"They love to embarrass lawyers too," Gianna added.
Brian pulled a small notepad out of his jacket pocket. "There was a 9-1-1 call placed by his girlfriend, Magnolia Nunez at seven o'clock this evening. She'd spoken to him on the phone at six, so we know the murder happened between that timeframe."
The way Brian watched me was uncomfortable. It wasn't a lovestruck type of look. Suspicion was etched into those chiseled features of his, and I didn't know why. Between six and seven o'clock tonight a man had been murdered—my first high school crush—while I'd dozed on the couch, watched television, and waited for my husband to pick me up for dinner. So what else did this have to do with me?
Brian continued. "Since I recognized the address, I volunteered to take the call. Adam came with me. Magnolia was hysterical and had to be sedated. Damian was lying on his back on the living room floor with his throat cut."
With a shiver, I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach.
Mike glared at Brian. "There's no need for graphic details. My wife has been through enough the past couple of days. Is that all you had to tell her? Why didn't you do it over the phone?"
"There's more," Brian said. He drew his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and then held it out for us to see. "This is what we found next to Damian's body."
I squinted at the picture and then gasped. Next to Damian's outstretched hand on the floor was a small pink bakery box, lying upended. I could read Sally's Samples on the lid. Next to it on the floor was a piece of waxed paper and two of Josie's famous gingerbread cookies. These ones were iced in pink, not the typical white buttercream she always used, but they were definitely her handiwork. She always drew the mouth with one single tooth in the middle. It was her signature trademark, she'd laughingly explained.
Even more disturbing than the cookies was the murder weapon lying next to them. A pink handle caught my eye and a serrated edge tinted with red—blood. My body began to shake with fear as recognition set in.
It was the cake server that Josie had given me yesterday.
CHAPTER SIX
Mike peered over my shoulder at the phone. "What is it?" he asked. "Are those your cookies in the picture?"
"And my cake server," I whispered weakly. "The one I told you about—that Josie gave me as a gift." I stared up at Brian in confusion. "How—no. This is impossible. How could someone have gotten my cake server? Josie was at the bakery until at least six o'clock. It's our busiest time of the year." Oh shoot. Then I remembered her saying that she was closing a half hour earlier tonight. One of her kids had a Christmas concert at school.
A vein bulged in Mike's neck. "Someone is trying to frame you for Damian's murder." He cocked his head in Brian's direction. "Are you sure the server is what killed him?"
Brian nodded. "Positive. Without getting into gory details, it was stuck in the side of his neck. The first thing we did was remove it."
Mike chuckled, and we all glanced at him in amazement. His face colored quickly. "Sorry," he murmured. "I'm not laughing about Damian being killed. It's the idea that Sal had anything to do with it, which is ridiculous. First off, she'd never hurt a fly. Second, she wouldn't have had the strength to plunge that thing into his neck."
Brian eyed my husband thoughtfully for a moment. "If she'd caught him off guard or he'd had his back to her, it's entirely possible. For that matter, anyone could have done this."
My mouth dropped open in shock. "Are you saying you think I killed Damian?"
"Brian, this is ludicrous!" my mother cried.
"Sal, you don't have to answer any questions without a lawyer present," Gianna chimed in. She burped and then gave a giggle. "Oops. That's right—I'm a lawyer."
Jeez Louise. "Brian, you know that I didn't do this." I held my breath and waited for him to answer while the rest of the room grew quiet.
"Yes, I do know," he agreed. "But I don't have any choice in the matter. I have to take you down to the station for questioning."
Mike jumped up from the table. "Like hell you will."
My father pointed a finger at Brian. "For God's sake, you're upsetting her, man. Do you want her to have my grandchild at the police station?"
An overwhelming thought of terror shot through me. What if Brian put me in a holding cell for the night? Maybe I'd go into labor and have to rely on a policeman or a prostitute cellmate to help deliver my baby. Oh. My. God. Why did these things always happen to me?
Mike placed a protective hand on my shoulder. "Sal's staying right here, Jenkins. Look at her, for crying out loud. She's still in shock from what happened last night. Hasn't she been through enough?"
"It's only a formality," Brian said calmly. "Sally's not going to be arrested. Please do me a favor and cooperate. I promise it won't take long, and then you can be on your way home."
Slowly and clumsily, I rose from the table. Mike gently whirled me around to face him. "You don't have to do this, baby." He glared menacingly over my head at Brian. "If anyone thinks you had something to do with this, they're crazy. It's a setup."
"I'm going with you," Gianna announced. She rose from the table, took a step, and tripped over the back of the baby's highchair. Alex started to cry, and Gianna went down in a heap on the carpet.
Johnny was at her side in seconds. "Sweetheart, maybe you overdid it on the wine a little bit."
She looked around for her purse and then gave the baby a kiss on the forehead. "Everything is overdone. Too much stress in my life. Too much weirdness in my family. And our wedding is going to be a chaotic disaster thanks to your grandmother."
My father nodded his approval. "She's right, Johnny. Your grandmother's a nightmare waiting to happen."
Johnny shot my father a surly look but said nothing.
"Wait for me, Sal." Gianna swayed back and forth and then grabbed on to the baby's highchair for support. "Whoops! The room is upside down."
Grandma Rosa spoke in a low but sharp voice. "Gianna, my dear, the only place you are going is to bed. I think that Sally is better off without you."
My father helped himself to a third piece of cheesecake and nodded at Johnny. "Yep. It's all your grandmother's fault. That crazy broad could drive anyone to drink."
He turned his head and spotted Grandma Rosa and Nicoletta standing in the doorway. "Whoops."
Nicoletta's coal black eyes were smoking with anger. "Huh. You call me crazy? Father Death himself? You the biggest loon in the state. An embarrassment to Italians everywhere." She shook her finger at my mother. "Someday, he gonna put you in one of his coffins. And you still gonna be alive."
My mother burst out laughing. "Oh really, Nicoletta. Domenic's speaking the truth. It's Gianna's wedding. Let her and Johnny do what they want."
"She gotta have an all-Italian wedding," Nicoletta insisted, "or they have bad luck forever. Then the baby grow fat and bald like your husband."
My mother gasped. "What a terrible thing to say! Domenic isn't fat." She ran a hand over his stubbled head. "He's sooo handsome. Why, he's even better looking than George Clooney."
Okay, that was pushing it, but I refrained from comment.
Gianna stumbled toward me, pushing Johnny's hands away. "You see? I told you we should have eloped. This wedding has Titanic written all over it."
"Excuse me?" Mike raised his voice to be heard above the commotion. "We seem to have a more important matter here to deal with now. My wife is being accused of murder."
"Bah, what you say." Nicoletta sat down and helped herself to a piece of cake. "That nothing new."
Brian's nostrils flared as he and Mike stared each other down. "I told you she hasn't been accused of anything yet."
"Sal…" Gianna slurred her speech, and my name sounded like Shall. "Don't worry. I'll defend you."
"You're drunk as a skunk," my father protested and gestured at Johnny. "You might be Italian, son, but you sure don't know how to handle your woman."
"Domenic!" Maria cried. "You apologize to Gianna and Johnny ri
ght now."
I shut my eyes and almost started to click my heels, wishing I could disappear. What I'd always been afraid of for years was finally happening. My crazy, wild ride of a family was about to fall over the cliff.
My father threw his arms open wide and looked apologetic. "Hey, I'm just speaking the truth, hot stuff. Our daughter is a well-respected lawyer, but right now she's acting like a common drunk. If she goes with Sal, all three of them will wind up in the slammer, our grandchild included."
"That is enough," Grandma Rosa said sharply. "You all sound like a bunch of clowns." She touched Johnny's arm. "You take Gianna home. She cannot go to the police station with Sally. It is not good for Sally, and it is not good for Gianna. If someone Gianna works with sees her acting like a rhino, she may get into trouble."
Gianna looked at my grandmother in horror. "What did you just call me?"
"Um, that's wino, Grandma," I whispered.
"That is good too," she agreed. "Mike, you and Sally go with Brian. Brian will not let anything happen to her tonight. And as for you," she addressed my father. "Sit down and eat your cake. You are always causing trouble. Eat until you burst, and then go write your pazza blog."
My father mumbled under his breath but did as he was told.
Nicoletta started to jump up and down with excitement. Her black coat flailed out around her sticklike frame, making her look a bit like the grim reaper. "Yes, he is a loon. I think—"
"Don't think," Grandma Rosa interrupted and pointed to the door. "Time for the rest of the crazies to go home and go to bed."
"I never be so insulted," Nicoletta grumbled.
"Yes, you have," Grandma Rosa said. "Are we still on for cards tomorrow night?"
"Yeah yeah," Nicoletta agreed. "But you gotta bring the chips and salsa this time." She grunted at all of us, and a moment later we heard the kitchen door bang shut behind her.
Mike placed my coat around my shoulders. "Come on, princess. Let's get this over with. Are we allowed to take our own car, officer? Or maybe you'd like to handcuff my wife and put her in your backseat?"
Gianna giggled as Johnny led her out of the room. "He's probably thought about it numerous times."
Heat flooded my cheeks, and the room grew so quiet that you could have heard one of Nicoletta's hairpins drop. When I dared to look at Brian, he turned and walked out of the room.
"I'll meet you both outside," he called over his shoulder. "Mike, you can follow me in your own car."
"I'll bring Alex out to yours, Gianna," my mother said as Johnny handed Gianna her coat, and they left the room. Never mind the baby, poor Johnny had his hands full with my sister alone.
My mother strapped the sleeping child into his car seat and trotted after them. Alex was a true mystery to me. He cried when it was quiet and slept when it was noisy. Maybe Gianna should let him live at my parents' house. She'd never hear a peep out of him again.
My father poured himself another glass of wine. "Good luck, baby girl. Hey, keep your eyes open for any interesting goings-on at the police station. I need a new subject for the blog tomorrow."
"My God," Mike exploded as we walked onto the front porch with my grandmother behind us. "Just when I think your family can't get any weirder, something like this happens."
Grandma Rosa kissed me on the cheek, and I clung to her tightly for a moment. "It's all a mistake, isn't it?" My voice quavered as I spoke into her shoulder. "Maybe someone else has a server like mine." With the same engraving? Property of Baker Sally Donovan. Right. Oh yeah, that could definitely happen.
She sighed and patted my back. "I would like to think so, cara mia. But this is you we are talking about, remember."
* * *
Twenty minutes later Mike and I were seated in the police station's interrogation room. Perhaps I'd jinxed myself earlier, recalling how I'd never been in there before. Maybe I'd jinxed myself by getting out of bed this morning—who knew?
It was a sparse room with a small wooden table and two black plastic chairs stationed on either side. The chairs, I noticed, were bolted to the floor. After being involved in almost a dozen murders, I'd finally reached full criminal status.
Brian nodded toward the DVD recorder in the center of the table. "I hope you don't mind that I'm recording this. It's standard procedure."
Mike held my hand tightly and shot him a death glare. "She really doesn't have any choice, does she, Jenkins?"
Brian gritted his teeth in exasperation. "Look, Mike. I'm doing you a favor by letting you stay in the room with Sally. I could have told you to wait in the hallway. Now, if I hear one more word out of you, that's where you're headed."
I shifted uneasily in my seat, watching the body language of the two men as they observed each other in silence. This was all I needed right now—a battle of wills between two very stubborn men. Gianna's comment about Brian being interested in me hadn't gone unnoticed by Mike either. It didn't help the current situation, but this wasn't jealousy on his part. He was angry about the way Brian was treating me—like a common criminal, as he'd pointed out on our drive over here.
"Mike." I tried to sound more confident than I felt. "I'd really like you to stay, so let me answer the questions, okay? It's not like I have anything to hide. The sooner I'm done, the sooner we can go home."
Mike's rigid body relaxed a bit, and he drew my hand to his mouth, still glaring at Brian. "You're right. I'm sorry, princess. This is a lot for you to go through, especially right now. Okay, I'll stay quiet. Promise."
"Good," Brian muttered as he jotted something down on a piece of paper. "Sally, do you know what time the bakery closed tonight?"
My eyebrows drew together. "Well, it's usually six o'clock at this time of year, but Josie had another obligation and had to leave at five thirty."
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "I've already placed a call to have Josie come down for questioning but haven't heard back from her yet."
I stared at him in disbelief. "That's probably because she's at her son's school for a Christmas concert. I doubt she's answering her phone for anyone."
"Well, I'll go to her house later if I have to," he replied grimly.
This was too much. "Brian, you know that neither Josie nor I had anything to do with Damian's murder. Why would we kill him? Someone must have broken into the shop to steal the cake server."
He ignored my comment. "What were you doing between five thirty and seven o'clock?"
"I was at home, waiting for Mike. When he arrived, we left for my parents' house."
Brian calmly looked over at Mike. "And you got home at what time?"
Mike paused to think. "Six thirty? I may be a minute or two off though, so don't hold that against us." His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Brian tapped a pen against his perfect white teeth. "So, you were alone for about an hour, Sally?"
I didn't like what he was implying. "I was alone all afternoon, but—"
"Just answer the question please," Brian said curtly.
Mike shot him a death glare, but mercifully said nothing. The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a cake server. I shuddered at the thought. "Yes, I was alone between five thirty and six thirty. Well, except for Spike, but for some reason I don't think he's going to confirm my statement."
Brian's jaw dropped at my sarcastic comment, and I was surprised myself. I always tried to cooperate with the law, but I didn't enjoy being questioned like I was a felon.
Brian leaned back in his chair and studied me. "The fact remains that you were alone for an hour. Damian only lives ten minutes from your house."
Mike's eyes glittered. "What are you trying to say?"
"I told you not to interfere in my questioning." Brian jerked his thumb toward the door. "Outside, please."
"Forget it. I'm not leaving." Mike folded his arms across his chest and remained seated.
"You promised not to say anything else!" I chided my husband and then looked imploringly at Brian. "You know that I didn't ki
ll him."
Brian switched the recorder off. He rose from his chair, and we followed suit. "I can't take this anymore, Sally. I'm going to ask to be removed from this investigation." He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I'm too close to both of you to be objective. If further questioning is needed, another officer will be assigned."
Great. Wonderful. My only ally was gone. I'd come to depend on Brian in difficult situations and wondered what would happen to me next. Fear knotted in the pit of my stomach. Damian and I had a past together. Okay, it was 16 years ago, and the entire idea was ridiculous, but it was still a past. His address had shown up in my vehicle after I'd been carjacked and had a gun held to my head. My serrated cake server had been found next to his dead body, along with my gingerbread cookies. How was anyone going to believe that I hadn't killed him?
If everyone in town found out I was a suspect, it would make business in the shop nonexistent. I knew that Mike was worried the stress might affect my health and the baby's. I gripped his hand tightly as Brian held the office door open for us. "No one's going to find out about this, right?"
"Don't worry," Brian assured me. "It's strictly confidential. Besides, it wouldn't be a good thing if the media did find out. They always seem to have a field day at your expense, Sally."
Boy, he wasn't kidding. My bakery had been referred to as Sally's Shambles many times, thanks to the dead bodies I somehow always managed to stumble across.
A woman about my age was sitting on the wooden bench in the hall, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Despite the cold night, she was dressed in a sleeveless one-piece black halter dress with sequins and matching sandals. A black leather jacket was draped over the arm of the bench. Her angular face was heavily made up, and her shoulder-length dark hair was tousled and messy. She looked up, and our eyes met, recognition instantly setting in for both of us.
"Magnolia?" I asked.
Magnolia Nunez had been a high school classmate of mine, the girl Damian had thrown me over for. They'd dated off and on through high school and the following years, but at my ten-year reunion, they'd both attended with different dates. The latest rumor in Colwestern was that they were back on again. Magnolia had found his body, so she must be here for questioning.
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