Dying for Devil's Food

by Jenn McKinlay

  “You said she was having a lot of planning meetings,” Mel said. “But I was under the impression that Brittany Nilsson was in charge of the reunion since she was the president of the pep squad.”

  Dan nodded. “Yeah, that didn’t go over well.” He shook his head and then his face took on an aha expression. “You know, it actually got pretty ugly between them.”

  Mel and Tate exchanged a look. “In what way?” she asked.

  “Brittany told Cassidy that she didn’t think we should have a queen at the reunion,” Danny said. His eyes grew wide and he said, “They fought about it and it got rather nasty with Cassidy showing up at Brittany’s workplace to ream her out.”

  “Really?” Mel said. She thought about how Brittany had arrived with Lianne right after Mel had left the bathroom. Had that been a coincidence or had Brittany planned it after she killed Cassidy?

  “Yes. Cassidy called me in a rage after Brittany had her escorted off of the premises of the hospital because Cassidy was being verbally abusive,” Dan said. “I called Brittany and smoothed things over. I even agreed to be crowned king again, which I definitely did not want to do, so that I could rein Cassidy in. Brittany said she had plans for the crowning ceremony. I assumed she was going to let Cassidy be crowned queen, but maybe . . .”

  “How did Megan feel about the two of you being king and queen?” Mel asked.

  “Neither of us were thrilled but we both felt it was the last thing I could do for Cassidy before I filed for divorce,” he said. “Honestly, we had just found out that Megan was pregnant, so we were pretty preoccupied with our own happiness. Cassidy and all of her petty nonsense couldn’t really touch us.”

  “Until she was murdered,” Tate said.

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “I feel like I’m going crazy. The police have been here every day asking questions and I know it’s only a matter of time before they find out about me and Megan.” He gave Mel a hard stare. “I know I have no right to ask, but—­”

  “I won’t tell,” Mel said. She glanced at Tate. “Neither of us will.”

  Tate nodded and then considered Dan. “Unless I find out you’re lying to us, and then all bets are off.”

  “Fair enough,” Dan said. He held out his hand. Tate shook it and they all stood.

  “What will you do now?” Mel asked Dan as he walked them to the door.

  “I’m on leave from work, so I’ll wait it out,” he said. He shrugged. “Someone killed Cassidy. I don’t know who and I don’t know why, but I owe it to Cassidy to do everything I can to catch whoever did this. The only thing I can think of is that she must have made someone really angry, because you don’t just poison someone on a whim.”

  “No, poisoning requires premeditation,” Mel said. “You’d need access to the poison, you’d have to know the dose, you’d need to be able to slip it to the person you’re planning to poison undetected. This was a cold, calculated murder.”

  “Most definitely not a crime of passion,” Tate agreed. “So the person who is angry could have been angry for a very long time, say, fifteen years at least.”

  “Meaning it probably is someone from high school who’s just been waiting,” Mel said. She glanced at Dan. “Megan told us how Cassidy interfered when you were interested in her. That had to have been infuriating when you found out.”

  “It was,” he said. “But it was also at our wedding rehearsal, so I didn’t feel like I could call it off, and I convinced myself that she did it because she loved me so much.”

  “She didn’t?” Tate asked.

  Dan looked rueful. “I don’t know that love is an emotion that Cassidy had more than a passing acquaintance with, and then it was more in regards to things, like, ‘I love this ring, house, car, etcetera.’”

  They walked down the stairs and stood in the foyer. Mel had just one more question. She felt bad even asking it, but she knew it was important.

  “Dan, I have to ask,” she said. “Given that you were away from home and on the road while starting a relationship with someone else, do you think Cassidy could have done the same?”

  “Meaning?” he asked.

  “Do you think Cassidy might have been involved with someone else?” Mel asked. “Romantically.”

  Dan’s eyebrows went up as he considered the question. “No, wait, I don’t know. Maybe?”

  Mel nodded. It was clear the thought hadn’t occurred to him before.

  “You’d better hope she was,” Tate said. “Because that would sure take the heat off you.”

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “I suppose it would.”

  Mel noticed he didn’t look relieved by the possibility and when he closed the door behind them, he looked thoughtful and a little sad. She had no idea what to make of that.

  Fourteen

  “Do you believe them?” Angie asked when Mel and Tate had returned to the bakery. “I mean, they’re having an affair and she’s pregnant; that’s not exactly operating from a super honest place.”

  The three of them were in the kitchen. Oz and Marty were working out front while Angie decorated a batch of Cinnamon Sinner Cupcakes with cinnamon sticks.

  Mel and Tate exchanged a look. They had talked about it on the ride home and they both agreed that Danny and Megan seemed to be telling the truth, but was there any way to know for sure? Mel believed that they were committed to each other and to the family that they were starting, but it also made her think that maybe one of them had decided to get rid of the only obstacle standing in their way—­Cassidy.

  “I believe them,” Tate said. “Mostly.”

  “Me, too,” Mel agreed. “Pretty much.”

  “But there’s no way to be sure,” Angie said. “And given that Cassidy was vicious to you, Mel, you still look like suspect number one unless, of course, you tell Uncle Stan about their affair and the baby.”

  “I promised them I wouldn’t,” Mel said.

  Angie rolled her eyes. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Mel said. She glanced at Tate. “Back me up.”

  “It was pretty awkward, grilling them about Cassidy’s murder,” he said. “And they do seem genuinely in love and distraught about Cassidy’s death.”

  Angie shook her head at the two of them and said, “‘He was elegance walking arm in arm with a lie.’”

  “Velvet Goldmine,” Tate said. “And may I say I’m impressed?”

  “You may.” Angie smiled. Then she glanced at Mel. “What’s our next play?”

  “Brittany,” Mel said. “I have to talk to Brittany. I think I’ll catch her at work so it’s most definitely neutral territory.”

  “I have a meeting with our franchise attorney about the Portland shop,” Tate said. “I can’t go with you.”

  “I’ll go,” Angie said.

  “No. We talked about this. You can’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

  “We’re going to be at the hospital. You can’t get much safer than that.”

  Tate frowned. Finally, he said, “Yes, you can.”

  Mel and Angie exchanged a look but Tate ignored them, opening up his phone and furiously typing a text with his thumbs.

  “Oh, no,” Mel said. “Whichever DeLaura brother you are thinking of sending with me, you can forget it. I’d rather go alone.”

  Tate glanced up at her and opened his mouth as if to argue. His phone chimed and he held up a finger, indicating she should hold that thought. Mel sighed as he read the incoming text.

  “Alone is not an option,” he said. “Joe will be here in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  Mel and Joe arrived at the hospital, parking in the garage adjacent to the main building. As they crossed the lot into the main entrance, Mel tried to figure out what she was going to say to Brittany.

  “Remind me again why we need to ta
lk to Brittany Nilsson,” Joe said.

  “Huh?” Mel wasn’t listening. She had almost crafted the perfect excuse to talk to Brittany, but then she got distracted, wondering how she could tell Uncle Stan what she had learned without telling him what she had learned. She didn’t want to go back on her promise to Dan and Megan but their affair and her pregnancy were a very big deal, and Mel didn’t want to be the one to withhold important information from an investigation. She debated telling Joe about Dan and Megan but figured it might be best if she waited until after they talked to Brittany.

  “Brittany?” Joe asked. “Why do we need to talk to her?”

  “Oh, right,” Mel said. “Tate didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  Mel turned to look at her fiancé as they strode through the sliding glass doors into the building. The temperature dropped into the sub zeros like it always did in hospitals.

  “We need to talk to her about cupcakes and stuff.”

  “And stuff,” Joe said. The look he gave her told her that he knew “and stuff” wasn’t just about frosting flavors.

  “Yeah, you know, like did she murder Cassidy and stuff,” she said.

  “Mel,” Joe’s voice held a warning note. She ignored it.

  She approached the board to the right of the information desk. The administrative offices were listed by department head’s name. She scanned until she saw Brittany Nilsson. Her office was listed as number three-­twenty-­two. Mel knew from her own time in the hospital a few years ago that the three hundred meant the third floor.

  “Cupcake, you can’t just barge in there—­”

  “May I help you?” a woman at the information desk asked.

  “Yes, please,” Mel said. She turned away from Joe to face the desk. “We’re here to visit a friend.”

  “Of course. You’ll need to sign in,” the woman said. Her name tag read Alice. She was older with tightly curled gray hair and kind blue eyes, and she was slightly built. Mel got the impression that she was the sort of person who liked to keep busy.

  “What was the patient’s name?” Alice asked.

  Mel looked at her in alarm. If she didn’t come up with the name of someone who was actually in the hospital, she had no doubt Alice would kick their butts right out.

  “Actually, we’re here to do some research in the library,” Mel said. She glanced at Joe, daring him to contradict her. He sighed.

  “It’s his gallbladder,” Mel said, pointing at Joe. “It makes him irritable.”

  He raised his eyebrows and said, “Really? I thought it was your skin disorder we were researching.”

  “See?” Mel asked Alice. “Irritable.”

  Alice looked at both of them and said, “I see you two have your work cut out for you. The library is on the third floor. When you step off the elevator follow the yellow line all the way to the end. Sign in here, please.”

  She gave them a clipboard and when they had both signed in, she handed them visitor badges to clip to their shirts.

  “Thank you, Alice,” Mel said and Joe added, “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “You’re welcome.” Alice waved as they walked away and called after them, “I hope your skin and your gallbladder are feeling better soon.”

  As they turned the corner, Mel glowered. “Skin condition? Really?”

  “It was the first thing that leapt to mind,” he said.

  “I gave you a sad gallbladder, totally not something people can see,” Mel said. “And now I’m itchy.”

  “It’s just the power of suggestion,” Joe said. “It’ll pass.”

  Mel scratched her upper arm, then looked at her skin. “That’s a rash. Wait. It’s flaky. What if the irony is that I actually have a skin disease?”

  “You don’t have skin disease,” Joe said. He pulled out his phone and began to text Tate.

  “What are you doing?” Mel asked.

  “Texting Tate,” Joe said. “The next time you come up with a plan like this, he needs to talk you out of it, not drag me into it.”

  “Aw, but this is our first investigation together,” she said. “Consider it a bonding moment.”

  “I’m an officer of the court, Mel,” Joe said. “I shouldn’t be talking about a pending investigation with anyone. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Brittany woman hates me.”

  “Because she was so mean at the reunion when she was guarding the bathroom door?” Mel asked. “That’s just her personality.”

  “Oh, goody, so this should go well.”

  “Come on,” Mel said. “According to the board downstairs, the offices are going to close for the day soon and I don’t want to miss her.”

  They followed the yellow line down the hall until they were in the thick of administration. Then they veered right to the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist was young, with long brown hair and a wide, warm smile. Her name tag read Judi.

  “Hi, we’re looking for Brittany Nilsson’s office,” Mel said.

  “Great! Is she expecting you?” Judi blinked at them from behind impossibly long lashes. She was super perky. Contrary to its intent, it was a tad off-­putting.

  “Yes,” Mel said at the same time Joe said, “No.”

  Judi’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion.

  “What we meant to say is that we’re old friends so she’s always expecting us,” Mel said. “You know, how old friends turn up unexpectedly and all.”

  Judi tipped her head to the side as if not quite following.

  “But we don’t have an official appointment with her, no,” Joe said.

  “Great! I’ll just call her.” Perky Judi turned away from them and picked up her desk phone.

  While she waited for the call to go through, Joe said, “Great!” in a spot-­on impression of Judi that made Mel look away so she didn’t burst out laughing.

  As Judi spoke quietly into the phone, Joe glanced at Mel and said, “Try to keep the conversation with Brittany short and to the point.”

  “Promise,” Mel said.

  “Great!” Judi said into the phone. Then she hung up and turned to them. “She said to send you on down.” Judi rose from her desk chair and pointed to indicate the hallway in the middle. “Ms. Nilsson’s office is halfway down on your right. You can’t miss it.”

  “Gre—­” Mel stopped herself from saying “great,” fearing Judi might think she was making fun of her. “Thank you, Judi,” she said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  * * *

  When they were out of earshot, Mel asked. “How old do you think Judi was, twelve?”

  “Pretty close,” Joe said. “Maybe a little older, possibly twenty-­two? Twenty-­three?”

  “I feel old,” Mel said.

  “You’re not old,” he said. “We’re not even middle-­aged yet.”

  “Only a man would think mid-­thirties is not old,” she said. “Men age more slowly than women.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “A woman is only born with a finite number of eggs, whereas a man makes sperm right up until he dies,” she said. “You could actually father a child when you’re eighty.”

  Joe frowned at her. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Why are you freaking out about your age?”

  “Because I’ve just realized that at my next reunion I’ll be almost forty,” Mel said. “And that seems really old.”

  “Well, it’s not,” Joe said. Then he looked at her in surprise. “Are you really planning on going to your next ­reunion?”

  “No.” Mel shook her head. She paused in front of Brittany’s office door.

  “Well then, problem solved.” He smiled at her and Mel felt it all the way to her core. Only Joe could do that to her.

  Mel rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. A nameplate was fastened to the door that said B. Nilsson. The walls
of the office were glass but they were thickly frosted and she couldn’t see through.

  “Come in,” Brittany called.

  Mel pushed the door open and she and Joe strode into the room.

  Brittany stood up behind her desk and Mel didn’t think she was imagining the way Brittany was assessing Joe, as if he was here as anything more than Mel’s escort. The thought irritated her.

  The office was as meticulous as Brittany. No dust, no piles of papers, no random paperclips scattered on the desktop. There was a goldfish bowl with a blue betta fish in it, happily swimming around the stalks of several lucky bamboo shoots. It was oddly whimsical in the austere office.

  “I like your fish,” Mel said.

  “Thank you,” Brittany said. “Do you want him?”

  “No,” Mel said.

  Brittany sighed. “He won’t die.”

  “Isn’t that usually a good thing?” Joe asked.

  Brittany shrugged. “He’s from an ex-­boyfriend. He has officially outlived the relationship five times over. I feel like he should have gone with my ex when we broke up but my ex wouldn’t take him. Isn’t that just like a man, weighing a woman down with unwanted stuff?”

  “It could have been worse,” Mel said.

  “And it could have been a lot better,” Brittany countered. She gestured to the two seats opposite her desk. “But enough about that; what can I do for you?”

  “We just want to ask you—­” Joe began but Mel cut him off.

  “How the bakery could be of service to you for hospital functions,” Mel said. “Staff parties, retirements, stuff like that.”

  Joe gave her a look and Mel could tell he was impressed. She had to admit this sounded almost plausible.

  “Yeah, no,” Brittany said. She looked at Mel. “Your Uncle Stan was here earlier and he told me you might be stopping by. Something about being terminally nosey. I didn’t expect you to bring the big guns with you.”

  She gave Joe an admiring glance and he shifted in his seat. “I’m just her driver.”

  “Dang that Uncle Stan, he’s always one step ahead,” Mel said.