Poisoned by the Pier

by Ellen Jacobson

  Next up was the surly teenager. Her parents were in the audience cheering her on. Her father was holding up a banner while her mother was waving pompoms. The teen mumbled one-word answers to the judges’ questions about her cake. “How much cola did you use?” Penelope asked.

  “I dunno. Ask my mom. She made it.”

  The audience gasped. You would have thought it was the scandal of the year. Alan snapped pictures as the girl and her parents left the building in shame after she was disqualified.

  Five down—one more to go before they got to my cake. I took a deep breath as the judges gathered around Jeff’s masterpiece. He had created an entire ocean scene complete with a sailboat, dolphins, and a tropical island. Intricately decorated fish dotted the side of the cake, giving the illusion that they were swimming underneath the water.

  “This is truly impressive,” Nancy said. “How long did this take you to make?”

  “Not long,” Jeff said. “It’s all a matter of skill and natural talent, and I have both of them.”

  “Where did you get the idea?” Penelope asked.

  “I saw it on a YouTube video.”

  “The attention to detail is amazing, son,” Norm said. “We’ll have to talk later about you catering my mayoral victory party.”

  The judges spent an extraordinary amount of time examining Jeff’s cake and making notes. Finally, they turned to mine. Nobody said a word. It was an unnerving kind of silence. I couldn’t tell if they were dumbstruck by the sheer creativity of my cake or if they hated it.

  Finally, Penelope broke the silence. “What did you use to get the different shades of gray in your icing?”

  “It’s a special food dye,” I said.

  “It certainly is…um, gray,” Nancy said as she scribbled notes. “But I still don’t know what it’s supposed to be. It just looks like a large gray ball.”

  Norm laughed. “You mean you don’t recognize this? It’s from Star Wars. Leave it to the kooky UFO alien lady to make a cake that resembles the Death Star.”

  “Nancy’s never seen Star Wars,” I said.

  “Really?” Norm and Penelope said in unison.

  “Do you know what this is?” Nancy asked the chief.

  He raised his dark, bushy eyebrows and after a long pause said, “Yes. My ex-wife is a big Star Wars fan. This is the kind of thing she’d like.”

  “Really?” I said. “I’d love to meet her one day.”

  Nancy gave me a funny look before collecting the clipboards from each of the judges. She added up the scores while the four of them conferred in a corner of the room. At one point, Nancy pointed at my cake and scowled. After fifteen of the longest minutes of my life, the judges reassembled in front of the audience.

  “I will now read the names of the four individuals who are going to advance to the next round, in no particular order,” Nancy said. “Please step forward when I call your name.” Nobody was surprised when she read Jeff’s name off. While the audience clapped, Emily leaned over the barrier and gave him a congratulatory kiss. Mike beamed when his name was announced next.

  I took a deep breath. With the disqualification of the teenaged girl, it was down to the twins, Wanda, and me. While I tried to calculate my odds, making my math-induced headache even worse, Nancy called out Wanda’s name. I was stunned. How could anyone vote for something that featured raw vegetables?

  “And now for the final cake,” Nancy said dramatically. The sisters held hands and looked nervously at each other. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my lucky key chain—the one with a tiny Wookiee attached. “The gray”—she paused while she peeked at her notes—“Death Star made by Mollie.”

  “That’s my girl!” Scooter shouted while I jumped up and down with excitement.

  “If it were up to me, everyone would advance to the next round,” Penelope said as she handed the twins back their cakes and ushered them to the other side of the barrier. “You ladies should be very proud of yourselves.”

  “Shush, everyone,” Nancy said, clapping her hands. “It’s time to cut the cakes. Norm, make yourself useful and bring that tray of plates over here.”

  While Norm tore himself away from schmoozing with the audience, Nancy explained the next stage in the competition. “Four slices will be cut from each cake and placed on different-colored plates, one color for each judge.”

  “Can I have the purple plates? It’s my signature color,” Penelope said as she smoothed down her apron.

  “Of course, dear. Chief Dalton, you’ll have the blue plates. Norm, you’ll have the green ones, and I’ll take the white ones.”

  Nancy sliced the cakes while Norm handed her a different-colored plate for each judge. After she set the slices on each plate, Penelope and the chief carried them over to four small tables at the back of the room, one for each judge. When she got to Jeff’s cake, she startled when Bob the terrier ran into the pavilion. Her hand slipped, smudging the frosting and knocking one of the fish decorations off the final slice and onto the floor.

  “Get that mutt out of here!” she yelled before placing the slice onto a purple plate.

  Emily leaned over the barrier. “That slice looks terrible,” she said to Nancy. “You should cut another one.”

  “It’s fine, babe,” Jeff said. “The judges already know how it’s meant to look.” He winked at her. “Knowing your sweet tooth, you probably want Nancy to cut another slice so you can eat the one that’s missing a fish.”

  “That’s right, dear. We’ve already completed the appearance round. Now we’re onto the tasting round. It will taste exactly the same as another slice.” She glanced at her watch. “Besides, we’re running behind schedule. The judges will take a twenty-minute break, then reconvene here for the cake tasting. That portion of the competition will be closed to the public.”

  After ensuring the judges’ tables were set up correctly, Nancy shooed everyone out of the pavilion. Emily continued to complain about how Nancy had ruined Jeff’s cake. “I’m going to go back in there and cut another slice,” she said. But when she tried to reenter the building, Nancy locked the door.

  “As I said, young lady, only judges from this point forward.”

  Jeff put his arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. After all—”

  “Fire!” someone yelled. “Fire over by the food booths!”

  As gray smoke wafted overhead, cell phones started ringing, and people frantically looked for their loved ones.

  “Everyone who’s a volunteer firefighter, come with me,” Chief Dalton shouted above the din. “The rest of you stay back and out of the way.” Norm and the other volunteer firefighters ran after the chief, while everyone else followed more cautiously. Everyone, that was, except Jeff, Emily, Scooter, and me.

  Emily rattled the doorknob angrily. “I can’t believe she locked the door.”

  “It’s almost like she doesn’t trust us,” I said dryly.

  “Did you leave something in there?” Scooter asked.

  “I didn’t,” the young woman replied. “Nancy did. She left a piece of cake that’s all messed up. I need to go fix it.”

  “Babe, just let it go,” Jeff said, pulling her away from the door. “Why don’t we go see what the fire’s all about, like everyone else at the festival.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he said. “One little missing decoration isn’t going to hurt my chances. You saw the competition. It’s pretty amateurish. Of course I’ll win first place.” He glanced over at me sheepishly. “Sorry, Mollie.”

  Emily seemed embarrassed. “He didn’t mean it like that. I really liked your Star Wars theme. Was it hard to get it into a spherical shape?”

  “I used to have a special set of cake pans, but we lost them in the…” I paused to listen to the sound of fire engines pulling into the park.

  “Lost them in what?” Emily asked.

  “A fire,” Scooter said softly. “We lost everything.” He took a deep breath. “Why don’t you tw
o head over and see what’s going on. I think we’ll wait here. I don’t have any desire to see another fire again any time soon.”

  Before they left, Emily tried the handle again. I thought about showing her alternative ways of opening doors that didn’t involve keys but decided against it. Jeff would have probably jumped in and told me he was a black-belt-level cat burglar, having learned the trade through watching YouTube videos.

  After they left, Scooter and I sat at a picnic table by the entrance. We both spent the next hour on our phones. I played my game, and he replied to several emails. While I was massaging my fingers—gaming was hard work—I saw a familiar ball of fur streak past the table toward the water.

  “Didn’t Ben take Mrs. Moto back to the marina after the boating seminar?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh,” Scooter said without looking up from his phone.

  “Are we sure about that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How sure?”

  Scooter put his phone down. “Oh no. I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I think I just saw her run past. Calico cat, green eyes, with a bobtail. There aren’t too many of them around Coconut Cove.”

  Scooter shook his head. “Don’t tell me she hitchhiked again.” Mrs. Moto had many talents, one of which was sneaking into the backs of vehicles and going for rides around town. Somehow, she always managed to find her way back to the boat in time for dinner without fail.

  “Wait here,” I said. “I’ll go investigate.”

  I walked behind the sports pavilion through a gate into the fenced-off courtyard and peeked into the restrooms located in an adjacent outbuilding. Nothing. I poked around in the shrubs, calling out her name and promising treats. No response. I turned to head back out front when I noticed the back door of the pavilion was slightly ajar. As I reached out to push the door open to investigate, Mrs. Moto tore past me toward the waterfront.

  “Get back here this instant,” I yelled. “There’s extra catnip in it for you!”

  She ignored my attempted bribe and made her way toward the fishing pier, no doubt to vacuum up scraps of fish and bait. As I started to climb the steps, she darted through the rails and scampered down the rocky embankment under the pier and onto the sand. “We’re going to get you an industrial-strength leash and straitjacket for a harness if you keep this up,” I yelled after her.

  Before I could chase her down the beach, I tripped and landed on the jagged rocks, scraping both of my knees. It hurt like the dickens, but I quickly forgot my pain when I lifted my head.

  There was Emily lying on the embankment, convulsing violently. As I rushed over, her convulsions stopped, her head fell to the side, and her eyes turned glassy. I quickly dialed 911, then administered CPR to the unconscious woman until the EMTs arrived and took over.

  I watched in horror as they tried to revive her before shaking their heads in regret. As they transferred her body to the ambulance, I wondered what could have caused someone to die at such a young age. I wasn’t the only one who was curious. While most people were over gawking at the fire, a few of the guys who had been fishing on the pier were milling about, trying to get a glimpse of the scene and asking me what had happened.

  I ignored their questions, slumped down on the beach, and put my head in my hands. Visions of what I had witnessed flashed through my mind—poor Emily lying on the rocks with a shattered plate by her side.

  Wait a minute. A shattered plate, just like the ones that had been used for the judges’ slices of cake. What had she been doing eating cake by the fishing pier?

  6

  DOGS WITH KRAUT

  “Scooter, are you okay?” I asked, noting his clammy skin and shaking hands.

  “Is she…” His voice trailed off as he watched the ambulance pull out of the parking lot.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I said, telling Scooter what he wanted to hear rather than the truth, for fear he’d go into shock. “They’re taking her to the hospital now.”

  “But the lights and siren aren’t on,” he pointed out. “Please tell me you didn’t find another—”

  “You’re trembling,” I said, interrupting him before he had to say one of his least favorite phrases: “dead body.” I knew he worried about my propensity for stumbling across people who weren’t…let’s see, how should I put this…people who weren’t exactly alive. Since we had moved to Coconut Cove, I had found four dead bodies, all murder victims. Sadly, Emily took my total up to five. I didn’t know the cause of death, but surely it couldn’t be murder. Was I going to have to start keeping two separate scoring systems? One to tally up murder victims and one for people who died accidentally? I tried to figure out the statistical probabilities involved in finding so many dead bodies, but that made the throbbing in my head worse.

  People were buzzing around, whispering about what had happened to Emily. Someone said that he’d go in search of Jeff. I didn’t envy him that task. With the fire at one end of the festival and the commotion at the other end near the fishing pier, the police were spread thin. One of the officers had asked me a few questions before rushing off to coordinate with her colleagues.

  Scooter looked miserable. I guided him toward a picnic table. “Here, sit down before you faint.” I pulled a bag of M&M’S out of my purse and handed them to him. “These should help.”

  He ripped open the bag and began popping some of the colorful candy-coated chocolates in his mouth before he caught himself. “Do you have any healthy snacks instead?” he asked. I shook my head, wondering what had happened to my husband, who had always reached for chocolate when he was stressed. Nobody should stick to a diet in times like this.

  “No, that’s not something I normally carry.” I dug through my purse. “How about a breath mint?”

  Scooter raised his eyebrows. “Do you have any idea what’s in those? Why not just inject poison straight into your bloodstream instead?” He held out his hand. “Give those to me.”

  “No way. There’s a kosher hot dog piled high with sauerkraut, relish, mustard, and onions with my name on it at Alligator Chuck’s food stand. I’ll be needing a mint after scarfing one of those babies down.”

  Before I knew what was happening, Scooter grabbed the mints from my hand and lobbed them into a nearby garbage can. “My, aren’t you the feisty one, showing off your college basketball skills,” I said. “I guess you are feeling better.”

  He rubbed his hands on his shorts. “Not really. I can’t believe you found Emily like that. Admit it. She didn’t make it, did she?”

  “No, she didn’t,” I said simply as I squeezed his hand. I thought back to the sight of Emily lying on the ground beside the broken plate. “I wonder if she had a heart attack. She was awfully young, but some families have a higher risk of heart issues at an early age.” I sighed. “Poor Jeff.”

  “I wonder how long they were engaged for,” Scooter said, squeezing my hand back.

  I laid my head against his shoulder. “Remember how you proposed to me?”

  “Me? You’re the one who proposed.”

  “That’s not how I remember it,” I said. “Besides, girls don’t propose to guys. It’s the other way around.”

  Scooter spluttered, “But you’re the one who asked me.”

  Before we could settle that little disagreement, a voice boomed out from the loudspeakers. “Attention: Scooter and Mollie McGhie, come collect your feline from the information booth immediately.” Even if I hadn’t recognized Nancy’s sharp tone, the disdain when she uttered “your feline” would have given it away. After a beat, she added, “Attention: any felines not collected in the next ten minutes will be turned over to animal control.”

  I stood and pulled Scooter to his feet. “Come on, we better go collect our feline before she disappears again.” In the aftermath of finding Emily’s body, I had lost sight of her. “After that, what do you say to those dogs? Surely, Trixie Tremblay would understand that in a situation like this, junk food is called for.”

  �
�There was a fire at the food stands, remember?”

  “It’s all okay now. I overheard the police officers saying it was an electrical fire at the Rutamentals stand. Wanda was using the patented Rutamentals high-speed, industrial-strength Rutablender to make fresh rutabaga shakes. Guess what she uses instead of ice cream—tofu. Yuck, right?”

  “Is she okay?” Scooter asked.

  “She’s fine, and everyone is back in business.”

  “Good. That means we can get something that’s Rutamentals-compliant at her stand.” He tugged at my hand. “Come on, let’s get going before Nancy has a fit.”

  We found Mrs. Moto sprawled out in front of the information booth surrounded by a bunch of kids who were taking turns scratching her belly. Nancy looked at her watch when she saw us approaching. “You’re lucky you got here when you did. Another thirty seconds, and animal control would have taken her away.”

  A young girl scratched the calico behind her ears, then looked up at Nancy. “You wouldn’t have really given Mrs. Moto away, would you have, Grandma?”

  Nancy pursed her lips. “People need to be prepared to face the consequences for their actions, Katy. Animals need to be on-leash and supervised, as Scooter and Mollie well know.” She looked at us sharply. “Rule 11.3 of the town charter. You do have a copy of the town charter, don’t you?”

  “No, but I’ll be sure to get a copy and place it right next to my copy of the Palm Tree Marina rules and regulations,” I said. Of course, what I didn’t tell Nancy was that I had turned the marina rules and regulations into origami birds that Mrs. Moto liked to bat around when she wasn’t busy chasing lizards.

  Katy picked Mrs. Moto up and carried her over to her grandmother. “She says she’s sorry, Grandma, and it won’t happen again,” she said before giving the cat a kiss on her head.

  Nancy’s expression softened. “All right, but you have to help keep an eye on her, okay?”

  “Of course!” Katy said. “Maybe we can bring her over to your apartment after school and keep an eye on her there.”