“You mean he wanted out?”
“He wanted out, but that was not going to happen. We were in it together and I wasn’t about to let him ruin everything I had built. He threatened to go to the police. He was going to confess. I told him that he would do jail time too, but he said he didn’t care. That the pressure was getting to him. He only cared for himself. I knew the truth. He was going to throw me under the bus and keep the cash. I couldn’t let that happen, and then in a stroke of the most wonderful luck, he was drunk as a skunk, dancing around the middle of the street when I was on my way home. I seized the opportunity. No one ever suspected me, except for you and your father.” She narrowed her eyes and gave me a stare that sent fear running down my spine.
“I warned your father—twice. If he hadn’t stopped meddling, I wasn’t about to give him a third chance. Now you have to get involved and ruin everything. Too bad daddy isn’t here to save you.”
“Shelly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve been in the theater far too long. I know a con when I see a con. You know exactly what you’re up to. I didn’t buy that ruse for a minute today. And then I watched Amanda put together a nice little packet of ‘memories’ for you. Yeah right. You and Lance are trying to find Chuck’s killer. Success, honey. You found her, but I bet you didn’t think through what you were going to do next, now did you?”
Her syrupy voice sent another chill through my body.
“You didn’t really think that I would let my dirty little secret come out after all these years, did you? Oh no, no, no, no. That’s not the way this works. You should have stuck with the baking.”
“Shelly, you don’t want to do this. If you kill me, the police will know. I’ve already shared everything with two Ashland detectives.”
“Shared what?” She glanced around the kitchen. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
She stepped closer and pressed the gun to my skin. “The file that Amanda gave you. I was watching. I followed her to plaza and saw her give it to you. Where is it?”
“It’s in the dining room.”
“Excellent. Let’s go grab it.”
“Even if you take whatever evidence you think is there, the police are still going to figure it out, Shelly. I told them my suspicions.” That was half true. Where was Thomas? Please come soon.
“Pick it all up.” She motioned for me to gather the papers and photos laid out on the table.
I followed her directions. Once I had everything stacked, she pointed to the chair. “Take a seat.”
“You’re going to shoot me in my own house?” If I could figure out what Shelly’s intention was, maybe I could find a way out.
She looked at her watch. “No, no. I’m not shooting you. My dear friend will be taking on that responsibility. Sadly, then he’ll be so remorseful that he’ll kill himself. A double homicide. Such a shame in charming little Ashland, Oregon.”
The gun stayed focused on me.
“Who? Ronald?” I asked.
“You figured that out too. My you are a smart one, aren’t you?”
“Did he write the notes and leave them at the bakeshop for my dad?”
“He did. He owed me a favor—or a dozen favors. That’s the nice thing about addicts. They are always so helpful when they need their next hit, so I took him up on his services. He had no idea why of course. And if he did, he never said a word because he knows better than to mess with me.”
The longer she kept talking the better chances were that Detective Kerry and Thomas would arrive. I just hoped that they would get here before Ronald.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Let’s go,” Shelly commanded. “Get those papers—all of them. I think it’s chilly in here. Time for a fire, don’t you think?”
I shuddered, but followed her directions.
“Move, move.” She used the gun to force me toward the fireplace.
She was going to burn the evidence.
I heard the front door open. I wasn’t sure if Shelly heard it too, she was still consumed with rage over my dad and his “meddling.” Was it Thomas? Why wasn’t he calling for me?
“Your father was such a do-gooder. He should have minded his own business. A young wife and daughter. What was he doing running around town trying to play detective?”
“He was asked to help by Doug—the Professor.”
“Doug. What a joke. What did he know? He was as green as they come. I had a good laugh watching him make a mess of the case. He had no chance of figuring it out. I’m surprised he kept his job.”
Shelly’s cockiness surprised me. I would have thought that having the case resurface would make her nervous, not boastful.
She kept talking with the gun lasered at me. My senses were on high alert. I heard soft footsteps in the hallway and then the kitchen. Was it Chef Ronald, coming to be of service again, or was it Thomas and Kerry?
My heart thudded in my chest.
Keep her distracted, Jules.
Maybe Ronald would refuse to help her this time. If he really didn’t know that she had killed Chuck, maybe he would come to my rescue. He had turned his life around. He wouldn’t want to risk his career and everything he had worked for in the last ten years for Shelly, would he?
“William and Helen Capshaw, Ashland’s love birds. Weren’t they the cutest? That’s what everyone said. They used to complain about their expenses. I would have liked to have had a small bakery to run.”
The footsteps were close now. Right behind me.
I didn’t dare turn around.
Shelly glanced at her watch again. “Where is he?”
“He’s not coming,” a familiar voice boomed.
I turned to see the Professor standing in the dining room doorway with his gun pointed at Shelly. She didn’t flinch. She kept her gun on me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Chuck Faraday and the attempted murder of Juliet Capshaw.” The Professor’s tone was calm and even.
I felt neither of those emotions.
Shelly wasn’t budging. She kept the gun pointed directly at my chest. Her eyes weren’t crazed. They were unnervingly focused. “Go ahead. Try. I’ll shoot her.”
I didn’t doubt that she would. I clutched the papers so tightly my fingers had turned white.
The Professor gave me a reassuring nod. “You won’t shoot. This ends tonight. It should have ended long, long ago.”
Shelly cocked the gun.
I tried to swallow, but my tongue felt like it had swollen to twice its size.
“No. You’ll put the gun down and come with me, Shelly. It’s over. We have you surrounded.”
“What?” She turned just as Thomas and Detective Kerry appeared on the opposite side of the dining room.
For the first time since Shelly had shown up on my doorstep, I took a real breath.
Everything happened in a blur. Detective Kerry had the gun out of Shelly’s hands and her wrists in handcuffs in one deft motion. The Professor read Shelly her rights, and Thomas came to check on me.
“How you doing, Jules? You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay.” I scrunched my head. “The Professor. How?” I couldn’t form complete sentences.
“Kerry and I met up with him back at the station after we took care of a traveler panhandling by the theater. We were going to try to keep quiet about the case, but he was reviewing the old file when we got there.” He guided me to a chair to sit down.
“I’m so glad. She was going to kill me. She said that Ronald was on his way, and she intended to have it look like a murder/suicide.”
Thomas patted my knee. “It’s cool. You just take it easy for a few. I’m going to get you a glass of water, and then I’m sure the Professor is going to want to take a statement while everything is fresh.”
“Okay.”
He went to get me water while Kerry and the Professor t
ook Shelly out to their waiting squad car.
“Here you go.” Thomas handed me the water. “Drink slow.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
Thomas frowned. “You’ve just had a gun pointed at you and your life threatened. If you’re fine, Juliet, then you’re not human.”
The glass shook as I tried to bring it to my lips. “Okay, maybe I’m a little shaken.”
“Yeah.” Thomas sat next to me.
The Professor returned. “You and Detective Kerry can process Shelly. I’ll be along shortly.”
Thomas gave him a half salute. “On it.” Then he pressed his hand on my shoulder. “Good work tonight.”
“Mind if I take a seat?” The Professor nodded at the empty chair next to me.
“Please.”
“I’m sorry to have put you through that, Juliet.”
“It’s my fault.” I told him about Lance and our excursions. “I know we shouldn’t have gotten involved. I guess after you told me the whole story about my dad, I sort of felt responsible. Like if I could solve the case, it would connect us somehow. And, to be honest, I wanted to solve it for you. You’ve done so much for me. You’ve been like a second father.”
His voice became husky. “Juliet, let me assure you that you never need do anything to be more connected to your father. He is you. Every time I look at you, I see Will’s laughing eyes and his giant, open heart. He lives on in you, and nothing—absolutely nothing—gives me more pride then being able to fill his shoes in any small way, shape, or form.”
Emotion overcame me. I broke down.
The Professor sat in silence, holding me tight. His arms wrapped me in comfort. When I regained control of my tears, he encouraged me to drink more water. “I do believe this is my fault. I shouldn’t have burdened you with the case. It’s been weighing on me for so long, that I feel I unfairly put you in the middle. Will you please accept my apology?”
“Of course. I’m not upset. Hearing about my dad and Torte’s early days has given me a new perspective and understanding.”
He nodded, but I wasn’t sure he agreed with me. “I must beg you to walk me through what you recall.”
I relayed everything that had happened, including each of the suspects that Lance and I had visited and Shelly’s confession. “There’s no sign of Ronald though?”
The Professor made a final note in his Moleskine notebook. “He’s already been taken into custody for questioning.”
“Do you think he was in on it?”
“Off the record, I would say that he must have suspected something. Why else would Shelly have asked him to write threatening notes? If he was involved, that will make him an accessory to murder. And withholding critical information pertaining to the case will also land him some jail time.”
“I can’t believe that it was Shelly.”
“It is a puzzle, but it makes sense when I think back. She was so driven those days. Too driven, obviously. I have you to thank, actually. When I pulled the old case files, I realized that there were a number of financial records missing. I’m sure you’re familiar with the old adage ‘Follow the money’?”
I nodded.
“I should have done a better job at doing just that. Reading Will’s journals brought it to top of mind. I had forgotten how piecemealed the Cabaret’s financial records had been. At the time, I chalked it up to their newness and lack of funding, but with fresh eyes, I realized that was exactly what she wanted me to think. Donor receipts were scribbled on notepaper, intentionally hard to read. What a grave mistake I made by overlooking that. I assumed, like everything else in Ashland in those days, that it was a lack of time and organizational skill, but now I see we were wrong.”
“I was just looking over the same thing, and there was a lot of money exchanged.” I explained how Amanda had made copies for me. “Now I know why Shelly was so desperate to get her hands on the old paperwork. I wonder why she kept it. Why wouldn’t she have shredded it years ago?”
The Professor shrugged. “Overconfidence perhaps? Time? I would guess that it was our renewed interest in the case that triggered her panic.”
“She showed up before I had time to look everything over. What exactly were she and Chuck involved in?”
“From what I’ve gathered, she repeated the same scheme again and again. Promising high-end donors special access, special recognition, private early screenings of plays, and much, much more—none of which ever came to fruition. Chuck was her front man. He sold them in and Shelly took their money. My aha moment came when I reopened the case file and saw the bank statements we pulled back in 1988 for the Cabaret. I should have picked up on this at the time, but Shelly was the sole signer on the account. She had complete access over every single cent coming in and out of the theater.”
“And, when Chuck wanted out, she killed him,” I added.
The Professor sighed. “Such a shame.”
“Now what? What about Mom?”
He frowned. “I think the time is long overdue to explain this to your mother. I feel better knowing that we have a suspect in custody, but I’m not looking forward to coming clean myself. I hope she’ll be able to forgive me.”
“She loves you.” I reached for his hand. “Do you want my dad’s journal and everything we’ve found? That might help.”
“I would love for you to share that with her once I’ve had a chance to speak with her.”
“Deal.”
He stood. “I must get to the station … and then I have a date with your mother.”
“Good luck.”
I locked the door after he left and went to bed with my dad’s journal. I had planned on reading it again, but fell asleep with it resting on my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed and ready to meet the day. I knew what my first order of business had to be—a conversation with Mom. When I arrived at Torte, she was already in the kitchen. The Professor must have confessed everything last night.
Classical music played overhead. The smell of baking bread and coffee flooded the kitchen. Mom pressed buttery tart crust into tins. Her cheeks were dusted with flour and bright with color.
“Mom, you’re here.” I walked to greet her with a hug and ended up bawling in her arms.
“I know, honey. Doug told me everything last night,” she whispered in my ear, as she brushed a tear from my cheek.
“It’s weird, I’ve never felt this close to Dad.”
She kissed my head. “Haven’t I always told you that you are your father’s daughter?”
“Yeah, but I guess I never knew how much until now.” I showed her his journal. Tears poured from her eyes as we looked through his notes.
“You know what comes through the most?” she asked, when we finished.
“What?”
“The fact that he loved us more than anything.”
We leaned into each other.
“Torte sounded amazing back then.”
She wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron. “It was. It really was, but it still is, and I know if your dad were here, he would be so proud of what you’ve built and how you’ve grown it.”
“Stop, Mom, you’re going to make me cry again.”
She brushed her hands together. “We can’t have that. There’s bread to be made. We’ll get a head start before Marty gets here.”
We got to work baking. “How did your conversation last night go? Doug was so worried about telling you.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I didn’t know.”
“Mom!”
“Juliet, what? Give your poor mother a little credit.” She used the weight of her arms to press the tart crust into a line of fluted tins.
“I can’t believe you knew.” I measured milk and butter for my cinnamon-roll dough.
“Of course I knew. William was like a little kid. He was so excited to be working side by side with Doug. Ashland is a small town now, but back then it was even smaller. I would
’ve had to have been hiding under a rock not to know. I also knew the reason he didn’t tell me was because he thought I would worry. He was wrong about that. I wouldn’t have worried. I knew he was with Doug, and Doug was already the best detective we’d ever had.”
“You knew!” I repeated.
“I can have my secrets too. Sometimes a touch of mystery is good for a relationship. I didn’t know about the threatening notes, or the fact that Torte was broken into by Shelly—or maybe Ronald—and not kids. I’m grateful that your father gave up the case then, because I wouldn’t have wanted to see anything happen to you or for Torte to have sustained more damage.” She took the first batch of tart crusts to the oven to blind bake.
“Poor Doug. He was so worried.”
“To tell you the truth, I had forgotten all about the case. It never crossed my mind when we got married. I never felt like Doug was hiding a secret. You have to remember this happened almost thirty years ago.”
“Right.”
She returned to the next batch of tart crusts “I never told your father this, but I was pleased that he was working the case with Doug. He was so consumed with Torte at the time. Don’t get me wrong. It was good. We needed his energy and commitment to making the bakeshop a success, but he was obsessed. He didn’t sleep well at night those days because he was so worried about money and whether or not we were going to succeed. Helping Doug with the case was a break from all of that. I guess that’s probably one of the reasons I never let on that I knew.”
Her explanation made sense. And, yet again, it made me understand my own compulsions. I guess if nothing else, now I knew that I came by them naturally.
We went through the routine of proofing yeast for bread dough and mixing vats of cake batter. I couldn’t believe how much things at Torte had changed while at the same time how much they had stayed the same.
Bethany was one of the first staff members to arrive, breaking our morning of reminiscing. Her cheeks were flushed with color and she had a bit of spring to her step.
“How was the mountain?” I asked.
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