Bake Off

by S. Y. Robins

  She scoffed. "Why do you care about that?"

  "I still... I still care about him. I mean, enough to not want to see him get convicted of murder."

  "Well you can't have cared that much seeing as you left him here, on our last day of school. So you could go off and be a fancy journalist."

  There it was again. That feeling in the pit of my stomach. Guilt. But not over Cassandra's death this time.

  * * *

  "Thanks for the lift," Joy said, climbing out in front of her house. I took a quick eyeball of the place. The house itself seemed neat and tidy but I noticed the front lawn was overgrown. She lived away from the ocean, out from the main part of town as well, in the less touristy, less expensive part of town.

  I decided to climb out after her, hoping she might ask me to come inside. After all, I still hadn't gotten any info out of her. If she didn't have anything to do with Cassandra's death, she shouldn't have had any trouble telling me where she'd been the night before.

  No such offer was forthcoming. "Well," she said, turning. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, I guess."

  "Tomorrow?" I was confused.

  "The re-match of the Cheesecake Competition."

  I groaned inwardly. Why was I being punished like this? If only I'd chosen a different winner.

  Deciding to be blunt, I blurted out. "So is that why you did it then? So that we'd have to have a re-match? So that you could win?"

  She rolled her eyes. "You think you know everything these days, don't you?"

  "Not everything. But I know you had the biggest motive for killing Cassandra."

  "Yeah, well, I was down at the bar last night. You can ask anyone who saw me there." She shot me a look.

  I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Joy, I just want to know what happened. I'm not... accusing you. I'm just doing my job."

  She softened, slightly. She took a step closer to me and lowered her voice, almost to a whisper. "You do know where Cassandra was found, don't you?"

  I shrugged. "Out down near the ocean. So?"

  Cassandra shivered and looked around, before turning back to me with a raised eyebrow. "She was found right outside of that cabin... the Witch's Cabin."

  "Joy that's ridiculous." My tone was flat and I cocked my head to the side.

  Joy shrugged. "Is it?" She turned and looked far away into the distance, in the direction of the sea. "I always knew there was something creepy about that place."

  3

  The drive back to Mom's house took me straight back past the so-called haunted cabin. ‘The Witches Cabin’ we had called it when we were all in fifth grade. Obviously, it all seemed ridiculous now that we were grown up - and especially now that I had spent twelve years away from Curtain Bay. Geez, this town could be so damn superstitious - imagine, being twenty-nine years old, like Joy was, and still thinking the place was cursed.

  Still, I felt a chill go through my body as I sped past the decaying cabin, as quickly as I could without driving the bus off a cliff. I told myself the chill I'd felt was down to the power of suggestion. Plus, the fact that someone had apparently died right out front the previous night. That was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.

  My intention had been to drive back home and try to take a break from the entire thing - maybe get some rest before the dreaded cheesecake rematch the following day -, but I found the bus drifting not up the hill to my old house, but down the hill in the other direction. Towards Robert's old house. Not that he'd still live there, I told myself.

  Still, before I could psych myself out, I parked the bus and climbed out, slamming the door behind me. I think I was trying to give forewarning of my arrival - to allow whoever was inside the dignity of at least pretending they weren't home, once they saw it was me.

  My hand was poised to knock, when the door was pulled back. Robert stood there, with that same ‘I can't believe it’s you’ expression on his face. He sighed. "Allison, what do you want?"

  "Oh - I-" I looked around, peering behind him. "You still live here then? You still live at home?" I accidentally pulled a face. Not that I should be judging. After all, I'd just moved back home myself. But I'd at least moved away. Robert had stayed put in the same house for thirty years by the looks of it. I tried to quell the judgemental thoughts, but they raced through my brain. Did his Mom still do his washing for him? Cook all his meals? Pick his clothes out for him in the morning?

  "Yeah, I bought this place off Mom and Dad when they moved away," he replied flatly.

  "Oh."

  "Did you want something?"

  I reached into my bag and pulled out a pen and notepad, trying to make it all look official. "It's just that I'm writing a story about what happened...it started as just a story on the festival, but now it's taken on, um, something of a more interesting turn..." I smiled, trying to pull an apologetic face. He remained stony, unmoved. Oh my God, he really was not happy to see me back in town. Could I really blame him?

  "What do you want to talk to me for?" Robert asked, still making no move to indicate that I could come inside.

  "Well, because you found Cassandra's body."

  No response.

  "Didn't you?"

  "Yeah, and that's all I did." He tried to pull the door shut. "I don't know anything about it except for that. Goodbye Allison."

  "Wait!" I put my foot in between the door and the doorframe, to stop it from closing on me. "Just one thing. One question. Please." I looked at him, pleading, trying to say 'come on, for old time's sake.'

  He sighed. "Fine. One question."

  I hesitated for a second, knowing that what I was about to say was going to sound silly. Beyond silly, even. "It's just... the location. Where you found Cassandra..."

  He made a frustrated face. "It was down by the ocean."

  "Yes - but was it... oh God, this is going to sound stupid. Was it - out the front of the Witch's Cabin?"

  "The what?"

  I could have sworn I saw the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. The first sign of life on his face since I'd been back in town.

  "The - you know, the Witch's Cabin." My voice was practically down to a whisper by that point. "Come on Robert, you know we all used to call it that."

  He burst out laughing and I leaned back in shock.

  "What? What's so funny?"

  "I can't believe you just called it that. I haven't heard anyone call it that in fifteen years." His head was almost thrown back with laughter.

  "Alright, alright, calm down." I let out a small laugh myself. "Come on! I know it's ridiculous..."

  Robert finished laughing and looked at me; his face still crinkled up in amusement. "You never actually believed that place was haunted, did you?"

  "Come on," I said, teasing. "We all did! When we were kids of course. Remember how scared we all were to even go near it? How we used to dare each other to go inside?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "You never did, as I recall."

  I blushed, feeling a little embarrassed. "I was scared!" It was true - out of all of us; I'd been the one who was most afraid of going near the cabin.

  "Look at you now though," Robert said. "Now you're an investigative reporter. I bet you're not scared of anything."

  I was completely silent for a moment. "Yep," I said, flatly. "Not a thing."

  He put his hands into his pockets, and we stood there for a moment, in silence. Was he thinking the same things I was?

  "So-" he said, interrupting the silence. "What were you asking that for?" He frowned. "I mean, yeah, that's where it happened..." his voice had turned serious again. "I found her lying there, out the front of that old cabin. The Witch's Cabin."

  "Oh." I could feel the look of fear take hold of my face as I tried to fight it off.

  "What?" Robert asked. "You don't seriously think that the cabin had anything to do with her death?"

  I shook my head quickly. "No. It's just - it's just a little weird, that's all."

  Robert eyed me up. "I thought you w
ere supposed to be a reporter." Then, with an even more jaded edge to his voice, he added, "I thought you were above all this small-town superstition, as well. Thought you were too sophisticated for all of that now."

  I wrapped my arms across my chest, feeling protective. "I don't think I'm too sophisticated," I said defensively.

  "Sure."

  Well, if he was going to be like that, I felt like pushing my luck with him, asking him another question about Cassandra's death. "So what were you doing out there at 4am in the morning then?"

  "How is that any of your business?"

  "I'm writing-"

  "Yeah, yeah, you're writing a story..." he shook his head, looking up towards the sky. "Seems to me like you're a little too worried about what I was doing with Cassandra."

  "What were you doing? You still haven't answered. Were you seeing her?"

  "I don't have to answer that."

  "So yes then."

  "It's none of your business Allison, not anymore," he said matter-of-factly.

  "Okay well, thanks for your help," I said, turning to go. "I'll leave you alone, seeing as the sight of me obviously annoys you so much." I turned quickly on my heels and stomped back towards the bus.

  "Allison, wait-" he tried to call out, but I was up the steps and turning the engine before he had a chance to stop me.

  * * *

  Back home, Mom made me a cup of tea and I explained the situation to her.

  "Oh dear..." she murmured, pouring hot water from the spout into the floral patterned cup on the table. "It sounds like Robert was responsible, doesn't it?"

  I reached over and put both hands around the cup, hoping that the warmth would do more than just take the chill away from my hands. I'd forgotten the chill that came in the evening, living this side of the coast. It blew in every afternoon at this time during the fall, leaving the un-acclimatised like me reaching for the blankets. But it wasn't just the weather leaving me feeling like this. There was a chill inside I couldn't shake.

  There was something else I couldn't shake. Some stubborn belief I was sticking to that said Robert couldn't have been responsible for Cassandra's death. I just knew him too well. Okay, had known him too well, past tense. But still - the seventeen-year-old boy I'd been in love with twelve years ago couldn't have done this. I just knew it.

  "So what did Cheryl say then?" I asked, taking a sip. "I know you’ve gotten the goss from her. Of course, it would be better if I could just ask the police myself - for my story of course - but they won't talk to me." Especially when they found out I wasn't really a journalist.

  Mom sat down next to me. "They're still not sure about the cause of death, but it seems like a strangling."

  I paused mid sip. There was no way Robert could be responsible. I just knew it.

  "It's not looking good for Robert..." Mom murmured, absentmindedly taking a sip of tea. "After all, he found her, and what was he doing out there at 4am?"

  "I don't know," I said, feeling a little annoyed about anyone jumping to that conclusion. "He might not have done it, you know."

  She looked surprised. "Who else then?"

  I shrugged. "One of the other bakers. Joy, Mrs. Kennedy, the third runner up. Gary – Mr. Sherman, you remember, from school? - told me that everyone was outraged that Cassandra won. He told me that Joy even threatened to kill Cassandra!"

  Mom raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'd better make a more informed decision tomorrow when you re-judge the competition."

  I groaned. "Don't remind me."

  "Do you really think Joy did it?"

  I gave a little nod. "Yeah, maybe. Otherwise, it was a ghost." I was half joking, but as I said it, I realised how much I was starting to buy into that idea. What if something creepy was happening up in that cabin? Maybe something had possessed both Robert and Cassandra that night.

  Oh, I really was being silly. So desperate to come up with an alibi for Robert that I was believing ghost stories.

  "What do you mean a ghost?" Mom blurted out.

  "Oh, nothing," I said. "Never mind."

  4

  Joy pushed her way to the front of the judging panel and looked at me expectantly as I took a bite. "Well?" She asked.

  I shot her a look as I tried to swallow the mouthful of her cheesecake I was struggling with. It was an unusual choice for a cheesecake recipe; it was "Mint Oreo" - a peppermint cream base with Oreo chunks mixed throughout and a crushed Oreo base. Not that it wasn't good - it was actually delicious. It just wasn't a traditional choice. And after the events that followed my last judgement, I was going to be careful about my choice of winner. Most of the other contestants had delivered safer choices like key lime, lemon, vanilla, or cappuccino flavour.

  She looked at me expectantly, as though I should declare her the winner right there and then. She HAD been first runner up the previous time, so she probably thought she had it in the bag this time around.

  But I wasn't sure. I tried to ignore her and moved to my left to try the next one. It was Mr. Sherman's and he smiled warmly as I bent over and took a bite of his chocolate cheesecake. Mmm. Perfect creamy consistency. Sweet, but not overly so - the right amount of bite from the cream cheese was coming through, and there was a touch of bitterness to the dark chocolate crust to balance it out. Delicious.

  I caught myself. Geez, Allison, since when were you ever so into cheesecakes? One week back in this town and you're turning into one of them again. I reassured myself that I was only taking extra care because last time my decision had led to a possible murder.

  "Okay," I announced, after some deliberation. "Everyone - I have come to my decision! The winner - the NEW winner of the Curtain Bay Cheesecake Competition is..."

  The crowd waited expectantly, Joy, especially, practically on her tip toes jumping up and down.

  "...Mr. Sherman!" I exclaimed. "That is - Gary Sherman!"

  "Oh my," he gushed, looking around as the crowd applauded. It looked as though I had chosen a popular winner this time. Not totally by accident mind. Mr. Sherman had always been one of the most popular teachers at high school, so I knew no one would riot over this competition. Plus, his chocolate cheesecake had been the best of the batch.

  "How could you?" Joy asked, as I climbed down off the podium.

  "Joy don't take it personally."

  "I should have won! I was runner up last time!" She was in a total huff, swinging her arms around, carrying on like the greatest injustice in the world had just befallen her.

  She kept on moaning. "With Cassandra dead, I should have just been handed the crown! I thought I would be!" She stopped and stared at me with eyes wide, like she'd said too much.

  I raised an eyebrow. "You thought you would, hey?" I stepped in close to her. "Is that why you did it then?"

  She glared at me. "Don't be stupid. I wouldn't sink that low."

  "You threatened to kill her! Mr. Sherman heard you!"

  "Yeah, well, I'll kill him too if he thinks his cheesecake is better than mine!"

  "Joy!"

  She crossed her arms. "What are you gonna do about it, Miss So-Called journalist? Who are you to even judge this competition, anyway?" She shot me a look. "I know what happened to you in the city. I know why you're really back here."

  "What - how - what are you talking about?" I stumbled over my words. How could Joy know anything about what had happened to me?

  "Yeah, I just didn't say anything ‘cos I thought we were close friends. But seems you don't care about that. Stripping me of my title, accusing me of murder."

  "Joy I didn't do either of those things."

  "And you're just a big fake." She looked me up and down with a snotty expression. "I don't know who you think you are to come back here and judge us." She pushed past me and stomped off out of the fairground, and I was left there, alone, with nothing but a piece of Gary's cheesecake for company.

  * * *

  "What's up with Joy these days, anyway?" I asked, as Robert and I headed up the hill.

&n
bsp; "Why do you care?"

  "For crying out loud!" I shouted, finally losing my patience. "I DO care, okay? Stop with these jibes. All of you."

  "It's only me here," he pointed out.

  "Well, everyone has been having a go at me. But especially you," I pointed out. "I DO care, Robert, I always did."

  "Yeah, that's why you took off."

  I let out a sigh, as we kept climbing, closer and closer to the Witch's Cabin. "Ever wonder if it's because I cared too much?" I muttered.

  "Someone who cares too much actually visits once in a while. They don't avoid the town they grew up in for twelve years."

  "They do if it hurts too much," I said under my breath, not really wanting him to hear.

  "You should just be grateful I'm accompanying you to the cabin." Robert gave me a look out of the corner of his eye as we both trudged up the steep hill. "After all, you're too scared to go there on your own." His tone was teasing, now.

  "Shut up, I am not." We kept walking for a moment. "Anyway, you didn't answer me. What's up with Joy? I don't remember her getting so hung up on things. She's really taking this cheesecake defeat to heart."

  Robert shrugged, looking like he didn't really want to answer. "I guess things have just been tough on her since her husband passed away."

  "Oh my God..." I murmured. "I didn't know."

  "Why would you? You never asked, never came back."

  I swallowed, my throat tight and dry. I felt bad for how harsh I'd been on Joy. Still, my investigative skills had kicked in. Joy had suffered a recent trauma. She might not be in a good place. She could have snapped and killed Cassandra. After all, she had been furious both times she'd lost the title.

  "Here we are," Robert said. "After you."

  He opened the door. I looked around the dusty old cobweb-filled cabin and took a deep breath.

  * * *

  Robert placed a hand on my shoulder, clearly realising I was in danger of hyperventilating. "It's okay," he said.