Cake Tastings and Killers

by A. R. Winters

  Her shoulders were slumped and her voice soft, the same body language she had after Charlie's ugly joke at the tasting. Suddenly, I felt a mingled wave of guilt and sympathy for her. Had anybody called to check on her after that day? I'd been too busy worrying about Detective Reid naming me the number one suspect to think about poor Paige. Shame on me.

  “Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law own the Paradise. I'm on a supply run.” I waved my cup of coffee and smiled warmly. “Essential supplies only.”

  Paige's eyes locked on the coffee cup. Her lips parted for a second, giving her the look of a woman in a daze. Then she shook her head and blinked rapidly.

  "That smells divine," she said, groaning softly. "I miss caffeine."

  "Did you give up coffee?" I asked. "Kudos to you! I keep toying with the idea but I don't know how I'd survive. You must have nerves of steel."

  As soon as the words left my mouth, my eyes drifted down to Paige's handbasket. A jar of spicy pickles, chive cream cheese, butter-flavored crackers, and strawberries.

  In retrospect, maybe I should have taken a glance at Paige's basket before I opened my fat mouth.

  “Actually, it wasn't my idea,” Paige said, stroking her abdomen behind the basket. “I'm expecting. Hence the strange shopping list. You know, cravings.”

  I nodded if only because I didn't know what to say. It would have been hard enough to run a tasting for such demanding clients, but to balance it all with such class while managing the symptoms of pregnancy was a bigger feat.

  What was her reward? None of us had defended her when Charlie turned his childish wrath on her. Nobody went to comfort her. Even I had stayed with the clients until Danielle dismissed me because of my temper. It wasn't right.

  "I'm so sorry about the other day," I said. "Charlie was always a jerk, but he was way out of line singling you out."

  Paige's eyes widened and then shifted away from mine. "Clients are clients. The wealthier, the testier."

  "But Charlie wasn't the client, and it was wrong for us to let him take control like that."

  "I really should get back to the bakery," Paige said, pulling her basket tighter against her body. "It was nice running into you, Laura."

  Before I could respond, Paige grabbed two cans of sardines from the shelf and rushed out of the aisle. I stayed behind with the canned tuna and the sardines, confused and a little hurt.

  Okay. I could take a hint. I didn't know for sure why Paige didn't want to talk to me, but I could guess.

  Nobody wanted to be associated with a business where customers turned up dead. If Detective Reid didn't find Charlie Porter's killer soon, word would spread through Paraiso Island. It might spread as far as Key West.

  If that happened, Andrew and Danielle would have no choice but to sell the Paradise to Nicholas Lloyd. Maybe he would keep his word on the price, but I doubted it.

  Chapter Seven

  As much as I would have liked to go straight home after my disastrous trip to Key West, I still had to swing by the restaurant supply store for Danielle. It was emptier than the coffee shop or the grocery store, but I still felt like people were staring at me. The longer I shopped, the worse the feeling got.

  I hadn't felt so self-conscious since the last semester of high school. As much as I wanted to abandon my cart, run back to the truck, and drive home, I didn't. I'd promised Danielle I would do whatever she needed to keep the Paradise running. Unless and until Jason Delany told us otherwise, that meant we would host a society wedding at the end of the month.

  By the time I gathered the supplies from the list, paid at the register, and got everything properly loaded in the truck, I was more than ready to spend an hour and forty-five minutes in blessed solitude.

  On the drive back I sang at the top of my lungs in between sips of coffee and bites from my sandwich. I pounded on the steering wheel, threw my head from side-to-side until my hair was a tousled mess, and screamed the lyrics to every song until my throat was wrong. It didn't exactly make me feel better, but the sheer silliness of it gave me enough of a boost that I thought I could pretend for Danielle and Granny.

  I loaded the supplies onto the dolly in the back of the truck and dragged the entire load back to the house. Everybody was on the back porch. Granny nursed a glass of sweet tea from her spot on the gray-blue chaise lounge. Danielle balanced Benjamin in one hand and held her phone to her ear with the other. She nodded in my direction, but the bright smile on her face had nothing to do with me.

  "Is Andrew checking in?" I asked quietly as I bent to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

  Granny nodded. “At breakfast, and just before dinner whenever he's away.”

  Her voice oozed with approval. As far as she was concerned, Danielle had struck gold when she caught Andrew's eye. The Loper Family's long history on the island would have been enough to impress her. Throw Andrew's intense drive to succeed, desire to help, and utter worship of my sister into the mix and it was a recipe for sainthood in Granny's book.

  Andrew ranked pretty high in my estimation too, but for me, the way he treated Danielle and Benjamin was enough.

  After I put everything away, I poured two ice-cold glasses of sweet tea and went back out to the porch. Danielle's smile was gone, replaced with a somber look of concern.

  "Let's not worry until we have to worry." She tried to smile again, but it fell instantly. "Then I'll stay optimistic for both of us. I love you too. Talk soon." Danielle hung up the phone and sighed heavily.

  I passed her one of the glasses of sweet tea and sat down next to her, kicking off my shoes and folding my legs beneath me. "Is he still convinced the Delany-Lambert wedding will cancel?"

  "It's not so much that. If they cancel, they forfeit the deposit. That money would keep us afloat for a while. The problem is why they might cancel.”

  “Charlie.”

  “Yeah. If this investigation goes on for too much longer, people will start to talk." Danielle paused to take a sip and give me a nod of gratitude. "You know how word spread around this place."

  "I remember."

  Millions of tourists travel to Paraiso Island every year. Our legendary sport fishing drew anglers from all over the world. Dark and edgy television shows used our town as a backdrop. Every few seasons, a Keys wedding made a splash and renewed the industry. But only six thousand people lived on the island full-time.

  Gossip spread at the speed of light.

  I took a deep drink from my glass, but it did nothing to tamp down my growing guilt. "How long do you think you can hold out if things get worse."

  Danielle and Granny exchanged a look before my sister answered. "We'll be fine until the fall. If we can get what it's worth...well we wouldn't be happy but we'd be alright."

  My mind went back to my ugly encounter with Nicholas in the coffee shop and the one in the yard before it. Sure, he was a pushy jerk who gave me the creeps, but if he could help my little sister, I didn't have the right to hide it from her.

  "I didn't say anything the other day because… well, I knew you didn't want to sell, but there was a real estate developer hanging around the property."

  Danielle’s brow furrowed. "When?"

  "The day of the Delany-Lambert wedding. His name is Nicholas Lloyd."

  "Oof, that man!" Granny slammed her glass down with as much force as was safe onto a table made from a wooden crate. "How many times do I have to chase him off the property before he learns?"

  "I figured you almost nailing him in the head with a broom would have done the trick," Danielle said.

  "You know him already?" I looked from Danielle to Granny and back. Had Nicholas tried to con me?

  "He came by about six months ago and offered to buy the Paradise from Andrew. Of course Andy told him it's not for sale, and we thought that would be the end of it."

  “Apparently not.” This time when I took a sip of tea, it was to cool my growing temper.

  “Not by a long shot,” Granny said. “Soon as Andrew was gone, that ma
n waltzed onto the property just as bold as you please. He’s cornered both your sister and me at least once. Got me on the way into the beauty parlor.”

  "He went into Charlene’s and made it out in one piece?" Charlene’s Beauty Parlor was an upscale establishment that catered to the septuagenarian plus demographic of Paraiso Island. The original owner sold her share of the business and retired to Miami sometime in the 80s. It had changed hands twice since then, with a slight update to the decor each time, but the name and target demographic remained the same.

  Nicholas Lloyd wasn’t attractive enough to be worth the admiration of the regular set at Charlene’s, but they weren't above toying with him for their amusement.

  "I threw him the evil eye, and he knew better." Granny nodded and picked her glass back up. "That's the only good thing I can say about the man. He has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Though some might just call that selfishness."

  My mouth fell open. Nicholas Lloyd had definitely conned me, and the only reason I hadn't fallen for it was that my family was already onto his game.

  "Why keep singling us all out?" I asked.

  "He thinks one of us can change Andrew's mind." Danielle stood up, shifting Baby Ben to her left hip. "I better get this little one in the bath before dinner. It's my night, Granny, so stay out of the kitchen."

  "I won’t neither," Granny said, sticking out her tongue. "A peanut butter sandwich would go just splendidly with this tea."

  "Don’t you dare!" Danielle let the screen door slam behind her as she disappeared into the house.

  "Danielle Fisher Loper, I raised you better than that!" Granny yelled after her.

  I slumped back in my chair and sighed. "Guess they've got everything under control."

  Granny climbed to her feet slowly. "Between the two of them, they usually do. Stop worrying so much, Laura." She paused and patted me on the shoulder on her way to the door.

  Her tone was one of instruction more than advice, but once I was alone, I still couldn't calm down. Nothing had changed. Andrew and Danielle already knew about the creepy developer; they just didn't want to sell to him.

  If Detective Reid didn't find out who killed Charlie soon, everything would happen exactly like Nicholas Lloyd predicted. It would happen in ways worse than he knew. My name would come up on the suspect list, a fire of gossip about my history with Charlie would spread. It would consume the Paradise and everyone I loved.

  Not knowing what else to do, I fished Detective Lloyd’s card from the card carrier in my phone case and dialed his number.

  “Conner Reid, Major Crimes.”

  I hadn't thought far enough ahead to have a reason to give for my call. Time to improvise. "Detective Reid, this is Laura Fisher. I was hoping to get an update?" Smooth, Laura. Really smooth.

  "It's against policy to give details of an open investigation to members of the public, Ms. Fisher," he said.

  Especially those on the list of suspects. Detective Reid would never say as much out loud. He still hadn't technically confirmed that I was a suspect. Why warn me?

  "Okay, fine." I ran my finger along the lid of my cup, still thinking. "Can you tell me if you spoke to Paige yet? I bumped into her in the grocery store, and it was a little weird."

  "Weird in what way, Ms. Fisher?"

  "We were talking about her giving up caffeine because she's pregnant, and the conversation seemed to be going well, but when I mentioned Charlie, it seemed to spook her."

  There was a long silence on Detective Reid's side of the line. "Though this may be a joyous occasion for Mrs. Hawkins, policing the cravings of a pregnant woman is pretty far outside of my jurisdiction."

  "You shouldn't be so dismissive, Detective Reid." My heart beat so fast my voice shook. I climbed to my feet and paced to burn off the extra energy. "After all, you said the evidence doesn't point to any suspect. For all you know, there’s a serial killer on the loose and Charlie Porter was his first victim."

  "Serial killers generally don't use arsenic, Ms. Fisher. They prefer to get their hands dirty. Whereas in cases where passion meets opportunity, poison makes for an easy weapon. One that most people think is untraceable."

  "I didn't kill Charlie!" This was a horrible mistake. I closed my eyes, shaking my head as if that alone could erase this moment. "Where would I even get arsenic?"

  “Won't know that until I take a look at the grounds of the Paradise.”

  “Don't bother without a warrant, Detective Reid.”

  I punched the end-call button and resisted the sudden urge to throw my phone at the wall.

  Did I suddenly think I was clever enough to go toe-to-toe with a cop? I was supposed to remove myself from the suspect list, not antagonize a homicide detective!

  No, I didn't. All I wanted was to feel a little control, if only for a second. Now control had never been further out of my hands. My stupid temper had gotten me into trouble again. The same temper that put me on the suspect list in the first place.

  I tossed my cell phone onto the chaise lounge and plodded down the porch steps. Since I'd found Charlie's body in the side garden, my taste for nature walks had waned, but I needed wind in my hair and sand between my toes to feel alive again.

  As soon as I got to the sand, I kicked off my sandals and went out to the edge of the water and walked.

  I didn't come back until supper time.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day was my official day off. Since it was the one day a week I got to sleep in, I preferred to spend my mornings off huddled under my softest blanket while scrolling through styled social media photos and envying the composition. In Seattle, since I had no family in the area or steady boyfriends, there was nobody around to interrupt my lazy day schedule.

  Granny didn't believe in late mornings in bed.

  To her, it didn’t make sense to lounge around the house when she could spend her day off gossiping at Charlene’s. She had a social media account, but aside from a repost of the occasional viral meme, it went unused. It didn’t make sense to my grandmother that I wasted my mornings, but she’d stopped lecturing me about it.

  She preferred bribery, and a fresh breakfast was her favorite method. Ordinarily, it worked, but I had been up until 3 a.m. the night before worrying about the investigation. I stumbled out of bed at almost noon after fifteen minutes of drowsy scrolling. My stomach finally drove me out of my bedroom and to the kitchen, where I found the house empty and a plate of food on the table topped by a note in my grandmother's scrawling hand.

  Stop worrying!

  Granny

  Setting the note to the side with a smile, I turned to my breakfast feast. Granny left me a double batch of her bacon-cup egg tarts, home fries with caramelized onions, and a strong—though now cold—pot of coffee.

  My favorite breakfast and the house to myself to the afternoon. A perfect day off.

  I warmed up a cup of coffee and my plate then settled down on the couch. Granny only had basic cable, but there was always a marathon to watch. Just as I started to surf the channels, someone knocked on the door.

  "This is Detective Reid!” he shouted. “PI Sheriff's Department."

  So much for my day off. I glanced down at my bright green pine cone pajamas and considered asking the detective to wait so I could change. That would probably look suspicious.

  After firing off a quick text summoning Danielle, I padded to the door and opened it, trying to muster a polite voice. "Good morning, Detective Reid. How can I help you?"

  Detective Reid wore reflective sunglasses and a smile. The smell of sun-dried cotton, green leaves, and fresh lemon wafted off him, filling the small entryway. "You can step aside while I search the premises, Ms. Fisher. I have that warrant we talked about."

  He passed a folded piece of paper to me. I looked it over, but other than some official language about the grounds, tool shed, garden cottage exterior, and other premises, it didn't make a lot of sense to me.

  Whether or not I understood it, there was a
judge's signature on it. I had to let Reid in. It wasn't as if I had anything to hide, but I was beginning to resent all of the little ways in which I no longer had control over my life.

  "The house isn't mine," I said, moving aside to let Reid through the doorway. "My grandmother lives here.”

  "Is Mrs. Fisher home?" Detective Reid's voice was casual, like this was a simple social call, while he waved crime scene technicians and uniformed officers into my grandmother's yard.

  "She's at the beauty parlor." It was probably for the best. Granny would be hopelessly torn between teasing Detective Reid and fussing at the officers for rifling through whatever she kept in her garden shed.

  The obvious look of relief on Detective Reid's face confirmed my suspicions. "If you don't mind, I have a few more questions for you."

  Would it make a difference if I minded?

  I shrugged and went back into the living room. My phone chirped and flashed Danielle’s return text message. On a call with a potential client. Show him whatever he needs to see? Pretty please?

  "Ask me whatever you want, Detective,” I said. “But I've already told you everything I remember. Can I warm up a cup of coffee for you?"

  Reid held his hands together in a gesture of prayer and thanks. He waited until I'd put his cup into the microwave and set the timer to speak again.

  "I've been doing some research into Charlie Porter since we last talked. He's got an impressive profile. At least, I'm sure that's what those business types would say. Started his first business at seventeen, graduated cum laude, and president of his university’s business association."

  The business Charlie started in high school was a small branch of his father's frozen yogurt chain. Charlie paid his employees twice the usual hourly rate for Paraiso, mostly hired his friends, and rarely kept the posted hours. It closed when school started, but I always suspected Mr. Porter pulled the plug when the first quarter came in too far in the red.

  It was probably best for the prime suspect not to speak ill of the dead. "That does sound impressive."