by Tegan Maher
Lou lifted a shoulder. "There you have it, then. I'd bet my bottom dollar she's the killer."
"I agree," Dee said. "Or at least I believe she should be at the top of the list.”
"So did the person they suspect have any reason to knock the good judge off?" Danny asked as he crafted a pancake sandwich as Dee had suggested.
I wobbled my head from side to side. "Debatable. Personally, I don't think so. I mean, the judges were a little critical of one of her cakes in particular because she didn't get it cooked all the way through, but I hardly see that as motive. It's not like she was eliminated or anything."
"Did she take particular exception to the criticism?" Lou asked.
Dee shook her head. "Not at all. She knew she'd messed up."
"Then why do they think she did it instead of the other one? The one who got mad?"
I squirmed in my seat a little. If Gabe released Faith, at least on bail, she'd likely be coming back to stay. But I also felt a little shady not telling them. "Because they found her prints in the judge's room and the murder weapon was in hers."
"Well then," Danny said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. "That sounds like they have a solid case regardless of whether or not the girl has the best motive."
Worry crossed Dee's features. "That's exactly what I'm afraid if."
"Why?" Jason asked. "Do you know the girl?"
She sighed. "We do. As a matter of fact we had dinner with her last night, and she stayed here."
Danny jerked his gaze to her. "You mean that girl who stayed here?"
"Yeah," I said, creasing my brow. When we'd gotten home, the guys were already in bed, and she'd left before they were even out of bed.
He shook his head. "I ran into her early this morning. I smelled coffee and came down, thinking it was one of you two. She was in the kitchen. I didn't talk to her much other than to thank her for the coffee, but she seemed nice. She was reading on her phone. She didn't exactly seem like she was worried about going to jail for murder."
Though Ms. Maisey didn't usually hang out with us at breakfast, she faded in. "See? Even the guys don't think she's guilty. I'm tellin' you—she didn't do it."
Dee was chewing on her lip; it was obvious she was divided, and I wondered how much of it was her gut and how much of it was her doubting her gut. There was a big difference.
"And you don't honestly think she does, either," Ms. Maisey said to Dee. "Or do you?"
Since Dee couldn't openly respond, she turned her palms up and shrugged, doubt and indecision scrawled across her face.
"No," I said to the guys, wishing I could respond to Ms. Maisey. "We didn't get that vibe either, not last night or this morning. She seemed just as upset and surprised by it as we did."
“Then that sure complicates things then, doesn't it?" Jason said. "What are you going to do about it? I mean, how dead set are they that they've got their woman? Surely they're going to follow up with the other contestants, too, right? Maybe she was framed."
"That's what we think too," I replied. "As to what we're going to do about it, we haven't decided yet. But we're not going to let her go to jail for something she didn't do if we have anything to say about it."
Dee pulled in a deep breath and released it. "Or at least we're gonna make sure they have the right person."
I felt bad for her, because I knew she wanted to believe Faith was innocent, but didn't trust her own instincts. I just hoped for both of us that my unshakable confidence in her innocence was deserved.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After breakfast, Dee and I rushed back to the cottage to get ready. In less than half an hour, we were on our way to the interview, hoping like crazy that Lena hadn't left town the minute she was eliminated from the competition. Or killed Ms. DaCourt, whichever.
I also wanted to hear what the other contestants had to say. Most of the rest of them seemed fairly laid back and nice, but then again, that's what everybody said about Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer, too.
The parking lot was packed when we got there since the fair was still going on. Luckily, the front parking spots were still designated for the competition. I didn't see Gabe's truck or any cruisers, so I figured he just hadn't made it there yet.
Contestants were standing in small clusters talking amongst themselves, though I had no idea why they didn't take it inside. The temperature was already well into the high 80s, and it was so humid, I felt like I was walking through muck.
"Let's mingle," Dee said when we pulled up. "Maybe we'll learn something from the buzz."
As bad as I hated to stand around outside, I knew she was right. If she hadn't noticed anybody but Jake, it was likely everybody else had the same tunnel vision. But with everybody together, all the puzzle pieces were there; it was just a matter of putting them together.
The group closest to us consisted of four people—a redheaded girl, a brunette girl, and two guys—all in their late twenties or early thirties.
"I don't know why they're making us stay here, or going through the hassle of interviewing us all," the brunette girl said. "I heard they already arrested somebody—that girl who almost got eliminated."
That sounded like as good a place to start as any.
"Let's split up," I whispered to Dee. "Do you see Lena anywhere?"
She stretched her neck to look around. Since she was a solid four inches taller than me, it was easier for her to see around the crowd. She shook her head and bit her lip. "Not yet. I hope she hasn't gone home already. She's the best suspect we have."
"Yeah. But let's see what else we can learn."
We split up, and I stepped into the group, sort of worming my way in. They fell silent, and I introduced myself.
"I wish they'd hurry up and get on with it," I said. "My friend and I share a car, so I can't go anywhere until she's done here." That sounded like as good an excuse as any.
"Me too," the redhead said. "I know how it is to share a ride. It sucks. It's not like they don't already have somebody in custody," she said.
I shrugged. "I'm local, so I know the sheriff's pretty thorough. He probably just wants to cover the bases. Plus, I heard the girl might have an alibi, so I'm sure he wants to lock it down before he closes the case."
"I knew it!" One of the guys—a blond—said. "I talked to Faith before the competition started. I just can't see it being her. I have the workspace right in front of her, and she wasn't mad at the judges at all. Just the opposite, in fact. She knew she messed up. She was embarrassed to serve them that last cake."
"Yeah," the first girl said, "but I heard they found the murder weapon in her room."
Ahh, sweet gossip. The tree had more branches than any oak I'd ever seen.
The guy shook his head, his forehead creased. "I don't care. I watch enough crime TV to know somebody could have planted it there. I wonder if they had a warrant when they went in her room. This is sorta a hick town, so it wouldn't surprise me if they just had a maid unlock the door for them."
The other guy finally spoke up. "I can't imagine that any town is that backward anymore. They don't want to mess this up, and that would be a sure-fire way to do it."
I shook my head. "No, I can guarantee they did it the right way." Though that did spawn a question in my brain. Faith had been suffering a bangin' headache and she was in a hurry. I wondered if there was a chance she didn't pull the door all the way shut behind her. The place was old, so it wouldn’t be surprising if the door was a little sticky. That would explain how the killer put the weapon in her room.
"Everybody else seems pretty chill too, though," I said, hoping to get a tidbit.
The redhead lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. The guy in the space in front of me—Jake or whatever—was a tool. He was all sorts of pissed that the judges didn't swoon when they tasted his cakes. I mean, he wasn't just mad or disappointed; he was steaming."
"Yeah," the guy who'd defended Faith said, "but Robert was the one who really went to town on him. Ms. DaCourt m
ade it clear she didn't care for it, but she was kind about it. Robert spit his food out! So I'd think if he was going to kill anybody, it would have been Robert, not Bella."
He made a good point.
"What about Lena?" I asked. "She wasn't too thrilled, either." I didn't want to throw Faith under the bus, so I spoke as if I'd seen her tantrums. "She was obviously peeved the whole time she was cooking, then when they shot her down, she was livid. I was half afraid she was gonna pop a vein."
The guy who'd been quiet up 'til then nodded. "I could get behind that theory. That chick was screamin' at somebody on the phone right before the competition started. Threatening them, calling them names—just being obnoxious in general. And she was mad the whole time she was cooking. I was in front of her and could barely focus on what I was doing over her mumbling and slamming."
"Now that you mention it, Bella was the one who was hardest on her, too." The girl I'd overheard when I first approached looked thoughtful.
"You know," she said, "I thought the first time I saw her here that I knew her from somewhere, but I couldn't place where. Now I remember—we both competed in the North Georgia Bake-Off a few months ago. She lost then, too. A technical error—she used shortening instead of butter in buttercream icing because she said she wanted it to be uber white."
"What?" Faith's knight in shining armor said, disgust written on his face. "It's called buttercream for a reason."
"I know," she said, "but that's what she did. And that time, Bella spit it out."
I shook my head. "It sounds like this girl is a novice, so why is she competing in a baking competition?"
"She's the cookie queen," the brunette said. "Or she thinks she is, anyway. And she does make a mean snickerdoodle, but she's a one-trick pony. Sometimes she lucks out and makes something good, but I think that's all it is—luck. Still she keeps showin' up, so I guess she gets points for that."
The blond guy huffed a breath out his nose. "Yeah, that would hold water for me if she actually listened and used her screw-ups as learning experiences. Instead, she keeps insisting it's the judges. I hate to tell you, but if everybody but you—especially professionals proven in the field—think your food is crap, you're probably not the one who's right. You can't improve if you don't think you're doing anything wrong."
"That would apply to Jake too, though, right?" I asked.
The redhead gave a wry half smile. "That's just it, though. Jake's an accomplished pastry chef. He's just gone too far the other way. He thinks he needs to get all fancy, but when it comes right down to it, baking is about making the taste buds do a happy dance. You can make a simple cupcake—no bells or whistles—and if it makes somebody say, damn, that's a good cupcake. Can I have another one? then you win. Jake's gotten so cerebral and full of himself that he's forgotten the entire point."
"Ahh," I said. "That explains what he meant when he said they just didn't get his vision."
"Yep," the redhead said. "He's trying to reinvent the wheel rather than improve on the basics. But you can only make so many changes to a coffeecake before it's not a coffeecake anymore."
"But do you think he'd kill over it?"
The guy who'd defended Faith shrugged. "I think he's a much better suspect than the one they have in custody, regardless of what they think they have on her."
"Please be sure to tell the sheriff about this," I said to each of them. "I don't think Faith did it, either, but he needs to hear it from more than one or two people."
I talked to a couple other groups then met back up with Dee. "Did you learn anything?"
"Maybe," she said. "Jake had a run-in with Bella at another competition. She spit his food out."
"I heard about that, too. And Lena—"
"Also butted heads with Bella in another competition," she finished.
"Yeah, so the question is ... which one of them killed her?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dee was one of the first ones Gabe called, and I went with her since I was there for the competition, but not on the contestant list. And I may have just wanted to be nosy, too. I was surprised to see Ms. Maisey hovering over his right shoulder, a smirk on her face.
"I know you two can't eavesdrop on all the interviews, but I can." She gave us a self-satisfied smirk. "I know Faith's innocent, and we're gonna pull together to prove it."
Since we hadn't told Gabe about her yet, I couldn't answer. I wondered where Milt was, but it wasn't long before I caught a glimpse of him around the staging partition that separated the set from the back area where all the work went on. He was floating in amongst the competitors, obviously doing the same thing we'd done. His advantage was that they couldn't see him, so they wouldn't be watching what they said.
I scanned the few faces I could see, and a cold finger of realization traced its was down my spine. More likely than not, one of those faces belonged to somebody who had the capacity to kill somebody in cold blood, then stand around and act as if they hadn't. That took a special kind of sick.
"I'm not sure. Did you see, Toni?" Dee caught my attention when she said my name and I snapped my attention back to them.
"Did I see what?" I asked. "Sorry—it just now struck me that we're likely sitting just a few yards away from a murderer." I shuddered. “That takes sick to a whole other level.”
"We don't know that for sure yet," Gabe said, his tone measured. "I need you to keep in mind that we don't really know Faith, either."
I gave him my best oh please look. "Faith aside, what are the odds it was some random stranger? Or that somebody else made a special trip here just to kill her—without anybody else seeing them, to boot?"
He shrugged. "You're probably right, and I'm not inclined to believe Faith did it either, but the person we're looking for is, at the very least, a sociopath. That means they can hide in plain sight, and you'd never even know it. That's why I'm still here doing interviews. I want to get a feel for each person independently. Now, did you see anything at all that may have been a trigger?"
Dee told him what all we’d learned from talking to people.
"At this competition, though, she wasn't overly harsh with anybody, except maybe Lena, the girl who was eliminated,” she said. “That girl had some serious attitude and didn't like what the judges had to say one bit. She argued with them."
"So did Jake," Dee added. "Though Robert was harder on him than Bella was by a long shot."
"Okay," Gabe said. "Did she make any sort of threat? Or seem to you to be overly angry?"
"Oh, yeah," Dee said. "Honestly, I could see that girl whacking somebody with a skillet without missing a beat."
"And what about this Jake character?" he asked.
I shook my head. "As much as I dislike him, I don't think he's the guy. He argued with them and was obviously mad, but from what I saw, it was more arrogance than rage. My guess is that he doesn't understand how anybody wouldn't love everything he makes. And besides, Bella did find a couple good things about it, though I think she was just being nice. Dee's right—if he decided to kill one of them, he'd have gone for Robert."
"And what about any of the other contestants?"
Dee lifted a shoulder. "To be honest, I was so wigged out by the cameras and Jake that the place could have been on fire behind me and I wouldn't have noticed while I was cooking. Then afterward, I was so over the moon about how much they'd liked mine that I was kinda riding the tide and didn't pay much attention to what they said about the others."
"I paid attention to them all," I said. "And none of them got the same kind of beat-down Jake and Lena did. Everybody else's food was kinda average, according to the judges. Nothing too harsh from either of them."
Gabe leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. "That makes it a little easier, anyway. We only have two people with an obvious ax to grind so far. Of course, it's hard to tell what else I'm going to hear today. Let me know if you think of anything else."
"Will do," I said. "Are we done for now?"<
br />
He nodded, and we pushed to our feet.
"Ladies?" he said before we could turn away.
"Yeah?" we replied at the same time.
"Please don't get yourselves into any trouble. I know you're going to do as you please, but be careful and stay together, and make sure somebody knows what you're doing if you get some radical idea. Like you said, Toni, we're dealing with a sick person here, and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt."
"Aww," Dee said, grinning at him. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked us or something."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, or something. Now get your fannies out of here, and try to stay out of trouble."
I smiled at him and winked. "We'll do our best." Then, more seriously because I knew his concern was legit, I said, "We'll call you if we learn anything, and we won't put ourselves in the line of fire if we can help it. I promise."
He gave me a piercing look. "Help it. I mean it—don't go off halfcocked and do anything without talking to me first. That's the best I can hope for, so it's what I'm asking."
"Pinky swear," Dee said. "We'll talk to you later."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We hung around for a bit while Gabe interviewed the rest of the contestants and staff, but didn't learn anything else useful to the case.
"Wanna go visit Annie at the bar?" I asked. "I could go for some wings."
"You just had wings yesterday! Don't you have to work tonight?" she asked.
"I do, but not 'til seven. I talked to Annie yesterday, and she's filling in today so Don could go fishing. Let's see if she's heard any scuttlebutt. Plus, there’s no such thing as too many wings."
Annie was one of our fearsome foursome, as we liked to call ourselves, with the other one being Nikki. Both of them worked at Dee's cafe, and Nikki was also a hairdresser at Buns. Since Annie's uncle owned The Dead End, the bar that I worked at, she picked up spare shifts there when she needed the extra cash or he needed the night off.
"Well, if we're gonna do that," she said, "let's make it official. Text Nikki and see if she can take a lunch break. You know a pin doesn't drop in this town without her knowing about it."