Cake Tastings and Killers

by A. R. Winters

  "Do you and Carl have a place picked out?" I asked, taking a seat.

  "No, not yet. He's gearing up for events next month, so we've been having trouble syncing our schedules. But I keep trying. I only have English Breakfast at the moment. Is that okay?"

  I nodded. "It's fine."

  Paige moved around the kitchen gathering the teabags, sugar, and milk, all of which she put on the table. If she knew I was on to her, she was sure hiding it well.

  "How long's it been since you put the house on the market?" I glanced at my phone. Still no response from Reid.

  "About a month." Paige came back to the table, setting a steaming mug of black tea in front of me. "I didn't take much time to think things through after Carl left. Now I kind of wish I had."

  "Are you moving into something bigger?" I asked.

  "Hmm… I thought about it," she said, clutching the handle of her mug. "But the more I did, the more a fresh start seemed like the best thing. No bad memories. No shadows of our mistakes haunting us and the baby."

  I brought the mug to my lips, blowing gently over the steaming surface. When was Reid going to answer me? "How far along are you?"

  A dreamy expression crossed Paige's face. "Fourteen weeks. To be honest, I'm still getting used to the idea. We weren't trying, and Carl's been away so much."

  "But it's still a blessing, right?" I took a sip of my tea to steady my nerves. "Were you at the bakery when you found out? My sister was at the Paradise."

  The reflective expression snapped off of Paige's face as quickly as it had appeared.

  "No, I was here at home," she said. "Carl was off at an event in Georgia."

  Something about the timeline needled in my brain. Realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

  "Paige… why didn't you tell me the baby is Charlie’s?"

  Her eyes jerked toward me and instantly hardened. "That horrible rumor needs to die! Where'd you even hear it?"

  "I didn't hear it, but… it would make sense." Setting my mug down, I watched Paige carefully. There was no way to know how she would react to my accusation. "Carl moved out around the time you found out you were pregnant. But he’s not moving back in, is he? And you aren’t moving back in together."

  "That's not true." Paige’s hands trembled, making the tea slosh around the lip of her mug. She put it down and looked back at me. "You saw him yourself at my bakery."

  "I don’t know what I saw that day, but I don't think a craftsman would sell his tools. Not as a first resort. And I don’t think you’d get rid of something Carl cared about so much if he were coming home."

  Paige looked away but stayed quiet.

  "You said Carl cheated on you, but you’re the one people saw out with another man. With Charlie."

  Paige sniffed. "Charlie Porter? As if I would stoop to chasing that drug-abusing, womanizing creep."

  "You never kicked Carl out," I continued. Now that I understood everything, I couldn't stop. "He left on his own. After you told him you were carrying another man's child. And now that Charlie's gone, he can't get in the way of you and Carl reconciling."

  "It's just a horrible rumor," Paige said coolly. She looked back at the surface of the table for a while as if deep in thought. When her eyes turned to me again, the smile had reappeared on her face. "Silly me. I forgot about the cookies."

  Paige slid to her feet and went to the pantry cupboard. She tugged it open and reached for a bag of powdered cookies, hesitating for just a second before she pulled it down.

  "It's a new recipe," Paige said. Her eyes and smile were wide, but there was no warmth in either. "Ginger cookies with lime powdered sugar."

  The citrusy scent of the icing wafted to my nostrils, tempting me. She peeled the top open and held it out to me.

  I couldn't shake the sensation that something wasn't right. "Aren't you going to have any?"

  She shook her head. "Morning sickness."

  "Ginger cookies don't help with that?"

  "They're Moscow Mule cookies," she said. "It's probably the vodka that’s doing it."

  Every instinct I had told me not to take one of those cookies. But what would Paige's response be if I said so?

  I opened my mouth, searching for a way to refuse. But the words barely left my lips when they were cut off by a pounding on the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Paige and I kept staring at one another. For a while, neither of us moved, but the plastic freezer bag in Paige's hands trembled.

  "Don't worry about the door," she said, blinking fast. "I'm not expecting anyone."

  She leaned forward, sending another wave of the citrusy sweet treat toward my nose.

  Not a chance!

  "But, I am. Detective Reid." I pushed away from the table and climbed to my feet, determined to get as much space between me and the offered cookie as possible.

  The truth was I had no way of knowing who was at the door. The check next to my text told me Reid had seen the evidence I sent him. But since he hadn't responded, I didn't know if he'd taken it seriously.

  Judging by our previous history, I put the odds at fifty-fifty.

  It could have been Reid or Carl or the mailman at the door. Thankfully, Paige didn’t know that.

  Her smile fell at the corners. “That guy from Paraiso? Why would he…” Paige's face morphed from confusion to realization to outright panic.

  I pulled out my phone and showed her my last text message. At the same time, it buzzed in my hand. I turned it back around.

  There was a message from Reid. Get safe. On the way.

  Paige dropped the bag and raced from the chair, nearly tumbling sideways as she scrambled out of the kitchen.

  I ran for the door. My heart pounded as I ripped it open. Conner Reid was on the other side.

  His brow furrowed as his eyes met mine. “I told you to—”

  "She ran for it!" I said, cutting him off and flailing wildly in the direction of the kitchen.

  Reid brushed past me and into the house, shouting over his shoulder as he ran in the direction I'd pointed. "There's a uniformed officer around back. Stay inside!"

  I wanted to listen to Reid, but the second he was gone my body started moving on its own.

  The uniformed officer had the backyard. Reid had the house. I'd take the garage.

  I reached the still open door between the garage and the house in time to see Paige Hawkins snatch the bottle of arsenic wood preserver from the shelf.

  "Paige, stop!" I said. "It's over!”

  She glanced at me then took off again, heading for the side exit. I ran after her. Paige had to pause to open the exit door. Those precious few seconds were all I needed to close the distance.

  Right as Paige stepped through the side door I jumped and launched myself at her. My body collided with the concrete garage floor, the bottom of the door frame jamming into my side. I was short, painfully short, but my body didn't feel the pain of the fall. I was too focused on keeping Paige Hawkins from disappearing.

  In desperation, I reached out, locking my hands around Paige’s shins and pulling back against her.

  She fell forward on her hands and knees, barely missing an empty flower bed. She kicked furiously against my grip. I wouldn't budge.

  "Hey! Stop!" a masculine voice shouted. I didn't recognize the voice, and there was no way I was about to let go of Paige.

  A pair of legs rushed into my field of vision. Strong hands reached down, grabbed Paige beneath her shoulders, and hauled her to her feet. When I looked up, Conner Reid was standing over me, holding Paige Hawkins’s wrists behind her back.

  "Are you okay, Ms. Fisher?" he asked. Was that a hint of concern I saw in the detective's eyes?

  "Yeah," I said. "Thanks."

  I let go of Paige's legs, moving myself to a sitting position. The pain that hadn't registered before rippled through my body. I was definitely going to need a hot bath and painkillers when I got home. Maybe for the rest of the week.

  "There's the arsenic
," I said, pointing at the bottle in the empty flower bed. "And I think she just tried to get me to take some of it.”

  "When? How?" he demanded.

  "The cookies on the kitchen table." I rubbed the growing ache in my side. Thankfully, the skin wasn't broken, but it was definitely going to bruise. "You should interview my sister again."

  Reid led Paige back into the kitchen with me and the uniformed officer following behind. Half of the cookies had spilled out of the bag and onto the table. In her mad dash for freedom, Paige had knocked her chair over on its side. Otherwise, the kitchen looked as if nothing had happened.

  Reid guided Paige down into the chair that was still upright. He picked the other one up and sat down in it.

  I got a look at Paige's face for the first time. Her hair was a mess, and her face was streaked with sweat. Her eyes darted around the room as if she was still searching for a way to escape. Then, slowly, she slumped back in her chair.

  "I won't apologize," she said, voice breaking. "That man ruined everything."

  Detective Reid’s expression didn’t waver. It was as neutral as ever. “Mrs. Hawkins—”

  "No, not anymore," Paige sniffled. "Charlie took that away from me. His stupid smooth lines and fat wallet."

  "Before you say anything else, you should call your attorney," Reid said.

  Paige shook her head. "Don't have one and I don't want one. It's all ruined! My husband hates me. Don't you understand? Charlie Porter took everything from me!"

  "What did Charlie take from you, Mrs. Hawkins?" Reid asked. "And how?"

  She let out a heavy breath. "Carl and I were… He was just gone so much and I was so lonely. When Charlie wandered into the bakery, I figured there was no harm in a little flirting. But next thing I know, it's… a lot more than that."

  "You admit to having an affair with Charlie Porter?" Reid asked.

  "Ha! Affair? He took me out for one dinner then let me do the walk of shame the next morning." Paige shook her head. "I thought that was the end of it. Then I found out I was pregnant."

  "And that changed things?"

  Paige wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. “At first it was wonderful. I'd never seen Carl so happy. He was home more, and I got the contract for that wedding. Things were getting so much better. When Carl and I went for our first ultrasound and the tech counted back to the date of conception… it just couldn't have been Carl’s.”

  "And he knew it," I blurted out.

  Paige nodded. "He moved out that night. I didn't know what to do so, heaven help me, I called Charlie."

  "What did Mr. Porter say?" Reid asked.

  "That he wanted nothing to do with me or the baby," She sniffed bitterly. "I didn't see him again until the day of the cake tasting."

  "What did you do then?"

  "At first, nothing. There were so many people, and I didn't think I could go through with it. But Charlie couldn't not be Charlie. That’s when I knew he was never going to step up. He was never going to be able to take Carl’s place. So I gave him the arsenic after he left."

  "Was Mr. Hawkins involved?" Reid asked. He gestured to the bag on the table. The uniformed officer—who had put on gloves at some point while Reid interviewed Paige––sealed it.

  Paige shook her head. "He doesn't know anything about it. Charlie Porter ruined my life. I just wanted it back."

  "And you thought with him out of the way that could happen?"

  She nodded. "But he still won't come back."

  "What about Jason Delany?" Reid asked.

  "I saw his sister a while after I gave Charlie the cookie," she said. "I saw how Charlie treated him and Caroline wouldn't shut up about how much better he was doing with Charlie gone. I just wanted it all to be done with. But I never met him before the cake tasting."

  Reid motioned to the uniformed officer, who put his hand on Paige's elbow and guided her to her feet. “I'm going to need you to come with me, Mrs. Hawkins. We can talk more at the station. And see about getting you a lawyer.”

  The uniformed officer led Paige away. Reid sighed and braced his hands against the table, pushing himself to his feet and turning to me.

  "I owe you a thank you for the video, Ms. Fisher," he said. "But I’m going to have to ask you to avoid being alone in the room with murder suspects going forward. And I definitely need that to be the last time you tackle one."

  “Let me be the first to say I fully support both of those ideas," I said. “And it’s Laura. We agreed, remember?”

  This time, the prompt to call me by my first name didn't relax Reid at all. "I'm still on duty. Probably will be all night. I’ve got to re-interview half of the witness list.”

  “Well, seeing as we’re on the same side now, I could be convinced to buy you a cup of coffee to help you stay awake,” I said. “On second thought, you buy me coffee. I’ll consider it my reward.”

  He paused for a beat. "I'll have to owe you one." Reid nodded to me and gestured for me to follow him out of the house.

  The uniformed detective was loading Paige into his patrol car. I walked back to my sedan much slower than I had gone up Paige’s walkway. Partly to nurse my sore muscles, and in part to let the first real relief I'd felt in weeks wash over me.

  Jason Delany wasn’t going to jail. Caroline’s wedding would still go ahead. Danielle and Andrew weren’t going to lose the Paradise.

  And justice was finally being done in Charlie Porter's name.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Six days after Paige Hawkins confessed to the murder of Charlie Porter, we all gathered again at the Paradise Bed and Breakfast.

  This time, it was to help Caroline Delany and Simon Lambert start their happy ending. With Andrew back, the Fisher-Loper crew was running at peak efficiency. He managed the handymen, having them set up the ceremony seating on the beach and the reception tables on the grounds. The florist and her assistants set out four cart-loads of flower arrangements, one for each site. Granny supervised.

  Danielle coordinated between all of the vendors, sweeping between the kitchen, garden, and beach so fast she passed by me twice in a total blur.

  For any other wedding, I would have hung closer to Danielle, but since I was technically Caroline's pro bono wedding planner, I spent most of the day with her. Danielle had control of the situation downstairs, and she could move at full speed whereas I was still a little stiff and slow from playing linebacker to Paige Hawkins’s quarterback.

  Since I wasn't the official photographer either, once I shot the groom and groomsmen's prep photos, I packed up my gear to stow it in an upstairs closet for safekeeping.

  Jason Delany caught my arm as I was leaving. He beamed down at me. "I've got you for that dance later, right, Laura? Gotta have a few pictures of the best man and the woman who saved his bacon for the wedding album."

  I smiled and then winced at the thought of putting my body through any moves that afternoon. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is sore and tired."

  He smiled, patting me gently on the arm. "Then I'll make it a slice of cake. Biggest one I can talk the caterers into cutting."

  I had to admit: it was really the little things that made me smile. With everything that had happened, I’d ended up having to call every bakery in the Keys to find a last-minute replacement. It cost a small fortune in extra fees, but Caroline’s budget more than weathered the hit.

  Detective Reid had interviewed Danielle, Granny, and me again in a marathon session the following afternoon. As we were leaving, I spotted Jason Delany by the desk, going over paperwork with one of the officers.

  His clothes were rumpled and dirty. From the dark circles under his eyes, I would guess he hadn't slept at all. But he was on the right side of the Paraiso Sheriff's Department holding cells. That was a start.

  Jason caught sight of me and Granny blurted out that he had me to thank for his freedom. I couldn't stop blushing. Jason hugged me, thanked me, and promised me a dance.

  Honestly, the hug and the grati
tude were enough. I was a rotten dancer.

  By noon, Simon, Jason, the officiant, nearly two hundred guests, and the Fisher-Loper clan were watching Caroline Delany glide down a white fabric aisle.

  Granny, Danielle, Andrew, and I stood at the back of the walkway, looking on but apart from the festivities.

  Sometime during the ceremony, I heard a soft meow. I looked down in a panic, expecting to see Coral having escaped her confinement in Granny's garden cottage and gone on an adventure.

  Coco peaked out at me from the top of my grandmother's pocket. Her tiny orange ears and pink nose wiggled with excitement.

  She had escaped all right, but there was no way she'd done it without help.

  "Granny… why have you got Coco in your pocket?" I asked.

  Danielle’s head jerked in Granny's direction. Andrew didn't even flinch.

  "Granny… you didn't!" Danielle's eyes had gone wide.

  She shrugged. "Little ones shouldn't be cooped up all day. They like to get out."

  "Granny Coral's a cat!"

  "She's a little cat, which makes it easily twice as true." Granny gave a firm nod.

  "Laura, can you take Coco and run her back to the cottage?" Danielle asked. "Or better yet to our place. Ben's probably down for his nap. They can cuddle."

  Andrew chimed in. "Love, may I ask exactly what makes you think Granny Margaret is giving up that cat?"

  "I'm gonna side with Andrew on this," I said. "And I'm not grabbing Coral if she doesn't want to go. Those claws are small, but they're sharp."

  "That's because I never bite them and I always file them once a week." Granny held her hand in a claw shape and made a vague swiping motion in the air.

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Danielle shook her head in astonishment and turned back to the ceremony.

  "Just… leave her with the nanny for Senator Galvino's wedding," Danielle said. "If a cat jumps into the cake at a politician’s wedding, the Paradise will never live it down."

  "That's all the way at the end of the season," Granny said. "Coral'll be practically grown by then. And she’ll definitely be too big for my pocket."