by Maymee Bell
In the morning, just maybe, if I went to Perry’s office early enough, and not too many people were there, I might get a glimpse of that lease agreement.
Chapter Seventeen
The afternoon flew by. I’d gone back to the bakery to get the items for the Garden Club meeting. I was happy to see that Bitsy had taken my advice about the plants and given them to the young moms in the group. She looked a lot happier with herself too. In the end, I wasn’t sure if she really would’ve gone through with her plan to deceive the members of the club because, at the end of the day, we all knew Bitsy wasn’t going to get her hands dirty.
“Good evening, Duchess.” The house was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any more intruders. Duchess greeted me at the door with her normal prancing around my feet. It was her way of telling me that she needed to eat.
A few rubs down her soft white fur was plenty for her before she led the way into the family room and straight into the kitchen, where she meowed a few times next to her empty bowl.
“You’re going to have to watch your weight,” I warned. “Soon you’re due for your annual veterinarian appointment.”
She meowed even louder, as though in protest.
“Okay.” I opened the screen pantry door and got a scoop of her food out of the container where I kept her kibble.
“Hello!” Madison’s voice echoed through the house. “Where are you? Not tied up I hope.”
“I’m in here.” I poured the food into Duchess’s bowl. “I just got home.”
“I was wondering why it was all dark in here.” Madison flipped on a few lights on her way into the house. She melted into the couch and let out a loud sigh. “It’s been a long day.”
“What happened? Not that being a murder suspect isn’t enough.” I turned the oven on and opened the freezer to get some Flip-Flops out.
“About four of my clients broke their housing contracts with me.” Her voice remained steady, and her eyes were closed.
I opened a bottle of pinot noir to go with the sweet treat because it was the perfect combination of sweet and tart.
“Why?” I walked over and handed her a glass of wine.
“Really?” She inspected my face. “Are you serious?”
“I was just hoping for a different reason. That’s all.” I clinked glasses with her. “Operation Merlot.”
The doorbell dinged right before the front door opened.
“Are y’all starting without me?” Charlotte stood in the foyer looking at us. “Or did you have a bad day?”
“Both.” I laughed and walked back into the kitchen to get her glass.
“Make it a big pour.” She tipped the end of the wine bottle that was in my hand to pour more.
“Here, you do it.” I gave her the bottle and finished putting the Flip-Flops into the oven.
Madison joined us. She picked up Duchess and snuggled her tight.
“What would we have done if you’d not come back to Rumford?” Madison moped.
“Lucky for you,” I teased, “we don’t have to answer that question. And now we have some sleuthing to do.”
“Not without me.” Bitsy sashayed into the house with another bottle of wine in her hand. “What was the deal with you and the woman who was staying at the bed and breakfast?” She cut to the chase.
“That was Lanie Truvinski, who is probably long gone by now.” I set the timer on the oven because once we got to gabbing, I didn’t want to forget about the Flip-Flops. I grabbed a piece of chalk off the windowsill and walked over the chalkboard on the pantry door. “Lanie Truvinski and Ray Peel were once an item. They met in business school.” I started to make notes under her name. Then I crossed out her name.
“Why did you do that?” The little bit of hope in Madison’s eyes went dark.
“She slapped Ray because it was just another veiled promise to her that he couldn’t keep. He needed to sell the vineyard for as much as he could get because he was going to franchise Café Italia. That was his lifelong dream, according to her.”
“He still wronged her.” Charlotte zeroed in on the obvious.
“He did, but with the timing of her activities, and Evelyn Moss’ confirmation that they were together, she has a firm alibi.” I wrote “Perry Dugan” on the board.
“What’s up with that pipsqueak?” Bitsy chimed in. “He thinks he’s the best lawyer in town. Robert has had to knock him down a time or two.”
“I need to go see him tomorrow.” I circled his name.
“The cake just needs finishing touches.” Charlotte held her glass in the air. “I made all the macarons while you were playing detective.”
“Great. That means I can go in early to the bakery and get it finished. Lanie mentioned that Ray had to get out of the lease. There was something strange with it.”
“Like what?” Madison asked. “I do lease agreements all the time.”
“I don’t know, but I do know the Dugans keep a lot of their stuff within the family. If I can get my hands on that agreement, we might be on to something.” I looked at the chalkboard.
“And you’re going to do this in the morning when you take Perry the cake?” Bitsy asked.
“My plan is to get there before Perry, get the cake in his office, and then snoop for a minute.” I dragged the wine glass up to my lips. “Or until I find something that points to the lease agreement.”
All four of us jumped when the timer went off.
Chapter Eighteen
The alarm rang too early at four AM. But I knew I had to get Reba’s cake finished and the bakery ready so I could head on over to Perry Dugan’s law firm and get my sleuthing on. That thought propelled me right on out from beneath the warm covers and convinced me not to hit the “Snooze” button.
Thank goodness for an attached garage. I was grateful to not have to scrape my windows when I noticed the frost all over the grass. The cool temps would soon give way to a sunshine-filled day and the warmth of the bakery oven.
My creative juices were flowing as the landscape rushed past the driver’s side window. The light of the moon made the Kentucky bluegrass more of a green and black. The images of a triple-layer chocolate cake with mint icing started to tingle my taste buds. I’d made the dessert one other time, for the wife of the New York City mayor. She’d sent me her mother’s recipe with a beautiful note asking me to make the cake for her mother’s memorial. It was the end of the note that touched me. She gave me permission to duplicate the cake anytime I wanted to. That’s when I called her up and thanked her, telling her I’d call it Mama’s Mint Chocolate Love. She was delighted.
I circled Main Street a couple of times to check out the bakery and make sure everything looked safe before I parked in the alley. The lights buzzed on, and the kitchen came to life. I’m not sure how to explain how my creative mind worked, but I could see the lively kitchen as I filled orders, and all the customers in the bakery were ready to order their special dessert. Despite the recent vandalism, I couldn’t help but feel safe in my bakery. It was my sanctuary.
I went through my usual routine of flipping the lights on, starting the coffeepots, taking out the frozen pastries that would line the glass counter once the sign on the door was flipped, and I put Reba’s blue cake on the counter to thaw so I could pour that melted chocolate over it before I strategically placed the macarons.
The Small Talk Café dark roast coffee I was going to feature today had a rich smell that filled the room. The warm brew was the perfect choice to rush away the cold and frosty morning. As I sipped on my first steaming cup, I grabbed the ingredients to make the white chocolate mint frosting for Mama’s Mint Chocolate Love.
There were two types of butter I baked with: softened to room temperature and very cold. Both had different purposes when it came to baking. In this particular recipe, I used the room temperature butter because it folded better with the heavy cream, peppermint extract, mini chocolate chips, and green food dye that made the icing such a nice green.
I’
d only ever made it as a cake before, but today I decided to feature the recipe as cupcakes. It wasn’t a smart business idea to create a cake right off the bat when I wasn’t sure how the folks around here would like the taste. Offering Mama’s Mint Chocolate Love in cupcake form was not only a perfect mini bite, but the color would go very nicely with the color scheme of the bakery window when I displayed them in a fancy cake holder dome.
My phone chirped a message and brought me out of my head. I pulled it out of my pocket. The good morning message from Carter made me smile. He wanted to make sure I was safe and that the bakery hadn’t been vandalized again. I quickly texted back that it was fine, and I was busy making Reba’s cake.
The next text I got from him was the photo he’d promised to send me of the half brick that’d been thrown through the display window. I glanced over to the floor where I’d found the brick, and it must’ve hit a nerve because my feelings from that morning rose up inside of me. With my fingers on my phone screen, I blew up the picture and took a good long look at the strange coloring of the brick. It was definitely a red brick that’d been whitewashed. Most of the houses in Rumford were Cape Cods with wood siding.
I made a good mental note of the photo and slipped my phone into my back pocket. Soon the bakery ovens were buzzing, and the bell over the door dinged with customers coming in for a quick donut to start their day. I even took a few orders for cakes to be picked up later in the week.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what a typical morning would look like if my mind weren’t somewhere else. I rubbed my hand over my back pocket, remembering the photo of the brick on my phone.
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte was busy with baking the new orders and holding down the fort. Meanwhile, I finished Reba’s cake just in time to deliver it to Perry’s office, with the intention of snooping a smidgen.
At the four-way stop on Main Street in downtown, the Rumford National Bank was opposite what used to be the old medical building, where the local family doctor, pediatrician, dentist, and a couple of specialty doctors had their offices. After the new medical annex with an emergency room had been built on the outskirts of town, the old medical building became available. That’s when the real estate office that Madison worked for relocated there, and Perry Dugan rented an office for his law firm.
I was driving the bakery van because I had more desserts to deliver to the Garden Club, and it made me feel better telling myself that I was really delivering a client’s cake instead of snooping, just in case Carter asked. I’d been there a few times before with Madison, because she was the real estate agent for my house. This was where we’d done the closing. Plus, the bank was right there, and Bob Bellman, the loan officer from the Rumford First National Bank, could just walk over for the closing.
I didn’t care how long ago the doctors had vacated the building. The horrible smell of fluoride and plastic bibs the dentist used was still in the air, or at least still in the walls. It brought back the terrible memories of Bitsy bringing me here to get all my cavities filled. That was another strike Bitsy had against me being a baker. No doubt I’d been pretty gifted at baking when I was young, but I was still a child and had eaten what I’d baked—and most often forgotten to brush my teeth afterward.
The real estate office took up the entire first floor. The second floor had Perry’s office and an accountant’s office. I climbed the stairs and held on to both sides of the cake box. It was three layers of yummy chocolate and very heavy. The last thing I needed was to drop this cake.
Perry’s law office was through the first door on the right as soon as you got up the stairs, and the only sign was the small gold plate screwed onto the wall. It was simple. Lucky for me, the doorknob was the hook type, so I could simply use my elbow to push it down and open the door with my hip.
“Can I help you?” The face of the woman behind the counter lit up. That was my cue to throw on the charm.
“Hi,” I smiled and walked over with the beautiful cake box held in front of me. It was worth the extra expense to purchase the cake boxes with the side windows so everyone could see what was inside. “I’m Sophia Cummings, the owner of the new bakery in town, For Goodness Cakes, and Mr. Dugan ordered a cake to be delivered today.”
“I’ll take it.” She stood up and put her hands out over the desk. “Mr. Dugan had an early court appointment this morning, but I’ll leave it on his desk.”
“That’s so sweet of you, but he paid a lot of money for this cake, and I’d feel a lot better if I could just stick it in his office. That way I’ll know if anything happens to it, it’ll be my fault.” Taking the blame for something yet to happen was an infallible way of getting people on your side.
“Are you sure?” the lady asked. The phone rang. “I do have to get the phone. His office is three doors down on the left.” She pointed and grabbed the phone.
“Perfect,” I whispered, like I was giving her some privacy to answer the call. Please, please, please let me find that lease agreement quickly, I thought, mentally counting the doors as I walked past them.
The door was cracked open, and I used the toe of my shoe to push it open wider. It was a typical lawyer’s office, or what I imagined one would look like. A wall of shelves held rows and rows of books. A minibar tempted me as a possible solution to my nerves. Then there were the desk and filing cabinet in the corner of the room.
After I carefully set the cake on the desk, I zeroed in on the cabinet. The drawers were labeled alphabetically on the outside. I ran my finger down the cabinet until I got to the G’s, looking for Grape Valley Winery. The drawer pulled out long, and the tabs of the folders clicked when I dragged my finger across the top of them.
“Good boy,” I said, happy with Perry’s straightforward filing system, and I grinned when my finger stopped on the folder tab with “Grape Valley Winery” typed on it. “Let’s see this agreement.”
The file had the typical lease agreement, but an amendment caught my attention.
I scanned the paper and got to the good stuff: “In the case of death, the lessee, Giles Dugan, has the first opportunity to purchase the land.”
I read it again to make sure I understood what I was reading. If Ray Peel died, the Dugans got the chance to buy the land.
“Here’s the motive,” I gasped and grabbed my phone from my back pocket. “Carter is going to freak.” I snapped a few photos of the file and immediately sent them to him. “Here is your proof that Madison didn’t kill Ray,” I said as I typed.
I could suddenly hear the shuffling and murmuring sounds of people coming down the hallway. I shoved the file back in place and shut the cabinet, leaving the file in it for Carter to retrieve. For a second, I wondered if I should take the cake back with me, but I left it there and scurried out of the office.
“You find it okay?” The receptionist asked me on my way out the door.
“All good,” I said, waving over my shoulder and pushing open the door.
“Hey!” I ran into Madison at the end of the stairs. “What are you doing?” She looked past me and over my shoulder.
My phone rang, and I took it out of my pocket, thinking it was Carter. It wasn’t. It was the phone number I had for the Fords.
“The Fords.” I showed Madison the screen and hit the green button. “Mrs. Ford?”
“Who is this?” The crackle of an aged old lady’s voice came through the phone.
“It’s Sophia Cummings. You called me. Or are you calling me back?” I asked, a bit confused.
“Sophia.” There was switch to a joyous tone. “I was scrolling through this fancy caller ID box, and I didn’t recognize the number.”
“You didn’t get my message?” I asked.
“Honey, we don’t know how to use all the new technology. Our phone hangs on our kitchen wall, and it’s all I know how to use,” she said, laughing. It brought back so many memories. There wasn’t a time I’d gone to the bakery that Mrs. Ford wasn’t smiling, giving away cookies and
treats. Her laughter was just as much a part of the bakery as the wonderful smells their fabulous creations filled the air with.
“Mrs. Ford, I called because I found a journal at the bakery after I bought the building.” I looked at Madison and crossed my fingers in the air. “It’s filled with your recipes, and I wanted to know if I could use your Long Johns recipe. Of course, I’d give all the credit to you, but I just wanted to ask first.”
“Honey, that journal is very old. I’ve perfected that donut since that journal was written. If you come by the house, I’ll give you the new recipe, and you can use it all you want.” Her words were music to my ears. “I’d love to see the community enjoy our treats again. You have my full permission to start making them again.”
“That’s wonderful. Can I stop by in about an hour? I have to drop something off at the Garden Club meeting, and then I’ll be over.” I nodded to Madison. She bounced on the balls of her feet and silently clapped her hands together.
Mrs. Ford gave me her address, which was out in the country, and we hung up.
“That’s great news!” Madison cheered after I put my phone back in my pocket.
“That’s not the only great news I’ve got.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her into her office. “You aren’t going to believe this.” I pulled my phone out and clicked through my photos. “Close your door.”
I wasn’t about to take any chances of someone hearing me. Especially someone who was associated with the Dugans.
“What is it?” Madison looked at the photo. Her face scrunched up.
“It’s a photo of the lease agreement between Ray Peel and Giles Dugan. It’s the Dugans’ motive for killing him.” I felt like I could take a nice deep breath, and all was going to be all right with the world.
“What?” She grabbed the phone out of my hands and zoomed in on the photo.
“It says that the Dugans get the chance to purchase the property if Ray dies. Ray wasn’t going to renew the lease. He just so happens to get murdered hours before the lease agreement ran out? Coincidence?” I asked.