She glances out the window. “He had a very big fight with one of his good friends recently. Not many people know about it. I bet the sheriff is clueless.”
“Who was it?” I ask. The question comes out with a pressured need to know, but I have a feeling I know the exact friend she’s about to try to pin the blame on.
“A man by the name of Julian Morgan.”
“Julian?” Lottie tips her head my way. “Didn’t you introduce me to him that afternoon?” How are my acting skills?
I give the hint of a nod. “Actually, Trevor introduced us.” I look to Melina. “Trevor mentioned he was his best friend. What do you think went wrong?”
I know for a fact Trevor mentioned that he was stealing—at least he was thinking it.
Melina nods as if she read my mind.
“He was stealing,” she says.
“Stealing money?” I ask, still unclear on what exactly Julian does for the Harrisons’ company.
“No, not money.” Melina sharpens her eyes over mine. “Molds,” she practically mouths the word.
“Molds?” Lottie’s voice hikes. “You mean, he was stealing the baking molds that rocketed the Harrison brand to the stratosphere?”
Melina nods. “And he resells them on eBay, undercutting the company by twenty percent. He’s making a killing. And that’s exactly why Trevor wanted to kill him.”
A breath hitches in my throat. “Did Trevor threaten to kill him?”
“No, but it’s been a known fact for months that Julian was backing up a van to the facility and draining it of its assets, literally. Celine told me about it.”
“Celine?” both Lottie and I say in unison.
A measured smile appears on her lips.
Melina looks as if she’s eating this all up.
“That’s right. Celine and I were friends a long time ago. Of course, once she married Trevor, that all changed.” Her gaze shifts out the window.
“Melina,” I say her name softly. “What happened between you and Trevor?”
She blinks back. “You don’t know?” A harsh breath expels from her. “How would you?” Her entire demeanor hardens. “I used to work as a baking consultant for Trevor way back when he first started his company. And as an innovator myself, I was enthused to share some of my own creations with him. I foolishly thought he’d love the idea and I’d secure a future buyer. I could just see myself in his catalogs, featured on his online store, and the road shows he could take my products on—I thought I’d be a millionaire by now.”
A tiny groan escapes from Lottie. “What went wrong?”
Melina’s chest bucks as she gets that faraway look in her eyes once again.
“What didn’t go wrong? I made the mistake of not only showing Trevor my adorable yet state-of-the-art molds, but when he asked what made them so durable and nonstick, I laid out all of my best secrets. The next thing I knew, he had a patent on them and I was left with egg on my face.” Melina looks as if she could kill the man right now. “Cheesy baking reference, I know. But it about sums it up.”
Lottie shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. Did you try to take him to court? I mean, there was proof. You said you had prototypes or something.”
“I could have, but I didn’t have the money to fight him. Instead, I took what little money I had and opened this place. I figured karma would catch up with him at some point. And it sure did.” Nothing wrong with a little retribution. She blinks a smile my way, and my heart stops cold.
Retribution? That sounds an awful lot like a confession. That restraining order comes to mind.
“Melina, Celine mentioned something about you taking a restraining order out on Trevor? Did he threaten you?”
She looks momentarily confused. “Oh, you must have heard her wrong. Trevor took that restraining order out on me. It was a part of his campaign to torment me after I told anyone who would listen that he stole my idea. Yet again, he was the big man in power. I had less money and clout to fight him on anything.”
Lottie looks incensed for her. As a fellow baker, I’m sure she feels she can relate on some level—although how, I’m not entirely sure.
“You must have been fuming.” Lottie’s voice shakes.
Melina nods. “I was fit to kill.” She ticks her head to the side as if coming to. “But I’m sure once the sheriff’s investigation ramps up, they’ll be looking at Julian. He’s the—”
The entire left side of the bakery jolts and half the customers run out screaming.
Melina jumps out of her seat. “Was that an earthquake?”
A customer parrots the word, screaming earthquake at the top of her lungs all the way down the street just as the bakery shelves do another wild jump.
Melina takes off and Lottie leans in. “It’s Stella! She’s gone hog wild!”
The refrigerated shelves buck as the sweet treats inside quickly get decimated, flying every which way and ultimately disappearing into seemingly thin air.
“We’d better get out of here before she takes apart the entire place,” I say.
Lottie glances back that way. “Delora is waving me off. She’s going to do her best to calm Stella down and stick around for clues once we’re gone.”
Lottie and I scoop up the pies and race out the door.
“Where to next?” I shout as we jump back into my car.
“Seeing that I’m leaving on Sunday and we don’t have a minute to waste, I say we find Julian Morgan and we find him today.”
“Sounds good to me. It’s still early. How about we drop these pies off at the inn and we’ll head straight over to Harrison Bakery headquarters afterwards? I happen to know exactly where their warehouse is in Edison.”
Unfortunately, nothing good ever happens in Edison.
And I have a feeling this next excursion will prove to be no different.
Chapter 11
True to the plan, we swung by the inn and I put the blueberry pies in my refrigerator. Just as we were leaving for part two of our super-sleuthing afternoon, both Macy and Evie jumped into the car in an effort to join our latest adventure.
The Harrison Bakery headquarters just so happens to have a working factory in the back where employees test out their fantastic molds and other baking gadgets while baking up a storm. There are dozens of workstations and dozens upon dozens of bakers whipping out various treats while the products they’re testing are prominently displayed on a table before them.
It looks like a dream job. One that even I might be interested in if I didn’t have the inn to run—and if I wasn’t such a hurricane in the kitchen.
Evie looked the place up on her phone and determined they give two factory tours each weekday. We already missed the morning tour, but we’re almost on the button for the one that takes place this afternoon.
We park out back and follow the signs right into an oversized warehouse that’s light and bright and holds the scent of warm vanilla sugar cookies fresh from the oven.
“Wow.” Evie takes a few steps into the facility. “Mom, you’re going to need a facility like this one day when you start mass producing your baked goods and selling them online.”
Lottie’s chest bounces with a dry laugh. “I don’t have time to brush my hair most days. I don’t know how I’ll ever get to that level.”
Evie slings her arm around Lottie’s shoulder. “That’s what you got me for. Once I graduate from college, I’ll run the internet end of your baking empire. I’d better start poking around to see what secrets I can steal.” She heads to the exact area where one of the employees is herding a group of tourists.
Macy’s upper lip twitches. “I’ll keep an eye on the kid. But as soon as I find me a hot baker, I’m making out with him.”
I roll my eyes. “Please do everyone in this facility a favor and press your lips to a cookie instead. Lottie and I are off to hunt down a suspect.”
“Suspect, huh?” Macy ticks her head to the side. “If he’s cute, give me a buzz. I’ll have my ringer on.” Sh
e takes off toward Evie and I shrug over at Lottie.
“What can I say? Macy is a special spicy breed.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been called a special breed myself, mostly from Carlotta. Speaking of which, she and Georgie said they’re planning a surprise for us all tonight.”
The thought makes me moan with a touch of agony. “Sounds more like they’re plotting something. We’ll bring the pies.”
“We should probably bring mace.”
“Touché.”
Lottie and I head to the back wall of the facility where we ask one of the factory workers where we might find Julian and they direct us through a door that leads us to a series of offices.
“Ooh!” Lottie pokes me in the ribs. “There he is.” She ticks her head toward a room marked staff lounge. “Follow my lead.” Lottie strides right into the spacious room with a small round table in the center of it, a refrigerator, and a couple of sofas. It looks homey in an ironic sterile sort of way, and there are a handful of people milling about.
Lottie charges deeper into the room.
“Evie?” she shouts as she cranes her neck in every direction.
Julian turns our way, clad in a blue and white checkered dress shirt and a pair of chinos to go along with it. He holds a certain charm with his shock of dark hair, and the laugh lines around his eyes seem to be permanently embedded.
“Can I help you, ladies?” He offers a warm smile.
Lottie presses a hand to her chest. “My daughter must have wandered off. She’s fifteen and far too curious for her own good. We’re a part of the tour. I think she was looking for the restroom and made a wrong turn.”
I recognize them. He lifts a brow. Where do I know these girls from?
“I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.” He offers a nod of concern. “I’ll alert the security guards to keep an eye out for her.”
“No need,” she says. “She’s most likely with her aunt Macy.”
I look to Lottie. “Macy is unpredictable and prone to get herself into trouble. We should probably check under the table.”
Julian belts out a laugh. “Wait a minute. I think I know where I’ve seen you two. Was it at the Country Cottage Inn?” He looks pained as he says it.
“Hey!” I lift a finger. “That’s right. We were introduced the day of the senior bake-off. I’m Bizzy. I run the inn. It’s sort of my job to keep track of all the faces and names. This is my friend, Lottie. She’s visiting from out of town. I think Trevor introduced you to her as well that day.”
Lottie nods. “I run a bakery in Vermont, and I’m obsessed with your baking molds.”
“Who isn’t?” he teases. “How about I show you some of the upcoming molds ready to hit the shelves next fall?’
“Yes!” Lottie nearly leaps out of her skin with excitement. Something tells me she’s not acting.
“Next fall?” I ask as we follow behind him. “Wow, you’re really on top of things.”
“We have to be. We actually produce the molds over a year ahead of time, but I just so happen to have all the fall line laid out for the photographers. They come in and dress ’em up so the end users can’t resist but order one or twelve.” He gives a quick wink toward Lottie as he holds the door open to the room next door.
It’s brightly lit inside, looking more like an elongated boardroom with a long table and dozens of chairs lining it on either side. Running down the center of the table are cake molds and cupcake molds in the shapes of leaves, pumpkins, ghosts, and everything you would need to have the perfect fall dessert.
Lottie trots over to one that looks like a dilapidated mansion.
“Tell me this is a haunted house,” she coos. “I’m in love. I’ll give you all the money in my purse right now if you let me take this home.”
Julian belts out a hearty laugh.
“I’ll let you take it home for free under one condition.”
Lottie sucks in a breath. “Anything.”
“Tell two friends how wonderful it is.”
Lottie sheds a husky laugh. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll bake up a haunted house and put it up on my social media sites, giving all the credit to your fabulous new mold. My daughter is actually in charge of my social media. Trust me when I say it’s a very good thing to let my teenager run it.”
Julian chuckles. “Nothing like a teen tech when you’re in a technological pinch. Enjoy the mold.”
I clear my throat. “Can I ask how morale has been around here? You know, since the double tragedy? I can assume the entire company is grieving.”
Not everyone. His smile stretches tight. “We’re doing fine. It’s tough. Trevor was one of my oldest friends, and that’s exactly why I’ve stepped up to the plate and taken over.” He glances to the molds. I’ll make sure sales pick up on both fronts.
“That’s very kind of you.” I say. “So the Harrisons didn’t have any kids?”
“No.” His brows furrow. “Which is surprising, considering the rate in which he collected wives.” He shakes his head. “That was a wild afternoon. You think you know someone and then something like that comes to light.”
“But you were his oldest friend,” I say. “Surely you must have known Anna.”
“Nope. Trevor and I reconnected a few years back. There was a lot of history that went by without me. But he did great for himself. And I’m thankful he gave me a job.” Piddly pay, but I took care of that nicely. “I’m working things out with the attorneys here. I’ll have to take out new loans in my name, but I don’t see that as a problem. These are unusual circumstances.”
My lips twitch just hearing it. Nobody hires someone and expects them to steal, certainly not a good friend. I bet Trevor would die all over again if he knew Julian were in charge of things now.
Lottie cocks her head to the side. Bizzy, he’s basically inheriting the place. I bet he planned this. He has all of his takeover ducks in a row.
I nod in agreement before catching his gaze.
“So what do you think happened?” I ask. “I mean, they were both killed pretty brutally. I bet there are tons of rumors swirling here.”
“Oh, there are.” He folds his arms across his enormous chest. “I’ve heard everything from a mob loan gone wrong to an angry baker who couldn’t get her money back on one of those molds. But I think the most plausible is Anna Hayes. She came out of nowhere. I did some digging, and sure enough she’s still his wife. The attorneys said I might have to buy her out. Of course, I haven’t made any offers as of yet. I suspect she’ll be arrested soon. Who else could it be?”
Lottie leans in. “Did Trevor or Celine have any enemies or people who were angry with them that you know about?”
He glances at the long row of autumn themed molds. Nobody is tracing any of this back to me. So what if I took a few molds here and there? There’s nothing to prove. And if that’s true, why am I sweating the fact the sheriff’s department might be the next one wanting a tour of the facility?
He blows out a breath. “Trevor was a hard man to get along with most of the time. He was competitive. That kind of a nature doesn’t always bring out the best in people.” I should know. I’m pretty damn competitive myself, and look where it’s got me?
“Have you talked to Anna?” I ask. “You know, since the incident?”
He winces. “Like I said, I didn’t know her. But I ran into her at the Lobster Festival. Odd, don’t you think? I thought I’d clear my head and grab some dinner. I suppose she might have been thinking the same thing. Celine was there, too, of course. It was the night she was killed.”
Lottie’s eyes enlarge. “Did you talk to either one of them that night?”
“I spoke with both,” he confesses. “Anna first. I introduced myself and she said that Trevor had mentioned me. I felt both humbled and honored to hear it. And then, of course, Celine.” He tips his chin back. “She wasn’t in the mood to chat.” Not with me anyway. She knew. And that’s exactly why I’m not mourning her either.
Lott
ie gasps as she looks to the left and takes up my hand—most likely a sign that Delora and Stella are here.
“I have news, girls.” Delora’s voice comes in clear as if she were right here in the room with us, and I suppose she is. “Once you left and the fire department abandoned the bakery, poor Stella really did a number. And she has a tummy ache because of it.”
Lottie motions for Delora to speed things along.
“I was just about to say—Melina made a phone call once you left. She said you were right. They just stopped by my bakery. I’ll get the word out.”
Lottie and I exchange a panicked look.
A woman wearing an apron comes into the room and lets Julian know there’s an important call waiting for him at his desk.
“We’d better go,” I say.
Lottie quickly snatches the haunted house mold right off the table.
“My daughter will love this. Thank you so much,” she says as we shuffle our way back to the warehouse.
Macy speeds over, looking decidedly miffed. “This entire place is run by women.”
I make a face at her. “And to think some people call that progress.”
Lottie squeezes my hand while looking over her shoulder. “He’s about to head into his office,” she says. “I wish there was some way to distract him.”
Macy angles her head that way. “Tall, dark, and handsome? Let’s see what I can do.” She zips down the hall like a hurricane, and before I know it, she’s pinned him to a wall—with her lips.
“Run!” Lottie says as she snatches Evie from one of the nearby displays.
“Macy!” I shout as I zip off after her. “Are you insane?” I pluck her off the poor man whom I suddenly feel sorry for even if he might be a killer.
Macy pulls back with a wicked grin on her face. “Sorry. Case of mistaken identity.”
“Wait!” he calls after her. “I didn’t get your number!”
I yank her back to the warehouse with me. “You’re certifiable.”
“You’re welcome. Do you have enough info to nail him to a wall?”
I glance back as he steps into his office.
“No, but he might just get enough info to nail me.”
Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6) Page 9