by M K Scott
“They have a website?” Della asked in surprise, wondering why she knew so little about a contest devised to showcase her talents.
“They have a website,” her mother said very matter-of-factly. “Everyone has to. It’s the 21st century. Let me write down the address for you.”
Another delivery driver ducked into the restaurant to grab an order. Checking into delivery services neared the top of her list as something she needed to do right after creating the winning truffle and catching the jewel thieves.
GUY AND DELLA worked out a deal to exchange buns for cookies—a dozen at first and see how it worked out from there. They both agreed to mention where the buns or cookies were from. It could mean seeing the man on a regular basis, if only to deliver the cookies.
As the meal ended, Della attempted to pay, but Guy refused to take her credit card. “Nope. You’ve given me so much good information. Stuff I would have to pay a consultant real money for.” He nodded at Della and passed her a business card. “Let me know when you need the buns. I could start with the chocolate chip cookies. I’ll add it to the online menu. When should it go live?”
“Thursday.” It wouldn’t be that hard to bake another sheet of cookies.
“Great, great,” he enthused, rubbing his hands together. “So many things to think about and do. Thanks for stopping in.” Guy addressed Mabel. “I appreciate the sponsorship information.” He took the proffered address. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“Always happy to help.” Mabel added, “With your skills, you might even want to enter yourself.”
Once she tasted the bun, Della knew she’d found both a kindred spirit and a rival. The last thing she wanted was competition, especially in a contest created to show off her truffle-making skills. Those who excelled in bread weren’t always premier truffle makers. Then again, he might not even enter.
“Can I do that?” Guy asked with surprise evident in his voice. “Be a sponsor and a participant?”
“Sure.” Her mother laughed. “I know the contest organizers. More publicity. Make sure to include the coupon for the website.”
“Will do.” Guy held up a hand in farewell as they eased off their stools. Della managed to hold her smile even though she had her doubts if the kindred spirits thing would survive a competition. If she won, Guy could go all aloof on her. If he won, it certainly wouldn’t serve her bakery and catering business. Worse yet, if Lacey won, it would all be for naught.
Chapter Twenty
THE AIR INSIDE the car seethed with tension and unsaid sentiments, or that’s how Della felt. Not so with her mother, who giggled as she watched a cat video sent by a friend.
Being direct would be best to clear the air. “Mother, do you know why I’m upset?”
Her mother glanced up from her phone and blinked. “You’re upset? Why in the world would you be upset? We had a very nice lunch at your soon-to-be gentleman friend’s place. I agree that the buns were outstanding. The bean burger was surprisingly delicious. Most of them tend to be dry, but they’re usually a frozen patty. Not so with my lunch. I should have mentioned it to Guy.”
Too focused on the bean burger she’d just consumed, her mother somehow missed the upset comment. Della started the car, and the yacht rock station immediately came on, crooning about sailing away. Might as well table the subject. “Okay. I need to visit the bakery.”
Her mother murmured something indecipherable and returned to looking at her phone. Normally, Della avoided any confrontations with her mother. Who was she kidding? She tried to avoid conflict with everyone. Mabel’s consistent good humor probably kept folks from getting too mad with her, despite her meddling or matchmaking attempts. Vanessa could probably be the only exception to the rule.
Lori would accuse her of making a big deal out of nothing. In the end, it would probably just blow over. Her mother suggested that Guy enter the contest. He might not even want to enter. It’s like people saying they might write a book or could write a book and, in the end, never did.
Her mother reached for the radio volume knob and switched it off. “What’s wrong?”
This was progress if her mother realized not everything was as it should be. Given some time to mull over what she originally thought was a catastrophe, Della grimaced. Maybe she had overreacted. “Nothing.”
“Oh please.” A touch of exasperation sounded in her mother’s voice. “Remember who you are talking to. I know you and all your tells. You’ve been gritting your teeth the last five minutes.”
She had? Della yawned, popping her jaw. “Geesh, I didn’t even know I was doing that.” She exhaled and loosened her grip on the wheel. “Oh, I don’t know. It seems stupid now. I was bent out of shape about your suggesting that Guy enter the contest.”
“Seems fair. The man has talent.”
There was no disagreement from her on that point so she shot her mother an open-mouthed look. “Mom, did you forget the contest is for me? It’s supposed to bring attention and business to me. If Guy is as wonderful a baker as we both think he is, he could win. If he wins, while it’s good for him, it won’t be good for me. It might even make things problematic between Guy and me. I already have to worry about Lacey. I certainly don’t need more rivals.”
“C’mon.” A derisive snort sounded. “You’re as bad as Vanessa, seeing things that don’t exist. A person might call you paranoid.”
Was it just yesterday she considered her mother the paranoid one? Nevertheless, her mother may have a point. “Maybe. It’s just…” She shrugged her shoulders. “…it’s hard to explain. I like Guy and even though we have officially met only three times, it’s enough for me to know I’d like to get to know him better. I’m afraid the three-ring circus the contest might turn out to be wouldn’t be conducive for building a relationship.”
“I see,” her mother said and then went silent. A speechless mother meant wheels were turning in her head, which wasn’t always a positive thing, especially if Della figured into the machinations in any capacity. She exhaled loudly. “I could tell him not to enter.”
“No!” Della answered quickly.
Such an action would cast some doubts on the Delacroix family while simultaneously making the contest more important than it actually was. “Leave it. Guy might pick up a sponsorship and even show up with sliders to promote his restaurant. I can’t see how being able to make an exquisite truffle would encourage burger and beer-loving book readers to try Guy’s restaurant.”
“Silly me.” Her mother chuckled. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned entering to him when it wouldn’t benefit him.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. I imagine Guy understands what would benefit him. Besides, he’s probably too busy to take on one more thing. I need to get to work on the truffle recipe. How about white chocolate?”
“Too sweet. It’s a break from tradition, but maybe too much of one.”
Personally, Della hadn’t been sold on white chocolate, but she chose to tease her mother. “You shot down my idea and didn’t offer up a suggestion to replace it. What am I to do?”
“There are plenty of other flavors, including peanut butter, caramel, dark chocolate, and even orange. Try one of those.”
“Thanks, I will.” Della took the needed streets to make her way to the bakery. “I imagine you’ll head home to take care of Tony.”
“Hmm,” her mother mumbled as she read a text on her phone. “Aha! Got to get home as soon as possible.”
Even though her aha sounded more triumphant than anything else, Della worried about the newest member of the family. “Is Tony okay?”
“Probably being hand fed dog treats while keeping Vanessa company during The Price is Right.”
If Prince Purrfection received similar treatment, which he most likely did, why leave? Maybe the cat regarded it as overkill. Felines could be notoriously finicky. Dogs, on the other hand, gobbled up what they were given. “Your aha. Did you hear from the police about our plan?”
A heavy sigh filled the car. �
��Nothing on that front, but I got a notification that the spy equipment I ordered is here. Now I need to get home before someone steals it.” A shout laugh sounded before she continued. “Wouldn’t that be ironic? Thieves stealing the equipment I bought to catch them in the act.”
The local papers touted package thieves as the scourge of the community. Some of them even went so far as to trail delivery vans and pick up what was left. She assumed the thieves chose the most expensive neighborhoods to lurk in. After all, wouldn’t they get the better stuff?
“Have you had issues with…” Della stumbled to an awkward stop when she suddenly remembered the breaking and entering next door and possibly theft.
From watching various television shows, she assumed her mother’s purchases might include oversized eyeglasses that took photos or a pen that could spray a sleeping gas. “What spy equipment?”
“Nothing bizarre like those masks that look like former presidents.” Mabel’s finger went up to tap her temple. “I used my noggin. Rather proud of myself. Now, I don’t consider myself a technology gal, but this is some tech I can get behind. On the website, it assured me anyone could install it, which is good because you know your father was never a fan of burglar alarm systems because…”
Della had heard her father’s opinions on alarm service. She could finish the sentence herself. “Robbers often work for security companies.”
“That’s right,” her mother agreed. “They case the house and see if they have anything worth taking. Just the fact they’re getting an alarm announces they must have something good.”
“Tell me, what incredible security system do you have that can be installed in an hour or less.”
Traffic picked up, crowding the most used streets, forcing Della to slow as her mother answered.
“I got doorbell cameras. One for the front door and one for the back, plus security lights, and a motion sensor camera. Got one of those door alarms that sounds like an angry German Shepherd if the doorknob is rattled.”
It was quite a bit of stuff, which told her exactly how worried her mother was. Della might not be an expert about installing security equipment, but neither was her mother. What she did know was even if it said it could be installed in an hour, it would probably take longer. “I don’t think Tony would be too thrilled about the last item.”
“Yeah, I did worry about that. It could be a blow to his doggy pride. With any luck, the lights and camera should do the job, and there will be no door rattling.” Even though the words were delivered in Mabel’s usual conversational style, a thread of doubt came through. “I sure miss your father in times like these.”
“Me, too.”
Della concentrated on the non-moving car in front of her that failed to notice the green light. She hated when people honked their horns but sending mental images to the driver to go failed to produce the desired result. Finally, the car slowly moved through the intersection, just in time for the light to turn red. Great, she’d try to resume the conversation. They were both missing Kenneth Delacroix, husband, father, and the best detective the city ever had. If he was still around, there wouldn’t be suspicious characters loitering in front of the house, that much she knew.
An iconic light bulb shone over her head. “I’ll call Kyle. He might even help you with your security system or at least know someone trustworthy.” Still stopped at the light, she turned to address her mother and arched her brows. “It will also allow me to feel him out about this Christmas wedding, which I’m sure isn’t happening.”
“Oh sweetie.” Her mother patted her arm. “Your jealousy is showing.”
Even though Kyle had shown a modicum of interest in her once, they worked better as friends and occasional sleuthing associates. “I’m so not jealous.”
Her mother harumphed, announcing her feelings on the matter.
“I don’t trust Tifiani. She’s the kind of glory hound Lacey would attract. So anxious to be seen with the rich and powerful. I wouldn’t put it past her to make up everything.”
“Her motive?”
Since she just came up with the possibility a day ago, holes existed in the spying for Lacey storyline. “Not sure. Maybe to find out how much I charge for stuff.”
“It’s on the website.”
“Good point. Even if Lacey wouldn’t belittle herself to do actual research, she’d have Rue do it. Maybe what I have to offer? She did take my photo album.”
“Okay. You got me there, but aren’t all those photos on the website, too?”
They were, along with their detailed descriptions and prices. Most caterers didn’t like to talk prices, but Della felt a person deserved to have an estimate of what things would cost. Otherwise, it wasted everyone’s time. “If nothing else, the woman annoys me with all her outrageous demands and the certainty they’ll be met.”
The blare of a horn startled Della, causing her to tap the gas and leapfrog into the intersection where she hit the gas again. “I hate it when people do that!”
Della used her rearview mirror to check out who the honker was, expecting a teenager, an irritated realtor, or some guy in a huge truck. A familiar face smiled at her and gave another lively toot. “It’s Mary, your friend.”
Mabel turned slightly to wave as she commented. “You might want to pick up your speed. Mary isn’t fond of waiting. Her motto is she has too little time left to wait in traffic.”
She was probably not the only one with that motto. Della sped up, going two miles over the speed limit, though not because of hot rod Mary, but due to a to-do list that continuously grew.
Chapter Twenty-One
ON THE WAY to the bakery, the memory of the less than enthusiastic reception both Della and her mother received at the police station squatted like a gargoyle in the corner of her mind. It mocked her with a knowing sneer, whispering, “No one cares, Nancy Drew.”
Della was not sure why she thought the police would help to begin with. Maybe she picked up on her mother’s overly optimistic outlook. Since her birth, she and her mother had visited the station numerous times. Now, despite her father’s years of service, they didn’t matter. People moved on. True, she may have expected a more cordial reception than what they received. The reason could also be that people showed up all the time, certain they could solve a cold case.
Internet sleuths toiled away on open cold cases, trying to do what the police couldn’t or didn’t have time to. In a couple of instances, clues found by the diligent online investigator did result in an arrest and a closed case. Thousands of other amateurs also annoyed detectives who resented the second-guessing, helpful advice, and in some cases, taking valuable evidence. That’s probably how the rude officer at the station saw them, especially since they were female. He probably assumed having two X chromosomes automatically deducted twenty points from their IQ scores.
Reliving the ugly scene, her back molars ground together. What she wouldn’t give to deliver a comeuppance to Detective Jerk. All the same, no help would be coming their way, and Della had food to make. At times like this, she needed to prioritize and cut her losses. It could be she got lucky with Lawson’s case. Maybe even Nancy Drew knew when to back off.
Her mother’s phone rang, and her mother engaged in an animated conversation. Normally, Mabel Delacroix sounded pleased to talk to anyone, which made her very popular. She’d listen with interest to badly delivered jokes from one of her neighbor’s grandchildren, even laughing, despite the lack of a punch line. A friend complaining about the weather would receive the same attention. Despite all that, she could tell her mother acted genuinely pleased to be chatting. It made Della wonder who was on the other end of the phone.
Whoever it was would delay Della explaining to her mother she’d not be helping with The Himalayan Heist, as Helen, the theft victim, decided to nickname their operation. Personally, it sounded more like they’d be the ones stealing cats as opposed to the other way around.
Ominous dark clouds gathered as she pulled into the tiny pa
rking lot behind the bakery, parked, and turned off the engine.
Her mother’s voice filled the car as she continued the conversation. “Alrighty, then. I’ll see you at six. Bye, now.”
“Who was that?” Della asked, thinking for an instant it felt like a Freaky Friday role reversal. Usually, a mother would question the daughter about who was on the phone.
“Barney, Barney O’Dell.”
The name rang a bell, but a distant one that failed to pop open any informational files. “Barney O’Dell?”
“Your father’s old partner. They started out together in the academy and were assigned as a team back when squad cars had two cops.”
“Oh yeah, now I remember.” An image of a short, stocky, blond-headed man formed. He grinned at her in her mind, then winked because he knew she’d hadn’t remembered him. That was Barney. He not only made everything into a joke, but he made her laugh, too. Sometimes, he even got the perps to chuckle as he drove them handcuffed to the station. Her father insisted Barney’s sense of humor served as a protective weapon by disarming criminals who might have reacted with violence. “Why did he call?”
Her mother twisted in her seat, the better to drop a smug look on Della. “He heard about what happened at the station. Told me it wasn’t right.”
“It wasn’t.”
“On that, we can all agree. Anyhow, Barney told me if he had passed before his wife Imogene, he’d hope fellow officers would treat her with respect. That’s why he called. He wanted to come by and discuss our plan. See?” Her mother emphasized the word and gave a knowing nod. “The police will help us. Operation Himalayan Heist is on!”
Several things troubled Della about this, including her mother possibly getting injured. “Are you meeting at the station?”
“Of course not. He wants to come by the house to check out all the scenes of the crime.”
Technically only one scene, since the jewels and the cat vanished from elsewhere. “Okay. I heard you say six. Call me later and tell me how it goes. I’ll be busy whipping up cookie dough and pinning down Kyle as to if a wedding really is in the near future.”