by Amber Crewes
“Work hard, play hard,” she agreed. “Hop in, Meghan. I’ll drive you up. I’m sure you’ve never been in a Mas before, right?”
“I haven’t,” Meghan confirmed as she eagerly climbed into the passenger seat. “These seats are so soft!”
“And heated,” Valerie chuckled as she pushed a button. “Wait until you turn the radio on; the sound system in this little baby is unmatched!”
Two minutes later, the women arrived in front of Sevenoaks. An attendant dashed out to retrieve the keys from Valerie, and then, the car was driven away. “Valet parking,” she explained to Meghan. “We offer it to our guests, of course.”
Valerie marched inside of Sevenoaks. “Mrs. Sheridan is here,” she told Meghan. “Would you like to me take you to her? She’s been spending some time in our community room; some local church group was here to do crafts with our residents, and Mrs. Sheridan volunteered to clean up their mess. Bless her heart.”
Meghan followed Valerie into a large open-concept room. With its high ceilings, bright white walls, and pale blue couches, the aesthetic was clean and crisp, perfectly suited for Sevenoaks. Meghan spied Mrs. Sheridan in a corner, a dust mop in her hand.
“We insisted that she let our staff tidy up,” Valerie announced as they walked up to Mrs. Sheridan. “But she wanted to help out.”
“It’s good to give back,” Mrs. Sheridan explained. “My Auntie was quite the philanthropist, and I’m sure she would have wanted me to volunteer here. I should have done it more when she was alive.”
Meghan sat down at the light wooden table and patted the seat next to her. “Take a rest?”
Mrs. Sheridan happily complied. “Giving back takes a lot of energy out of me, it seems.”
“I’ll let you two catch up,” Valerie said as she waved goodbye and walked out of the room.
Meghan leaned in. “Speaking of giving back and philanthropy,” she whispered to Mrs. Sheridan. “Did your Aunt give back in other ways? Did she ever get involved with businesses?”
Mrs. Sheridan smiled. “She was a proud investor for several of Sandy Bay’s startups,” she informed Meghan. “She loved empowering young people in business. In fact, I wish I had connected the pair of you when she was alive; she would have loved to help you with the bakery. I wish I had done that.”
Mrs. Sheridan hung her head, and Meghan reached over to take her hand. “It’s okay,” she comforted her. “What kinds of businesses did she invest in?”
Mrs. Sheridan thought for a moment. “She loved animals,” she told Meghan. “She loved giving money to different shelters, or to companies that helped animals.”
Meghan flashed back to her encounter with Hilda outside of the bakery. “Do you know if she was involved in a new business in town? A pet grooming center?”
Mrs. Sheridan wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Meghan countered. “I was just curious about your aunt. She sounds like an amazing woman.”
“She was,” Mrs. Sheridan agreed. “Everyone loved her, and she loved everyone. Well, except for that Wayne Rashford.”
“Who?”
Mrs. Sheridan frowned. “You’re getting a little too curious,” she scolded. “It’s rude. You should know better manners. I need to leave now, but I hope you think a little harder about being polite the next time we speak. I’m a little disappointed in you.”
Mrs. Sheridan gathered her things and flounced out of the room as Meghan stared. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“I can tell you about Wayne Rashford,” said an elderly gentleman.
“I didn’t hear you come in. What’s your name?” she asked kindly.
The man laughed. “I’m Wayne Rashford,” he said jovially. “Nice to meet you.”
12
“I think it was Hilda,” Meghan told Jack as they sipped tea together in the dining room of the bakery. “She is so dark and strange, and the fact that Lucy Hudson invested in her business? Something just seems fishy about her. I think Hilda definitely had something to do with it.”
Jack took a bite of his carrot cake muffin. “I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “That seems like a longshot, Meghan. She was mad that I spoke poorly of her grooming business, but I don’t think that makes her a killer.”
Meghan shook her head. “But she told me herself that Mrs. Hudson was an investor,” she argued. “She was so angry when you said those things about her grooming business. What if something happened between her and Mrs. Hudson, and then, she killed her?”
Jack laughed. “You sound crazy,” he said to Meghan as he took another bite of his carrot cake muffin. “I just think you are going a little too far with this Hilda thing. What about Wayne? That old man from the nursing home? Didn’t you say that he had some weird connection with Mrs. Hudson? What was that about?”
Meghan took a deep breath. She was still rattled from her conversation with Wayne the previous day, and she didn’t know where to begin. “It’s a long story,” she said slowly.
“Go on,” he urged her.
“Wayne told me that Lucy killed his twin brother.”
Jack’s icy blue eyes bulged out of his head. “What did you say?”
Meghan nodded. “Yesterday, at Sevenoaks, he told me that Lucy killed his brother. He said it was an accident; his twin, Dwayne, used to be loud and disruptive around the nursing home. Apparently, Dwayne would leave used tissue paper around, too. Lucy was disgusted by him, and one day, she pushed him down the stairs.”
Jack gasped. “Are you serious? Why haven’t I heard anything about this at the police station?”
“Mrs. Hudson claimed it was an accident,” she shrugged. “She said she didn’t mean to push him, and that she lost her own balance and was staggering around. She was so earnest about it that everyone believed her…. everyone but Wayne.”
Jack shook his head. “Did Wayne see his brother’s fall?”
“No,” she said. “Dwayne didn’t die instantly; he survived a few more weeks after the fall, but he eventually passed away after a few weeks on painkillers. Wayne said the end was pretty gruesome.”
Jack sighed. “What a shame,” he said. “It sounds like Mrs. Hudson perhaps wasn’t the angel that Mrs. Sheridan believed?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Wayne had heard that I was spending time with Mrs. Sheridan, Mrs. Hudson’s niece, and he wanted to make sure someone knew the truth about his brother...or what he believes to be the truth.”
Jack bit his lip. “So...do you think Wayne had something to do with Mrs. Hudson’s death? I’m going to be honest with you: her death hasn’t been filed as a police report yet. The coroner's report is still in progress, but it could be escalated if this were a murder investigation. Do you think that’s what we are dealing with, honey?”
Meghan pursed her lips. “I don’t know,” she said. “Between Hilda and Wayne, there seem to be all sorts of interesting people tied up in Mrs. Hudson’s life. And then there is Mark Tilley! What he said to me yesterday on the park bench was chilling, babe. He seems all too keen on receiving the money from Lucy Hudson’s estate. What if he took things too far with her? What if she is dead because of his greed?”
Jack frowned. “Meghan,” he began gently. “I have to confess: I am a little worried about you. You’ve taken a serious interest in this situation, and I don’t really understand why. You didn’t even know Mrs. Hudson, and if we are honest, you aren’t particularly close to Mrs. Sheridan. Why are you digging through this one, babe? Is there something more I need to know?”
Meghan crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I’m just tired of people living in the past,” she explained. “Mark, Mrs. Sheridan, Hilda, Wayne…all of these people can’t move on from the past. If you can’t move on from your past, how can you embrace your future? I guess I’m fixated on this situation because it reminds me a bit of how my life could have turned out. I faced so much rejection and heartache in Hollywood, but I didn’t grow
bitter and cynical. I kept going until I found my way. It’s just sad that Wayne, Mark, and everyone in this situation seem to be stuck in the past.”
Jack nodded. “I knew that you never made it big as an actress,” he said as Meghan laughed. “But I didn’t realize you experienced that much rejection.”
Meghan giggled. “Every single day, babe. The life of a struggling actress is just that--a struggle! It seemed like every other day, someone was slamming a door in my face, denying my portfolio, or refusing to accept my headshots. I became so used to rejection that by the time I left Hollywood to move to Sandy Bay, hearing the word ‘no’ didn’t hurt me anymore.”
Jack leaned over and kissed Meghan on the forehead. “You are an inspiration, beautiful,” he murmured. “So many people would have been downtrodden from being told no over and over again. You are so positive and upbeat, Meghan! You took all of the rejection and turned it into something amazing--the bakery! I am so proud of you.”
Meghan rose from her chair and moved over to sit in Jack’s lap. He wrapped his strong, muscular arms around her, and she breathed in the masculine scent of his cologne. “All of my heartache led me here,” she said, gently placing a hand on Jack’s chest. “I wouldn’t trade my life in Sandy Bay for a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I’m happy here. It’s all about perspective; finding joy and happiness in the simple things can lead to so much joy, and I wish everyone felt that way. I think Mark’s life could have been so much better had he not been stuck in the past…”
Jack brushed Meghan’s dark hair aside and kissed her on the cheek. “You are a truly sweet gal,” he whispered into Meghan’s ear as she cuddled closer to him.”
“Eeeewwww!”
Meghan and Jack turned to find Pamela giggling at them in the doorway. “Get a room, you two! Ewww!”
Meghan laughed as she got up from Jack’s lap and moved back to her own seat. “Teenagers,” she sighed good-naturedly.
“Hey,” Jack said as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a Tupperware container. “I have a surprise for you!”
“For me?” Meghan cried in delight as she pried open the container. “It’s a muffin!”
Jack grinned. “A homemade muffin. I know you’ve been busy around here making muffin after muffin, and I wanted to give it a go myself. I made a batch of homemade blueberry muffins last night. They aren’t quite up to your standards, but I think they are pretty good. Try them! I substituted yoghurt for butter, and they are so moist.”
Meghan laughed as she held the muffin to her nose and inhaled. “It smells good,” she gushed. She took a small bite, savoring the taste of the sweet blueberries. “Jack, this is so good,” she gushed as she took another bite. “You made this yourself?”
Jack nodded. “I did,” he confirmed. “It was a last minute thing, but I wanted to try it. I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” she cooed as she licked her lips and took another bite. “I’m always baking for everyone else. It’s so nice that someone baked for me.”
Jack winked at Meghan. “Was it a truly sweet surprise?” he joked as Meghan finished the remainder of the muffin.
“It truly was.” she agreed.
13
“I can’t believe he baked for you,” Pamela giggled as she, Trudy, and Meghan closed up the bakery for the evening.”
“Jack sure is a keeper,” Trudy chuckled.
“He is,” Meghan agreed as she wiped the countertop with a pink rag.
Pamela’s phone buzzed, and Meghan watched as the teenager scrolled through her screen. “Ugh,” Pamela complained. “It’s another inquiry for a funeral service.”
“Just have them call Mr. Cazale’s office,” Meghan instructed Pamela. “The website at Duly Sweet Funeral Parlor had our phone number on it, so people are getting confused. I’ve spoken with the owner, and he is working to have it changed. Meanwhile, his son, Roberto, is going to volunteer here to make up for the inconvenience.”
Pamela’s face turned red. “Roberto Cazale?”
Meghan nodded. “He’s about your age, isn’t he?”
Pamela’s face erupted into a smile. “He’s a year older than me,” she replied dreamily. “He is the most handsome guy at Sandy Bay High School. Meghan, I have been in love with Roberto since I was in fifth grade. Can you schedule me to work with him? Please? I will do anything--clean the bathrooms, scrub the floors, deal with Mrs. Sheridan. Please! Please make sure I get to watch that good looking guy bake cookies?”
Meghan laughed. “Pamela, I’ve never seen you this way,” she remarked in amusement. “You’ve never struck me as boy crazy. Where is this coming from?”
Pamela stared at Meghan. “Did you not see him?” she asked incredulously. “He is absolutely gorgeous, Meghan.”
Meghan recalled Roberto’s chubby cheeks and nervous expression. “Ehhhm...sixteen-year olds aren’t really my type, but I’m sure he is a nice boy,” she told Pamela.
“Just promise you will schedule us together?” she pleaded.
“I’ll do my best,” Meghan agreed.
The little silver bells at the front door chimed, and Meghan glanced up to see Carl Rainy standing before her. Carl was an officer at the station, and he was a friend of Jack’s. Jack had told Meghan that Carl was notorious for researching his cases thoroughly, sometimes to the point of obsession, but Meghan appreciated that he cared about attention to detail. Jack said that Carl was a bit much at times, but everyone at the station knew that if Carl Rainy was on a case, it would inevitably get solved.
“Hey,” Meghan greeted him. “What can I do for you, Carl? We’re closing a little early tonight; it’s been slow today, but we can still get you something.”
Carl smiled. “Can I get a box of muffins? Jack let me try some of your matcha muffins last week, and I can’t them out of my head.”
“Of course!” she agreed. She scurried to the back and grabbed an assortment of muffins. “Here!”
As Meghan handed the box to Carl, she noticed a large purple bruise on his wrist. The bruise was raised, and Meghan shuddered at the gruesome welt. “Carl, what is that? It looks like you got in a wrestling match with a tiger!”
He shook his head. “It’s been a long afternoon. That’s why I am treating myself with muffins. Long story short, that reclusive nephew of that lady who died? Mark Tilley? He was causing a scene at Winston’s bar. I had to arrest him, but he resisted, and here I am, bruised like a peach.”
Meghan sighed. “I am so sorry that happened,” she lamented. “Here, let me throw in an extra muffin for you. We have a fresh batch cooling now. If you wait ten minutes, I can even send you with two more...maybe three.”
“That sounds amazing,” Carl agreed. “I’ll just wait over there.”
Carl meandered to a corner table in the dining room and sat down. As he opened the box and began to eat one of his muffins, Mrs. Sheridan stormed into the bakery.
“Mrs. Sheridan,” Meghan greeted. “How are you today?”
Mrs. Sheridan’s face was dark. “Not good,” she told her. “I received some disturbing news today. My Auntie’s report came back from the coroner, and it isn’t pretty.”
Meghan gasped. “What did it say?”
Mrs. Sheridan wiped a tear from her eye. “The report said that there was a high dosage of some unknown substance in her system.”
Meghan’s eyes widened. “What? Really? How high?”
Mrs. Sheridan shook her head. “They don’t know specifically,” she reported. “But they are sure that she had something in her system besides her normal medications. They aren’t absolutely sure that that is why she passed away, but if you ask me, it sounds fishy. I think we have a murder on our hands. A murder!”
Meghan gave Mrs. Sheridan a hug “I am so sorry to hear that,” she told the older woman. “What can I do to help, Mrs. Sheridan? I feel so badly that this is happening.”
Mrs. Sheridan produced a monogrammed handkerchief from her handbag and blew her nose. “I don’t know wha
t to do next,” she admitted. “But I think I know who killed her!”
“Who would that be?”
Mrs. Sheridan narrowed her eyes. “Mark Tilley, that no-good-for-nothing cousin of mine,” she spat. “He has been trouble since he was a young man, and I believe he wouldn’t think twice about killing off our Auntie. She has been nothing but good to him, but he has a wicked heart. I’m sure that he is responsible. Even Valerie Hodge agrees! She told us he was at the nursing home on the night before Auntie died. I would bet my life that he had something to do with this.”
Meghan bit her lip. “It sounds like you have a lot to think about right now,” she murmured to Mrs. Sheridan. “Why don’t I pack up some goodies for you, and then Trudy can take you home? You need your rest, especially after this stressful news.”