by Maymee Bell
Lizbeth wrote down a couple of things after she looked at the chalkboard again. Carter was too busy with the paperwork from the deputy to even pay attention to her anymore. But I followed her out the door.
“Lizbeth.” I stopped her.
“You want to go on record now?” She stared at me from the small front porch in the front of my house.
“I wanted to ask you about Lanie Truvinski.” I let my words settle. In the TV shows, they always give sources some space to answer questions.
“Who?”
“Carter and I went to Café Italia for supper tonight. I ran into Jane, the waitress from the RCC who also works at Café Italia. She mentioned you’d been there for the grand opening and you saw the blonde woman and Ray fighting.” I asked, “Do you recall that?”
“No. I was there, but I didn’t see a fight.” She flipped through the notepad she had in her hands. “What was her name?”
“Lanie Truvinski,” I said and tried to get a look at the words on the page she was reading, but it was too dark outside.
“No.” She shook her head. “I got a couple of reviews from customers, and I didn’t even bother putting it in the paper. It wasn’t as big as I thought it was going to be. I told them they should get a food critic in there to drum up some business.”
“They were packed when we went,” I told her. “Are you sure you don’t remember talking to a blonde lady about this high?” I used my hand to show how tall Lanie was. “She’s super elegant.” Lizbeth shook her head. “That’s so odd. Jane said she saw you talking to her.”
“Well, if I did, she didn’t give me her real name, and she certainly wasn’t memorable.” Lizbeth shrugged.
“Did you happen to take any photos of that night?” I wondered if Lizbeth had snapped some action photos and in the background I might find a couple shots of Ray and Lanie together. Lanie and Ray had had a fight. I’d seen it with my own two eyes, and now she hadn’t returned my calls or even asked for a refund. Where was Lanie?
“Why do you keep asking these questions?”
“I guess I just want to know what Ray Peel was doing the night before. I can’t seem to figure it out.” I sucked in a deep breath.
“That seems like the least of your worries, by the looks of your house.” Lizbeth cocked her head to the side, and she looked inside the wide-open door. “Come on. I know you and Carter talk. Can’t you tell me if he’s got any other suspects?”
“He doesn’t discuss this with me. If anything, he wants me to stay out of it because of this right here.” I nodded toward my house.
“By the looks of the chalkboard in there, you’ve been digging around.” She put her pen to her paper. “Do you want to tell me what your thoughts are? Who do you think could’ve done it? Because it appears you’re working hard to get Madison off the hook.”
“No one.” I shook my head and thought about Lanie. “But if you look through your photos from that night, I might have something for you.” I tried to entice her.
I wanted to find out what Lanie knew on my own, by taking her pastry order for the wine convention to the RCC in the morning. The idea that she’d killed Ray had started to infiltrate my mind, leaving me with no choice but to confront her myself.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Carter asked after he stuck his head outside.
“I’m out of here, but I’ll look in my photos for you and get back with you,” Lizbeth said.
“Yeah. Come by the bakery, and I’ll give you something good for your belly.” I turned to Carter.
“Are you sure you don’t have any idea who would do this or why?”
“No, but I’ll think on it.” I rose up on my toes and gave him a kiss. “Thank you for a really nice date. I really liked that place.”
“The company was better.” He let me off the hook. “You and Bitsy get some rest. If you remember anything—I mean anything …” He couldn’t’ve stressed it enough. “You better tell me.”
“I will.” I crossed my heart with my right hand and crossed the fingers of my left hand behind my back. The lights of a car driving down the street forced us both to look. He didn’t question me any further.
Charlotte came running across the street in her pink jogging suit.
“Bitsy called and told me everything that happened,” Charlotte gasped, catching her breath.
“She’s inside.” I pointed behind my shoulder.
“Hi, Carter,” she trilled before she rushed inside.
The car had come to a screeching halt. Madison jumped out.
“Just like high school: one of you needed help, y’all came running.” Carter watched Madison bolt through the front yard and up to the porch.
“Bitsy called.” Her eyes slid between Carter and me. “What?” she asked him. “You think I did this too?” She shoved past him and headed inside the house.
I didn’t stand outside long enough to watch his car pull down the street like I normally did, for fear that the person who ransacked my house was still out there and watching me.
* * *
“Finally,” Bitsy said.
She’d already replaced the cups of coffee with big glasses of wine for everyone. Duchess too seemed to be relieved that the officers had left. She finally had come out from the bedroom and sat in Bitsy’s lap.
“Go on.” She gestured with her pointer finger. “Grab the chalk. It’s time for Operation Merlot to go into full investigation mode.”
I quickly told them about how Jane from the RCC was working at Café Italia. I wrote down all the particular details about Lanie and Ray, including all the tension between them.
“What on earth do we have on Cat Fraxman? She’s always got her nose stuck in a book.” Bitsy rolled her eyes.
“I think that when you’re as passionate about your job and the welfare of the library as Cat is, it’s a little personal when someone gives that organization half a million dollars and then snatches it away,” I said.
“Not to mention the fact that she didn’t do anything different than Madison or Tammy Dugan did.” Charlotte was right.
“For the umpteenth time, I didn’t do it,” Madison responded defiantly.
“Honey,”—Bitsy took another swig of the wine—“I might’ve hurt the man if he’d called me real estate scum.”
“He didn’t say I was scum. He said I didn’t have the right clientele to purchase the land.” She glared at Bitsy. I was envious that she could get away with giving Bitsy attitude. If I gave Bitsy the same look, she’d have had a hissy fit and would’ve given me a good tongue-lashing.
“I know—we know—you didn’t do it. Have a cookie. I did find out that the Fraxmans took out a second mortgage on their home, under the assumption the money Ray Peel donated would pay off their mortgage and the library would be free and clear.”
“I think you need to check that out because to me that’s a pretty clear motive to kill someone.” Charlotte nibbled on the cookie.
“I heard they were going to have to file for bankruptcy.” I couldn’t imagine how Cat felt about it. Her parents were so kind. To even think they’d mortgage their lifelong savings to help out their daughter made me want to go to the bank first thing in the morning to see if Bill Bellman knew anything.”
Everyone continued to eat and drink as I walked around and talked.
“Cat and Tammy were both at the fund-raiser. Both of them were wronged by Ray Peel, dealing with money.” I drew a dollar sign on the board and circled it. “Money is a big motivator for killing someone. Then there’s Lanie, whose reputation is on the line. She’s gone missing.”
“If there’s one thing I know for sure,”—Bitsy’s words began to slur—“there’s nothing like a woman scorned. Your own reputation is all us girls have got in this world. I mean …” She pointed to me with same hand she held her glass. The glass tipped to the side, slightly spilling the wine. I rushed over to wipe it up just in time, before Duchess could step in it. “I mean, look at my daughter. I tried so hard to
get her to be a debutante, and look at her now.”
“I think she looks nice in her dress.” Charlotte’s eye drew up and down.
“Not the outfit—I mean look at where her life has led her. Right back to the kitchen, cooking for everyone but a man of her own.” She hiccupped.
“I bake and I’m happy.” This was the same old song and dance between Bitsy and me, and she wasn’t going to be happy until I walked down the aisle with a veil over my face. I wasn’t sure she’d even be all that happy then. “But that’s not why we are here,” I said, circling the conversation back around. “We are going to ignore Bitsy.”
Charlotte and Madison agreed. Madison poured Bitsy some more wine.
“Just in case,” Madison said, winking, “what were you saying about Lanie?”
“Ella Capshaw said something about a car speeding off and almost running her and Grant off the road. What kind of car did she say it was?” I asked.
“Silver?” Charlotte questioned.
“She said she and Grant were late because they’d gone to Café Italia beforehand. She had the glass of wine in the car and spilled it when a car speeding away from the winery nearly ran them off the road.” My jaw dropped. I snapped my fingers at Charlotte. “Silver. She did say it was silver. Not only did you and I watch Lanie drive off in a silver car, she and Ray were seen at the Café Italia, where she threw wine at Ray’s head and I saw them at the winery in a heated discussion about how he’d promised her the winery and then broke his promise. That’s when she slapped him, saying this wasn’t the first time he’d broken a promise.”
“That gives us something to chew on.” Madison’s face softened, almost like she was relieved.
“Now that I know Lanie is at the bed and breakfast, I can go see her tomorrow.” I put my name next to Lanie’s name. “Bitsy?”
“What?” She drew another long sip from the glass.
“Who do you want to go and question tomorrow?” I asked.
“Me?” she asked in a Southern drawl. “I can’t possibly go. I’ve got the Garden Club meeting tomorrow, and I thought you were coming to that.”
I ignored her and moved on to Madison.
“Madison? Which one do you want?” I asked.
“I can’t go around asking anyone anything. I’m already a suspect, and my job is taking a beating because of it. I’ve got to get as many clients in houses as I can.” She turned her head away from me.
“You know if you’re going to be gallivanting all over Rumford, I’ve got to keep the bakery open,” Charlotte was quick to answer.
“This leaves just me to investigate all of them?” I looked at them.
“Operation Merlot,” Madison said and held her glass up in the air. Everyone followed. “Operation Merlot,” all said in unison.
While they enjoyed the rest of their wine, I’d already figured out who I needed to see first. Reba Gunther. If I didn’t get to her before Lizbeth, it wouldn’t be good.
After a few more glasses of wine, I’d finally talked Bitsy into letting Madison drop her off at home. I wasn’t sure what good she’d do me if the intruder came back in the middle of the night, and I assured her I’d be fine.
“Reba Gunther is first, then Bill Bellman, and Lanie will be my last stop,” I said to Duchess as she jumped up on my bed while I peeled back the covers.
Chapter Fourteen
There’s no denying that I didn’t sleep a wink. I used Bitsy’s tried-and-true Preparation H ointment secret while I put my makeup on. “If it’s good for shrinking up things in the nether region, it’s good for shrinking bags and wrinkles on the face,” she’d say.
“Good morning,” I answered the phone when I saw Carter’s name scroll across.
“Did you put an ad in the paper?” He didn’t bother saying hello.
“I did. Why?” I asked and rushed to the front door to grab my paper.
“I just wanted to make sure because there’s a big ad in there along with an interview that you gave Lizbeth that clearly says you’re looking into the investigation.” He didn’t sound too happy.
“I didn’t tell her I was looking into it. I was saying that I’d …” I opened the paper, shutting the door with the toe of my foot. With the phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder, I didn’t have to look too far for the interview. It was right on the front page. “Friend Taking Matters into Her Own Hands,” read the headline.
“This is why she came around snooping for a scoop last night. You’re going to get yourself killed. As much as I’ve tried to tell you to stop snooping, you just aren’t listening,” he huffed. “Don’t you understand that I’d like to keep you around for a while?”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince, because this time I was actually a little frightened. Someone had invaded my home, and now this.
“I’ve had enough. I’m going to send over a couple of officers to just watch your house at night. Understand?” The tone in his voice told me he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“I understand.” I had to give in, but this still didn’t mean I was going to stop snooping. I was just going to be a little safer in my home.
“Now that we have that cleared up, I guess you’re going to be at the bakery all day filling orders for these coupons?” he asked.
“I guess so.” I pulled the phone away from my ear when a call clicked in. “Listen, that’s Bitsy. She had a little too much to drink last night. I’m going to take this call.”
“Remember, no snooping,” he reminded me before I clicked over.
“Take two ibuprofens,” I joked in greeting Bitsy.
“You’re an evil daughter for letting me drink that much,” she groaned from the other end of the line. “It’s way too early for me to be up, but I’ve got to take my plants to the Garden Club meeting so we can start to set up for next week’s sale. Are you going to come? Because we could really use some Cherry Flip-Flops.”
“You mean you told them I’d bring Cherry Flip-Flops?” Though I didn’t mind at all making them and donating them to the club, my time just so happened to be limited.
I held the phone with one hand while I scooped out some food for Duchess with the other. Bitsy continued to talk as I walked around and checked all the doors to make sure they were locked before I headed out to the car. It was still dark out at this hour of the morning, but such were the hours of a baker.
Even though I was a little tired, I was on a mission to get some baking done, so when Charlotte came in, she could wait on customers and start working on Reba’s birthday cake. The entire drive to the bakery, my thoughts had drifted to the cake. Perry hadn’t given me a due date, which was a good reason to go to his office and see what I could find out there. I really wanted to know how the winery could stay open when Ray had planned to put it on the market and was now deceased. And I remembered his comment on the night of the fund-raiser, that the lease was up.
Even if the Dugans wouldn’t need the cake for a few days, it took that long to actually make and bake a custom cake. Most people had no idea that the layers had to be fully cooled, and it was even better if the cake was put in the refrigerator for a few days so the icing would go on smoothly.
I turned off Main Street and pulled into the alley behind the bakery. The early morning brought a little frost and extra chill to the air. I hurried out of the car and stuck the key in the lock. The lights flickered a little when I flipped them on after opening the door. The gas ticked when I turned the oven knobs on for preheating. I loved the Fords’ old gas ovens and how evenly they baked. In most industrial kitchens, the ovens had a weak or low spot, and I had to learn where they were in each kitchen in order to rotate the items correctly.
I’ll flip on the light in the bakery, turn on the coffeepots, and get busy, I said to myself as I mentally went through my morning checklist.
As I pushed through the swinging door, I unhooked the apron off the rack and slipped it over my head, tying it snug around my waist. Brisk air
greeted me. My eyes fell on the shattered front window. There was a brick lying on the floor with Stop what you’re doing spray-painted across it in red.
I know I should’ve been upset and scared, but I was mostly angry. And I could only think it was because I was getting a little too close to a real breakthrough with the Ray Peel murder.
There was a second when I didn’t want to call Carter, but I knew I had to. I didn’t want to bring any more attention to whomever was trying to send me a very clear message. I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Carter,” I said, my voice crackling, catching me off guard. Maybe I was more upset than I’d realized. “Someone threw a brick through the bakery window.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, and I heard his siren start to roar through the phone.
“I’m fine.” I backed away from the brick and sat down on one of the stools at the wall bar. “I’m going to wait right here for you.”
“I’m almost there. You’re going to stay on the phone with me.” He wasn’t playing the sheriff at this moment. The concerned tone in his voice held some personal element of fear. Carter was being the boyfriend who wanted to protect me. “I’m turning down Main Street near Back-en-Thyme Flowers.”
He would be here in no time. The florist was a couple of shops down.
“I see you. Do you want me to open the front door?” I asked.
“Grab a napkin and do it. I don’t want to disturb any evidence, though it doesn’t look like they came in the front door,” he said.
I hung up the phone and got off the stool, plucking a napkin from one of the holders. He was already standing at the door when I got there, and I was careful not to step on too much of the glass.
“Are you okay?” Carter swept me into his arms. There was a deep sadness on his face that I’d not seen before.
“I’m fine. I told you that.” I ran my palm along his jawline and gave him a reassuring kiss. “My knight in shining armor,” I joked.
“This really isn’t funny anymore.” He’d turned into the sheriff. “Your house and now your business?”