The outside was painted in different shades of blue, with flower boxes hanging below the windows and filled with blue, purple, and pink petunias. Because of all the construction going on, parking was limited, but we found a place down the street and walked back.
A jingling bell announced our arrival, and we took a moment to glance around the shop while the woman behind the counter helped someone already there. Under the glass were trays of all kinds of cakes, cupcakes, breads, cookies, and chocolates, and there were some small round tables and chairs off to one side. My mouth watered just looking at all that sugary goodness.
“May I help you?”
I glanced at the woman and smiled, realizing she was a lot younger than I first thought. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun, and her striped blue apron had a few smudges of chocolate on it.
“Are you the owner of this store?” Dimples asked.
Suspicion immediately changed her smile to a frown. “Yes, I’m Bella. My husband and I own the shop. How can I help you?”
He explained who we were and showed her his badge. “We understand that you met with a lawyer named Lincoln Montgomery, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about him.”
“Oh… well, I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks, so I don’t know if I can help. Why? What’s the problem?” She was hoping that something hadn’t gone wrong with their agreement.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but he was murdered, and we’re trying to find his killer.”
She gasped and held her hands to her mouth. “What? That’s terrible! What happened?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Dimples replied. “Could you tell us why he came here to see you?”
She leaned against the counter in shock and took a minute to gather her wits. Under control, she glanced around the shop. Finding it empty, she beckoned us into the back. “My husband is in the office. I’d like him to hear this.”
We followed her through a doorway that led to the large industrial kitchen, with an office off to the side. A man sat at the desk with a pencil in his mouth, looking at the computer screen. He glanced at her and took in her stricken features.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, then noticed us standing behind her and grew even more concerned.
“These are detectives with the police,” she answered. “They have some questions about Lincoln Montgomery that they want to ask us.” Before he could form a reply, a child who looked about three or four years old peered around the desk from where she sat on the other side of him. Her dark brown eyes seemed extra-large in her tiny face, and she had no hair on her head, not even eyebrows or eyelashes.
“Who’s this pretty young lady?” I asked, sending her a quick smile.
“This is Olivia,” Bella said. “Our daughter.” She glanced at her husband and told him why we were there and that Lincoln was dead, then she turned back to me. “Our business with Lincoln began a few months ago. He came to collect on several debts that we owed. You see, about eight months ago, Olivia was diagnosed with cancer. Being a small business, our medical insurance rates were so high that we had to take out several loans against our bakery and home to pay for her treatments.
“When Lincoln showed up to collect, there was no way we could pay him the debt without losing our business, our home, everything. We showed him all the bills from the hospital, along with the cost of the treatments and medications, and how we’d even done a fundraiser to help pay for it all. But he didn’t care, and he pressured us to settle the debts.”
“Yeah,” her husband agreed. “He came back a couple more times after that. Olivia was so sick then, and I pleaded with him to give us some more time. I told him that we couldn’t just let her die because we didn’t have enough money to pay him and cover the hospital bills. I even offered to pay him back on a monthly payment plan once we were through paying for her treatments, but he refused.”
“That’s right,” Bella said. “But then he came back the next day and told us it was okay, and that he’d worked it out so we didn’t have to pay.” She shook her head. “Now he’s dead? I can’t believe he was murdered.”
“Is there anything else you remember?” Dimples asked. “Did he say how he’d worked it out, or give you any kind of clue about what he did?”
“No. Nothing.”
“I love your shop,” I said. “Have you been here long?”
“We actually bought the shop from my aunt when she retired. I’ve loved baking ever since I was little, so my aunt taught me everything she knew and handed the shop over for a great deal. We fixed it up a bit and re-named it, but we basically have the same baked goods, so I already had a great customer base when I took over. I have part-time employees that help with sales, while Rick and I do most of the baking.”
“So you keep pretty busy?”
“Oh yes. By the end of the day, we usually sell out of most everything. And with the new development coming, we’ll have even more customers, so we couldn’t be in a better place.”
“Yeah, I noticed all that construction. What are they building there?” I asked.
“It’s a mixed-use property with apartments and retail and a few restaurants as well. It’s nice because a small river runs through the back of the property, and they’re planning on making it into a park with a walkway and a bike trail.”
“Wow, that sounds great. It looks like you’re in a prime spot for your business.”
“Yeah. We’re glad to be here.”
“Well… uh… thanks for your time,” Dimples interrupted. “We should probably get going. But if you think of anything that would be helpful to us, here’s my card. Please give me a call.”
“You bet,” she said. “Would you like a Dirty Johnny? On the house?” At our puzzled expressions, she explained. “They’re a combination of a cookie, brownie, and fudge frosting.” She was thinking that if we tried one, she was willing to bet that we’d come back for more… they were that good.
“Sounds great.” After hearing that, how could I pass it up?
We followed her back to the counter, where she took a couple of scrumptious-looking treats off the display sheet and put them in a little box for us. “Here you go.”
“Thanks so much.”
As soon as we got in the car, I took one out and handed it to Dimples, then I grabbed the other one for me and took a bite. Chocolate deliciousness flowed over my tongue, and I moaned before swallowing. “Holy cow! This is amazing.”
Dimples nodded but couldn’t say much since his mouth was full. I tried to savor each bite, but it was gone long before I wanted it to be. Dimples wiped his face with a napkin and then started the car. He was thinking that the Dirty Johnny alone was worth the trip, and he’d have to come back for more. Then he thought that since Billie was looking for a wedding cake, maybe he should tell her about the bakery?
“Hey, that’s a great idea,” I agreed. “I’ll bet they’d make an awesome wedding cake.”
“Uh… yeah,” Dimples agreed, a little surprised that I’d answered his thoughts. “So what do you think about the case now?”
“Well, it looks like Lincoln developed a conscience or something.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But it’s just one of many that he never collected on.”
“True. But that had to be the one that made him stop the whole thing, because it was right after that when he closed up shop.”
“And right after that, he was murdered,” Dimples added. “I think it all points to a partner. Who else would be upset that Lincoln quit? We need to figure out who that partner was, and what motivated him to kill Lincoln.”
“Yeah, but why kill him? Couldn’t his partner just hire someone else to do the job?”
Dimples sighed. “Lincoln must have had a lot of money riding on that list, and he wasn’t willing to give it up. They could have had an argument about it, and when Lincoln insisted on leaving the bakery alone, the partner snapped and killed him.”
“Sure, but there’s
still all the other debts he could have collected after that. Just because he didn’t want to collect from the bakery doesn’t mean he couldn’t keep going with the list, especially one worth that much money.”
“Maybe Lincoln wanted out,” Dimples said. “And his partner didn’t want to let him go. Maybe he knew too much.” He was thinking it sounded a lot like organized crime to him, and now maybe it was time for me to find out if Manetto was involved. It didn’t look like there were any other choices.
Crap! I didn’t want to do that. Not at all. How could I spy on Uncle Joey? I was part of the family now, and if Uncle Joey found out, it wouldn’t sit well with him. Plus, I didn’t think he was involved. On the other hand, there was a lot I didn’t know about Uncle Joey’s organization, and I kind of liked it that way.
“Before I do that, let me check around Chris’ office. If Lincoln worked there, it makes more sense that someone there put him up to the whole debt-merchant scheme, doesn’t it? And if that’s the case, Lincoln’s partner might still be at Chris’ firm.”
Dimples’ brows scrunched together with incredulity. He could hardly believe that I’d rather implicate my own husband’s firm than go after an organized crime boss. What was wrong with me?
“We also need to look at that bakery shop,” I continued, hoping he’d think I didn’t hear that. “You know… like, who would benefit if the shop went out of business? Because that was the trigger that stopped Lincoln from finishing the job and probably the reason he was killed.”
“Yeah, you have a point.” Dimples still liked the organized crime angle, but he had to admit there was something to the bakery. “Maybe there’s a tie-in to the development. There’s a lot of money involved there for sure, and if someone wanted the bakery out of the way, that would be a good way to push them out.”
“That’s it!” I agreed. “I’ll bet you a Dirty Johnny that you’re right.”
He chuckled. “You’re on. I’ll see what I can find out about the developer, and you can check out Lincoln’s connection to Chris’ law firm.” Then he spoiled it by thinking, and that other part you don’t want to talk about.
“Yeah, sure. I can do that.” Since he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t like I’d actually agreed to do it, right?
“Good.” He hoped I got the message, since he meant every word… uh… thought.
“How’s the other thing going?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. “Have they figured out the identities of the bodies we found at the house? Are they the kids we found in the files?”
“We should have the official results by tomorrow morning, but yeah, it looks like they are a match.”
“What happens next?”
“We’ll notify their families. I’ve already figured out that the people who did the renovations were developers who bought the place, fixed it up, and then sold it. So there’s no connection to anyone who lived there.”
“It could have been a contractor who worked on the house.”
“Yeah, I thought of that too, so we’ll have to look into it.” He was thinking that he’d have to take a hard look at the files and see what had already been done ten years ago, and who had been questioned, before proceeding. He glanced at me. “Maybe you should come with me when I notify their families. You might pick up something.”
He was right, but that wasn’t something I wanted to do. Still, I owed it to the little girl. I’d heard her crying for a reason, and I needed to follow it through. “Sure, that’s a good idea. I’ll go with you.”
“Good, thanks.”
We pulled into the precinct, just as the rain started to pour. “Can you drop me off at my car?”
“Sure. Why don’t you come in tomorrow around nine, and we’ll discuss what we know about the bakery and Chris’ firm while we notify the families? That should give you the rest of the day to do some snooping, right?” He was thinking of Manetto and Chris, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.
“Okay. See you then.” I opened the door and hopped out. It took a minute to find my keys, so by the time I got in my car, I was soaked. Safely inside, I took a minute to wipe the wetness from my face before I was ready to back out.
I placed the key in the ignition and pulled the seat belt to snap it on. That’s when I caught sight of a manila envelope on the passenger seat. What the freak? How did that get there? I glanced around the parking lot, but it was hard to see if anyone watched me through the rain.
With my heart pounding to beat the devil, I swallowed my fear and picked it up.
Chapter 8
I pulled the top open and peeked inside, then dumped the contents out onto the passenger seat. With dawning horror, I realized they were photos of me and my kids that had been taken just this morning. The first photo was of my kids leaving the house for school. There were pictures of them both coming out of the house and getting into their carpool rides.
The next several photos were of me inside the garage, getting into my car, and backing out of the driveway. Another showed me walking from my car into the police station. Then the last two showed me getting into Dimples’ unmarked police car.
What the freak? I checked inside the envelope for a note or something, but found nothing. Still, I knew this had to be from someone in the Russian mob, letting me know that they knew where I lived, and were threatening my children. Did that also mean they knew I wasn’t Kate?
Was this from Yuri, or his bodyguards? Or both? Were they sent to scare me? Because if they were, they’d definitely accomplished that. In fact, my mouth was so dry, I couldn’t swallow to save my life.
Then it hit me that they could get to me or my kids, sending the clear message that I’d better hand over the money before something bad happened. Damnit all to hell and back! Why did this have to happen to me? And what was I supposed to do now?
With shaking hands, I started the car, flipped on the windshield wipers, and put the car into reverse. The rain had slowed enough to see better, and I decided to head over to Thrasher Development and give the problem to Uncle Joey. If the Russians thought I had the money, and had double-crossed Uncle Joey, that was probably the last thing they’d expect.
I drove away, but couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched my every move. Of course, maybe that was a good thing, since they’d see me going to Uncle Joey’s, and that would prove I didn’t have the money, right? Then they’d know it wouldn’t do any good to threaten me.
A little calmer now, I pulled into the parking garage and found a nice spot close to the elevators. I shoved the photos into my purse and got out my stun flashlight just in case someone accosted me. Armed and dangerous, I sprinted to the elevators and pushed the call button.
It took forever before the doors swished open, but I was ready for anything with my stun flashlight. Luckily, the elevator was empty, so I got in and pushed the button for the twenty-sixth floor. Once the doors closed, I leaned against the side of the elevator and caught my breath.
A minute or two later, the elevator slowed to a stop. With relief, I hurried into Thrasher Development. Jackie sat at her desk and glanced up with surprise. “Hey Shelby. What are you doing here?”
“I need to see Uncle Joey.” My voice sounded more upset than I liked. “Is he here?”
“Yes, but he’s with someone. Why don’t you wait in the conference room, and I’ll let him know you’re here?”
“What about Ramos? Is he here?”
“No, but he should be coming back any minute. What’s going on? You look upset.” She thought I looked like I’d seen a ghost. Or maybe it was just that my hair was wet and plastered to my forehead, giving me that lost puppy-dog look.
My hand automatically went to my hair, and I pushed it back off my forehead and tried to fix it. Oops. Jackie didn’t seem to put her thoughts and my ensuing actions together, so I hurried to explain what was going on. “Someone has threatened my family and left a surprise in my car. I need to show it to Uncle Joey.”
She immediately thought of a
cut-off finger or part of an ear. “Oh no. What was it?”
“Some photos.”
“Oh.” She let out a sigh, thinking I was being overly dramatic if that’s all it was.
I inhaled to tell her it was lots more complicated than that, but held it in and smiled instead. What was I doing? I needed to get a grip before I gave my secret away and did something stupid. “Hey, while I’m waiting, can I get a diet soda from the apartment and maybe fix my hair? Do you want one?”
“No thanks, but you go ahead.”
Grateful to get away from her scrutiny, along with some time to chill out, I hurried down the hallway and into the apartment. Since I knew Ramos wasn’t there, I felt a lot more comfortable rummaging through the refrigerator and making myself at home.
After a long swig of cold soda straight from the can, I fluffed up my hair and glanced around the place. I needed to find a mirror, so it was probably all right to use the bathroom. Plus, I’d always wondered what the rest of the apartment looked like. Now was my chance to take a look. It also might be nice to know if there was another way inside the apartment besides through the office.
I walked through the kitchen and glanced into the living room. A short hall on the other side led to the bedroom and bathroom, so maybe the entrance was that way. A sudden desire to inspect Ramos’ bedroom came over me. What was his bed like? Was the room neat and tidy or a little messy? Then I thought about other things I might find in that bedroom, like women’s underwear, and decided to mind my own business.
Still, a little peek into the room in general wouldn’t hurt. I turned down the hall and found two closed doors on one side of the hall, and the bathroom on the other. The closed door on the right probably opened into the bedroom, so the one at the end of the hall was either another bedroom, or it could be the outside entrance.
Since my reason for being here was finding the bathroom, I flipped on the light and took a quick look in the mirror. My hair wasn’t too bad, and I only had a little mascara under my eyes. I fixed the damage, then inspected the bathroom, taking in the beautiful tile work and glass enclosed shower.
Hidden Deception: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Page 14