by Tegan Maher
"Simple for you, maybe," Dee snorted, and Faith shot her a bemused glance.
I rolled my eyes and spoke up before Dee could. "Dee can make the lightest, flakiest baklava on the planet, and her choux pastry never fails, but the woman can barely warm up a can of soup."
"Hey!" she said defensively. "Not that you're wrong, but cooking is hard. You get in there and just add a little of this and a dash of that, then magically cook it for some random amount of time depending on how big or small it is, or how to make it perfect. Then there are the soups. You can't add the potatoes at the same time as the carrots, or this spice or that until the end. Baking's easy. I use exactly five grams of this, or three cups of that, then bake it for a specified time. Every time."
Faith giggled, then turned to Dee. "I thought I was the only weirdo like that. It's nice to know I'm not alone. There's a reason pizza and TV dinners are so popular. They're easy."
"I hardly call baking easy," I said, waving my fork. "Cream of tartar versus baking powder versus baking soda. When to use salted butter and when to use unsalted. Then you can't taste it as you go and add more seasoning. There's a reason boxed brownies and cake mixes are so popular, too."
Laughing, Faith said, "It looks like you two are the perfect pair to be running a place that serves food."
We ate in silence for a few minutes, then the conversation inevitably turned back to Bella's murder.
"Did you two talk to any of the other contestants?" I asked. "You know, get a feel for any of their personalities?"
Dee shrugged. "I kind of mingled a little, but I didn't really talk about anything important. And none of them were wearing a neon sign that said I'm gonna bake me some coffeecake, then go kill the judges if they don't like it."
I nearly choked on a piece of roast beef. "Well maybe they were wearing a t-shirt under their apron that said Eat, Drink, Die?"
Faith's eyes were lit with humor. "That actually sounds like something I'd wear. And with my luck, if I had one that said that, I'd have been wearing it today."
"Seriously, though," I said. "Nobody set off your alarm bells as being off, or extra angry, or anything?"
"Just the jerk at the station across from me," Dee said. "From what I saw today, he has much more ego than skill." She paused, looking thoughtful. "And I think we have to consider Robert Taylor, too. After all, his room is right next to hers. And Lena, the girl who was eliminated, too."
"So do we put both of them on the suspect list?" I asked.
Faith's gaze shot to me. "Suspect list? Are you considering investigating again?"
"No," I scoffed. "Of course not. Our sheriff is very good at his job."
"And hot, too," Dee said, running her last piece of bread around her plate to soak up the gravy.
"Speaking of hot," Faith said, "who's Scout? Is he your boyfriend, Toni?"
I felt the heat creep into my face. "No. Well, sort of. I've not even been divorced for a year, and I don't want to lead him on by mistaking rebound feelings for real feelings."
Dee huffed a breath out her nose. "Those two have been dancing around each other since day 1, literally. He was the first person she met when she got to Mercy. Well, except for the real estate agent who ripped her off. I've been tellin' her for months to get a move on before he gives up, but that doesn't seem like somethin' that's gonna happen anytime soon, either. He has it bad for her." She shot me the stink eye. "For that matter, she has it bad for him, too, but won't trust her own emotions."
"Okay, then," I said, standing and scooping up the dirty plates. "Enough about my love life. What about that Lena girl? She was not happy when she was eliminated, and she was lippy when the judges critiqued her cakes, too. She seems like she may be vengeful."
Faith furrowed her brow. "I could see Lena doing something like that, at least from what I saw of her today. Her station was next to mine, and she's got a lot of anger. She didn't seem to be happy at all. I tried to say hello and introduce myself, and she told me to eff off. The entire time we were baking, she scowled and cussed and banged her pans and ingredients around. She was a little scary, to be honest."
"Then maybe we need to take a closer look at her, especially considering Bella was pretty hard on her. And Jake, too. Though Bella wasn't nearly as rough on him as Robert was."
"I knew it!" Faith exclaimed, taking the last drink of her tea. "You are going to investigate!"
I shifted uncomfortably. Gabe, our sheriff, didn't take kindly to me stepping into his investigations, though to be fair, both times I had, it had been necessary.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Absolutely not. I'm sure Gabe has this under control." I turned my attention to Dee, who was also looking at me speculatively.
"Don't look at me like that," I said, wagging my finger at her. "You know how he gets. We're just now building a decent friendship, and I'm not gonna ruin it."
She sighed. "You're right. And we're getting along really well, too. I don't wanna mess that up."
Since she'd been arrested then cleared for her aunt's murder, Dee and the sheriff had been doing the same dance Scout and I had been. They liked each other, but until the previous week, neither of them had done much about it other than flirt when they met. Gabe finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, and it had gone so well, they'd set another date at the end of the night.
"Then let's leave the detective work to him. You bake, I'll cheer."
"Sounds good," she said.
Faith yawned. "I'm beat, ladies. I didn't hardly sleep a wink last night, I was so excited. I hate to be rude, but I can't hardly keep my eyes open."
"Same here," Dee said, stretching. "I have a feeling it's gonna be a long day tomorrow, and I'd rather not have to sludge through it."
We made sure Faith had everything she needed, and then told her breakfast was at seven before heading back to our cottage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Six o'clock came way too soon, and I was dragging as I headed up to the lodge to make breakfast. That was the one thing that was taking some getting used to—the fact that the second B in B&B stood for breakfast.
The guys' shifts didn't start until eight and the job site was only about fifteen minutes away, so breakfast at seven gave them plenty of time to eat. I yawned as I slid my key in the lock and made my way into the kitchen. I about jumped out of my skin when I saw a shadowy form sitting at the table in the glow from the stove light. I gave a little shriek of surprise.
"It's just me," Faith rushed to say, standing up and putting her hands out. "I'm sorry! I'm an early riser, and I couldn't sleep much anyway. I figured I may as well get up and get started."
I belatedly caught the scent of fresh coffee, and my senses came to life a little.
"It's all good," I said. "I'm just not used to anybody being up when I come in."
She pointed toward the counter. "I made coffee. I hope you don't mind. I like mine strong, so if you don't, I'll pour that into a carafe and make a fresh pot."
"No," I said, waving her off. "There's no such thing as too-strong coffee."
"And your mascot decided to join me," she said, smiling. "He's good company, but I'm pretty sure I've disappointed him. I'm starting to think he followed me in here for more than my company."
Bear was lying on his ginormous dog bed by the door, his massive head resting on his paws. He peeped an eye open, no doubt evaluating the odds that breakfast was imminent. I'd spoiled him in the months since he'd come to live with us, though Dee insisted it was the other way around—rather than us spoiling him, he'd trained us.
I looked to his dog bowl, which was still half-full of kibble. He'd eat it as a last resort, if breakfast came and went without sufficient amounts of sausage, bacon, and eggs weren't forthcoming.
"So what do you usually cook?" she asked as I dug through the cabinets for the stuff to make pancakes. The secret to mine was that you let the batter rise a bit before cooking it.
"I was gonna do sausage biscuits and gravy, but I didn't have the heart t
o wake Dee up to make the biscuits. And I'm dang sure not gonna make them." I smiled as I pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. "I'd hate for one of the guys to miss a day of work to get a chipped tooth fixed."
"I don't mind making them for you," she said. "As long as Dee wouldn't mind, and as long as you've got the gravy covered." She made a face. "Trust me—the only thing my gravy's good for is hangin' wallpaper."
"Deal," I said, laughing. "And no, Dee won't mind. She's not proprietary like that. As a matter of fact, she's one of the kindest people I know, and never plays the zero-sum game. She wants everybody to succeed."
"I kinda picked up on that about her," she said with a wry smile as she slid the bag of flour toward her and measured it into a big stainless steel bowl. "I was about to fall apart yesterday. I was so disappointed and mad at myself, and she came over and picked me right up. Most everybody else, I think, was glad it was me and not them. One less person to worry about, you know?"
"Yeah, that's not Dee at all. She'd rather not win than win at the expense of somebody else."
Ms. Maisey, who'd been conspicuously absent since the competition, popped in and started talking before she realized I wasn't alone. She snapped her mouth shut, then took a closer look at Faith. "Isn't that the girl from the competition? The one who almost got disqualified?"
I nodded since I couldn't exactly answer her.
"What's she doin' here?" she asked before a look of dawning crossed her face. "Never mind. I don't need you to say a word. I know Dee. This girl was staying at the Crown, and tryin' to sleep in a place where somebody'd just been killed made her uncomfortable."
I nodded again and wanted to ask how she knew about the murder. I thought of a creative way to do it. "I wonder if word of the murder has made the rounds of our local gossip circle yet. Our dispatcher isn't exactly discreet."
Ms. Maisey gave a little laugh. "Clever, and yes it has. I found it out when I was at Buns a little bit ago, hopin' Sally Swanson's hair was gonna fall out when they rinsed the bleach. She was bullyin' Evie Rogers the other day—again—and I'm waiting for Karma to catch up with her. Hopefully, I'll be there to see it happen. That girl's meaner'n a snake."
Buns was our local salon, Hair today, Bun Tomorrow. As with most small towns, it was also the hub of the gossip wheel. Well, that and the hardware store.
Since Faith assumed I'd been talking to her, she answered, too. "Probably. I come from Spring Hill, which is a little bigger than Mercy. We're not a city, but we're big enough that it takes gossip a bit to travel. Still, word of this would have already made the rounds there, so I have no doubt it has here."
"Do you compete regularly?" I asked.
She wobbled a dough-covered hand back and forth as she reached for the cutter.
"Some. Mostly at our local fairs. There are always baking contests there, and they usually have different categories, so I can enter more than one. I make jams and compete with those, too. This is the first big competition I've entered, though."
I plopped the sausage in the pan, then pulled out a baking sheet to start the bacon.
"Do you want me to whip up some muffins, too?" she asked as she slid the biscuits into the new wall oven we'd had installed with the reward money. "It won't take but a couple minutes, and it looks like you have plenty of room." She scrunched her nose. "Normally, I'd offer to make coffeecake, but given my recent experience, I'd rather not."
"Sure," I said, smiling. "That would be awesome. Help yourself to whatever you can find."
She pulled open the fridge, then the pantry. "Cranberry-orange or chocolate chip?"
I must have looked as torn as I felt, because she laughed as she pulled out some ingredients. "Never mind. I'll make both."
"Do you have an idea for what you're going to do for your banana cheesecake?" I asked. "It seems to me like that would be one of those things that doesn't leave much room for creativity, so everybody will probably make pretty much the same thing, right?"
She shook her head as she measured out more flour. "Absolutely not. They chose this recipe because there are about a kazillion ways to mix it up. I think I have a solid plan. Today's my day—or I guess tomorrow, or whenever, if they decide to continue the competition. Me and Dee are gonna be standin' in front as two of the top three."
"I think this girl is Dee's long-lost sister," Ms. Maisey said. "I like her. And I like her spunk. She had a rough day yesterday, but she took it on the chin and bounced back."
I nodded in agreement; I liked her, too.
We worked in silence for a few minutes. Right as she was sliding the muffins into the oven and pulling the biscuits out, the crunch of tires alerted us that somebody had pulled up out front.
I was working the flour into the sausage grease to make the roux for the gravy, so I couldn't leave it to look out the window, but I figured it was Scout. He'd taken to stopping in a few mornings a week for breakfast.
A car door opened and shut, and it definitely didn't sound like the creaky, heavy door of his old pickup. Faith pulled back the curtain to look out the window, then turned to me, a bemused expression on her face. "Does the sheriff come here for breakfast often?"
"No," I said. "Or at least, not unless we invite him."
I slid the skillet off the burner and wiped my hands on a towel, then headed to the living room to see what was up.
"Mornin' Gabe," I said as I pulled the door open. "Did you decide to pop in for breakfast? We have coffee, but Dee's not up yet."
He took off his round sheriff's hat and worked the edges of it with his hands. "No, Toni," he said, glancing over my shoulder to where Faith was standing. "I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I'm here to arrest Ms. Walker for the murder of Bella DaCourt."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He stepped in, then around me. "Faith Walker, you're under arrest for the murder of Bella DaCourt. You have the right to—"
"Wait just a minute, Gabe," I said, interrupting him.
Rather than answer, he held up a finger after he cuffed her, then finished mirandizing her.
Once she'd agreed that she understood, he turned back to me. "She was seen rushing away from the hotel at the time of the murder."
I crossed my arms. "She was probably rushing to meet us," I said. "What time was the murder?"
He scowled at me, but answered. If I'd learned anything about Gabe, it was that he was cranky at the beginning of a murder investigation. Either that, or I just really tap danced on his last nerve when I asked questions.
"Between four and six," he replied. "And I know she was with you, at least part of the time. Kerri at the front desk said she saw you drop her off after the competition. That's why I came here to look for her. She didn't see you pick her up later, though."
"If the murder was between four and six and that's when Kerri or whoever the witness is," I said, trying to remember he was just doing his job, "then she was rushing to meet us. She was staying there, you know. It's not exactly abnormal for her to be in the parking lot of her own motel."
When his scowl deepened, I wished I'd stuck with the facts rather than ad libbed the snark. He really was a good guy, and it had to be driving him batty that we had another murder.
I did my best to walk it back. "She was hurrying because we were picking her up, and she wanted to run to Walgreen's for headache medicine before we got there."
He looked from me to her, indecision scrawled across his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again and shifted his weight from one foot to another. I recognized what he was doing and narrowed my eyes at him.
"What else do you have?" I asked.
He narrowed his back. "Enough to arrest her. Now, let's go, Ms. Walker." He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the door just as Dee stepped into the house.
"Gabe," she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face before she realized what was going on. "Did you stop by for breakfast?"
The smile slid off her face as her gaze wandered between the
three of us. I saw the moment it clicked, because she slammed her hands onto her hips.
"Gabe Stephens, you take those cuffs off her right now."
Rather than ask him, she turned to me. "He's arresting her for the murder?"
I nodded. "He is. He said somebody saw her rushing across the parking lot."
She snorted. "Of course she was. She was runnin’ to meet us. She was staying there, until somebody up and murdered somebody else. I wouldn't have wanted to stay there after that, either."
"Apparently that's not all he has, though."
She pivoted back around to look at him. "What else, then? It must be something pretty bad if you're actually arresting her."
He just glowered and ignored the question. "If you want to see her, you can come visit in a couple hours. I have to book her in."
Poor Faith was crying and the pleading expression in her eyes brought a rush of anger and pity.
"Gabe," I said, trying to be rational. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"
He sighed. "No, Toni, but this isn't some Scooby Doo adventure. This is the real thing. Among other things, we found her prints in Ms. DaCourt's room, and she was also in another competition recently, judged only by the victim, and lost."
I snapped my mouth shut, thinking. There were a few reasons why Faith's prints may have been in Bella's room, none of them nefarious.
"Faith, why were you in her room?" The best way to get an answer was to just ask the question.
She blew out a breath through her cheeks and her shoulders slumped. "Because she saw me passing her door on my way to get ice and she called to me. She asked me to come in for a minute, then she proceeded to tell me to get my poop in a group because I was too good to be blowing my chances due to time-management issues."
"So why didn't you mention that before now?" Dee asked.
Faith hung her head. "Because I was afraid people would think she was playing favorites. Before we knew she was killed, I didn't say anything because I didn't want to get her in trouble for taking sides or whatever. I wanted to win this on my own merits, and I didn't want anybody to be able to say I won because I was the judge's pet, so to speak. After she died, I didn't really think about it. It was a five-minute conversation." She shot Dee a pleading glance. "And yes, she was the judge at our spring fair. I lost because I ran out of time and iced my cupcakes before they were cool."