A Case for the Cookie Baker

by Candace Havens

  “Hernandez?” I pretended not to know who she was talking about. Playing nice was becoming more difficult by the minute.

  “She just opened a bakery here. Tell me who gave her that money? I’m sure it was my son. She was one of his little projects. I still don’t understand what he saw in her. As far as I’m concerned, she ruined his life.”

  My hands fisted under the table. If I punched her in the face for talking trash about one of the best humans I knew, Greg would never let me do this again.

  “Your younger son made me cry yesterday with his eulogy.”

  She blinked. “Levi? We’re lucky he didn’t mess the whole thing up. Now, that one is a constant disappointment. It’s a good thing he has me to guide his life.”

  The longer she spoke, the easier it was to see why Mort had decided to give a chunk of the company to Lizzie and Jere. I didn’t get a sense she knew anything about that.

  “I don’t know Levi, but it seems like the brothers were close.”

  She made the ugliest face. “Maybe when they were kids. I know Levi was furious with him over something at work. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

  Sipping the coffee, she beat her long manicured nails on the table.

  “How much longer are they going to keep me here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I was just looking for my brother. Let me see what I can find out for you.”

  “Thank you, dear. It’s nice to see someone in this godforsaken town has some manners.”

  I hurried out. Greg had been watching the whole thing through the interview glass and, I’m sure, recording every word she said. It wouldn’t be admissible, but she’d given us a couple of clues.

  One of which was that though Levi waxed poetic about his brother, their relationship wasn’t ideal.

  “Good job,” Greg said. He and Lucy both had their arms crossed. Someday I’d figure out what was going on with those two.

  “I feel like I should get some sort of gift certificate for not hitting her,” I said.

  Lucy’s eyebrow rose.

  “Obviously, I wouldn’t do that. But at least we know she wasn’t trying to hurt Gran. She was disappointed that she’d been inconvenienced by a coma.” That last bit came out bitterly.

  “She does have you worked up,” Lucy said. “What about the brother?”

  “Levi seemed so sincere yesterday. I mean, he was moved to tears and so was I. Maybe it was all for show. She doesn’t seem to like him much. This is confusing. Jere said Mort and the family were at odds. Levi says they were the best of friends. And the mom…seems to think the wrong son died. I’m terrible for saying that. Oh, and her hate for Lizzie. Maybe they hired someone to kill her, and it got messed up. That could be why she’s so angry. Her detective might actually be a hired killer.”

  “Hmmm,” Lucy said.

  Greg stared daggers at the old woman. There was a knock on the door.

  “What is it?” Greg asked.

  “Sir, the lawyer is here.”

  Greg took a deep breath. “This should be fun.”

  “What happened to Jake? Did you make him wait in his office?”

  “No, a call came in and he had to run to the station. Do you need one of my guys to drive you to your store?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. It’s a block and half, I can handle it. Poor George probably thinks I’ve abandoned him.”

  As I walked back, I did my best to listen to my gut. It told me the mother wasn’t involved, and it was usually right.

  Levi and Jere, they made me wonder. I adored Jere. He’d been funny and clever. There was this niggling thing in the back of my brain. He was the assistant; wouldn’t he know everything about Mort’s life? Maybe, he even knew about the will.

  And Levi—had that all been a sham?

  One thing was for certain. There were way too many suspects in this case.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back at the shop, Mike had already put a list together for shifts to cover Gran and he’d taken George for a walk. My dog was happily chewing on a bone in my office.

  “Thank you for the list,” I said.

  “Maybe, we should send the judge a special thank you since he’s covering several of the evening shifts.”

  I smiled. “It’s almost as if he likes her or something.”

  “Almost.” He laughed.

  Exhausted, I sat down at my desk and called Lizzie.

  Greg said she was fine, but I needed to hear it from her.

  “Hello?” It sounded as if she’d been sleeping.

  “Did I wake you?”

  She yawned. “I haven’t been sleeping so well lately. My mind whirls with what-ifs and whys.”

  “Do you want to talk about it? Were you scared when you found out his mother was in town?”

  “I’m not afraid of her, but I am,” she said. “I know that doesn’t make sense. I’ve always thought she was a little unhinged. But now with Mort gone, there’s no one to keep her on the right side of crazy. That’s mean. We aren’t supposed to say things like that, but I don’t know what she might do.”

  After speaking with Mrs. Gallagher, I completely agreed. “I had a chance to speak with her,” I said.

  “What?” Lizzie coughed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry. I’m surprised after what happened in the church.”

  “She didn’t recognize me at all.”

  “Did she tell you anything?”

  “Not a lot more than she’s grieving and that the brothers didn’t get along. I’m not sure I believed her.”

  “I never have,” Lizzie said. “Goodness knows what she told her friends about me. I’ve reached a point where I just don’t care. But when she finds out about the money and her house—”

  “I would not want to be a fly on that wall.”

  She laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound.

  “How are you dealing with the inheritance?”

  She snorted. “By pretending it didn’t happen. They’ve already put a lump sum of money in my bank account. It’s unreal. This whole situation is. I’m taking the lawyer’s advice and taking some time to adjust.

  “I’ve talked to Jere a few times about business stuff. Once the poo hits the fan on Friday, we’ll need to make sure the employees feel comfortable with the changes. I keep telling him and myself that it will be messy for a while, but we’ll figure it out.”

  “I have no doubt about that. I’m sorry I woke you up. I won’t keep you.”

  “It’s okay. If I’d slept much longer, I wouldn’t have been able to do so tonight. That’s death for a baker like me.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Oh. My. That was a terrible choice of words.” She giggled.

  I laughed with her.

  “Remember, I’m here. Day or night. I mean it. I’m worried about you. This has been a lot to process.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I keep saying it, but I mean it.”

  I checked the security cameras at the shop and all of them worked well. There were several customers at the checkout, so I went out to help.

  *

  When the last of the customers departed, I locked the front door and gathered as much of the gang who was there.

  The last thing I could wrap my mind around was organizing something so complicated. “Thank you so much for this,” I said to Mike.

  “Are you okay?” Don asked. “You seem upset.”

  I chuckled. “I feel like I’ve lived ten lifetimes in the last two hours.”

  “Tell us what we can do to help, Ainsley,” Don said. “We’re family and you can tell us anything.” He didn’t say it like he wanted inside info, more like he genuinely wanted to ease my troubles. I loved these people. They were talented and clever; maybe they could help.

  “Most of you know what’s going on,” I said. “I’m sort of desperate to find the killer before he or she can try again with Gran, or the others. The situation is a mess a
nd there are too many suspects, none of whom we can place at the scene the night of the murder. One witness is in a coma and the other is so traumatized she can’t remember what happened.”

  Don shook his head. “Your brother isn’t going to like you putting your life in danger.”

  “I’m not going to do that ever again. I’ve learned my lesson. Trouble finds me without me looking for it. I was wondering if you guys would sit and talk things out with me.”

  “Oh, my, gosh. Can we pull out the whiteboard?” Carrie asked. She was so mature that sometimes I forgot she was only sixteen. “I’ve always wanted to help with one of the cases.”

  I glanced at her mom, Maria. “Me, too,” she said, and then smiled.

  “Yes, but you guys have to be sworn to secrecy.”

  Don, Mike, Carrie and Maria raised their hands as if I were swearing them in.

  “We better bring Shannon in,” Mike said. “If you leave her out of the process, she’s going to be mad at both of us.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  The plus side of inviting my BFF is that she brought a huge container of coffee and treats.

  “Peggy’s teaching a dance class at the nursing home. She’s going to be sorry she missed this,” Don said, as he pulled out a croissant from the box. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the treats or that we were discussing the case.

  We went upstairs to the biggest classroom and everyone took a seat. The rooms are usually for art or craft classes.

  I wrote Mort Gallagher at the top of the whiteboard. “His family owns one of the largest food distribution companies in the Southwest.” Then I wrote his mom and his brother as branches. “There are arguments within the family over what direction to take the company. As we all know, money can be a great motivator.

  “The mom favors the victim, so I don’t think she had anything to do with it. But she does not like Lizzie, which we all know is close to impossible. I’m keeping her on the list in case she was trying to knock off our friend, and it was her son who was killed instead.”

  “That would be some terrible karma,” Maria said.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “What about the brother?” Carrie asked.

  “Funny you should mention him.” I explained about the eulogy, and then how his mother’s comments somewhat contradicted what I’d witnessed.

  “It could be sibling rivalry,” Maria said. “There’s a lot of that at my house. They all think I love the other one best.”

  Carrie sighed. “Mom, you know I’m the favorite.”

  Maria hugged her. “You are pretty perfect.”

  “If the mom pitted them against one another, and it sounds like she did, that is the kind of hate that can build up for years,” Mike said. “I’m pretty sure I saw that on a CSI show or maybe an FBI one.”

  I wrote sibling rivalry and added a question mark.

  “Then we have the other victims. Gran and Becky might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have this theory that Gran heard Becky scream, and went to see what was going on in the bakery.”

  “What was she doing there in the first place?” Don asked. “It’s not like her to be walking in the park at night. I mean, Sweet River is one of the safest places in the country, but she could have tripped in the dark.”

  “She had a date with the judge,” Mike chimed in.

  “I have a theory that’s been rolling around in my head,” I said.

  “Tell us,” Carrie said. “I have one too.”

  I smiled. “Why don’t you share your idea first?”

  Her eyes went wide and she glanced at the other adults in the room.

  “Go ahead.” Maria nudged her.

  “From what I’ve heard, Becky came back to the bakery to get some work done. Then she was surprised by Mr. Gallagher. He might have said something that scared her. But I was thinking, if she had her back to him, maybe he thought she was Ms. Lizzie. They both have long, dark hair and are about the same height.”

  Well, that was something I hadn’t thought about.

  “Maybe, he said something as a joke that Ms. Lizzie would have thought was funny, but Becky took it as a threat and panicked.”

  “Becky remembered him saying something like, ‘I’m going to get you, girl,’” I added. Carrie made sense. She hadn’t known the victim, so when she saw a big man looming toward her—anyone would have been scared.

  “Do you think she hit him with the frying pan?” Mike asked.

  “Maybe,” Carrie said. “That’s where my theory sort of ends, because I don’t know how Mrs. Whedon and Becky ended up unconscious in the freezer. My idea was that Mrs. Whedon surprised him, and that’s when Becky hit him with the skillet. He’d have to be distracted, right?”

  “You are good at this. Yes. Kane told me those iron pans are super heavy,” I added. “And he was tall, so to hit him—it would have taken a hard and heavy swing.”

  “Yeah, but when people are scared or trying to protect others, they can do all sorts of things, right?” Maria chimed in.

  “Yes, but there had to be someone else,” I said. “If it had been Becky or Gran who hit him, one of them would still be conscious.”

  “What do you think happened?” Mike asked.

  “Carrie’s theory is pretty much what I’ve been thinking. Mort had wanted to talk to Lizzie about something important, but he came into town two days early. I wonder if he thought he might be in danger. Someone could have been following him and used the scene at the bakery as an opportunity.”

  “They wanted to get him out of the way, and there he was,” Don said. “And they probably thought one of the other victims would be targeted as the killer. The question is, who in the family, since they seem to be the main suspects, wanted him dead the most?”

  “The brother would get my vote. I don’t have a good handle on him,” I said.

  “Yeah, but what if the brother was trying to win his mother’s favor in the family war—what better way to show his loyalty than killing the one who stood in their way?” Mike rubbed his chin.

  “Another good point,” I said.

  “Except, Lizzie said he was always the favorite, and the mom confirmed it a little while ago.”

  “You talked to the mother?” Shannon asked. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  I laughed. “My brother asked me to do it on the spur of the moment. She’d lawyered up, so it wasn’t official, but I did get a good sense about the family dynamics. Even if they were at odds, it’s obvious she loved her son. But I could also see her lying through her teeth and hiring someone to kill him.”

  “I’m thinking you didn’t like her very much,” Carrie said. “You’re a great judge of character, except for that one time you let that killer lady stay at your house.”

  No one bothered to hide their laughter.

  “Fair point.”

  “What’s turning around in that brain of yours?” Shannon asked. She was probably working on her own theories. Over the past year and a half, she’d helped me on several cases.

  I pursed my lips. “The mom mentioned she had her detective checking things out. It made me think it was someone they used often. The family might have been trying to get dirt on Mort or find out what he was up to. But why now? The argument of theirs had been going on for years.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. Then it buzzed again. I pulled it out to see who was calling.

  “What’s wrong? You have your why is this person calling me face.”

  “It’s not a call. It’s a text.”

  “From who?” Shannon asked.

  “Becky.”

  The text said: I think I know who killed Lizzie’s friend.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I checked the security camera at the back door from my phone and Becky was there with a deputy. After unlocking it, I pushed the heavy door open.

  “Hi, Ainsley, thanks for helping me pick out a gift for my friend,” Becky said quickly. “I know you guys ar
e closed. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She blinked back tears. She didn’t want the deputy to know why she was really here.

  “Not at all. We just closed up, so you have the whole store to yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she stepped in.

  “Deputy Carter, you are welcome to come inside and wait in the break room,” I offered.

  He glanced from me to the young girl. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to run to the Dairy Queen and pick up some lunch. With all the excitement today there wasn’t time. That is if you’ll promise to lock up after I leave.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Becky, would you like something from the DQ?” the officer asked.

  “I’m good for now, but thank you,” she said sweetly, but I noticed she didn’t turn around. Poor thing was barely keeping it together. Had she seen the killer and remembered everything?

  He left and I locked the door as promised.

  “Why don’t you come sit down in the break room and tell me what’s going on,” I said. “I have coffee and tea, if you want some.”

  Tears fell on her cheeks and my heart ached for her.

  “Hey, you’re safe. We’ll figure it out whatever it is.”

  “Sorry,” she said, on a sob.

  “It’s all right. I promise I will help you no matter what is going on. We’re friends. I’d do anything for you. Hold on and let me grab some tissues.” I seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

  When I came back, she had her head down on her arms.

  “Here you go.” I handed them to her.

  “Thanks.” She wiped her sweet face.

  “Pull off the Band-Aid and tell me what happened. Did you see someone who reminded you of that night?”

  “I keep having flashes and I feel something heavy in my hands,” Becky said in a sob. “I wonder if I feel so miserable because part of my brain knows I killed Lizzie’s friend. Maybe, I even hurt Mrs. Whedon because I couldn’t tell the good from the bad. I started to turn myself in to the deputy, but then—I just wanted to talk to you about it. You’re smart at this kind of stuff. I overheard Shannon telling Lizzie that you’re a really good investigator.”