating, but not exactly what I was looking for. Neither Doris nor Shree could think of anyone who would want to harm him, except each other, and neither of them seem the type. Maybe I’m just wasting my time, and it was a random thing. Someone who just gets their kicks out of poisoning people.” I sighed, hoping it wasn’t that. Random, to me, seemed so much worse than intentional.

  Sally nodded her head in agreement and said what I was thinking. “I want someone to have wanted to kill Harvey specifically, so we don’t have to fear for our safety every time we want to eat a cupcake.”

  “I know.” I sighed again. “I’m so tired and frustrated. I’m a librarian, not a detective.”

  “Frustrated about what?” Cora asked as she entered the store behind me, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail.

  I jumped, a little startled. “Wow, you sure snuck up on me. I didn’t even hear you walk up.”

  “You were focused on talking to Sally. I gather your morning wasn’t as successful as you wanted it to be?”

  “No. I should just focus on the matter at hand, and that’s the business of running Read Wine.”

  “Speaking of running things, we need to make a stop at the bakery and pick up some more scones and muffins for later today and tomorrow morning, to make up for the cupcakes we don’t have. We’re almost out,” Sally said, motioning to the display case, which was mostly empty. “People haven’t stopped eating our food, so that should tell us something.”

  “It tells us people want sweets so bad they are willing to risk death,” I said wryly.

  “Shows what’s important to people. I’ll stay here. You two run over, and Sally, get Trixie one of those fritters she likes, to cheer her up,” Cora said, waving us away.

  “That’s a great idea. Come with me, Trix.”

  “We’re not supposed to be here alone, remember? Clive just told us this a few hours ago, and we are already ignoring him for the second time,” I said.

  “You’ll be gone a half hour. I’ll be fine. Now, go. I’ll hold my cell dialed to 9-1-1 and be ready to press send at a moment’s notice.”

  Sally went to the back room to get her coat. I hadn’t taken mine off, so we walked out the door and down the block to the bakery. I felt guilty going against Clive’s request for us to stick together, but I didn’t want to live in fear either. If Stephen was out there watching, we needed to show him we weren’t going to be afraid or intimidated.

  Chapter 7

  “Hurry, Sally. It’s starting to rain,” I said, as we rounded the corner. We only had a few more steps to go to be inside. I only had a lightweight jacket on, which would easily soak through with a few drops, and I wasn’t in the mood to be wet. />
  “Wait a minute,” she said, stopping in her tracks. She looked out to the parking lot that served all the area businesses in this building complex.

  “What?” I said, following her gaze, trying to see what she was looking at.

  “Isn’t that George Parker? Over there by the black Sequoia?”

  I scanned the lot. “Oh, I see him now. Normally I like black cars, but I think I prefer the Sequoia in that mother-of-pearl color. I saw one the other day at the grocery store, and—”

  “Who cares about the color of the damn car? Who is that he’s talking to?”

  “Why do we care who George is talking to?” George Parker was our mayor, and had been the last twenty years. He’d been under investigation more than once for misappropriation of city funds, but always managed to be absolved of any wrongdoing. Having strong ties to the city council by the way of family didn’t hurt any. Small-town politics meant everyone was connected and had each other’s back, and people got away with a lot more than they rightfully should. He was one of those people where it always seemed like everything coming out of his mouth had an angle. Sally hated him. George had once screwed her and Tom over on a real estate deal, and she made no bones that she thought he was a slimy politician who only cared about himself, and who got away with things because people were afraid of him. Which was pretty much true.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t care who that slimeball is talking to, but I don’t recognize that man, and that makes me wonder what George is up to.”

  “Sally, I realize you know most people in town, but did you consider there might be a couple folks you don’t know? Or maybe you should mind your own business? Not jump to conclusions over someone you don’t know.”

  “Shush. He’s not from here. Look at him,” she said, ignoring me.

  She had a point. The man George was talking to had a tan, and was dressed in what I could tell from where I stood was an expensive suit. Not that people here didn’t wear expensive clothes, but not usually clothes that looked like this. He was in what most of us locals would call big-city clothes. The men finished their conversation, and the man walked over and got into a big black Mercedes.