Ginger Snapped to Death

Home > Mystery > Ginger Snapped to Death > Page 11
Ginger Snapped to Death Page 11

by Catherine Bruns


  "What are you doing here?" Josie asked me in amazement as she handed a pink box to Mrs. O'Brien.

  I gave her my best Cheshire cat grin. "Sorry, but don't I still own this place?"

  Mrs. O'Brien brought a hand to her mouth. "Goodness! Sally Donovan, you haven't had that baby yet? Look how big you are…are you sure it's not twins?"

  "Nope. There's only one baby in there. Guess he's going to be a big one, huh?" I winked at Josie as Mrs. O'Brien came over and put her hand on my stomach. It annoyed me when people other than my family or Josie did this. Mrs. O'Brien was one of our best customers, so I suppressed an urge to smack her hand way.

  Mrs. O'Brien frowned, the age spots on her cheeks growing larger. "Oh, my dear. I was smaller than you and in labor with my Jake for two whole days. I hope that doesn't happen to you."

  Her tone sounded gleeful, almost as if she did hope it would happen. I bit into my lower lip, trying to keep a sarcastic comment escaping.

  Josie came to stand next to me. "Sal, I need your opinion on something in the back room. Have a nice day, Mrs. O'Brien."

  "Not so fast, honey," Mrs. O'Brien huffed. "You didn't give me my fortune cookie yet."

  "Oh, I'll give you a cookie," Josie mumbled under her breath. She started toward the display case, when her cell phone rang.

  I held up a hand. "Go ahead and answer that. It could be an order. I'll get her cookie. I'm still allowed to lift one of those, right?"

  "Listen to that sarcastic mouth of yours. Who do you think you are—me?" Josie winked and went into the back room.

  I grabbed a piece of waxed paper from the box on the counter and reached into the case to grab a fortune cookie, which was stuck to another one. When I pulled them apart, the message in one popped out and stared me in the face.

  You'd better watch out, you better not cry…

  Good grief. I slammed the case shut with a bang and thrust the still intact cookie at Mrs. O'Brien, who stared back at me wide-eyed. The expression on my face must not have been jolly, because she exited the shop without another word. Josie came back into the room as I dumped the other cookie into the trash.

  "Should I even ask?"

  "No. Let's not go there," I said.

  She walked into the kitchen, and I followed. "You shouldn't be here," Josie said as she reached for a tray of macarons. "If you go into labor, Mike's going to yell at me."

  "Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed and nodded at Dodie, who was decorating a tray of gingerbread men. "Don't you need help finishing the order for the bank's Christmas party? It's tonight, right?"

  Josie sprinkled almonds on a tray of lemon macaroons that were ready to go into the oven. "Dodie's working on the gingerbread. I only need to do the rest of the tree cookies and some chocolate-filled cookie cups."

  My mouth watered at the mention of them. We'd recently added the cookie cups to our menu, and they were a huge hit. They consisted of a chocolate chip cookie crust filled with rich melted chocolate in the middle, and it was impossible to eat just one.

  Josie cocked her head at me. "Aren't the quarterly taxes due soon?"

  Shoot. I'd almost forgotten. "Yes. I can work on those while I wait for you and finish them at home if necessary. Once everything is in order—" I glanced over at Dodie, absorbed in decorating the cookies. "Perhaps we can take off for a bit?"

  Josie nodded. "Yes. Mickey's on his way in. I was going to tell him to forget about coming since it's been so slow, but it won't hurt to have him here, if you know what I mean."

  The row of silver bells on the front door jingled, and Josie held up a hand. "I've got it."

  I grabbed the paperwork from the safe I kept near the walk-in freezer. Dodie was still in her own little world, humming to herself as she placed raisins on a gingerbread man for his eyes and belly button. "How's everything going, Dodie?"

  The elderly woman didn't answer. I moved closer and then noticed she was wearing earbuds. I caught the faint strands of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" and cringed inwardly.

  "Dodie?" I called louder. Her head bobbed in time to the music, so I touched her gently on the arm.

  Dodie's right arm jerked out, and she squirted icing down the front of my red V-neck T-shirt. "Oh no!" Dodie screamed. "Sally, I'm so sorry!"

  "It's okay," I assured her and hastily went to the sink. I grabbed a sponge and worked at the stain, but my shirt was a mess. At least she'd missed hitting my coat, since I hadn't been able to button it for weeks.

  Dodie wrung her hands in obvious distress. "I'm so sorry. I'll buy you a new shirt. What size are you wearing—"

  She flung out her left hand, which connected with the bowl of icing. We both watched as the metal bowl flew into the air, flipped, and landed upside down on the floor, but not before it had flung icing everywhere—the stove top, metal cookie racks, and the front of the dishwasher. Dodie and I both bent down to pick up the bowl, and our heads collided. The impact caused me to stagger, and I landed hard on my backside.

  Josie hurried in and gasped when she saw me sitting on the floor. "What the hell happened? Are you all right?"

  "I think so. It was just a little accident." I accepted the hand she held out to me, and after a minute I was back on my feet.

  Josie narrowed her eyes at Dodie. "Oh, I think I can guess what happened."

  Dodie was in tears. "Oh, girls, I'm so sorry. Sally, I hope the baby is all right. I don't know what's the matter with me. I've never been so clumsy."

  "Only since birth," Josie said between gritted teeth and then turned to me. "If you're okay, someone's here to see you. That friend of Damian's."

  There was a Sally's Samples sweatshirt hanging on one of the brass wall hooks. The size read extra-extra-large. My father had asked for it but then ended up needing a smaller size. I slipped the shirt over my stained one, and it fit perfectly. It bothered me a bit to realize that I was now a larger size than my father, but I assured my deflated ego that it was only temporary. "Who's here to see me? Farley Drake?"

  Josie nodded. "I don't trust anyone who was friends with Damian. Don't worry—I'm not going to leave you alone with him for one single minute." She put an arm around me and looked over her shoulder at Dodie. "Mickey will be in to help you shortly. After we talk to the man out front, Sally and I are taking off for a spell."

  Dodie looked up from sweeping the floor to smile at us and almost sent the broom into a tray of gingerbread cookies. She smiled encouragingly. "You two go ahead. I'll take good care of everything here."

  "Sure she will," Josie whispered as we went into the storefront. "I may have to shoot her before the day is over just to get peace."

  When I laid eyes on Farley Drake, memories crowded my brain. Farley had been two years ahead of us in high school and, like Damian, always surrounded by girls. He was another one with that bad-boy image I'd always found appealing. Mike once had that quality too, but in a different way. At least he'd had the sense to stay away from drugs and alcohol in high school. Instead, his parents had been the ones with addiction problems.

  An evil-looking grin spread across Farley's face as he watched us approach, and his eyes lingered a bit too long on Josie's slender figure. I studied him for a minute, trying to remember what the appeal had been. Whatever it was had disappeared long ago with Farley's former toffee-colored hair, which was now bleached blond. His matching bushy eyebrows had a ring piercing through each one, and he wore a diamond stud in his left ear.

  "Hello, Farley," I said.

  "Yeah, I remember you and Red here." His mouth twitched under the full beard, also bleached blond. He probably spent more time on his appearance than I did. "Damian said you were still hung up on him, but I gotta say, you don't look like no killer to me. Guess I'm in the minority though."

  A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Why was everyone so obsessed with what had happened sixteen years ago? "Rachel must have given you my message."

  Deep-set gray eyes fixated on me. "Why were you bothering my girl?"

  "Hold
on a second," Josie interrupted. "We weren't bothering anyone. Sal's trying to find out who killed your friend and clear herself from the suspect list."

  Farley's gaze traveled down to my stomach. "I don't know why everyone's making such a fuss, even if it was your cake server that killed him. It would be hard for you to kill somebody, being handicapped like that."

  I struggled to keep my voice on an even keel. "Are you saying that having a baby handicaps a woman?"

  He held up a hand in protest. "Whoa. That's not what I meant, little mama."

  "Don't talk to her that way," Josie said sharply.

  "Look," Farley said. "All I meant is that it would be difficult for you to do the deed in your state…er, condition."

  I was slightly less insulted. At least this guy wasn't accusing me of murder—yet. "Would you like to sit down?" I gestured at one of the tables by the bay window.

  Farley plopped down in a chair and stretched his long legs under the table. He stared with interest at the display case while I watched. Was he a user too? He didn't have any visible signs, but if he and Damian had been friends for a long time, it was possible. "Would you like coffee? Or a cookie?"

  He licked his lips. "Yeah. Need something sweet." He watched with interest as Dodie came out of the back room with a tray of gingerbread for the case. I braced myself, waiting for her to slide into the wall with them. Josie rushed over to relieve her of the tray.

  "I'll take two of those gingerbread dudes," Farley said.

  "Josie, bring two of those cookies over for Farley, please," I called out.

  She brought a paper plate with the cookies and set them down in front of him. Farley stared at them for several seconds, as if unsure what to do with them. "They won't bite." I laughed.

  "Oh. Right." He gingerly broke the head off a gingerbread and popped it into his mouth.

  "You knew about my carjacking?" I asked.

  Farley chewed with all the subtleness of an alligator. "Yeah, Damian told me. He came by my place after he got back from the police station. He also said that Donovan had knocked you up."

  I sucked in a sharp breath. "The correct term is expecting or pregnant. And Mike is my husband, not a casual date."

  He shrugged. "Whatever."

  Farley was making it difficult to be nice to him, but I didn't want to alienate the man yet. "Have the police talked to you about Damian's death?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, but I don't know nothin'. I saw Damian when I was on my way to work. Rachel called me later to tell me what happened to him." He shook his head ruefully. "Damian had some issues, but he didn't deserve to go like that. Pretty brutal if you ask me."

  "Rachel said you're the manager at the local car wash," Josie interrupted. "Do you wash the cars too?"

  Farley chewed with his mouth wide open. "If someone doesn't show up for work, I gotta pitch in. Two guys called out sick that night."

  Josie frowned with disgust as he continued to munch away. "Damn. Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?"

  I frowned, afraid she'd offended him, but Farley merely laughed. "Yeah. Rachel says I'm a regular cow when I eat. My family didn't have much when I was a kid. There were six of us in two rooms, and at dinnertime it was always a race to see who could get to eat the fastest." He chuckled, as if remembering. "Move it or lose it."

  His comment made me ashamed of my earlier assumptions. Who was I to judge this man? Sure, he was friends with Damian, but that didn't necessarily make him a killer. I shifted the conversation back to the night Damian had died. "And you had to stay because the other guys didn't show?"

  "That's right. I didn't get out of there until after seven. We were busy that night and being shorthanded put me behind. I had to drop the night deposit at the bank too."

  That would put him at the car wash during Damian's death, which had occurred sometime between 6:00 and 6:30. I rested my elbows on the table. "It was twenty degrees on Saturday. People were still coming in to get their cars washed?"

  Farley looked at me as if I'd been smoking something. "People come out in all kinds of weather to get their cars washed. Or they stop by to use the vacuums. A clean car makes for a happy owner."

  Apparently, Farley had taken the company's motto to heart. "You were Damian's best friend. Who would have wanted him dead?"

  Farley shoved the rest of the gingerbread into his mouth. "Let's face the facts, ladies. I loved Damian like a brother, but he didn't have a lot of fans. He was always looking for a way to score drugs and then get out of paying people for them."

  I wrinkled my nose. "We heard that he'd been clean the last few months."

  He shook his head sadly. "There're ways of getting around drug tests. He managed to fool his parole officer a couple of times."

  Josie and I exchanged glances. "What about you?" she asked sharply. "Do you use too?"

  Farley's eyes frosted over like an ice storm. "Look, honey. I won't deny I've done them before. But I was never a total cokehead like D was."

  "Then why'd you hang out with him?" Josie snapped.

  "Because I've known him since we were kids. We both came from broken homes and grew up with nothin'. You never turn your back on childhood friends, no matter what."

  Josie's face colored slightly. She didn't respond, and I knew why—she could relate to what Farley was saying. Josie had come from a similar home with too many siblings to feed and not enough to always go around. Growing up, she'd eaten more dinners at my house than her own. Still, I was having a hard time swallowing the fact that Damian had been a devoted friend to Farley like Josie had always been to me.

  "What about Magnolia?" I asked suddenly.

  "What about her?" he snorted. "That chick is a tramp. She's hot and all, but still a tramp. I don't blame Damian for seeing someone behind her back. The dude was never satisfied with one woman. Babes were his second addiction, right behind drugs."

  "Quite the ladies' man," Josie said sarcastically.

  "How did you meet Rachel?" I asked.

  He looked uncomfortable at the question. "I, uh, was dating a friend of hers. When she introduced me to Rachel, it was love at first sight, so I dumped her."

  "Such an honorable guy." Josie snorted.

  Farley had the decency to look embarrassed. "Yeah, I know it was a rotten thing to do, but I had my reasons. She was a major user and wouldn't kick the habit." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "And she didn't care who it affected."

  "Rachel didn't tell us about that," I said.

  Farley scoffed. "Why would she? When Rachel started dating me, their friendship was toast."

  Another woman scorned. Too bad it didn't lead back to Damian, because there might be a motive involved. I studied Farley's face for a moment, trying to understand the appeal. He was still an attractive enough guy, and there were no visible signs of him being a user. I honestly couldn't see him treating any woman like a queen, as Mike did for me. But Rachel, who had dated both Damian and Farley, assured us that Farley was wonderful and Damian a first-class jerk. "Is there any chance I can talk to your ex—what did you say her name was?"

  Farley shook his head sadly. "No. She died last summer in an accident. She drowned."

  A pang of remorse shot through me. "I'm so sorry." There was never any way to know what kind of trauma another person might be experiencing. As Grandma Rosa always said, "Never judge a book by its picture."

  "Who else had a score to settle with Damian?" Josie asked. "Would his parents know of anyone?"

  "Nope. His parents are both dead. He's got a brother who lives in Arizona and another in Jersey, but he hasn't seen them in years."

  I thought back to the Damian I'd known in high school. Were there signs that he'd become a drug user and woman abuser? I hadn't seen any, but my grandmother obviously had. When I'd brought him over for dinner, she'd taken me aside to say that he was a bad story. She'd meant news, of course.

  Farley brushed crumbs off his shirt and stood. "I've got to get back to work. Thanks for the grub."

  "
I hope you enjoyed them," I said with sincerity.

  He wiggled a hand back and forth. "Eh. I've had better."

  Josie's mouth formed a thin, hard line. She didn't take criticism well, especially where her baking skills were concerned.

  "What about the two guys who carjacked me?" I asked. "How do they relate to Damian?"

  He shrugged. "Damian probably owed them money. Maybe they told him if he didn't pay up, he was going to wind up dead. Damian didn't choose his contacts wisely. This kind of stuff happens every day, honey." His eyes hardened. "I warned him to get help. He was getting in too deep. Nice talking to you."

  "One more thing," I said. "Do you have contact information for Magnolia?"

  Farley raised an eyebrow at me. "I know where to find her, if that's what you mean. But if I were you, I'd avoid that chick."

  "Why?"

  He looked at me in disbelief. "Because she hates you. She's been going around telling everyone that she saw you leaving Damian's building the night he was murdered."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  That was it. My Christmas goose was cooked for sure. What was to keep Magnolia from going to the police and telling them she'd seen me at Damian's? Was there any way I could stop her? Probably not. Farley said that she hated me, and she'd given every indication at the police station the other night.

  Josie clicked off her cell phone. "I left a message with Dru Ann."

  "Who?" I asked, distracted.

  "Magnolia's sister. I asked her to let Magnolia know you wanted to see her at the bakery. We're not going to her place."

  I was helping Josie with some last-minute baking for an order that had come in after Farley had left. Although it was short notice, we couldn't afford to turn down any business. A basket with 200 Christmas cookies that included macaroons, fudgy delights, gingerbread men, and chocolate cookie cups could only help our receding profit line. It was probably from someone out of town who hadn't heard that I was a potential murderess.

  Dodie had slipped and twisted her ankle, and Mickey had driven her to the emergency room. Her daughter had met them there. We were relieved when Dodie called to say she was all right. She assured us she'd be back at work Monday morning. Oh, more Christmas joy.

 

‹ Prev