--
She spent the next two hours sitting in her car, watching the entrance to her son's work; the whole time waiting for his boss to emerge.
At first, Beatrice was going to storm right into his office and tell him off, but luckily good sense and reason quickly got the better of her. She realized that in doing so, she might be putting her son's career in jeopardy. If there were ever a chance at them patching things up, that surely wouldn't help.
Instead, she decided to wait. She would follow his boss and ambush him at the appropriate time. Again, she wasn't sure what she would say, she just hoped that the right moment would present itself.
When the boss finally did emerge from the office, Beatrice was more than ready. He made his way to an expensive looking sports car, checked his watch, swore to himself, jumped in and took off. Beatrice was right behind him.
She followed him all the way into town, becoming more curious about where he could be heading. Her curiosity peaked when he took a turn onto the main road through town, the same one that she took every day that she went to her bakery.
Her curiosity shot through the roof when he even pulled up in a space right out the front of her bakery. Then it all but exploded inside of her when he hurried up to the front door, going for the handle.
Of course, the bakery was locked. Not only was it a Sunday, but it was also the week before Thanksgiving, and as such, Beatrice has chosen to lock up and give herself a much-needed rest. But clearly, Dave's boss had missed the memo as he pulled and pushed on the locked door.
If there was such thing as fate, Beatrice knew this to be. Without further hesitation, she hopped from her car and hurried toward her son's boss, positively delighted that she had an actual reason to approach him.
"Can I help you," she called out from across the pavement, quickly shuffling his way.
"Oh, what – uh no. I don't think so," he grunted, offering a hard kick at the door. "Unless you know how to bake an orange meringue pie that tastes as good as the one from here?"
Dave's boss didn't look anything like Beatrice had expected. From the brief look of him she got earlier, and the actions she had witnessed, she was expecting a hideous monster, more beast than man. Now up close he looked relatively normal, slightly overweight, with small blue eyes and what would even be called a friendly smile. If it wasn't for the way he had been acting, she might have thought he looked like a friendly gentleman.
"An orange meringue pie? Oh, I'm sure that Little Miss Bakery can help you?" She offered, curious at what he would say. Little Miss Bakery was open as it never missed the chance to steal Beatrice's customers, not that she cared, however. She knew that Little Miss didn't hold a candle to her own bakery. Once she reopened the doors, her regulars would come rushing in.
"True," he said, casting a dejected gaze across the road to where Little Miss Bakery was located. "But I was hoping for one from here. It's my anniversary today, and the orange meringue pies from here are my wife's favorite. I know she'll be able to tell the difference."
As much as Beatrice didn't want to, she couldn't help but like Dave's nasty boss. It wasn't because he was particularly friendly, or had done anything to warrant her affection, it was purely based on the fact that he knew her baking to be head and shoulders above her competitor. For that, she assumed he must have been a half decent guy.
"Do you know how lucky you are?" She said, not even bothering to hide her smile.
"And why is that?" He asked, looking anything but lucky.
"This is my store, that's why. If an orange meringue pie is what you want than an orange meringue pie is what you will get."
It was for moments like this one that Beatrice got into baking in the first place. The look on his face was one of pure joy, shock, elation and every other positive emotion one could exhibit. In fact, she was sure that if they weren't complete strangers that he would have taken her in his arms and hugged her until there wasn't a breath left in her body.
And so Beatrice led Dave's boss, who introduced himself as Ron, into her store where she proceeded to cook for him an orange meringue pie. As she did he waxed lyrical about how much he owed her. It was, as mentioned, his wife's favorite and as it was their anniversary, she would have been distraught if he were to come home without it.
As she baked, they also covered other topics as well. The most notable being how stressed out at work he has been and how he keeps meaning to take it easy, but can't. All the while Beatrice laid little pieces of groundwork. She suggested that he take a vacation, which he admitted he needed to, and she suggested that he take it easier on his staff, which he also agreed to. He was so indebted to her that she probably could have asked for the keys to his car and he would have said yes.
The only thing that Beatrice didn't do was mention her son. She was going to, but soon decided against it. For some reason, the timing just didn't feel right.
As he left, with a fresh pie in hand, she knew that he was now in her debt. If she didn't know that, he reminded her several times. Beatrice was content in holding her cards to her chest, for now, knowing that soon the time would come to present them.
9
The first person on Beatrice's list was Principal Chalmers, and to Beatrice, he seemed like the most likely culprit. Just the fact that he wanted Thomas gone was enough of a motive. But still, was that enough to kill someone? And was Principal Chalmers the type of person who could commit murder? Well, there was only one way to find out.
As it was a Monday, Beatrice decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. She would be able to drop Lucy off at school and stop in to see the principal at the same time.
Of course, this didn't sit well with Lucy, her young detective, as she too wanted to sit in on the interview. Beatrice insisted that it would look rather suspicious, so she vetoed the suggestion. That wasn't to mention that Beatrice was using Lucy as an excuse for seeing the principal in the first place.
She needed a reason to speak with him, other than seeing if he was involved in the murder. To start asking him questions about that, may have come off as slightly aggressive. So Beatrice was opting for a far more subtle approach. So, after dropping Lucy off, she made her way to her scheduled appointment with Principal Chalmers.
"Ah yes, Ms. Fletcher, come on in," Principal Chalmers offered without getting up from his seat. He was a typical school principal, or so Beatrice thought. Balding, overweight and with a complexion that suggested he didn't see as much of the sun as a regular person ought to.
"Thank you for seeing me," Beatrice offered, making her way into his office and taking a seat at his desk. "I really do appreciate it."
"Not a problem. Especially after... well you know."
"A tragedy," Beatrice said. It was a purposefully chosen phrase, designed to see how he responded. She had gotten the sense before that Chalmers didn't much like Thomas, and she wanted to confirm this.
"An insolent if you ask me," the principal muttered as if trying to specifically prove Beatrice's point. "I have over one hundred traumatized children, a dozen distressed teachers, and a police detective now breathing down my back about murder. Murder! If you believe that? Why couldn't that janitor have done the right thing and ended himself in private? Save us all the headache," he finished, wiping sweat away from his brow.
Beatrice didn’t respond at first, studying the man after his outburst. It was clear that he had taken the death of Thomas to heart, but not in the same way that Lucy had. He seemed angrier about it as if it were a personal attack on him.
"I hear you wanted to fire him too?" Beatrice asked casually.
"What," he choked. "Who told you... that's not exactly...."
"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. It was just something that I had heard was all." She did her best to sound grandmotherly and as sweet as apple pie, ever batting her eyes as she did.
"It’s a little more complex than that. Thomas was getting old and was constantly sick. Plus, he injured his hand
a week or two ago which inhibited him from completing most of his duties. When I suggested that he take some time off, he exploded and... and well that's not an issue anymore is it?"
It was an odd way to talk about a man who had just died, and Principal Chalmers must have noticed, especially considering the way that Beatrice was looking at him. "But enough on that. What was it you wanted to see me about?" He hurried, clearly wanting to get off the topic before he said anything else incriminating, or just plain insensitive.
"It's about Lucy," Beatrice began. She had called up earlier to book this appointment, under the guise of her distressed granddaughter, best to stick to the story. "As you know her and Thomas were particularly close. More than most. And I just worry about how she might be treated over the next few days."
"Treated?" He asked, not getting her meaning.
"Yes. I meant, with homework and such. I'm sure you understand that she isn't in the right frame of mind to be doing too much work." It was probably a silly excuse for a meeting with the principal, but Beatrice wasn't too concerned. It wasn't like he suspected she was interviewing him.
"Well luckily the holidays are coming up and --"
"Hey Uncle... Oh. Hi." The interruption came from a young man standing in the doorway. He was in his mid-thirties, with terrible teeth, thinning hair and an even thinner mustache, but most interestingly he was also wearing a beige colored janitor's uniform.
"Hello," Beatrice offered, studying the young man. She didn't mind the interruption of course. In fact, she welcomed it. Especially considering what he was wearing and the fact that he had called the principal uncle. This was obviously the nephew that she had heard about. "I'm Ms. Fletcher," Beatrice offered.
"I'm Simon," he continued, stepping into the room. "Should I go... or..." he asked his uncle as he half stepped back to leave, and half leaned forward as if meaning to stay.
"No, it's fine. What was it?" Principal Chalmers asked, looking a little annoyed.
"I just wanted to tell you the uniform fits great. Oh, and I wanted to know what you wanted for dinner tonight? I was going to order some takeout."
"Yes, that's fine. No meat though," Chalmers said, looking like he couldn't care less about the dinner conversation. He actually looked a little embarrassed, Beatrice thought. Most likely by the fact that his nephew had turned up in an outfit that expressly contradicted the principal’s earlier statement. This made it look like they were waiting for the janitor to quit, or something else.
"Great!" Simon beamed, before turning back to Beatrice. "The old man can't cook to save his life, but then again neither can I. Peas from the pod I tell you." He chuckled at hiMs..elf before ducking from the room.
"I'm sorry about that," Principal Chalmers offered, rolling his eyes again.
Truthfully, Beatrice was barely paying attention. She was far more interested in the very British accent that Simon had. Chalmers was obviously American, so she assumed that his nephew would be too. But for him to be British, well, naturally Beatrice couldn't help but remember the story Thomas had told her about being mugged by a British man.
"That's alright," Beatrice said. "But I think I ought to be going. I really just wanted to make sure that everything with Lucy would be OK."
"Yes, yes of course." For the first time, Principal Chalmers stood, offering her a hand to shake. She did and gave it an extra little squeeze as she looked into his eyes. She was onto him and wanted him to know it.
10
Beatrice's next stop was Mr. McKay's classroom. As Lucy claimed, Mr. McKay and Thomas had been engaged in an argument a few days before his murder. Thomas had known something that he shouldn't. It was time for Beatrice to learn what that was.
She would have usually liked to leave a day or two between suspects to let the information from the interview settle, but as she was already at the school, she figured that she might as well talk to him.
That wasn't to mention that she technically wasn't investigating the murder of Thomas, or at least as far as everyone was concerned. It would have looked odd had she come back here in a few days to speak to a teacher. As such, she hurried through the school toward the science department where Mr. McKay was based.
He was a science teacher. The moment that Beatrice heard that, alarm bells rang through her head. It was quite the coincidence that a science teacher was a suspect in a murder case that involved poison. But again, she decided not to pass judgment too early. She would speak to Mr. McKay first and let the evidence do its own talking.
"Mr. McKay?" Beatrice asked as she leaned around the door to his classroom.
It was a small classroom with stacks of books piled up like columns next to a small desk. At that moment Beatrice was relieved to see that he was in. He was tucked behind his desk, his gut spilling over the top, while currently engaged in a box of cookies.
When he heard his name called, he looked up from the box, two or three cookies shoved into his mouth. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he waved her in. The words coming from his mouth weren't so much words as they were random noises.
"I hope this isn't a bad time?" Beatrice asked as she took a seat, gazing around the classroom. She wasn't so sure if the room was small, or the size of the man in it made it look so. She was almost certain that he had put on weight since the last time she had seen him just three days ago.
"Ms... ahhh... I'm sorry, you look familiar but I can't --"
"Ms. Fletcher. I'm Lucy's grandmother," Beatrice confirmed, trying to hide her disgust as stray crumbs formed in a pool on his belly.
"Oh, yes. We met backstage, correct?"
"Correct. It looks like you are enjoying those cookies?" She offered, unable to hide the smile forming on her lips.
"These? Oh yes, they're Ms. Elwin's buttercream cookies," he held the box up to Beatrice to have one. She eyed them, recognizing them as the same from the previous night. She declined, leaving Mr. McKay to shrug as he took another. "The best in the world I tell you. The best!"
"I don't doubt it," she conceded, more interested in Mr. McKay's left hand, previously holding the box of cookies out to her. She noticed the clear tan line where a wedding band would usually be worn. She suddenly remembered the argument that she had witnessed between the large man and his wife. Was this removed wedding band the cause of the argument or a symptom?
"So," he finally started, having swallowed all of the cookies that he could currently handle. "What is it I can do for you?"
"Oh, I was just visiting Principal Chalmers, asking him the same thing. It's about Lucy and the death of Thomas."
"Don't remind me," he scoffed, waving her off. "I never liked him truth be told. A dirty snoop and nothing more. Would you believe that I caught him going through my trash can? Red handed!"
"Was he going through it or cleaning it out?" She asked skeptically. He was a janitor after all, and they did have a tendency of cleaning out trash cans. That was their job after all.
"He definitely was going through – look it's not important. I stand by what I said. Good riddance if you ask me." He then wiped his hands by smacking them together, as if to emphasize the point.
"Right," Beatrice began, not sure of what to say to such a callous statement. "Either way, I just wanted to make sure that her teachers would go easy on her this week. As you might know, her and Thomas were particularly close. She's been hit harder than anyone."
Mr. McKay let out a long sigh, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head. "Look, Ms. Fletcher, I'll be honest. When it comes to Lucy, I don't think that any amount of 'taking it easy' is going to help her. She has never really shown much talent when it comes to academics. To go easy on her now would only hurt her I believe. Do you see what I mean?"
Beatrice saw red. Was this beast of a man honestly suggesting that Lucy was stupid and a below average student? Was he really suggesting that to not give her extra work would damage her academically? Beatrice couldn't think. She wanted to stand and yell, to really give it to this man,
and to crush those stupid cookies in his face while she was at it.
Instead, she simply nodded, smiling pleasantly. "I see," she said as she slowly got to her feet. "Well, thank you anyway."
Mr. McKay didn't stand as Beatrice went to leave the room. "I'll be sure to treat her how I would treat any of my students. That's just how I am." And he shoved another cookie into his mouth.
Considering the mood she currently found herself in, it was a miracle that Beatrice saw what she did on the way out. Tucked behind the half-open door, was an overnight bag, with an old shirt, pair of pants and toothbrush sticking out the top. There were only a few types of people that kept those around.
Mr. McKay was without a doubt having an affair. There was no doubt in her mind. If Beatrice was to warrant a guess, Thomas found this out. Was it a good motive for murder? Beatrice thought so. But was Mr. McKay capable of murder? She still wasn't sure.
Either way, call it bias or call it wishful thinking, a part of Beatrice kind of hoped that Mr. McKay was responsible. She would at this moment like nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his fat face.
11
Beatrice's mind was racing as she made her way through the parking lot toward her car. One side of it was reserved for Principal Chalmers and his British nephew, Simon. Although she wasn't so sure about Chalmers involvement, there was something very odd about Simon and the way he had been acting.
But the other side of her mind was focused on Mr. McKay, the science teacher with the skills to poison someone and the motive to do so. She tried to be as unbiased as possible and look at the facts objectively. These included his attitude toward Thomas and his motive. Beatrice tried not to hate the man, but she couldn't. Everything he did screamed murderer.
It was because of these thoughts that Beatrice failed to hear the voice calling to her from across the lot until she was nearly at the car. It was only when her hand was wrapped around the door handle that she looked up, spotting none other than Ms. Elwin hurrying toward her.
Case of the Butter Cream Cookie Hanging Page 5