by Maymee Bell
“I’d love that.” I sucked in a deep breath. Even though I tried to get back to the feeling I’d had before he’d caught on to my game, it wasn’t happening.
When the song was over, Carter and I walked over to my friends.
“You two looked awfully cozy.” Charlotte nudged me when we all made it back to our table. Noah had already scouted us out and made room for himself at our table. He stood directly in front of Carter.
“He’s just being nice.” I picked up my drink and took a sip to avoid any uncomfortable conversation. There wasn’t any way I was going to bring up Bitsy’s attempt to play matchmaker or the kiss.
“I’m so excited about my cake.” Her voice took an upswing.
“Me too. It’s going to be gorgeous. I’m just sorry I couldn’t figure out who killed Emile before the big day.” It was still unsettling to me, even though I’d come to the realization I wasn’t a sleuth.
“It’s okay.” She looked between Madison and me. “Y’all tried. At least your dad has been giving Carter the runaround. The only bad thing is that some people RSVP’d saying they didn’t know if they were coming because they didn’t want to come to the RCC where a killer was on the loose.”
“Really?” My brows furrowed.
“I tried to tell them that the police thought it was a lone incident, but then they bring up the fact that someone tried to kill you.” There was an odd twinge of disappointment in her eyes.
I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault that it seemed like there was a killer on the loose. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and noticed it was already ten o’clock. The wedding wasn’t until tomorrow night, and if I could make it back to the RCC tonight and catch Patrick before he left, I could still see if he was a suspect. Since I’d marked Ella off my list, Patrick would be the next logical step, even though I still had my suspicions about Natalie and Arnold. Come to think of it, Patrick had had all the opportunity to do it.
“Hello.” Madison waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Sophia.”
I blinked a few times.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking.” I snapped out of my thoughts. Carter and Noah were staring at me. “I’ve got to get going. Carter”—I looked at him—“are you ready?”
“Sure.” He nodded.
I quickly gave my two friends a hug.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I assured Charlotte, then made my way out of the bar.
The wind whipped around my ankles. The air sent goose bumps along my legs and across my arms. The moon hung high overhead and the dark night wrapped around me. I hurried to Carter’s car. He clicked the key fob. The red tail lights blinked along with the beep to let me know he’d unlocked the doors.
“Let me get the door for you,” I heard him say, but it was too late. I’d already opened my door.
“Sophia!” The voice trailed the sound of footprints running in the gravel.
Before I could look up, a big hand planted itself on the passenger’s side window, slamming the door shut.
“You’ve got to talk to me.” Noah’s strength held the door shut as I jerked on the handle.
“Not now, Noah.” I pulled the handle again. He didn’t budge.
“Hey, man.” Carter walked up to Noah. “She said not now. Just respect that.”
“I can’t keep working around you and not figure something out. It’s killing me.” His voice was low and intense as he danced around, trying to see over Carter’s shoulders. “I don’t know how to make it up to you. I was wrong.”
“Yes. You were.” My words were matter-of-fact.
When Noah stepped forward, Carter put a flat palm on his chest.
“Not a bit closer.” Carter spoke with cool authority.
“So wrong that it’ll never be right.” I wasn’t letting Noah off the hook. We were done. I was done.
“We”—he flung his finger between us—“are so good together. We are unstoppable. We have plans to open our own restaurant.”
“Had plans. We had plans, but you ruined it.” I glared at him. “I don’t know what your big grand plan was of coming here and all of the sudden becoming buddies with my high school friends, but it’ll never work. You’ll never fit in here.” My angry words echoed into the darkness.
“It’s time to go home,” Carter warned.
“Oh, go on, Barney Fife,” Noah snarled. He stared at Carter with a blaze of anger in his eyes. “You’ve caused enough problems.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve not caused any problems. Maybe you should look in the mirror.” Carter was calm and super cool, which angered Noah more.
“Listen, buddy.” Noah twisted his body toward Carter. “I’m sure you’re a good old boy and all, but this is between me and Sophia. You should just mosey on back to your life.” Noah did his best southern accent as if he were mocking Carter.
Carter nodded his head up and down. He took a step back, and before I knew it, he swung at Noah. Noah ducked. The two men danced back and forth on their feet.
“Stop it!” I screamed. “This is ridiculous. Act your age!”
“What’s going on?” Brett and Charlotte ran out of the bar and hurried over once they saw us.
“These two yahoos are about to kill each other.” I struggled to find the words to really describe what was going on because I couldn’t. I’d no clue what’d just happened.
“He can’t protect Sophia like I can.” Noah didn’t move a muscle.
“I’ve got a badge and a gun. I think I can protect her and the rest of Rumford better than you.” Carter had a point.
“I’m leaving. This is so stupid. I can protect myself.” I opened the car door and slammed it shut before I said something I was going to regret.
Charlotte’s wedding had already been damaged enough. The last thing she needed was a chef with a bloody lip and a best man with a black eye.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was an intense ride home. I fumed about Noah and Carter. It dawned on me that I should feel flattered, but I didn’t. As much as I wanted to hate Noah, he was right; we’d shared some great ideas and some fun times together.
Carter was right too. He could protect me and there was no denying the chemistry we had. Right now, what mattered was putting the final touches on Charlotte’s cake.
When Carter let me off at home, I didn’t ask him to come in. I headed into the cottage and fed Duchess some kibble.
“You love it here, right?” I sat down cross-legged on the kitchen floor and talked to Duchess. “Rumford isn’t a bad place, is it?”
Her pretty eyes glanced up at me and blinked softly before she went right back to her bowl.
“Enjoy, sweet girl. I’ve got a cake to decorate.” I got up, grabbed the Corolla keys, and headed to the RCC.
Though the kitchen closed at nine o’clock in the evening, the last reservation was seated at eight. Many times the late-night tables stayed around and had a few cocktails. Most of those took the evening to other parts of the RCC grounds, like the bar in the courtyard. It was open until midnight for members.
After nine, the chef usually went home, which made sense because Noah had shown up about that time at the Blue Line Bar. It would take Patrick a good couple of hours to get the ballroom cleaned, the kitchen cleaned, and the dishes ready for tomorrow’s big day.
I ended up parking in the front lot, where the valets were still waiting on those late-night members to leave. I signed in like all employees were supposed to do and noticed Patrick’s car was still in the lot. It was good to see he’d not missed work again, and hopefully I’d get to ask him a few questions.
I took my time in the kitchen getting the items I needed to start decorating Charlotte’s layers. When I opened the walk-in refrigerator, I made sure to make all sorts of noise. The dishwasher was going and the sound of clinking dishes came from Patrick’s workstation.
Carefully, I took each double layer out of the tinfoil. Using a little bit of the buttercream icing, I slapped some in the middle of
each layer as glue and positioned each layer perfectly.
“What are you doing?” Patrick asked when he caught me bent over, eyeballing the layers.
“I’m making sure the levels are even.” I stood up and brushed my hands down the apron. “Glad to see you showed up to work. Busy night?”
“Not too bad. I guess some people are still upset about Emile. We even had a few new members who said they’d gotten the membership off someone on Craigslist.” He laughed. “Evelyn lost her mind.”
“Oh, no,” I grunted. “That’s the last thing she needs to do, since she’s the number one suspect.”
“That sucks,” he said in true teenager lingo. “She’s still running the joint like she’s got no care in the world.”
“Maybe she doesn’t because she’s got a clean conscience.” I shrugged and took out the buttercream fondant that Nick had dyed blue for me. It had turned out much more vibrant than I’d anticipated, and I loved it. It was a rich blue that would go very well against the gold fondant accents. “I heard that Emile had been a real jerk to a lot of people around here.”
“I guess.” Patrick busied himself with his cell phone. “That still doesn’t mean he deserved to die.”
“I’d also heard about how he treated you.” I used the rolling pin to make the blue fondant paper thin. It was going to go over the third and sixth tiers of the seven-tiered cake. The other layers were going to be covered in the brilliant gold fondant accented with some elegant swirls and other gilded accents. Charlotte was going to flip over it.
“He was my boss. I ignored him and did my job.” He glanced up for a second before he quickly scrolled the screen of his phone with his thumb. “He was probably just trying to help me because he knew I loved to cook. He even gave me a few pointers. He always told me to follow my heart, not what my dad wants me to do.”
“Yeah, but it still didn’t give him the right to bully you.” I carefully laid the large, flat, rolled-out fondant over the two layers and used the scraper to start to shape the edges to the layers.
“Listen, I only work this hard to help out my family. But you already know that since you went to my house and snooped around. Thanks for tipping off that cop too. My dad wasn’t happy when he showed up at the factory.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued.
“Next year I’ll be going to school on a full scholarship for baseball. I’ve got to make enough money now to last them until I can come home next summer.” He stared at me from under his brows.
“I understand if you killed Emile to protect yourself.” I stared back at him.
“Wait.” His nose curled and he put his phone down. “Are you accusing me of killing Emile? Is that why you were snooping around at school and here?”
“I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just saying that you have a valid reason for wanting him dead. That’s all.” I shrugged.
“Listen, lady.” Patrick pushed himself from leaning on the kitchen island to a firm stand. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but you’re nuts if you think I killed him. Besides”—his teenager voice cracked—“I got an alibi.”
“I thought you were here doing the extra chores for extra money. It would’ve been the perfect time,” I pressed.
“You know that girl you saw me with?” He gnawed on the corner of his lip.
I nodded.
“She’s a member’s daughter. We’re secretly dating. I’m from the wrong side of the tracks. At least that’s what her mother said,” he scoffed. “Her name is Alice. Alice Devin.”
My jaw dropped.
“As in Natalie and Arnold Devin’s daughter?” My brows rose.
“Yep. She takes morning tennis lessons before school. I picked up the extra hours in the morning so we could spend some time alone without her mother here to police her. Her mother thinks I only work in the kitchen after school. She doesn’t let Alice come to the RCC at night anymore so she can’t be around me.” His mouth dropped at the edges. “Alice and I love each other. I’m going to make it big in baseball. Mark my words. Then the Devins will accept me.” He hesitated. “We were together that morning.”
“Would she tell the cops that too?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m sure she would. Her parents will keep her away forever though.” There was real pain on his face. “But if they think I did it, I’m no good without the truth.”
“A pack of your gum was found in the refrigerator.” I decided to tell them the evidence the police had. “Juicy Tart gum.”
“I don’t chew anything tart. I have acid reflux and I can’t play ball if I chew it. So that wasn’t my gum. My doctor would tell you that I can only chew peppermint.”
“Do you cook?” I questioned.
“Yeah. I like to cook. Big deal. Emile let me cook for myself a couple of times, and I’m not going to lie; I do cook me breakfast in the mornings when I work early, but no one is here.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to get out of here and study for an exam.”
Nothing in my gut told me that Patrick was lying. This only made me mark him off my list of suspects. I continued to think about the crime, and before I knew it, the layers were all covered with their fondant along with all the crisscross designs, overlays, and pearling accents. Though the gold was amazing without any extra features, this was the moment I loved—using the spray gun to make the gold shine and pop even more.
Doing it tonight would allow the edible paint to dry, and all I’d have to do before the wedding was bring out the cake. I’d put together a perfect plan so I didn’t have to see Noah. My promise to Evelyn and my commitment to making sure Charlotte had her dream wedding were almost over.
By the time I’d gotten the cake rolled into the refrigerator, cleaned up my mess, and collected my things, it was almost one in the morning. I headed toward the back hallway. I knew the front doors to the parking lot would be locked, so my best bet would be to go out the back door and around to the car.
There was a light coming from the cracked door of Emile’s office. I stuck my head in and put my hand on the light switch to flip it off, thinking someone had left it on, but I stopped when I noticed the ledger book lying out on the desk. I clearly remembered putting it back in the drawer.
I looked over my shoulder to make sure I was alone before I entered his office. I dragged the ledger to the edge of the desk and flipped a couple of pages. The last time it’d been written in was the night before Emile’s death. There was nothing new. Evelyn had probably been looking at it for orders or something. Or maybe Noah had taken a look at it. After all, he was the new chef.
“Let it go. You’re a pastry chef,” I muttered to myself, flipping off the lights on my way out.
My mind must’ve been playing tricks on me because, when I got to Evelyn’s office door, I could have sworn I heard footsteps. I turned around and stood completely still, even holding my breath.
Panic jumped in my head. What if the killer was here? What if the person who ran me off the road had followed me here and waited until everyone was gone so they could kill me?
I sucked in a few breaths, paralyzed, and realized no amount of deep breathing was going to steady my erratic pulse.
“Hello?” I called out when I heard the heavy footsteps. “Who’s there?” My voice cracked.
The footsteps sounded like they were coming closer, and the only way for me to escape was to run as fast as I could.
My bag flapped against my leg as I ran around the building. I dragged the strap around to my front and dug my hand in the bag, feeling for the car keys as I tried to keep up the fast pace. I only allowed myself to glance behind me twice so it wouldn’t slow me down, but I wanted to be able to duck if someone was going to try to shoot me or capture me.
Thank God the lights in the parking lot were all working and I’d parked right under one. The pavement was hard under my feet as the adrenaline pumped in my veins.
Within mere seconds, I was in the car and zooming as fast as I could out of the par
king lot. I didn’t bother looking back through the rearview mirror.
Chapter Twenty-Four
That night after my scare at the RCC, I called Bitsy on the way home. I told her how silly I was because I’d made myself scared half to death and wanted her to stay on the phone with me until I made it home. She insisted on calling Carter, but I talked her off that ledge. At least I thought I had until I was watering the flowers in the window flower boxes the next morning and noticed Carter’s car was parked a couple of houses down.
Bitsy had called him anyways and he’d spent all night on a stakeout to make sure no one was going to come to the cottage.
After a quick breakfast, I went to take a nice long shower, but it was cut short from a pounding on the front door. I grabbed my robe and threw it on to answer the door.
“Bitsy called and said you were followed last night,” Carter said with a stern voice after I opened the door.
Duchess poked her head between my ankles. I bent down and picked her up. “I’m sure it was my active imagination, since I’d just been talking to Patrick about Emile.” I held the door open. “Come on in. You can drink a cup of coffee while I get ready.”
After he’d come in and sat down at the kitchen table, I set a cup of coffee and the blueberry scones in front of him.
“Make yourself at home. I’m going to get dressed.” I scooped some kibble into Duchess’s bowl. “I’ll tell you everything when I’m done,” I called over my shoulder on my way back to my bedroom. I didn’t do my usual routine, since I knew Carter was here on official business and I needed to get on with my day. I threw on some clothes and quickly blow-dried my hair.
As soon as I walked back to the kitchen, Carter started to question me. “Did you see any cars in the lot?”
“No.” I refilled my mug and topped off his.
* * *
“Seriously.” Carter tapped the table with his pen. “I already cleared the kid and his family.”
“I heard his dad wasn’t happy you showed up at the factory.”
“Part of the job. Did you see any other cars last night? Like the truck that ran you off the road?” He continued asking me questions.