How to Bake a Murder

by K. J. Emrick

  “I don’t mean you.” She turned her eyes aside so he wouldn’t be able to read too much in her face. “I mean someone I was only a passing friend with. I mean, someone I knew, but not… I mean. Um. Wasn’t her reaction a bit much?”

  There was a moment when he could have said something. When she expected him to say… she didn’t know what. He didn’t, though. “I don’t know. As a police officer I’ve seen people react lots of different ways. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “That’s because you aren’t a woman.”

  “So you noticed that, did you?”

  This man had such a way of keeping her off balance. She just wished she knew if he meant it that way.

  “What I mean, Jerry, is that women understand each other. That kind of emotion isn’t what you show for a friend you have over for dinner on a regular basis. It’s the kind of emotion you show for…”

  She stopped, because outside the window she could see Belvedere Carson and his wife. He’d said he was going to take her home, didn’t he?

  Then why was he putting his wife into a stranger’s car?

  “What is it?” Jerry asked her. “What were you going to say?”

  She pointed out the window. “Who is that person? I don’t recognize him. Do you?”

  He was younger than Belvedere with close-cropped hair the way the military wore it. What did they call that, a buzz cut? His face was tense and his jaw was set and the conversation between him and the mayor looked very one-sided. The mayor was taking the short end of it.

  “Him?” Jerry asked. “That’s Sweeney. Came into town a few months ago. Not surprised you haven’t met him yet. The mayor keeps him on as an assistant.”

  “Well, that’s not how I’d talk to my employer, I can say that.”

  Cookie watched the scene unfold. The car was not the mayor’s so it must have been Sweeney’s. The mayor drove a high-end luxury sedan. Belvedere tucked his wife into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt across her. Then he went to the back door and got in himself.

  Sweeney looked back at the funeral parlor with a smug expression, and for a moment Cookie thought he was staring right at her. Silly, she knew. His gaze swept past her, and then he closed all of the doors to his car and drove off. She stood there, still watching the car until it had driven off down the street. There was something significant about what she had just seen. Something niggled the back of her brain.

  She pondered who Sweeney might be and where he’d come from. Why did the mayor need a new assistant? And one from out of town, at that. Right before someone who had lived here all his life had died. Well. That might just be coincidence. He wasn’t local, but that didn’t make him suspect, to be sure.

  Still.

  ***

  The reverend had continued, but Cookie had stopped listening. She’d learned so much in such a short amount of time. She wanted to get home and think it over. Some of the details might be important and some of them might not. Some people did their best thinking in bed or in the shower. But for Cookie, it was when she was baking.

  The funeral finally ended. Clarissa was up on her feet and ready to leave as soon as people started to get out of their seats. The plan had been to show her around a little, to introduce her to people and start getting her settled into Widow’s Rest. Now, the fact that the teen didn’t want to spend another minute in a funeral parlor actually worked for Cookie.

  “Jerry,” she said to him, daring to lay her hand on his arm and leave it there, “I’m going to go open the shop. The business won’t run itself, I’m afraid.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” He looked… disappointed. Cookie thought maybe he’d been hoping to spend time with her after the service.

  She wanted that. She wanted to spend hours with him, getting to know him, working up the courage to express her feelings. Not that she really understood them herself. Maybe they could figure them out, together.

  Just not today. Today she had to prove to the whole town that she wasn’t a murderer, and that her food wasn’t poison. Someone had killed Julien but it sure wasn’t her.

  With a quick hug, Jerry promised again to let her know if he found out anything.

  Walking out of the funeral home ahead of the crowd, Clarissa walked very close to her grandmother. “He likes you, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “That cop.”

  “Of course he likes me. We’re friends.”

  “That’s not what I mean, Grandma,” Clarissa said slowly, as if she was explaining something to a child. “He likes you. You know, in that way.”

  “Clarissa, I’m not a teenager anymore. I’ll leave all of that first-blush-love to you. Hmm?” Still, she knew how she felt. Did Jerry know? “I’ll need your help in the bakery this afternoon.”

  “You’re changing the subject, Grandma.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  The little knowing smile that played over Clarissa’s face actually made Cookie’s heart warm. So her granddaughter wasn’t all bluster and anger, after all.

  “Do I have to help you in the bakery, Gram?” Clarissa complained. “I was going to Skype with my friends back home.”

  “Just for a little bit, then. I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your friends.”

  “Isn’t that what you and Mom already did? I’m here in this hick town because she wants to be with step-daddy more than she wants to be with me.”

  They were at the car now, but instead of getting in Cookie took Clarissa’s hands in hers. “Oh, honey. That just isn’t true. Your mom loves you very much.”

  “She’s got a really funny way of showing it.”

  “I’m not so bad, am I?”

  Clarissa shrugged, and then rolled her eyes. If Cookie remembered correctly from raising her own daughter, that was teenager for “I like you, but I’m too cool to show it.”

  She could accept that.

  “It will be fun,” she tried to convince the girl. “We have an order for this afternoon. Some kind of little girl’s tea party.”

  “Tea party? Do kids still do that?”

  Cookie gave Clarissa her hands back and got behind the wheel. Her granddaughter stayed on her phone the whole ride back to the bakery, although granted it wasn’t a long trip. Cream greeted them at the apartment, barking and trying to jump up into Cookie’s arms.

  “Not now,” Cookie told him. “Let me get you something to eat before I go to work.”

  “Do you always talk to him?” Clarissa asked. “He’s a dog. You know he’s a dog, right?”

  “He’s my friend,” Cookie answered. Because that explained everything.

  After changing out of their black funeral clothes and into jeans and shirts that they wouldn’t care to get flour all over, Clarissa followed Cookie downstairs and they got started. There were cookies to make, and little cupcakes, and cinnamon toast. A few customers came into the store while they worked, buying odds and ends and it was good to know that the entire town hadn’t turned their back on her. There weren’t as many as there should be but they hadn’t shunned her entirely. They might like to gossip about her and maybe even speculate that she would be arrested for Julien’s death, but she was still part of the community, and she still made the best donuts and scones in town.

  At least, she would, until they came to put handcuffs on her.

  Before that happened, she’d need to puzzle out exactly what happened to Julien.

  For now, she had to be a baker. Clarissa was a lot of help, stirring and mixing and setting the timer on the stove. They talked as they worked, and it even seemed like they made some small connection there in that kitchen.

  When the cookies and pastries were packed up, Clarissa took off her apron and washed off her hands in the sink. “All right. We’re done, right? Can I use the computer now?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Cookie was looking over what she’d baked. When she was satisfied, she put all of the packages in her walk-in freezer.

  Her mind went
back to the funeral and Julien’s death in her bakery. What could have happened? Over and over, she asked herself that question as she went about her small tasks and sold her goods and smiled at customers who looked at her with morbid curiosity.

  After a while her thoughts were in such a tangled mess that she decided she had to set the whole problem aside and deal with it more later on. Looking out the windows she was surprised to see it was now dark. Her stomach rumbled and Cookie realized that Clarissa must be starved also. She’d have to pay better attention. A teenager needed constant feeding, after all.

  Trudging up the steps, Cookie could hear Cream yipping. Someone else must be hungry, too. Well. She’d been downstairs for hours. Inside the apartment Clarissa sat at the kitchen table in front of Cookie’s laptop.

  “Would you please feed the dog, Clarissa? I’ll get some dinner started.”

  Clarissa muttered something and closed the laptop so Cookie couldn’t see what she was doing. She got the bag of dogfood out and poured some haphazardly into Cream’s dish. It scattered over the edge but the little dog didn’t mind. He went sniffing after each bite and munched them up before starting in on the bowl.

  It was going to be cold meat sandwiches for them. Sliced turkey and some Swiss cheese. She laid out the fixings for them on the table and let Clarissa build her own sandwich. The girl certainly could eat. Cookie tried to get her granddaughter to open up some more while they ate, each of her questions rewarded with a single word answer or a shrug. She thought Clarissa was being rude at first until she realized it was something else.

  When Clarissa yawned over her last bite of sandwich, it was official. She was asleep where she sat.

  “You were up early for the funeral,” Cookie told her. “We both were. Best we were off to bed, I suppose.”

  Neither of them argued. Cookie cleared her plates, but made Clarissa take care of her own. She needed to learn to be respectful and to pull her own weight.

  She was surprised when her granddaughter gave her a hug before heading off to her bedroom.

  Well. Would wonders never cease.

  She really wanted to slip under her own covers, knowing that she’d be up again early tomorrow to cook and bake and do everything she usually did when her life wasn’t being turned upside down. Still, there was something she wanted to do first. Turning her laptop back on, she settled it on the table in front of her, and typed a name into Yahoo’s little search window.

  Benjamin Roth.

  She found his Linked-In profile easily enough, and several news stories about him. She clicked on one of the more recent ones to read it.

  “Pyramid scheme strikes wealthy businessman,” she read out loud.

  Benjamin hadn’t been the one conducting the scheme, from what she read, but rather one of its victims. He had lost a lot of money, or so it seemed from reading between the lines of the article, but he never went to jail. Still, some of the investors who Benjamin had brought into the scheme had sued him to recoup their losses.

  “I don’t blame them.”

  Hmm. She’d bet for some of them it was their life savings. Or their retirement nest egg. How sad. She had some money put away for retirement. She’d be in a tough spot if she ever lost it.

  It explained why he might want her property. He needed to make up some money fast. Paying her less than what her property was worth would be better than paying top dollar. Well, too bad for him. She had no reason to sell.

  Only, she did.

  Her business hadn’t shut down completely, but there had been less of it since Julien’s death. Benjamin’s offer came just at the right time, when she was losing money. Or, just at the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it.

  She almost jumped when the wireless doorbell went off. Someone was at the front door.

  The clock said it was nearly ten at night now. Late for a visitor. Certainly not a customer. Who…?

  Out the window she could see a beat up old green pickup truck. Jerry’s vehicle.

  Maybe he had news. She practically raced down the stairs to the front door, turning on lights again as she went. Opening up for him, she smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  Then he handed her a rose.

  She took it, surprised to say the least. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. You’ve had a hard few days. I wanted you to know you have at least one friend who won’t give up on you.”

  “That’s very nice.” She smelled the rose. It was more than nice. Warmth fluttered inside of her. It had been a long time since a man had brought her flowers. Especially a single red rose.

  But romance would have to wait. “Do you have news? Is that why you came over?”

  His expression said it all. “No. Well, yes and no. The lab sent over some preliminary results to the chief. There was definitely poison in Julien’s system. They haven’t identified exactly what kind yet.”

  “Oh.” Not the news she’d wanted, but it was exactly the news she was expecting. “I see.”

  “I’m not supposed to be telling you these things,” Jerry said in a serious tone. “You’re part of the investigation. I could get in trouble if anyone knew.”

  She twirled the rose. “Then why are you telling me?”

  He reached out, and she braced herself to feel his touch. Instead his fingers stroked the fragile petals on the rose. “I’m telling you because I like you.”

  Her conversation from earlier with her granddaughter came back to her. Did he like her, or did he like like her?

  The flower in her hand smelled wonderful. Men didn’t usually give flowers to women who were just good friends.

  The smile on her face was involuntary. She couldn’t help it, and it felt nice.

  “Was there another reason you came here?” she asked him.

  “Well, I also wanted to ask you out for a drink.”

  He shuffled his feet. He was so cute in that moment. So sure of himself and so awkward all at once.

  It was very attractive.

  Cookie looked down at what she was wearing. She was still in her work clothes, still smudged with flour, and she was so tired. But, the chance to go out with Jerry and see where things went sounded so nice. “Uh, I’d have to change.”

  “I can wait,” he said. “Want me to come up?”

  “While I change?” She was sure her face was heating up.

  “Oh. Right. Well, I can always wait down here.”

  Hmm. She twirled the rose against her lips. “I really thought you were here to give me news on Julien’s murder.”

  “That’s all I know, so far. At least it means we can officially call this a homicide. Now the lab will put the rest of the tests up to the front of the line.”

  “Well, I have something to tell you. I went searching Benjamin Roth on the internet. I found out that he got mixed up in a pyramid scheme. He lost a lot of people a lot of money.”

  “Oh?” He definitely sounded interested in that bit. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes. He wasn’t convicted, but many of the victims sued. I think he’s short of cash.”

  “Okay.” He glanced at the rose in her hands. “So, what does this mean to you?”

  “It means that he wants my property. He already made me an offer. And if he can put me out of business he’ll get it at a good price.”

  He blinked at her in understanding. “So you think he killed Julien? Really?”

  “Yes, I do. Or maybe he had someone do it.”

  “That’s a good theory, Cookie,” he said. Her heart surged for a moment, but then he sighed. “Things aren’t always that simple. This isn’t television or some cozy mystery. Benjamin Roth has a lot of family money. I’m sure he isn’t broke.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  “Well, of course I don’t. I’ve never looked into his bank accounts. He doesn’t know how much money I’ve got in my wallet right now, either.”

  She gave him a look. “Fine. But what
if he is broke? He certainly is interested in my property and he was with the mayor at lunch the day Julien died. He’s probably chumming up to him so he can get this strip mall built. And don’t forget the way the mayor’s wife acted at the service. What was that all about?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” Jerry leaned toward her and reached for her hand. “Cookie, you have to let Detective Kent do his work. I’ll pass on what you told me but I can’t guarantee it will lead anywhere. I don’t… I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  She couldn’t think of anything to say. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her, and at the same time the most annoying. She wasn’t a little girl. She had to find out what had happened to Julien. She couldn’t keep her nose out of it. This situation threatened her livelihood. Didn’t Jerry get that?

  “Still feel like having a drink with me?” he asked.

  She couldn’t turn him down now. He’d brought her a rose. He’d told her information that he wasn’t supposed to. He was worried about her and he obviously cared.

  Besides which, she’d been waiting for him to ask her out. She couldn’t tell him no when he finally worked up the courage.

  “Okay. I just need to get this in water and I’ll need to change.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Down here, right?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he teased.

  Upstairs—alone—Cookie changed into her nicest jeans and blouse. She even put on a little bit of makeup. A real date. It had been so long. She felt foolish and giddy and excited, and she put away all her second thoughts. This was happening. It was really, really happening.

  She checked on Clarissa and found her asleep in her bed. Her face looked so calm when she was asleep. All the worries she carried with her during the day slipped away at night. Cookie really hoped she could make a difference in the girl’s life this summer. They’d at least made a good start, she thought. Back at her kitchen table, she wrote out a quick note, just in case Clarissa woke up and couldn’t find her grandmother.

  Jerry held out his arm for her when she reached the bottom of the steps. With a smile, Cookie took it and let him lead her outside to his truck.