by Maymee Bell
“It’s the window. If they really wanted to do some damage, they would’ve torn up the bakery. Everything else looks fine.” I looked back at the counter. “See? Nothing has been disturbed. I think they just threw the brick, and that’s it.”
“You still don’t have an alarm in here?” he asked.
“It’s on my To Do list.” I knew he was going to get on me for that one.
“Consider it done.” Carter called dispatch.
“Can I turn on the coffee?” I whispered, knowing we both needed some. He nodded.
I looked down at the industrial pots and flipped on the switches. I overheard Carter tell dispatch to get the security company down to the bakery to install an alarm system. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do it; I was simply hoping to pay off some things and get some money saved before I did it. There was rarely crime in Rumford, so it wasn’t a priority. Now I regretted putting off ordering an alarm, since the crime rate seemed to be picking up.
Within minutes there was a team of deputies in and out of the bakery, taking photos and eating some of the donuts that I’d quickly put in the oven for them. There wasn’t much for me to do, so I hid out in the kitchen, trying to get lost in Reba’s cake.
While in the dry pantry, I gathered the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, and salt. I sat them on the center preparation island. Since it was going to be a three-layer cake, I wanted to have all the ingredients ready so I could bake all three layers at once. I measured and dumped all the dry ingredients into a large bowl and set it aside. I needed to get all the wet ingredients together.
“What on earth is going on?” Charlotte’s voice echoed into the walk-in refrigerator, where I was busy grabbing the vanilla, buttermilk, eggs, and shortening. “Don’t tell me someone broke in here too.”
She took the carton of buttermilk, dangling from my finger, and the eggs off the top of the pile I was carrying from the refrigerator.
“They didn’t break in. They threw a brick and broke the display window.” Carefully, I set the items down on the island. “I think it was the same person who was in my house because the brick had a clear message for me to stop snooping, spray-painted in red.”
“That’s it. Operation Merlot has to stop right now.” She smacked her hand on the island.
“That’s what I told her last night. I’m hoping she got the message drilled into her head with this situation.” Carter had come into the kitchen. Charlotte and I just looked at each other.
“Basic Southern chocolate cake?” Charlotte was able to look at the ingredients and know exactly the recipe.
“You got it.” I smiled with some relief, and she took over while I chatted with Carter.
“The guys gathered some things, but nothing showed up when they dusted for fingerprints, so I do believe it was the act of breaking the window with the brick that was meant to scare you.” His brows lifted.
“Brick?” I was confused.
“It’s a piece of a brick. And it’s an odd color.” He got me thinking.
“Can I see it?” I asked.
“I’ll let you look at it before we leave. I’ve got the glass guy here already to replace the window. And we’ve cleaned up the broken glass. I wanted to get it all done before you opened so whoever did this wouldn’t get any more attention than they already got from ransacking your house.”
“Whoever did this?” I drew back. “Clearly it’s the killer. I’ve stumbled upon something big, for them to ransack my house and break the window.”
“And this is where you stop.” He put his hand up. “This is where it ends. You’re done looking around. I’m not joking this time.”
“We’re all done out here, Sheriff.” One of the deputies stuck his head in the kitchen door.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked. I nodded.
“I’ve got Charlotte to keep me okay,” I assured him.
“I’ll let you know if there’s anything pulled off the brick.” He bent down and kissed my cheek. “Let me know if the slightest strange thing happens.”
“Like some of the yeast not rising for my donuts? That’d be strange since my donuts always turn out great,” I teased.
“You know what I mean,” he said, not finding humor in my jokes.
I followed him out into the bakery. He walked over to one of the deputies and took the evidence bag.
“See? It’s one of those whitewashed bricks.” He stretched the bag across the brick to give me a better look.
“Can I snap a photo?” I asked. When he looked at me questioningly, I said, “I go to a lot of places and deliver baked goods. If I come across a house with similar bricks, I want to have this handy.”
“You’re not going to go to people’s houses on your fancy suspect list to try to match it?” he asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes and thought, Of course I am.
I took him by the arm and walked him to the door.
“I’ll send you a photo,” he offered.
“My hero.” I batted my eyes. I flipped the sign on the door to “Open” and gave him a quick kiss before he left.
“What on earth did you uncover to hit such a nerve?” Charlotte asked. She stood behind me with the small mixing bowl tightly held to her waist with one hand while she rapidly stirred with the other.
“I don’t know, but I don’t plan to stop.” I glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Is it too early for some wine?”
“Honey, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed my bag. “Call Madison and Bitsy. Tell them to meet tonight at my house for Operation Merlot,” I said to Charlotte over my shoulder on our way out the door.
I didn’t know what I was onto, but I knew it was something big for someone to ransack the house and now send me a message at the bakery. With the help of my girlfriends, I knew if we put our heads together, we’d figure this out.
Chapter Fifteen
The Rumford Country Club was my second home growing up. Not because my parents were on the country club board, but because it was the first real job that I’d ever had. I’d worked in the kitchen as a dishwasher, but luckily they let me do some baking as well. Thanks to the bake-off I’d won at thirteen, beating all of Bitsy’s friends, Evelyn Moss took notice that I was hanging around her kitchen, always there for the food, and not lying out by the pool with my bikini on or chasing the pimply-faced boys my age. She asked if I wanted to use the kitchen to bake.
It was no accident that I slipped some of those pastries I’d made onto the dessert trays. Then she hired me. Bitsy was beside herself. She had to be put on some sort of medication to calm her nerves because her daughter didn’t want to wear pearls and gowns. Instead, I wanted to bake for the girls who did want to wear pearls and gowns.
Still, I owe all my first experiences as a pastry chef to Evelyn Moss. And she owed me a favor too. I had known that she wasn’t capable of murdering Emile, the head chef at the RCC, when all the evidence had pointed to her, and I took it upon myself to help her figure out who did murder him with his own cast iron skillet.
The RCC was a private club where members held bonds. Most of the time, the bonds were passed down from generation to generation. The family gatherings and annual events were a timeless tradition. Many times, I’d spent my Easter Sunday here looking for the hidden eggs along the golf course or sitting on Santa’s lap in the ballroom. But today I was going to see Lanie Truvinski, and I was going to need Evelyn Moss’s help.
The curved sidewalk leading up to the front entrance of the clubhouse was lined with the most colorful display of flowers I’d ever seen at the RCC. The club had strayed from their usual yellow daffodils and added some flowers in reds, whites, and purples. The white brick mansion was on the historic registry and had just undergone a huge renovation, though the large brick stairways on both sides of the massive front porch remained.
It was on the front porch that I’d told Bitsy I’d decided not to go to college and would in
stead take off on an adventure to find the best pastry school in the world. Call me a coward or a baby, but I knew if I told her in front of all the people she loved to impress, she’d not have her hissy fit until we got home that night.
“Hello,” the guard at the gate entrance of the club said after he’d stopped me from driving in. “Member number?”
“One hundred and fifteen,” I said, rattling off my parents’ bond number.
“Have a good day, Ms. Cummings.” He tipped his hat and gestured me on through.
I drove the car around back to the employee parking lot. I’d parked there many times before. Not only did it lead straight to Evelyn Moss’s office, it also was a back entrance to the kitchen.
The smell of homemade Southern cooking swooshed through the door when I opened it. The RCC was always busy and served lunch and supper. The new chef was working out well, from what Bitsy had told me. It was a perfect excuse to lead into talking to Evelyn Moss about Lanie Truvinski.
The long hallway had offices on both sides. I knocked on the one with Evelyn’s name on it.
“Sophia,” she said, looking up from her desk when I pushed open the door. “What a wonderful surprise. Come on in.”
“Hi, Evelyn.” I entered the office and noticed it was still a big mess. Evelyn wasn’t the neatest of people, and I’d never understood her filing system. “Something smells so good.” I rubbed my belly.
“I’m not going to complain. The RCC was very lucky with the applicants, and the committee unanimously voted for the new hire.” The chair squeaked as she eased back into it, placing her elbows on the arms. She folded her hands together. “Now, I know you well enough to suspect that you didn’t come by here to make idle chitchat. What was so important to drag you out of the bakery?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“You do know me.” I smiled. “I’d heard the wine convention had been moved here.”
“Mm-hmm,” Evelyn ho-hummed and used the tips of her fingers to push back the loose strands of her brown hair into the half-falling-out bun on top of her head.
“Lanie Truvinski hired and paid me to do the pastries for the event when it was going to be at the Grape Valley Winery.” I pulled out the paperwork from my bag and handed it to Evelyn overtop of her desk.
“She is having the convention here. That’s the food you’re smelling. She came to me in desperation, and I shuffled a few things around to make it happen.” She gave me back the paper. “She paid for your services, and I wish I could use you, but you know the rules with the RCC. We have to make all of our stuff in-house.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do. I understand that. In fact the items she purchased came in handy after someone put a coupon in the newspaper on behalf of For Goodness Cakes for a free Fords’ Long John.” I sucked in a deep breath.
“You are making their Long Johns?” Evelyn asked, practically salivating.
“No.” I pointed at her. “But that reaction is what I want when one of my customers even thinks about one of my pastries.”
Telling Evelyn about the coupon only reminded me that the Fords hadn’t returned my phone call. I needed to call them again.
“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.
“I’m sure you heard about Ray Peel.” I bit my bottom lip. She nodded. “I’m sorta the one who found him.” My brows furrowed.
“Sophia,” Evelyn gasped, “wasn’t my ordeal enough for you? Not that I’m not grateful, and I owe you a lot, but you have no business investigating this.”
“Who said I was investigating?” I asked. “I’m just looking into a few things. Madison is the primary suspect, and as you well know, I just can’t sit back when I’ve come across some unanswered questions.”
“This is where Ms. Truvinski comes in?” She leaned on the desk and rested her forearms on the edge of it.
“When I was setting up for the fund-raiser at the winery, I overheard Lanie and Ray talking. More of a heated discussion.” I rolled my eyes. “It was her slapping him and saying how she should’ve known he wouldn’t keep a promise that caught my attention.”
“That must’ve been right before she nearly hit me in the parking lot with that fancy silver car of hers.” Evelyn shuffled through some papers.
“Silver car?” I asked and remembered how Ella said they’d almost been run off the road. “Do you know what time that was?”
“That’s why I’m trying to find the paperwork for the event.” She moved more things around on her desk, picking up a few folders and stacking them in another spot. “You know I put all the details on there. Including the date and time.”
“That’s what I need. The time.” My eyes swept over her desk to see if I could see anything with Lanie’s name on it. “How did she act when you talked to her?”
“First, I was shaken up because she came barreling into the parking lot. She didn’t stop at the station, so they were chasing her on the golf cart.” Evelyn pulled open her desk drawers and fumbled through them. She continued to talk and look at the same time. “After that, she told me that she had this big fancy wine convention coming to town and the winery was no longer able to do her event. She needed something fast.” She looked up at me. “She said money was no object and muttered about how it was going to look for her and that no one was going to make her look like a fool. I just assumed it was Tammy Dugan and Giles Dugan she was talking about.”
“Why would you assume that?” I asked.
“No particular reason.” She was lying.
“Oh, there’s a reason.” I put my hand on the desk to get her attention. “I know that people around here gossip. They see the staff here all the time, and the service people start to blend in with the wallpaper. You’ve overheard something.”
The women at the RCC loved to gossip. Especially after a mean game of tennis. They came in for lunch, had a few cocktails, and started chattering. I knew everything about every single person in Rumford when I worked here.
“You know how these women can be.” Her brows lifted. “I’d heard that there was some turmoil over at the winery because Ray Peel had invested in that new restaurant.”
“Café Italia. I’ve been there. What kind of turmoil?” I asked.
“Apparently, Ray hasn’t been the best landlord. According to some of the women, I heard he wasn’t going to upgrade the filtration system that helped process the limestone underground, which was in the lease agreement. Now the lease is up, and he wanted to franchise the restaurant.” This was all very interesting. It made Tammy even more of a suspect. “Ray and Giles had a meeting at the bank. Giles couldn’t pull enough money to put down even fifteen percent to purchase the land.”
“Really? I’d have thought Giles was doing well since the winery was doing well,” I said.
“Honey,” she said, holding up a file in the air, “operating a winery is very expensive. It takes years to even see a salary. It’s not like us. You can bake and get ingredients practically anywhere. The weather, the soil, and a bit of luck are all part of the grape growing process. Especially around here, where it’s all new.” She handed me the file. “I just gave Tammy Dugan’s son a job as a busboy in the restaurant and on the catering staff because he doesn’t even know if he can afford to go to college, much less that fancy one he was accepted into.”
I looked down at the contract between Lanie Truvinski and the RCC. It was a standard contract. Lanie had put down a deposit.
“The day you saw her, when she zoomed into the parking lot, did she seem on edge or nervous? Like she’d just killed someone?”
“No. She was mad, but composed. She said that she didn’t have time to find a new place for the event, and she was scrambling to let the attendees know about the change of venue. In fact, Clarice Covington at the Rumford Bed and Breakfast is letting her use the office there to get everything situated,” she said.
My head jerked up. “She’s staying at the bed and breakfast?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded. “But I don’t think s
he killed anyone. She doesn’t look like she’d get her hands dirty.”
“Can you give me a copy of this?” I asked. “I just want to note the time stamp, that’s all,” I followed up when I saw Evelyn was hesitating.
“Is this something I need to see the sheriff about?” she asked. She reluctantly took the paper and made a copy of it on the printer that sat on the credenza behind her desk.
“No. I don’t think she did it, but I do know that between the time Lanie was at the winery and when she got here, a car was speeding away from the winery. It almost hit Ella Capshaw.” Not that this proves Lanie did anything to Ray, but it does prove she didn’t skip town, which a killer might do.
“You mentioned something about Giles trying to get money to purchase the property.” I couldn’t help but wonder why Giles would kill Ray. Wouldn’t he want Ray alive to keep funding the winery? I understood that Ray was selling, but something wasn’t right. “Do you know where Giles tried to get the money? Which bank?”
“Bank? Who said anything about a bank?” She laughed. “Perry Dugan. I heard that Giles went to his son, and Perry said no.”
My jaw dropped.
“My exact reaction too.” She nodded her head. “Them Dugans are as thick as thieves. But it appears there’s a rift in the family.”
I stood up and folded the copy of the contract, slipping it into my bag.
“I’m sorry about the RCC’s policy about not being able to bring desserts in from outside of our kitchen, but I’m sure you understand.”
“I completely get it.” I thanked her for her time. “Let me know if you hear anything else from these gossiping women.” I winked. “You know how they helped me solve your case. I sure need some information for Madison.”
“I’ll keep an ear out.” She tapped her ear and waved me off.
There wasn’t enough time before the Garden Club meeting for me to go see Lanie and Perry.
It wasn’t until I’d gotten back into my car and headed toward the county line that I realized I was going to see Lanie first. She’d have the freedom to skip town and leave no tracks. Perry was a different story. He had family and roots here. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.