Cake and Punishment

by Maymee Bell

  The sound of a car came from behind me. My tennis shoes hugged the pavement’s edge. As the car got closer, I turned around and saw it was barreling right at me, even swerving toward me. My phone fell out of my pocket and landed on the road. There was no time to get it or I’d be road kill.

  The gravel spit up under my tennis shoes as I stumbled over myself to get off the blacktop and into the grass. I tucked my head and did a few frontward rolls. The truck tires spit up the grass and dirt from underneath them as they came to a halt. A rock flew out of the window and hit me in the side. As soon as I reached for it, the tires dug into the earth and the truck sped off.

  My adrenaline was rushing through my veins, and I jumped to my feet trying to get a look at the truck that’d clearly tried to kill me. My chest heaved up and down as I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself. My hands shook and my knees wobbled as I bent down to get the rock that had been thrown at me. There was a piece of paper wrapped around it with a rubber band. I could see the entrance to my new neighborhood, and if I could just get there, I was sure I’d be fine.

  I chose the no-road way just in case that truck came back to finish off the job, but not without grabbing my run-over phone. I gimped through some tall dead grass and a couple of fields that had yet to be bush hogged for the first spring cut.

  In the distance, I could see Charlotte’s kitchen light on. Gratefully, I made it through the fields and limped up to her back door. With the rock in my grip, I beat on the door with my flat palms. When Brett opened the door, I pushed through. “Sophia?” he asked.

  “Sophia?” Charlotte pushed past him and grabbed me. “What on earth happened to you?” she cried out and pulled a twig from my hair.

  “Someone tried to run me over.” I was in so much shock, I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or laugh.

  “Is that blood? Oh my God! You’re bleeding! Brett!” Charlotte rushed me to her kitchen table and sat me down. “Sophia is hurt. Call Carter!”

  “No.” I waved her off. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you aren’t. Someone has tried to kill you.” Her head twisted over her shoulder. “Call Carter now.”

  While Charlotte ran off to get me a washcloth, I eased back in the chair, extending my legs forward. There was blood dripping down my shin from a scratched-up knee. I licked my lips, and a coppery taste filled my mouth. I put my hand up to my lip and pulled it back to look at. There was blood.

  Suddenly I felt a little woozy, and I was getting woozier by the second. Charlotte dabbed at me, cleaned me up, and asked all sorts of questions I couldn’t answer before Carter showed up.

  “What happened?” Carter stood in Charlotte’s kitchen. “Sophia.” He crouched down between my legs. He grabbed the washcloth from Charlotte and used the edge of it to blot my lip. “Are you okay?”

  I looked between Charlotte and Carter.

  “I think she needs to lay down,” Carter said, and stood up.

  “I’m fine.” I waved them off. “Just a little light-headed, that’s all.”

  “What happened to you?” Carter’s voice was steady and strong.

  Charlotte was shivering in Brett’s arms. Both of them were staring at me.

  “I was jogging and someone didn’t see me and nearly hit me.” I tried to whisper low enough not to alarm anyone.

  “Did you hear her?” Charlotte questioned. “Someone tried to run her over?” She cried out, “Brett, you’ve got to do something. Right now.”

  “What do you expect me to do, Charlotte?” he asked. “Carter is right here and he’s the law.”

  “Nearly hit you?” Carter dabbed the scrape. “It looks like you did some sort of dive because they were coming at you.”

  “Coming at me, didn’t see me,” I nonchalantly said, and bit the edges of my lips.

  “What is that?” Carter asked about the rock in my hand. I’d completely forgotten about it. Maybe I was in a little bit of shock.

  “A clue.” My eyes shot open. “They threw this rock at me.”

  Carter took it from me and took the rubber band off, releasing the piece of paper. I watched as his eyes scanned the paper.

  “This was no accident.” He held the paper out. “Someone is trying to send you a message to stay away from Emile’s murder investigation.”

  “Sophia Cummings,” Charlotte gasped. She rushed over to the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the first-aid kit. “You have to stop putting your nose in this investigation. Someone thinks you are putting your nose in others’ business. I want you at my wedding. Not dead like Emile.”

  She took a couple of Band-Aids out of the red box and placed a couple on my shin.

  “Do you two mind if I have a word alone with Sophia?” Carter asked Charlotte and Brett.

  “Actually”—I stood up on wobbly legs—“if you can get me across the street, we can talk in private all you want.”

  “Across the street?” all three said in unison.

  I nodded toward the front of the house. “I’m renting that house from Madison while I’m in town.” I started to stumble forward, but Carter grabbed my elbow to steady me. “I’ll explain all that later. Right now I just want to get a cup of coffee and a shower.”

  Carter put one arm around my waist to steady me a little more.

  “Oh, hell.” He gave up, probably because I almost took both of us down, and hoisted me up in his arms.

  This would’ve made me feel all sorts of romantic if I didn’t have the ache of my shin and the worry that someone was after me hanging over my head.

  “I’ll call you,” Charlotte called from the front door as Carter trotted through her lawn, across the street, and onto my porch.

  Gently he put me down and kept on arm around my waist as he wrestled with the key I’d given him.

  “Let’s get you inside.” He shoved the door open and, once he had me in, slammed it shut with his foot.

  He carried me all the way into the family room, sat me on the couch, and fluffed a pillow behind my back.

  “I’ll be right back.” He walked into the kitchen.

  There was the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing before I finally heard the suction break of the refrigerator’s door and the clinking of ice cubes.

  * * *

  “Take a drink. You’ll feel a little better.” He returned with the glass of water. His voice was gentle and soothing. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

  My hands shook when I took the glass.

  “You are a little more shaken up than you want me to know.” Carter sat down and scooted closer to me. He rested his arms on his thighs.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears burned my eyelids.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For a lot of things. Mainly for snooping.” I lifted the glass and took a drink.

  “You’re only saying that because you’re probably in shock. It’s too dangerous.” He pointed to the glass. “Take some more sips.”

  He stood up and looked around.

  “This is a pretty nice place. Looks like you.” He walked over to the family room doors that led out to the backyard. “That’s beautiful.”

  “I’m lucky to still have good friends after all these years.” I was beginning to feel better. My hands weren’t shaking as much and I was aware of the pain. “Please help yourself to a cookie. I made them last night.”

  “Before or after you went to see Natalie Devin?” he asked.

  “I told you I was going to see her.” I used my fist to push myself back up to more of a sitting position.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to harass her.” He sucked in a deep breath. “She said you were over at her house harassing her and saying all sorts of untrue things about her and Emile. She even implied you accused her of killing him.” He stopped in the kitchen. I looked at him. His hands were crossed over his chest and he looked at the chalkboard, slightly shaking his head.

  “See, that makes me think she did do it, because I obviously struck a nerve,”
I said.

  He turned around and narrowed his eyes at me. He didn’t look very happy.

  “While I was there, I simply asked a few questions about rumors I’d heard.” I shrugged, dragging the glass up to my lips to avoid his stare. He made me even more nervous, so I kept talking. “You should be looking at her. She and her husband are valid suspects. Not Evelyn. I’d heard Emile was a ladies’ man and she was one of his rumored ladies. They own the two-family that Emile lived in. Her husband caught them in an intimate situation there. He killed him because of the affair and then bought her that big diamond ring as hush money.” My voice faded off.

  “She told you all of that?” Carter glanced up at me underneath his brows.

  “Not in so many words. But it all makes sense.” I tried to redeem myself.

  He walked back over and held the piece of paper the person who had tried to run me over had left for me to take.

  “Clearly, someone knows that you’re snooping.” He sat down next to me and eased back into the cushion.

  I read the note. STOP SNOOPING OR YOU’LL JOIN EMILE.

  The words sat in my throat like a lumpy piece of uncooked dough. “How did they know where I was?”

  “Do you think you can answer a few questions for me?” Carter asked, and pulled out a notebook from his khakis’ pocket.

  “Wine.” I smacked my head, remembering that I’d seen him in the wine aisle.

  “I don’t think having a glass of wine right now would be good for your state of shock.” He shook his head. “And it’s a little early. Why don’t you start with some strong coffee?”

  “No. I mean yes.” I shook my hands in front of me. “Yes to coffee, but last night I saw you in the wine aisle of the Piggly Wiggly. Did you have a date?” I asked.

  “You saw me and didn’t say hello?” he asked. “I sure could’ve used your help. After all, I was trying to figure out a wine you might enjoy.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know a lot about wine. I was going to give you a call and see if you wanted to go over the statement you were supposed to give at the department.”

  * * *

  “I forgot about that.” I’d been so busy trying to get other suspects in the murder than just Evelyn. “You didn’t stop by.”

  “No. After I bought the wine, I decided not to. Besides, you weren’t even at your parents’ house. That would’ve been awkward. Have you heard anything while working at the RCC?” His brows rose.

  “So your plan was to get me tipsy and spill my guts about all the dirty little secrets between the staff and members?” I asked in a joking manner. “Because there’s a lot of dirt around that place, and I don’t mean the ground soil.”

  “I only care about Emile.” He pushed himself off the couch and squatted down to get another look at my leg. “Do you think you’re going to be all right?”

  “Yes.” I held my hands out in front of me. “Not shaking anymore, so I’m good. Tough as nails.”

  “Stay out of trouble.” He pushed himself up to stand. “Nice chalkboard, by the way.”

  It wasn’t like him not to press me on the things I’d written on the Operation Wedding chalkboard. The only reason, I figured, was that he felt sorry for me and didn’t want to press it. For now, anyway.

  “Stop snooping. I’ll call and check on you later. When you feel up to it, I want you to come file a report about this,” he said.

  “Aye, aye.” I saluted him, which he didn’t seem to find funny.

  File a report, my hiney. I was going to find out who had tried to run me over. Better yet, who had tried to silence me because they killed Emile.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You what?” Madison was shocked when she saw my leg.

  Thankfully, she knew there wasn’t any coffee in the house I was renting from her, so she’d come prepared with two large to-go cups from Small Talk Café.

  “I’m not sure who it was.” I eased up out of the kitchen chair and walked over to the Operation Wedding chalkboard. I took a sip of the coffee and looked at the lists of suspects. “Now it’s personal,” I whispered before I took another drink. “Who on this list knew I was here?”

  “I wouldn’t think anyone, since we just decided it on the fly last night.” She walked over and stood next to me. Both of us focused on the chalkboard. “Not that I think Brett did it, but could he’ve seen you run out this morning?”

  “It’s worth putting him on here, but he sure seemed surprised when I told him I was living here.” I picked up a piece of the chalk and under his name wrote HIT AND RUN with a big question mark. “Then there was Natalie.” I wrote the same thing under her name. “She might’ve followed us after she thought we were on to her, just so she could see our next move.”

  “But it was a truck.” I wrote down that information on the board. “Does Brett or Natalie have access to a truck?”

  “Brett would from his job.” Madison let out a deep sigh. “Do you think?” Her brows furrowed as she asked with little confidence in her voice.

  “Anything is possible.” I put the chalk down and stepped back. “There’s a lot of speculation up there and I’m hoping to get some of these people cleared today.”

  When we walked out of the house, I couldn’t help but shuffle my eyes around the neighborhood to see if there were any lurking trucks, because someone had to be watching me. “But they left that note and Carter took it.” My mind was still on the near-death experience.

  “You called Carter?” She smiled really big.

  “No. Charlotte and Brett did after I’d made it back to their house.” I clicked the seat belt. “Anyways, Natalie called him and told him I’d been snooping. He has questions about that and wants me to file a real complaint about the person sending me a very clear message to stop investigating Emile’s murder.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.” Her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “And you’re going to stop, right?” she asked.

  “They can’t scare me.” I lifted the cup and took a drink.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, and I’m not going to try and talk you out of it because you had me up all night thinking about it.” She tapped the steering wheel with her finger as we waited for one of the lights on Main Street to turn green. The rental car place was at the only gas station on Main Street. It was like an all-in-one-service deal.

  “You do know that Ella Chapshaw is hosting Charlotte’s shower tonight?” Madison asked and pulled into Poochie’s Garage.

  “She is?” I asked, and gathered my stuff from the car floor, careful not to spill my coffee.

  “Mm-hmm.” Madison nodded. “Of course, I’m invited because I’m in the wedding, but by all rights you should be invited since you’re baking the cakes for the wedding.”

  “That’s not really a reason to be invited. I’m going to go to Peacocks and Pansies to see if she’s there first.” She should be there for her weekly shift, but if for some reason she wasn’t, showing up at the shower was another option. “I wonder who’s doing her desserts for the shower?”

  “I can only think it’d be the Piggly Wiggly, since we don’t have someone around here. Though you could show up with something fabulous.” She cocked a brow with a delicious idea.

  “You just might see me there.” I nodded. “Thanks for the ride and the place to stay.”

  “You’re welcome. And you can buy the place, since I want you to stay in town!” she hollered as I shut the door.

  I pretended not to hear her but noticed a school bus butted up to the front of the garage bay door. The side of the bus read RUMFORD SCHOOL DISTRICT.

  “We better win.” Poochie Honeycutt’s voice drifted out of the service center office.

  There was the garage on one side, the gas station pumps in the front, and a service center office connected to the garage. On the other side of the office was a small blacktopped area where the cars were kept.

  “Now with that chef gone, Patrick’s father will be happy,”
an unfamiliar voice followed up.

  My ears perked up. Instead of taking a step closer to see which cars were for rental, I walked to the office.

  The old red speckle tile I remember from my childhood had faded to a dull, almost salmon, color. The heavy steel desk was still in place, and though the chair had probably been replaced, the duct tape holding the fake leather together told me it’d seen better days.

  There were a couple of filing cabinets along the back wall near the open door of the garage. The buzz of drills, the release of air from an air compressor, and the voices led me to look inside.

  Poochie and another man stood with their backs to the door. I probably should’ve let them know I was there. I didn’t. I wanted to hear what they were saying about Patrick and Emile.

  “That will give Patrick more time to practice instead of worrying about getting up and working those crazy hours before school just to help his family out,” Poochie said.

  I stood a ways back from the door so as not to make a sound.

  “If you ask me, I think the boy likes being around all that food,” the other man noted. “On away games, he sits right up front with me on the bus. The cheerleaders are busy hootin’ and hollerin’ getting the rest of the team pumped up in the back, while the main star of the team is asking me about the ingredients my wife put in the homemade snacks she makes the team each week.”

  “Huh?” Poochie pulled back, his nose snarled.

  “Yeah.” The bus driver laughed. “He said that baseball was his career choice but he’d picked up a lot of tips from that Emile.”

  “I don’t know what tips. Not that me and Darlene could afford to breathe the air in that place, but we was once there for a wedding.” He shook his head. “Weeee-dog, we didn’t know what any of that fancy stuff was. It looked too scary to try. We drove to the Hardee’s right after that and loaded up on food.”