Cupcakes and Killers

by Laina Turner

  I pulled in to see everyone but Rachel already waiting in the parking lot. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind and stood us up. She’d convinced us she was on our side and seemed genuine. Hopefully she was just running late. I got out of my car and started to walk over to where the others were standing, when I saw Rachel’s vehicle pull into the parking lot. A wave of relief rushed over me. We all stood there patiently, while Rachel got out of her car and walked over to us.

  “Sorry I’m late. I got turned around. Hope you didn’t think I changed my mind on you.” She smiled, knowing that was exactly what we were thinking.

  “Of course not,” Sally said. “Let’s go in and get a drink and get this thing started.”

  We all walked into the bar and grabbed a table toward the back, where it was a little bit away from the normal traffic of older men who typically sat up at the bar. It was a little less noisy and more private. As expected, Shree was working, waiting on customers. She saw me walk in and nodded in a way that was neither friendly nor unfriendly. Shree motioned to us she would be over in a minute, so instead of going up to get drinks for everyone, I just followed them to the table and sat down.

  “So, how do we get this plan in motion?” Sally, never one to beat around the bush, said the minute everyone was seated.

  I gently chided, “First, we need to introduce Macie and Rachel.” Normally, she wasn’t one to forget manners. This just showed how distracted she was about the Stephen thing.

  I turned to Rachel. “Rachel, this is our friend Macie. Macie, meet Rachel.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rachel,” Macie said.

  “Likewise,” Rachel said. “Like I said the other day, we need to draw Stephen out so I can talk to him in front of you all, so he knows I am on your side, but also on his too.”

  “But then we will turn him over to the police, right?” I asked, still a tiny bit fearful she would want to save Stephen and help him get away, knowing he was certain to face jail time if caught.

  Rachel sighed. “Yes. As much as I hate to see him locked up, he’s broken the law, and he has always known how I feel about that. Maybe getting caught this time will teach him that the life he’s living isn’t any life he wants. At least, that’s what I’m hoping, and serving time is better than him winding up dead.”

  “So how do you want to get him to come to us? Why can’t you just call him yourself?” I asked, wanting to keep as much distance between us and Stephen as possible. Even with Rachel as a buffer, he made me nervous.

  “I did tell him last time we spoke to never call me again, that I wanted nothing to do with him. If I called him now, and he knew I was here, he would know something was up. He might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid. Though once he finds out I was instrumental in his capture, he’ll hate me.”

  I nodded and could tell it bothered her. But it gave me a lot of respect for her that she was willing to go to such lengths to do the right thing.

  “So we just wait until he contacts Trixie again?” Sally asked.

  “I’m sure it won’t take long. He really needs that money,” said Rachel. “It’s his only option to stay alive, as far as he reasons, anyway.”

  “I hate having to wait,” Sally said. “This could go on forever.”

  “He calls almost every day, Sally. I’m sure we won’t have to wait long. Plus, what choice do we have?” I said. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t see us with Rachel.” We had discussed that possibility but had decided to risk it. Though it could potentially cause the plan to backfire.

  “I know,” Sally said.

  Shree came over to take our drink order. “Sorry about the wait, ladies. It’s busy in here tonight, and one of the waitresses called in. You can’t find good help anymore. These young girls don’t think nothing of calling in sick to go to a party. Like I don’t know they ain’t sick. Anyways, what can I get ya?”

  “Do you still make that yummy red sangria?” Cora asked. Both Sally and I looked at her. We had no idea this place had sangria. It was more a cheap beer and wine joint.

  “Sure do. It’s still my secret specialty. That what all ya want?” Shree winked at Cora, which surprised me more than finding out this place had sangria. They seemed very friendly, and I had no idea Cora came in here that much. “Pitcher of sangria and five glasses?” Shree said, hands in her back pockets, swaying on her ridiculously high heels. How she could work in those all day was beyond me. I loved high heels, but always had to change halfway through the day to something shorter, and here she was day after day, running around this bar, the heels not seeming to bother her.

  “Better make that two pitchers of sangria,” I said.

  “To start,” added Sally. “But only four glasses. Bring a water for Cora.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Okay, please explain how you knew they had sangria in a place like this,” I asked Cora once Shree walked away.

  “Jonathan told me. His club hangs out here a lot, and one time when I was here with him, he asked Shree to make me some. She rarely gets to make it since this crowd, obviously, isn’t really the sangria type. More like a Bud Light on tap type.”

  “Well, I love sangria, so I’m glad you spoke up,” I said. “If we are going to just wait until Stephen contacts me, then what other things do we want to gossip about while we are here? Might as well enjoy a girls’ night out! You will stay and hang out with us, won’t you, Rachel?”

  “Of course. I would never turn down sangria.” She smiled as Shree came back to our table and set down the two pitchers and a glass in front of each of us. The floating fruit in the red wine mixture looked divine.

  When Shree left the table once again, Cora started pouring, and Sally said, “Cora, I think we need to discuss your situation.”

  “What, the being pregnant out of wedlock?” she joked. “And the fact I can’t enjoy this divine sangria?”

  “No, your stalker issue,” said Sally. “She has an ex-boyfriend who has followed her from the city and has been harassing her,” she said to Macie and Rachel, to get them up to speed. “She wants to blow it off like it’s not a big deal, but we think it is.”

  “Has he been bugging you lately?” I asked. Cora hadn’t mentioned him in the past few days, and I was as curious and concerned as Sally.

  “Sally, I don’t think we need to bore everyone with that,” Cora said, and I could tell she was a bit uncomfortable about the subject.

  “It’s not boring, and your safety could be at stake here, and as you just said, you are knocked up. We can’t have you being harassed. For your safety, and the baby’s.”

  “I agree with Sally, Cora. Have you told Jonathan yet?” I asked.

  “No, but Clive did call me. He said until he does something overtly threatening, there isn’t much the police can do,” she said. “That’s why there’s no point in discussing it.”

  “Legally, there might not be anything to be done, but we aren’t the law,” Sally said. “I’m sure we can do something about this.”

  “I thought there were stalker laws these days,” I said.

  “There are,” said Macie. “But you still have to have proof, and that isn’t always easy to come by. Stalkers are a sneaky bunch. They often know exactly what they have to do, to fly under the radar so they don’t violate the law. How has he harassed you?”

  “Well, in the town I moved here from, he was always popping up in places I was that he would have no business being in, like the nail salon or yoga. He never said anything threatening to my boyfriend or me, so when we finally went to the cops, they said they couldn’t do anything. Same with some emails he sent me. It was mostly creepy, but nothing overtly threatening. I wasn’t, and still am not, scared. It’s just unnerving. He creeps me out. I keep hoping he gets over me as time goes by.”

  “There has to be something that can be done,” I said to Macie.

  “Well, Clive is right. Legally, the stalking statute says you have to threaten bodily or mental harm. Stalking i
s hard to prove without a clear, overt action, or harm, or intent to do harm.”

  “So, you’re saying that Cora has to let him get to the point of threats or actual harm where she feels unsafe before anything can legally be done?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Macie said, taking a drink of her sangria.

  “Well, that’s just stupid,” I said.

  “Then tell Clive he has threatened you,” Sally said to Cora.

  “Macie just told us we need proof. She can’t just lie about it,” I said. “Besides, Cora doesn’t want to stoop to his level.”

  “Fine. Then what can we do to scare the bejesus out of him, so he hightails it back to the rock he crawled out from and leaves Cora alone? You know, give him a taste of his own medicine,” Sally said.

  “Maybe he will give up of his own accord. The last thing we need is to cause any more trouble. We’ve got enough now as it is,” said Cora. “Maybe ignoring him will just eventually cause him to lose interest?”

  “I don’t think that’s the best thing to do. I mean, how often does a stalker give up and go away?” Sally asked, the question mainly directed at Macie. “Don’t things usually escalate because the stalker tries harder to get his stalkee’s attention until something bad happens?”

  Macie nodded. “Sally’s right. Stalkers are stalking for a reason. They don’t normally just change their mind and give up. Stalking requires commitment. When I interned at the public defender’s office in Detroit one summer, we had quite a few of these cases, mostly stemming from domestic issues, and they didn’t end well. The stalkers ended up being prosecuted when the situation escalated into harm, and it’s too late in many instances. A definite flaw in our legal system.”

  “Sure seems like the law often errs on the side of the criminal,” Sally snapped.

  “Have some more sangria and calm down, Sally,” Cora said. “I can handle it.”

  Sally had more sangria, not a challenge for her, or me for that matter, but she was still grumbling about the unfairness of our judicial system and how crime did pay in many cases, when she all of a sudden paused.

  “Speak of the devil, and I mean that literally. Look who just walked in,” Sally whispered to me, pointing to the door. And since my back was facing the door, I turned in my seat to see whom she was talking about.

  George Parker, our esteemed by many, yet allegedly crooked mayor, walked to the bar and sat down on a stool. Shree brought him a beer without even asking what kind, which told me he was a regular.

  “Pay attention,” Sally said, motioning for us to be quiet.

  “Attention to what?” Cora whispered.

  “To George. What’s he doing here? This is the guy we were telling you about, Rachel. The one we saw with your dad, brokering the supposed land deal,” Sally said. “The guy just can’t be trusted.”

  Rachel turned in her seat to get a better look at George, and surprise registered on her face. “That’s him? That guy is your mayor?” she asked, seemingly confused.

  “Yep. Crooked bastard in the flesh,” Sally replied.

  “And what’s his name again?” Rachel asked.

  “George. George Parker,” I said.

  “Hmmm . . . I know that guy,” Rachel said with a confused expression on her face. We all looked at her.

  “How could you know our mayor? I thought you’d never been here before?” I asked.

  “I haven’t, but I met him in California.”

  We all stared at her again. This wasn’t something I anticipated hearing, nor did the others, as determined by the looks on their faces.

  “What do you mean you met him in California?” I asked.

  “Just that. He’s friends, or at least acquaintances, with my parents. I may not talk to my dad much, but I still have a good relationship with my mom, although I don’t agree with her turning a blind eye to my father’s activities. I’ve been at their house and met this guy before. He was visiting my dad.”

  “That makes no sense. How could George know your dad, much less fly out to California to meet with him?” Sally asked. “Do you have any idea why he was at your parents’ house?”

  “No. I’ve learned not to ask. The less I know, the better.”

  “Do you think your mom might know?” I asked.

  “She might. I can call and find out. I’ll be right back. It’s quieter outside.” Rachel grabbed her phone out of her purse and stepped away from the table.

  “Okay, that brings a whole new level to the weirdness of this situation,” Cora said, watching Rachel leave.

  “It sure does. I think we are going to need more sangria to figure this out,” Sally said, looking at the two almost-empty pitchers. “I’ll go ask Shree to bring us more. One or two, ladies?”

  “I think you better make it two.” I chuckled. “Though any more to drink, and Cora will be driving us home.”

  Within a few minutes, both Rachel and Sally, along with two more pitchers of sangria, were back.

  “Did you get a hold of your mom?” I asked, trying not to sound as impatient as I was.

  “Yes, and this is really strange.”

  “What?” Sally asked.

  “I guess my dad went to college with George. They’re frat buddies. My mom said they’ve been friends for thirty years.”

  “Well, I think that gives us more of a solid indication George and Lewis are in cahoots about something. Whether it’s some secret land deal and we just don’t know the value of this supposedly worthless property, or George is somehow helping him find Stephen. We need to keep an eye on the both of them,” Sally said.

  “You want us to spy on the mayor?” Cora asked. “Isn’t that going just a little too far?”

  “I think as citizens it’s our duty to find out what he’s up to. He’s a public figure. Everything he does is fair game,” Sally replied. “And I mean starting right now. He’s paying his tab, so he must be getting ready to leave. Trixie, go pay Shree so we can follow him.”

  “We haven’t even touched our two new pitchers of sangria,” I said, staring longingly at them. Shree knew how to make sangria, and now that I knew this bit of information, I would definitely be back, but that did nothing to help with these two soon-to-be-abandoned pitchers.

  “We can always come back. Now drink up, and let’s go,” Sally said, tapping her foot impatiently.

  I went to the bar to pay, and the others hurriedly drank up and headed out the back door, while George headed out the front. I looked over at him, and he was so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice me standing a couple seats down from him, much less see the others sneaking out back. Even if he did see us, he wouldn’t think anything of it. After giving a confused Shree my credit card, I was sure she was wondering why we were leaving two untouched pitchers of sangria on the table, which I wasn’t happy about either. I headed toward the back door, noticing as I walked out the back that he’d just come out the front. Everyone was waiting in Sally’s vehicle—thank goodness for large, gas-guzzling SUVs that would fit fifteen people.

  I jumped in the passenger side, which they had thoughtfully left open for me. I shut the door, and Macie, Cora, and Rachel, who were in the back seat, leaned forward so they could more easily talk to me and Sally.

  “So now what?” I asked, looking at Sally.

  “We follow him and see where he’s going.”

  “Probably home to his wife. It’s ten o’clock,” I said, thinking this was a futile exercise and wishing I was back at the table with my sangria.

  “Well, then, it will be a short trip, and we can come back and get more sangria,” Sally retorted.

  George pulled out of the parking lot, and Sally waited a few seconds before following.

  “You guys keep an eye on his car. I don’t want to get too close in case he notices us.”

  I sighed. “This is crazy, Sally.”

  “Don’t judge. At the very least, it will be a waste of a little time and gas.”

  We rode along for about ten minutes, no one saying anyt
hing. George had stayed on the main road, heading out of town, so following him hadn’t been too difficult.

  “Is this the way to his house?” I asked, not sure where he lived but fairly certain Sally knew.

  “Yes, so far it is. We will know for certain if that is where he’s heading if he turns left up here at Cobblestone. He lives in Summerfield.”

  “What are we going to do if he doesn’t go home?” Cora asked.

  “Keep following him so we see where he goes,” Sally said.

  “I hope it’s soon. I have to pee,” Cora said.

  “Look, he passed right by Cobblestone,” Sally exclaimed. “See, he’s up to no good!”

  “Don’t make that assumption yet. Maybe he just called Cathy, and she said to stop and pick up milk or something,” I said.

  “Why do you always stick up for George?” Sally asked.

  “I’m not sticking up for him. I’m trying to be objective and rational,” I said.

  “Are you calling me irrational?” Sally asked in mock anger. We had been friends for too long for me to think she was serious.

  “Not at all.” I smiled. “Okay, maybe a little, where George is concerned, and maybe sometimes Tom.” I laughed as she took her right hand off the steering wheel to hit me in the arm.

  “Hey, pay attention to the road,” I said.

  Cora interrupted our playful teasing to point out the window. “Look. He’s turning down State Road 121.”

  “I need to slow down so we are farther behind him,” Sally said, as she also made the turn. “There aren’t any cars between us now.”

  “He probably isn’t paying attention to who’s following him. Who does? Unless you’re expecting it,” Macie said.

  “What’s down here? I thought this was all farmland,” I said.

  “Interesting that in a country with our population, there are still so many wide-open spaces,” Macie commented, as she was taking in the scenery.

  “In California, this land would be worth billions,” Rachel said.