by Maymee Bell
“No. I thought you were going to call her.” She set the timer on the oven.
“I haven’t had time, but I will on my way out to the winery.” I slipped the business card in my pocket. “Do you have it all under control?”
“You know I do.” Charlotte was priceless. “But I thought we were going to talk about Madison.”
“We will. Let me get a few things done, and I’ve also got to stop by the station to give my statement.” I grabbed my purse and my phone.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control,” she assured me.
Not that I didn’t trust that she did. I was procrastinating. I might have been having all sorts of images in my head from finding Ray, but reliving the event by giving all the details to Carter was something I wasn’t looking forward to. Don’t get me wrong: looking at Carter and spending time in his arms was better than getting a set of real pearls as a gift, but reliving the details of finding someone dead wasn’t my cup of tea.
The sheriff’s department was on the edge of town. It used to be downtown before the department grew and needed more space. Considering the edge of town was about a five-minute drive, which included getting stopped by a couple of stop signs, I was there in no time. I took the opportunity to give the Fords a call about the journal.
The sheriff’s department parking lot was filled with white news vans, and camera crews had their lenses set up directly at the entrance. No doubt they were there because of Ray Peel. After I pulled into the parking space, I turned the car off and grabbed my phone. I quickly looked up the Fords’ phone number from my contacts and hit the “Call” button.
“Hi, this is Sophia Cummings, the woman who bought the bakery. I was wondering if I could talk to Dixie Ford?” I wasn’t sure who answered the Fords’ phone. It wasn’t the slow Southern accent that I remembered Dixie Ford greeting me with when I was a child and went to the bakery with Bitsy.
“Who did you say this was?” the much younger voice asked.
“Sophia Cummings. I bought the building where the Ford’s Bakery was located,” I said and watched out the window as some of the TV news crews went live.
“Granny Dixie is busy. You’ll have to call back later in the day.” The phone went dead. I pulled it from my ear and looked at the screen.
“Well, I’m going to leave my number.” I hit the “Call” button again.
“What do you want?” The bite in the girl’s voice came through the phone loud and clear.
“I need to talk to Mrs. Ford about the recipe journal I found at the bakery.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone. When it seemed like it was too long of a pause, I continued, “Can you please give her my phone number?”
“What is it you got?” she asked.
“I found their journal with their recipes. You know the Maple Long Johns they baked? Even though I know that since it was left with the property, I technically get to keep it, I wanted to make sure it was okay with them if I duplicated the recipes. Because if it’s not …” I rambled on, but she stopped me.
“What’s your number?” she asked in a flat voice.
I rattled off my number, satisfied. She actually said goodbye before hanging up on me again. With two boxes of sweets from the bakery, I headed into the sheriff’s department, ready to get this interview process over.
“Mornin’, Sophia,” Effie Glass, the secretary, greeted me when I walked in. Her eyes fixated on the boxes I’d brought with me.
“Good morning, Mrs. Effie.” I’m not sure why, but everyone referred to her by her first name. But that’s the way it was, and it was going to stay that way. I took one of the boxes and set it on her desk. “I brought you some donuts this morning.”
“Sophia Cummings, how on earth did Rumford ever survive without your delicious treats?” Mrs. Effie was so great at making everyone feel good. She only stood about four feet six inches, and she had to be in her late seventies.
“We survived somehow, Mrs. Effie.” Carter had turned the corner. “I might’ve been single all my life, but we survived.”
“Why, Sheriff Kincaid, are you eavesdropping on us girls?” Mrs. Effie teased. He flushed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush.” Mrs. Effie looked between him and me. “I think you two are the cutest couple who’ve ever come from Rumford. And that includes my mister.”
“We are mighty appreciative of your kind words. And I do think Carter hit the jackpot.” I winked and blushed when the handsome sheriff’s eyes raked over me. “But I’m here to give my statement.”
“Honey.” Mrs. Effie opened the box and pushed it toward me. “I heard about you finding another dead body. You might need to get a job here. I’m retiring, so you can just slide on into my spot.”
“You’re retiring?” I was a little surprised to hear this news. “Who’s going to keep these boys in line?”
“I think you’d be perfect to replace me.” She winked.
“That’s enough, you two. Don’t encourage her, Mrs. Effie.” Carter stepped in. “I have a difficult enough time trying to convince Sophia not to stick her nose in official business.”
Mrs. Effie shook the open box in my direction again. “No, thank you. I had plenty while testing them as I baked them. You enjoy.”
“Are you ready?” Carter asked and motioned for me to follow him.
The department was just like any other time I’d been there. The sheriff’s deputies were busy on the phone or talking to one another.
“Here you go.” I set the rest of the boxes down next to the coffee station they had by the big watercooler. “A few treats for all of your hard work.”
The deputies thanked me and rushed over to get one before they were all gone. They knew anytime I came, I came with treats. Not only did it make me feel good to bring them, but I loved how it made the atmosphere less stressful. It amazed me how something I’d made with my own hands brought so much comfort to people.
“Have a seat.” Carter shut the door behind me when I walked into the interrogation room and he sat down in one of the wooden chairs behind the steel desk. The darkened window he had me face didn’t go unnoticed.
“So formal?” I asked. “Last time we did this, it was at my house.” I referred to the interview he gave me after I’d found Emile.
“Yeah, well, I got in trouble for all the loose ends in that one.” He dropped a file down on the table and took a seat across from me.
He opened up the file. His pronounced cheekbones and clearly defined jawline disguised the dimples I knew he had when he gave a big smile. While he shuffled through the papers, I let my mind wander back to high school, when Carter had been so different.
Though we hadn’t hung out with the same crowd, I clearly remembered him being a really nice guy. When I came back to Rumford and got into the little pickle of Emile’s murder, I realized Carter Kincaid had grown up into an amazing man who just so happened to be single.
“Has the investigation been intense?” I asked.
“Let’s just say that I’m looking forward to a night off.” His eyes slid over my way.
“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you?” He worked really odd hours.
“I’m off tomorrow night.” And the dimples showed up, melting my heart. “Would you like to go out to supper?”
“I’d love to.” I returned the smile, and my heart fluttered.
“Great.” His chest lifted as he sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” He pushed the button on the microphone. “We are taping this interview with witness Sophia Cummings. Sophia is owner of the For Goodness Cakes Bakery. You were hired to cater the desserts for the Heart of the Town fund-raiser, correct?”
“Yes,” I stated.
I adjusted myself in the seat so I could really focus on what he was going to ask me instead of focusing on him.
“Why were you going back to the offices?” he asked.
“I went back to get payment for the catering I’d done for the event.” I w
asn’t sure how much he wanted me to elaborate, so I stuck with simple statements.
“Tell me exactly how you found Mr. Peel.”
“It was a pretty night, and I’d decided to cut through the vineyards to go to the offices. I wasn’t paying attention to my feet, and I tripped over Ray Peel’s shoes and landed pretty much on top of him.” The image of his face shattered my concentration.
“Go on.” Carter’s soft voice comforted me. “It’s okay.”
I swallowed, my lips forming a thin smile.
“His face …” I paused and licked my lips. “His face had a very scared look on it.”
“Can you tell me what you did after you tripped on him?” Carter didn’t care about the look on Ray’s face. He just wanted the facts.
“I called your cell phone. It was the only thing I knew to do.” I found myself apologizing again for not calling the dispatch. He smiled. I added, “I knew you’d know what to do.”
“You did fine,” he said. A vague light passed between us.
“Within minutes, you showed up. You checked Ray out, and then you told me to stay put while you called for backup.” It was exactly how I remembered things.
“While you were waiting for me to get there, did you hear or see anything or anyone?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Nothing like footsteps?” I shook my head. “Shuffling of feet?” he continued to ask.
“Nothing that I recall.” I tried to remember anything, but my mind couldn’t dredge up any sights or sounds—just the look on Ray’s face, tattooed on my memory.
“The Grape Valley Winery was paying you? Or was it Ray Peel?” he said, changing his line of questioning.
“The Grape Valley Winery.” I watched as he wrote down what I was saying. “I’d never talked to Ray Peel about the event. I didn’t even know he had anything to do with the winery other than owning and leasing the land to the Dugans. When I saw he had an office at the winery, I did think it was strange.” I stopped myself because I felt a yammering coming on.
“Was there any reason you felt like you weren’t going to get paid for the event?” he asked and looked up at me.
“I was a little concerned since I’d overheard Ray was selling the land, and this was my first big event. So I’d put a lot of my own money into it, and I’d like to be paid.”
“You’ve not been paid as of today?” he asked.
“No. But I’m heading out there after this so I can be.” All of a sudden, I felt like I’d done something wrong.
“Sophia Cummings, did you kill Ray Peel because you’d heard about the winery being sold and were afraid you weren’t getting paid? Did you confront Ray Peel about it in the vineyard and when he said he wasn’t going to pay you, did you kill him?”
My jaw dropped.
“You just wait a cotton-pickin’ minute,” I warned, letting out my you’re-not-gonna-mess-with-me Southern roots. A sickness came over me. I felt the rush of tears sting my eyelids. “Of course I didn’t kill him.”
“There’s no need to get upset. It’s just a standard line of questioning. I have to ask everyone.” He closed the file and pushed the “Pause” button on the microphone. “I know you didn’t do it, and I’m sorry I had to ask that. But last time I got reprimanded for not getting a formal statement from you on tape.”
“Last time,” I muttered. “I can’t believe we are even saying that. Do you have any suspects?” I asked in hopes he’d say something about what the law enforcement stance was on Madison being a suspect.
“You know I can’t tell you, Sophia.” His head tilted, and his voice faded, losing his steely edge.
“I thought I’d ask. You know, give the customers something to gossip about,” I joked and got up when he did. I headed toward the door. “I did hear a rumbling that you might have a few suspects.”
I was hoping he’d tell me about Madison. That way I’d have something to ask her about instead of assuming she was a suspect. This wouldn’t be the first time Charlotte got her gossip signals crossed.
“Sophia.” He stopped me and shook his head.
“Did you check Ray’s house for any clues?” I asked.
“Yes, and nothing turned up. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night around six.” His tone was firm.
“Only if you take me to Café Italia.” I’d decided right then that I just might look into some of the things I’d heard.
“A few of the guys said it was good,” he agreed.
“I’ll be ready.” I sucked in a deep breath and turned around, so he didn’t see me squeeze my eyes shut and smile so big I couldn’t get my lips to close. He made me feel like a teenager all over again. It was such a new feeling for me.
The hall was crowded with familiar faces from the fund-raiser. When I walked past the other interrogation room, I noticed Madison was sitting in a chair like the one I’d been sitting in. She was crying, and a deputy was standing over her. I figured he was accusing her of killing Ray Peel.
“Madison is a suspect?” I gasped when the reality of what Charlotte had told me earlier was confirmed.
I turned on the balls of my feet. Carter almost ran into me. He grabbed my elbow and dragged me next to the watercooler. I blinked in anticipation of his answer, even though I could read what was going on here.
“Madison? Are you joking me?” I threw my arms in the air. “There’s no way.” I shook my head in refusal to even think it.
“It doesn’t look good for her.” He let go of my arm. “She was seen with Ray by a few people. They were having a heated argument.”
“You know she didn’t do this.” I kept my voice low when some deputies walked past the watercooler to get a cup of coffee and a sweet treat. “There were so many other people who—”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to figure it out. We didn’t find any murder weapon.” His cool and aloof manner irked me. How could he even think Madison could do this? “It doesn’t mean you need to figure it out,” he warned. “Madison is simply here to be questioned.”
My brows knitted. “But the look—” I started to talk really fast because the look he was giving me meant I was trying his patience. “Ray’s face looked so surprised. He wouldn’t’ve been surprised at Madison. He’d just been with her.”
“Don’t get involved. We are talking about a killer here.” This was the second warning Carter had given me.
“She’s my best friend. I know her. She’s got two small children. She’d never do anything to harm a soul.” As I stood there listening to him babble on about how in desperate times people do things we’d never imagine them to do, I got dizzy when I remembered the conversation Madison and I had had at the fund-raiser.
“That Ray Peel, he’s a jerk. If I weren’t a good Southern girl, I’d strangle him with one of the grapevines out there.”
Carter grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” I brushed it off. There was no way I was going to tell him what I’d remembered until I talked to Madison. Plus, there was the whole Reba romance thing. I had to figure some of this out before I opened my big mouth. “I haven’t eaten much since last night. Low blood sugar or something.”
“Have one of your cookies.” He grabbed me a cookie.
“Thanks.” I stuffed it in my mouth. As much as I wanted the cookie to comfort me, it didn’t. I had to figure out who’d killed Ray Peel, because I knew Madison couldn’t’ve done it, no matter how mad he’d made her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I couldn’t get out of the sheriff’s department fast enough. I filled my lungs with the clean spring air. Taking several deep breaths before I got into my car did clear out a bit of the fog.
“Think, Sophia,” I said out loud, hoping to bring back some sort of clarity to anything about that night. “The winery.”
It was clear I still needed to go and get my check. This was the third time I’d tried. Reba Gunther was just the person I needed to see.
Chapter Six
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The flurry of activity that’d taken place at the winery less than twenty-four hours ago had died down to a couple of cars in the gravel lot.
There was never a better time to have a box of Flip-Flops like the present. I was going to have to use them on Reba if I was to get any information about Ray Peel’s decision to sell or any truth about her and Ray dating. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop from looking over at the vineyard. Particularly the spot where I’d tripped on Ray.
When I stepped into the winery, I noticed Tammy and Giles in Ray’s office. They looked up and saw me, and Giles walked over and shut the door.
“Hi.” I held out the box of sweets to Reba, who was sitting in the chair behind the desk. “These are for you. I figured you could use a little distraction.”
Nervously she picked at the edges of her pixie cut. Her jaw clamped down with each chew on the piece of gum in her mouth.
“You know,” she said, leaning in on her elbows and whispering, “I don’t think my fantasy vacation to go would give me a distraction. It’s just awful what happened to Ray.” She reached over the desk and patted my hand before she took the box. “You must be horrified. Two bodies.” She tsked.
“Two?” My eyes popped open.
“Chef Emile and now Ray.” The corners of her mouth dipped. “You must be some sort of death magnet.”
“Death magnet?” I gulped. “I sure hope not.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d heard someone say this to me, and it sure wasn’t the legacy I wanted to leave in this world. I’d much rather have “baker extraordinaire” behind my name.
“And to think—Madison Ridge.” Reba stopped and dabbed the edge of her eye. “Her mama must be so upset. Speaking of mamas, how’s Bitsy and them?”
Them. She meant my daddy.
“They are fine.” I had to get back to the subject at hand. “Back to Madison. What were you saying about her?”