Cream Puff Murder

by Sandi Scott

  The façade of the three-story building was made almost entirely of glass windows, and Ryan had the entire third floor for his business. Normally, Ashley would hesitate to bring Dizzy into a place so corporate looking, but she knew Ryan had instituted a dog-friendly workplace policy; being able to bring their dogs to work was one of the many things Ryan’s staff loved about working for him.

  Once they were inside Ryan’s spacious office, Dizzy raced to the rawhide bone that was always in the corner, and Ashley threw herself on the sofa. Ryan made his way to the chair opposite her.

  “I don’t understand. Colleen was poisoned? That’s hard to believe.”

  “Yes, and I’m horrified. You know how careful I am with food safety.”

  Ryan smiled. “Of course. All the time. There’s got to be more to the story, Ash.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here.”

  She dug the cell phone out of her purse and handed it to him. He turned the baggie over in his hands, fingering the pieces with a look of surprise.

  “First of all, I assume this used to be a phone. Shouldn’t the cops have it?”

  Ashley gave a cheesy smile with a little shrug. “I would’ve handed it over to them if I thought they could do a better job, and I will hand it over to them—just after we, er, you make us a copy of what was on that phone.”

  Ryan sighed as he continued staring at the pieces. “So, you want me to see if I can extract data from this mess?”

  “You’re the only one I know who can find needles in electronic haystacks.”

  He smiled at her, then looked back down at the phone and frowned. “I don’t know; I’ve come a long way from our black hat days. I had to leave hacking behind to build the company and,” he gestured to the expansive ocean view outside of the window, “so far it’s paid off.”

  “I understand, Ryan,” Ashley said, “I shouldn’t have asked. Risking your business to save mine doesn’t seem like that great of an idea, now that I’ve said it out loud.” She laughed quietly to herself. “I guess I just got caught up in the idea of it being like old times—you and me versus the Above-Grounders.”

  That made Ryan chuckle, and for the first time since Ashley handed him the bag, he started to open it. As he did, Ashley shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He peered into the bag and suddenly jerked his head back.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan.” said Ashley. “I should’ve warned you. I fished it out of the toilet.”

  “Yeah, no. That explains the stench.”

  They laughed as Ryan got up, taking the phone over to his computer. “I guess trying to salvage a broken phone for an old friend isn’t a crime. I’ll see what I can find but just this once.”

  He pointed toward the fridge.

  “Can I get you a soda or something?”

  “Yes, please. And thank you—for the phone.”

  “And can I get something for you, Mademoiselle?” Ryan bent down and scratched Dizzy behind the ears. He went over to the fridge, grabbed two sodas, a bottle of water, an empty bowl and a bag of chips. “What exactly are we looking for on the phone?”

  While Ashley began telling him about the argument in the bathroom, Ryan emptied the bottle of water into the bowl and placed it on the floor next to Dizzy. Then, he ripped open the bag of chips and sat back down in his chair.

  “The man and Colleen were arguing over an email, so I want to see what emails Colleen received recently. Also, the man said the email has nothing to do with ‘us,’ so I’m wondering if they were involved. As far as I know, Colleen was single, but maybe there are calls or texts to this mystery man.” Ashley was getting excited by the prospects of finding something in that phone, and her eyes and smile starting to look a little giddy.

  Ryan laughed. “Look at you. This really does remind me of our time in IT together– remember?”

  “How can I forget? Before I even hit high school, my idea of Saturday night fun was hacking my neighbors’ Wi-Fi networks and the library’s firewall. I dreamed of an exciting career as a tech expert, decoding encrypted data, breaking into security camera networks, or whatever the secret agent on the other end of the line needed.”

  Ryan laughed so hard some chip crumbs sprayed from his mouth. “Was that what you found during our basement days at SmithCorp?”

  “Ha. Not exactly. But I found you—a kindred spirit. You and I had just had dreams way too big for that place.” She thought about the day she resigned, not telling Ryan she wouldn’t be coming back. She had meant to tell him all day but just couldn’t find the words. She finally mustered the courage when they were in the parking lot at the end of the day when, out of nowhere, Sergey showed up to pick her up as a surprise. Instead of telling Ryan that she had quit and was moving to Paris, she just said, “See you later,” and got into Sergey’s car. She didn’t see Ryan for two years.

  “Do you think you’ll ever come back to it?” Ryan asked.

  Ashley smiled. “Nah, that life is over for me now. Plus, baking is more than a job—it’s a passion—and I feel incredibly lucky to make a living doing it.”

  “Lucky for me, too, I get free pastries.” Ryan patted his stomach for emphasis.

  “Well, not totally free. I’m lucky to have you available when I need tech support.” She gave him a playful punch in the arm and then stood up. “As much as I love taking this trip down memory lane, I’ve got work to do. Not only do I have real work—I’m catering a wedding tomorrow—but I have to find some time to talk to Hope. She and her father have always been close, so if Bobby has any secrets, she might know what they are.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “ARE MY EYES deceiving me?” Hope asked excitedly. “Could it really be Ashley Adams?”

  “I promise. I’m no vision.” Ashley replied as she was scooped up in a friendly hug. She had walked to the McCay house down the same familiar route she had used countless times growing up. As usual, she found Hope sitting on her front porch, drinking iced tea and reading.

  “It’s been what, a bit more than three years since you went off chasing your dreams in exotic lands? Come, sit.” They fell right back into their old routine, walking over to sit on the porch swing.

  “If by exotic lands you mean sweaty kitchens, then, yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t made it around yet. I haven’t had too many free moments.”

  Hope had pulled her burgundy curls up into a messy bun. While other women are beautiful in the way that everything is just the right size and in just the right place, Hope McCay was beautiful in a way that no one else could possibly be, with a square jaw, a button nose and wide-set green eyes contrasted by her freckles. She was wearing a gold necklace with a pendant of a sea turtle that caught Ashley’s eye.

  “What a lovely necklace.” Ashley complimented.

  “Oh, thank you.” said Hope. “My mom gave it to me, and I just adore it—it’s so Seagrass, don’t you think? Anyway, since I got it, I only take it off to shower.”

  “Hope, I wasn’t sure when a good time would be to talk after—”

  She hugged her grey cashmere wrap-around sweater. “We don’t blame you, Ash. I know you would never do anything negligent. Dad would come down here and say it himself, but he’s already done for the night.”

  Ashley felt a weight lift from her stomach, realizing that everyone who personally mattered to her was now on her side. Now the only ones left were the sheriff and Seagrass’s entire event and tourism industry.

  “How are you guys doing?” Ashley asked.

  “It’s just so sad,” Hope said, staring off at the water. “Colleen was like family to us, being Dad’s secretary for so long. I feel for Dad—he’s in mourning, but he also has to figure out how to keep business going without Colleen.”

  Bobby McCay’s primary business was real estate; he owned more of Seagrass than almost anyone. He started out when Ashley and Hope were young, buying up little parcels of land on the waterfront. Eventually, over time, he had acquired a huge part of Seagrass’s shoreline. The Mouth, the estuary where the Colorad
o River meets the ocean tide, was his favorite parcel.

  When they were younger, Ashley and Hope would kayak in the Mouth and the marshlands around it. After a long day of paddling, they’d eat dinner at the McCays’ house, where Bobby would tell them the marshlands were “not only the beauty of Seagrass but the beast too,” a fierce protector from flooding in hurricane season because they would absorb a lot of the excess storm water. Growing up with a father so protective of the natural environment, it was no wonder that Hope had made the speech she did at the banquet, calling for further protection of the natural beauty of Seagrass.

  “Hope,” said Ashley, “this may sound kind of strange, but I think there’s something suspicious about Colleen’s death.”

  Hope turned to her old friend. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for one thing, I know my baking didn’t make her sick; someone must have tampered with the food.”

  Hope smiled at Ashley, then turned back to face out into the yard again, avoiding Ashley’s eyes. “Honey, no one blames you. Who knows how these things happen; but even huge businesses with millions of dollars can’t stop it? I mean, look at Chipotle.”

  Trying to brush off the sting of being compared to a chain restaurant, Ashley continued. “It’s not only that. I heard something that I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was in the bathroom, and I overheard Colleen arguing with a man about an email that had a secret in it.”

  “Who was the man?”

  “I don’t know, but he was insisting Colleen keep the email a secret. And I think—I think the secret might have something to do with your father. Colleen said people would be shocked if they found out.”

  “My dad? What do you mean? What exactly did Colleen say?”

  “She said, ‘He’s my boss. If people find out, they’ll be shocked.’ And then the man told her not to be the one to tell people. This is a weird question to ask, but do you know of any secrets that your dad is keeping, and do you have any idea who the man trying to keep the secret quiet might be?”

  Hope sat quietly for a minute before responding. She opened her mouth to speak a few times but didn’t say anything.

  “Please, Hope, can you think of anything? I am just trying to figure out what happened so I can clear my name. Anything?”

  “Well, to be honest, there is something,” said Hope, picking nervously at a hangnail on her left thumb. “My dad, well, he’s been sick. He started to act really strange a few months ago, forgetting conversations we had and telling the same stories over and over again. At first, Mom and I just thought it was normal getting-old stuff, but then he would forget major stuff, like where he was or who we were. He’d always snap out of it, but it was alarming enough that we took him to the doctor. She says it’s early signs of dementia, probably Alzheimer’s. We had to come up with a quick plan, so I’ve taken on most of the responsibilities of his real estate business. Colleen was such a huge help with the day-to-day stuff.”

  “Hope, I’m so sorry. You know how much I love your dad.” Ashley took a minute to let it all sink in. “And this was a secret?”

  “You know my mom—she has to keep up appearances, so she just isn’t ready to tell people yet. She thinks if people find out they’ll start treating Dad differently and just make it progress faster. Of course, there’s no medical research to back that up whatsoever, but who am I to disobey Mrs. McCay?” They both giggled at that—Hope’s mom was always the strictest among their friends and the one they feared the most.

  “Can you think of anyone who might want to keep that secret?” Ashley asked.

  “No, not really. Maybe a business associate? There’s still a lot about Dad’s business I don’t know.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted Colleen dead? Or anyone sitting at your table that night?”

  “Well, we’ve had some issues of minor vandalism.” Hope lowered her voice as she glanced at the porch window. “I’ve been trying to keep it away from Dad to save him from any more stress.”

  “Do you know who’s doing this?”

  “Yeah, it’s that crazy redneck gang that harasses anyone that ever wants to change anything around here. They call themselves the Localists, but they’re just thugs with no vision for a future in Seagrass that looks any different from the past. They started messing around on our properties after they heard that Dad was considering selling land near the Mouth.”

  “Did you tell the sheriff about it?”

  “Bah. That’s a joke. He’s not actually going around wreaking havoc himself, but Mueller agrees with them too much to do anything about it. He’d just tell them I complained, and it will fan the flames. I guess you get to do whatever you want if everyone in town loves you just because you’re jovial and know how to smoke meat.”

  “Wait.” Ashley said, stifling a laugh. “Are you saying that Smoke Daddy Lee is one of those cowboys?”

  “One of them? He’s the ringleader! It started with him coming down to the house every day, asking to talk to Dad again about how he’s going to ruin this town. When Dad told Lee to stop coming around, we started finding little things broken or stolen here and there. Holes punched in kayaks. Busted floodlights. Then we discovered Dad’s boat missing one morning and found it abandoned, floating around down river and totally trashed.”

  Hope stood up and began to pace across the porch.

  “If they care so much about Seagrass, what about us? We’re locals, too. They’ve just gotten so consumed with their idea of the way they think Seagrass should be, they’ve forgotten how big a part of this town we’ve always been.”

  “So, you haven’t actually seen Lee or anyone associated with his group doing this vandalizing?”

  “I don’t need to. It all started after someone saw Dad having coffee with a big hotel developer from Bayview Development. And then— if Colleen was murdered, that sure is a big coincidence. Most people knew she was one of Dad’s most influential advisers, not to mention the fact that Colleen and Smoke Daddy Lee met several times before she met her maker.”

  Ashley made a mental note of Lee’s and Colleen’s meetings, even though she was shocked by the revelation.

  “So you just have a feeling that it could have been them? Who else besides Lee do you think is involved?”

  “Well, really, almost everyone in Seagrass over the age of forty, but to narrow it down, Lee’s lackeys that hang out at the Smokeground every day. All they have to do is walk down the path at night after they’re done cramming their faces.”

  That didn’t really narrow it down. Rednecks destroying property wasn’t all that rare in Seagrass, so while Ashley was sympathetic to Hope, she didn’t think there was much chance those guys were murderers. Honestly, they probably didn’t have the brains to pull it off, even if they wanted to. Still, she made a note to ask around about the Localists to find out more.

  “I hate to cut our reunion short, but it’s getting late and I have some things to wrap up before the work day ends,” Hope said.

  “Of course,” Ashley said, standing to give her a hug. “If you think of anything, would you let me know?”

  “Of course, and if you figure out who that man was in the bathroom, let me know.”

  Ashley waved as she made her way down the front walkway, the long driveway and towards home. It was a lot to process. Even though Bobby McCay was possibly too ill to be conducting business, he seemed to be making a pretty big deal with Bayview Development. Maybe there was someone out there who would profit from revealing his illness to clients and partners, but who? That’s what Ashley needed to find out next.

  CHAPTER 5

  EARLY THE NEXT morning, Ashley found Patty hard at work, peeling and deveining shrimp for that night’s wedding event. She wondered out loud if it was even worth all the effort; most of the guests at the wedding would have heard the poisoning rumors and likely steer clear of their food.

  “I guess you could always take the medieval approach to convi
ncing people you’re not a poisoner. Just go out there and start eating it in front of them, with relish.” Patty stated, trying to make her friend feel a little better.

  This wedding was just the kind of event they knew would be crucial to the success of their nascent businesses: a dreamy, beachside reception at the two-hundred year old Pleasant Inn, complete with a five-tiered wedding cake. Ashley spent all day baking and painstakingly decorating the cake with a gorgeous, rose swirl-patterned frosting and a decadent array of cream-cheese fruit tarts glistening with a sumptuous, drool-worthy glaze. She was happy to have a pleasant distraction. Slowly twirling the cake’s turntable and using the frosting tips to create the tiny little roses was meditative, and she almost forgot her sorrows of late.

  That didn’t last long, however; no one touched the cake. After the bride and groom finished taking pictures cutting the cake, they put the knife down and scurried away from the table. The guests only picked sparingly at Patty’s shrimp linguine, which, despite her brave face, Ashley knew upset her. No one said anything aloud, but Patty and Ashley both knew it had been too late for the newlyweds to cancel, and they had still wanted nice-looking food in the background of the photos. Ashley kept apologizing to Patty for the poisoning clouding her catering business by proxy. Patty continued to shush her and tell her that it wasn’t her fault. Both of them watched with horror as multiple guests snacked from food they had carried in their handbags to keep from going hungry.

  It had been two full business days, but so far, the state police hadn’t detected any signs of toxins in the leftover cream puffs from the benefit, and their kitchen had passed the inspection. Ashley was allowed to operate, pending the test results of Colleen’s stomach contents, and the investigation was still ongoing, just like the whispers behind Ashley’s back.

  She was annoyed that, after all that work she’d done to be accepted, her business could be facing closure. Seagrass locals weren’t your typical southerners. They didn’t all come installed with that famous southern hospitality. The tension between established residents and The disruption of tourism development had hardened the locals (whose families, like Ashley’s, had lived there longer than Texas had even been a state) to outsiders.