He glared right into my eyes. "Careful, Rachael," he said. "Before you accuse me of something. Before you say something you regret." I knew that he meant for me to notice that he shot a look at the stack of steak knives to his left as he said it.
I stepped back a little.
"Was there anyone else at all who had it out for Paul?" I asked.
Scott smiled at me, but it was a thin smile. "Anyone else? Do you already have a person in mind?"
Only the person standing right in front of me.
"There might be a lot of people out for Paul. Are you aware that you hired him illegally?" I asked Scott.
He turned red. "I wasn't aware at the time," he said. "I accepted that his I.D was real."
"So I don't suppose you bothered double-checking that?" I asked, my arms folded across my chest. "That would have been too much work, wouldn't it? And you probably hire illegal workers here all the time."
"I don't!" Scott cried. "I only hire employees who can legally work here, and I pay everyone a fair wage. That is one of the reasons I’m losing money. I don't make my wait staff rely on just tips to scrape by."
"Fine," I said, holding my hands up. The clock was ticking and I couldn't deal with another one of his sob stories. Or hearing about what a wonderful employer he was. "I get it, you're amazing. Do you know what Paul might have been trying to hide? Who he really was? What did you actually know about him?"
"All I know is that Paul is a student at Belldale University," Scott said. He furrowed his brow, thinking. "I don't know what he was studying."
"Well, that's real helpful," I said, growing more and more frustrated.
"Maybe you should speak to his college friends then," Scott said. "I don't know what he was studying, but if I'm remembering correctly, he did belong to a fraternity. Why don't you go and speak to them? Find out who got him that fake ID."
"At this time of night?"
"Hey," he said. "You've only got till eight am, remember?"
"Good point," I said, heading toward the door. "I suppose I am going back to college for the night, then."
Besides, college students might very well still be up at 2:00am.
And so might a baby.
"I need your help, Marcello," I said. "It's a male only frat house, so Pippa and I can't get in. Apparently, the rules are pretty strict."
I raised an eyebrow. I was sure they probably made exceptions, and regularly, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially as there were no second chances.
We were back at the house and I was trying very hard to ignore the fact that Marcello had only spent two hours total there, tops, and yet had managed to overturn three picture frames and spilled something yellow all over the white carpet. This can wait until after eight, Rachael.
Marcello threw his hands up like it was no big deal. "Sure," he said. "Just tell me what you need me to do. I've got this."
Yes, I knew it was probably a very bad idea. But it was the only idea I had.
It was easy to gain access to the college campus even at that time of night. The security guard at the gate didn't even check our ID, just accepted that we were students and let us sail right through. Maybe owning a cheap used car does occasionally have its advantages.
"Are you sure about this?" Pippa asked as we pulled up a few yards back from the fraternity house that Paul had apparently resided in.
"I can do it," Marcello answered confidently from the back seat. I wished I shared his level of confidence. Or even just a fraction of it.
"I was talking to Rachael," Pippa said, shooting me a look. "Are you sure about this?"
I nodded skeptically. "I have full confidence in your husband, Pippa."
"Pippa and I will watch from close by, okay?" I said. "So if something goes wrong, we will be right there."
"What could possibly go wrong?" Marcello asked as he hopped out of the car and ran way too quickly toward the three-story house. I mean, I knew we were on a time limit, but he looked kind of ridiculous as he sprinted away like that.
We waited with bated breath for what would happen next.
Belldale University was made of sandstone that had stood for two hundred years, but that sandstone had not met Marcello yet. The whole place could be in ruins by the time the sun dawned.
I'd been correct about some—a lot—of the students still being awake at almost 3:00am. There were lights on and the sound of music coming from windows and the occasional shriek or shout. And there were girls milling around the frat house, just as I'd suspected. Still, they were probably students and could have been the sisters of some of the guys, for all I knew. I was just trying to convince myself we'd made the right decision by giving Marcello this task.
"Feels slightly wrong to be here with a baby," Pippa said, nursing Lolly in her lap.
"It would have been more wrong to leave her at home alone," I pointed out. "You didn't have much of a choice."
Pippa looked out wistfully at the campus.
"I always wanted to study at a university," she murmured.
"Did you?" I was surprised to hear her say that. "You've never told me that before."
I wondered if it was just the late hour getting to her and making her ponder. Making her get all reflective about her life. It had to be that, right?
"What did you want to study?" I asked her.
"Philosophy," Pippa said with a heavy sigh. "I thought maybe I could be a great thinker, maybe even write a text book of my own about some of my theories."
Okay, it was definitely the time of night getting to her. I laughed out loud, before I saw the look on her face and realized she was being serious. "Oh. That sounds...very interesting, Pippa."
"But I suppose I'll never get the chance now," she said, looking down at Lolly in her lap.
"You'll have plenty of chances, if it's something you really want to do," I said. "Plenty of new mothers study."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Okay, maybe not plenty. But some. It's not impossible, Pippa."
She leaned against the car seat. "Yes, but I'm sure those women have husbands or partners who aren't complete disasters. What am I supposed to do, leave Lolly with Marcello all day while I’m in class?"
Well, she had a point there. "Let's see how he handles this task," I said, smiling. "I'm sure he's more capable of being responsible than we give him credit for."
Pippa raised her eyebrows. "Really? Because he tried to re-paint the nursery this morning and not only did he destroy the walls, he managed to get paint all over the carpet."
"I was wondering how on Earth that happened."
"Anyway," she said, shaking her head. "Never mind. It was just a silly idea. I don't know what I am talking about. I think I'm just tired."
I was just about to tell her that it wasn't such a silly idea, and that she should go for it if she really wanted to. If Marcello proved totally useless as a parent—and I still had faith in him—then I could always babysit Lolly while Pippa was in class. But we were rudely interrupted by some tall blond frat guy thumping on my window. "Hey!" I yelled, almost jumping so high I hit my head on the ceiling of the car. From the passenger seat, Lolly started to scream.
"I knew it wasn't a good idea to bring a baby to a college campus," Pippa sighed, picking up Lolly and trying her best to comfort her.
I rolled down the window.
"Hey, ladies!" The guy shot us a wink and asked how we were doing that evening. He introduced himself as Mikey. "You look like you could do with a bit of excitement tonight."
He winked at me through the open window, his eyebrow gleaming in the moonlight.
"Why don't you girls come inside, join the party? There's loads of people here. You'll have a great time."
Pippa stared up at him in disbelief. "I've got a baby here on my lap."
He shrugged easily and showed off his perfect white teeth. To be honest, he was kind of cute and a small percentage of me wanted to take up his invitation. It had been a long time since I'd been to a party.
&n
bsp; Pippa looked over at the frat house. "Umm, something tells me that is not the place to bring an infant."
Mikey shrugged. "If you change your mind, I'll be inside, waiting."
One more wink and he was gone.
Pippa shook her head. "See, okay, it is guys like that that make me realize I am way too old to go back to college."
I laughed. "I thought he was kind of charming, in an annoying way."
Pippa looked at me suspiciously. "On the lookout for new guys already? I thought things were going well between you and Kenneth."
"They are," I said, way too defensively while keeping one eye on the frat house. I hadn't forgotten that Marcello was in there on the loose.
"Hmm," Pippa said. Lolly had stopped crying and just about dropped back to sleep. "So tell me something, Rach. Why did you leave the police precinct earlier with such a big smile on your face?"
"I was just pleased to be out of there." Again, way too defensive. "What other reason would I have?"
Pippa shrugged. "I dunno, I just thought that maybe you had a good time in there, catching up with an old friend."
"Oh no!" I said, interrupting her.
"What is it?" Pippa asked. "It's not more rowdy frat guys, is it?"
I shook my head and started the engine. "No, it's not. It's Marcello. Pippa, he's not wearing any clothes!"
"What are you talking about…" Pippa went silent when she saw exactly what I was talking about and exactly what I was looking at. A naked Marcello, clutching his loose clothes and barreling toward the car.
He was waving at us frantically. I revved the engine again. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I knew that we needed to get the heck out of there.
He raced to the car and climbed into the backseat. "Quick!" he called out. I couldn't tell if he was laughing and found it all extremely funny or whether he was actually worried.
"What did you do, Marcello?" I asked.
"Umm, it looks pretty obvious to me," Pippa stated. "He took all his clothes off."
"But why?" I said.
"Quick, security is onto us! We got to get out of here," Marcello screamed, hitting the back of my seat like I was a horse he was trying to whip to go faster.
"Oh great," I said. "If they call the cops, do you realize the trouble that we’re in? That your wife is in?"
"Why me specifically?" Pippa cried out, confused.
I didn't have time to explain. Plus, I didn't want to worry her.
"Let's get out of here, Rachael," Pippa said. Lolly had woken again and there was no time to put her back in her carseat until we got out of the campus.
Luckily, we were only trailed by a very slow motorized golf cart that struggled to get up the hill so I was able to make it back out the gates before he caught up with us.
I pulled the car over in the dark and glared at Marcello. "Marcello, you had such a simple task."
"I know, I know," he said, still breathless while he pulled his clothes on. I looked away so I didn't see anything. "But they didn't believe I was a student so they made me do a dare to prove myself...made me do a lap around the house..." He was really winded and struggling to speak. "But-but I got caught by security."
Of course he did.
"Great," Pippa said.
At least it wasn't worse, I supposed. At least we weren't sitting in a jail cell. But it was 3:30am and we were no closer to cracking the case. And the one good lead we did have was now closed off to us. We weren't getting back on campus any time soon.
"Now what?" I asked, slamming my head against the back of the seat. "You got any bright ideas, Marcello, seeing as it was you who got us kicked out of the university grounds?" We had less than five hours before our deadline and I was pretty much ready to quit and go to bed.
"Why do I need any more bright ideas?" Marcello asked, confused.
"Because we're at a dead end, that's why."
"I got the info," Marcello said with a grin as he leaned forward.
"You're kidding me," I said, in utter disbelief.
"Nope," Marcello said. "I know exactly who got the fake ID for Paul, and exactly why they did it."
"Please, please sleep," Pippa said as she laid her infant down in her carseat back in the bakery. All was good, all was calm, as Lolly closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Pippa let out a huge sigh of relief. All three of us were completely silent for a moment while we waited, just to make sure.
We all jumped a mile into the air when the back door opened and a large man with bright red hair came barreling into the kitchen, holding a backpack.
"Oh my gosh!" I cried out, holding my hand over my chest. "Bronson, you scared the heck out of me!"
Lolly was awake and screaming again.
Bronson, my apprentice baker, stopped dead in his tracks and stared at all of us. "What on earth are you all doing here?"
I shook my head. "What are YOU doing here in the dead of night?" I asked in disbelief. Did he always just come into the bakery after hours to hang out like this? I was starting to wonder if I should get the key back from him if I couldn't trust him with it.
"It's four am," Bronson said, slightly amused. "This is the time I start my shift."
"Oh." I was a little put back in my place. "I see. Wait… What? It's already four am?"
"Yeah. You don't know that?" Bronson shook his head as he looked around at all of us. "Again, I have to ask, what exactly is going on here?" He stopped when he saw the dry erase board and what I had written. "List of murder suspects."
Bronson raised both his eyebrows. "Well, I wish I could just turn around and leave right now, but I really need to get started on the dough or we won't have anything to sell when we open."
"It's okay," I said to Bronson. A little flustered, I picked up the dry erase board and Pippa scooped up Lolly. "We'll get out of your hair."
I could see the seconds ticking on the clock as we raced into the front of the bakery and flicked on the lights, suddenly surround by purple. "Right!" I declared, while Lolly screamed so loud behind me that she threatened to drown me out. "What did you find out about Paul, Marcello? Is that even his real name?"
Bronson must have turned on the mixer in the kitchen because suddenly I wasn't just competing with a baby; I was competing with factory level kitchen mixing equipment as well.
"What did you say?" Marcello asked, screaming over the noise.
"I said, WAS THAT EVEN HIS REAL NAME?"
"Whose real name?" Marcello screamed back.
For crying out loud. I couldn't deal with this.
I was just about to scream back at the top of my lungs when the mixer suddenly went quieta. Taking a deep, calming breath, I tried again. "Marcello. What did you find out from the frat guys?"
"Well, his name really is Paul, for one thing," Marcello said, settling down on top of a table. "I mean, was Paul, I suppose I should say," he added, his voice growing sad.
"It was?" Pippa asked quietly. "So what was with all the fake identification then?"
Marcello cleared his throat. "Apparently, Paul was not quite legal drinking age nor serving age, which meant that he couldn't work in a restaurant like Scott's which has a bar and serves wine. Like he was doing with our table. Paul was seventeen when he started working at Scott's and it was only just his birthday last month."
"Oh my goodness, so he only just turned eighteen?" I said. "Somehow this makes it even worse."
Marcello kept talking. He'd somehow managed to gather quite a bit of information from the frat house before he'd taken all his clothes off. "Yep. He was a smart kid, in college early, but he was paying for it all himself so he desperately needed a job. One of the guys in the house helped him out with a fake ID so that he could get a job in a bar or restaurant."
"I wonder if Scott knew," Pippa said quietly.
I shook my head. "No, Scott took Paul for his word. He wouldn't have employed an underage kid to serve drinks if he had known."
Pippa raised an eyebrow. "You're suddenly very keen to d
efend Scott."
"I just don't think he knew, okay."
We were all silent for a moment, but in the background I could hear the clock ticking. "Did you get the name of the guy who made the fake ID?" I asked Marcello.
He shook his head. "Nope. It was around this time that I got sprung. Sorry. Still, that's something good to go off, right?"
I shrugged. "So, he had a fake ID to get a job to pay his student debts. It's hardly a crime worth killing over, is it?" I threw my hands up and looked at the ceiling. "It's almost four-thirty, Pippa. The sun will be up soon and we’ll lose our chance at solving this case and getting the money."
"Did you find out anything else, Marcello?" Pippa asked hopefully. "Anything at all that might help us? Before you had to streak?"
I stomped away, back out to the kitchen. "Well, if we don't get this cash, you'll have to pay for that carpet you ruined out of your own pocket," I said under my breath.
I shook my head. Less than four hours before the local newscast.
"Maybe it is better to just leave this to the police," I muttered, pacing back and forth.
Bronson stopped the mixer. "What was that?"
"Nothing," I said, trying to smile. "How is the prep coming along, anyway?"
Bronson shrugged. "Got a fair bit to do today. Are we still making the heart-shaped cookies?"
I groaned when I remembered it was Valentine's Day. "Yes. We are." I sighed heavily. "But I'm not going to be able to help till after eight." I shook my head and, changing my mind, grabbed an apron. "You know what, screw it. I will help out right now."
I grabbed a giant bag of flour and dragged it over the counter, dumping it into the mixer while Bronson supervised.
"Aren't you, umm, supposed to be solving a murder mystery?" Bronson asked me while I stared into the mixer, watching the flour mix with the butter and eggs. It was calming, hypnotic. For just a minute, it made me forget everything that was happening.
I turned it off once the dough was mixed—didn't want to overdo it. "Not anymore," I said, shaking my head as I dusted the bench with flour, then turned the bowl over to drop the giant ball of dough on to it. "We should get about a hundred heart-shaped cookies out of this," I said. "Pass me a rolling pin."
Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 7 - 9 Page 22