by S. Y. Robins
“Well, he did give you the money for the shop when you needed it.”
“Yeah, guilt money for not being there the last twenty plus years of my life.”
Imani was silent for a while, “I’m sorry all this is happening. I love Hot Stuff. It’s like our home. Hopefully, things will turn around.”
They talked a little more and then abruptly Sandy asked, “Did the news say what happened? I mean, how did he die? It wasn’t like an allergy or something was it?” Sandy said, scared that just maybe even though it was far-fetched it could have been something she put in the cake that had made him sick.
“Wow. You really know absolutely nothing---”
“Just tell me.” Sandy said testily.
“Penicillin. It was penicillin poisoning. He was severely allergic to it.”
“Oh thank God, for a second there I thought it was the cayenne pepper.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Anyway, that’s what happened.”
“So did he not know he was allergic to penicillin?”
“What are you talking about Sandy? Of course he knew! And apparently so did whomever killed him.”
“Oh no, so it was murder.”
“That’s what the police think.”
“So do they have any suspects?”
“Not that I know of. Listen, hon. I gotta run. Like literally, I have a client coming in a few minutes and I plan to torture him by running a brisk three miles up hill with him in tow.” Imani was moonlighting as a personal trainer while deciding if she wanted to open a bakery of her own or not. The irony that a person who used to make decadent baked goods for a living, was also one of the fittest persons Sandy ever met wasn’t wasted on her. She swore either Imani had amazing genes or she did a million crunches and pushups a day to make up for all the calories she consumed sampling icing and cakes all day.
As soon as she hung up, Sandy placed her hands on her hips and looked out at the empty lobby. Not a soul in sight, she thought sadly to herself. She busied herself looking over recipes and finally the familiar ring of the bell over the door sounded and she sat up with a gracious smile on her face.
“Welcome to Hot Stuff,” she said to her first guest of the day who looked like a kid. Knowing that the university wasn’t far, she assumed that this young lady in front of her was visiting from there. She was pretty in an old-school way. She had an hour glass figure much like Sandy’s, but had very fine blonde hair that she kept pulled back in a sloppy pony-tail. Whisks of her hair kept escaping and popped out around her head. She had on dark red lipstick and her eyes were a very light shade of blue. She reminded Sandy of an old Hollywood star, something about her was very Marilyn Monroe like, although she wore plain, fitted dark green jeans with a tattered Pink Floyd t-shirt.
“What can I get you?”
“I saw the Now Hiring sign out front. I’m a student from the university.” She then turned as if searching for something and said, “Is this the place where that guy was murdered?”
Sandy flinched and said, “He had a bad reaction to penicillin, so he wasn’t exactly murdered.”
“Hmm...” the youth said with a shrug, “So you still hiring?”
Sandy wanted to say no, but who knew who else would be interested in the position. Her town was small; apparently America thought her shop fed people poisoned food. She would take any help she could get, especially if she wanted to do a little investigating on her own.
“When can you start?” she asked the girl.
Surprised the girl gave her a wide smile, “Umm whenever.”
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Sandy, by the way.”
“Katherine, but my friends call me Kat.”
“Well, care to join me in the kitchen, Kat?”
“You mean actually baking?” she said in shock, “I thought I would be like you know, ringing up customers and like cleaning out the display.”
“You will among other things...”
She shrugged and said, “I’m game.”
Two hours later, Kat had assembled her first cupcake made from scratch. It was an odd flavored cupcake, to be honest.
It was a caramel cupcake, with caramel buttercream icing, garnished by bits of jalapeno bacon sprinkled with a pinch of salt. It was a play on a salty caramel cupcake and Sandy was impressed by Kat’s creativity even though she herself wouldn’t have come up with such a concoction.
“This is delicious. No wonder Old Carver was interested in this place.” Kat said licking her fingers as she devoured her creation.
“Old Carver?”
“Yeah, that dude who died here. He taught at the university. He was like a guest lecturer or something. Everyone tried to sign up for his class because he was famous and all that. But he couldn’t keep students in it because he was so full of himself.”
“What did he teach?”
“Some class about film and television. I don’t know. I didn’t take it. I’m a forensic science major.”
“Hence, why you’re here,” Sandy guessed.
Kat shrugged sheepishly, “What can I say? I’m interested in all things macabre.”
“Well, despite your motivation for being here, you made a pretty darn tasty cupcake. If you want to stick around, I would love to make you a part of the team.”
Kat beamed, “It’s a deal.”
At five, Sandy reluctantly told Kat that they should close up shop. Not one person had come in and Sandy feared her shop’s reputation might be tainted forever.
“Well, this sucks,” Kat said as she took off her apron and folded it up. “This doesn’t look too good in terms of job security.”
Sandy nodded in agreement, “You’re so right. It looks pretty bleak for both of us.”
Kat said, “And there’s nothing really you can do besides tweeting and going on social media saying, ‘It was penicillin! Not my cupcakes!’ Everyone’s going to avoid this place like the plague.”
Sandy waved bye to Kat, but she knew she was right. Unless she proved that Old Carver’s death had nothing to do with her shop, her business was doomed.
3
“So he could have been poisoned at any time during that day, correct?” Sandy pried from Detective Roonie who looked bored.
“Yeah,” he said reluctantly.
“So anyone could have poisoned him?”
“Yeah, but not everyone had a motive.”
“Do you suspect anyone?”
“Do you really expect me to tell you that?”
Sandy shrugged, “It was worth a try.”
Detective Roonie moved to walk away and Sandy followed behind him. She had left directly from her shop to find him and when she did, she had pretty much cornered him in the parking lot, pleading for him to talk to her. He told her she had two minutes. She was trying to make the best of it.
“Your two minutes are up.” He moved to unlock his car.
“Please, wait! My shop is in danger of closing down because of this, this...crime! And a man died. Don’t you feel at least a little inclined to help me?”
He sighed, “Listen, I have enough pressure to solve this case. I really don’t need a little baker involved.”
Sandy took offense at the little baker comment since she was all of five feet tall. “I’m just asking for help. Or let me help. I bet you’re understaffed and need assistance. I can help!”
“This investigation is a police affair. No offense, but I doubt you would be useful.” And then without another word, he got into his car and drove away.
Sandy stepped away from his car as it pulled off. What Detective Roonie didn’t know was that Sandy already had a plan to start investigating on her own.
* * *
“Ms. Pepper, thank you so much for coming to see me today,” Dean Winters said as Sandy and her grandmother sat across from the Dean. “I hear that you’re looking to make a sizeable donation to our department.”
“Yes, can you tell me mo
re about your student body,” Grandma Pepper said with false interest.
As the Dean droned on about the campus climate, Sandy pretended that there was a tickle in her throat and began to cough loudly.
“I’m sorry,” she said between coughs, “I think I just need to get some water.”
“Oh yes,” the Dean said standing up immediately, “There’s a break room right down the hall.”
“Thanks,” Sandy said giving her grandmother a meaningful look before disappearing through the door. It had been surprisingly easy to convince her grandmother to play the role of a donor in order to get access to the university. She had jumped at the chance for adventure when Sandy had solicited her help, saying, “Of course, love, I’ll do it. Your father can’t have all the fun.”
So they had come up with a plan in which her grandmother would keep the Dean busy while Sandy snooped through the late Dr. Jenson’s office. It was easy to find, after all, Kat had given her all the information she needed.
Truth be told, she didn’t know how she was actually going to get into the professor’s office. She had spent most of the evening watching how to pick locks on YouTube and just hoped she was a quick study. But when she rounded the corner down from Dean Winters' office she found Carver’s office door unlocked. Congratulating herself for her good luck she went in and promptly closed the door.
She figured Carver’s office was the best place to get clues about his life. She was hoping for something at least to point her in the right direction. She opened up drawers, scanned the photos on his desk, and used her phone to take pictures of the photos she found. There wasn’t much to be seen besides a note and a few papers. It appeared as if Carver didn’t use his desk all that much. Sandy assumed that was because he spent most of his time shooting shows in L.A. She then spotted a flash drive that was sitting in a peculiar place. It was deposited in the base of a flower pot that was dead. If it weren’t for the fact that she was leaning in the direction, she would have never seen it. She reached for it and stared at it, wondering if it had anything important on it. It had initials carved on the side, CFC. Hmmm? What’s CFC? She wondered. She was so deep in thought at the time that she didn’t notice the door opening.
“Excuse me, who are you?” said a tall slender blonde woman who had to be in her mid-forties. Not that she looked it. Her body could have made a twenty year old ashamed. The only thing that gave away her age were her eyes and the smile lines around her mouth.
“I’m ummm one of his student assistants,” Sandy said thinking fast. “I just came in here to see if he finished grading papers. His replacement wanted information about the class.”
The woman nodded, apparently convinced by Sandy’s lie. “Oh ok, I’m Melanie Jenson. Carver’s wife.”
“Wife?” Sandy said in surprise. Not once had anyone mentioned that he was married.
“Yes. Well, Carver and I were separated, but legally we’re still married.” She said, somewhat absently looking around the room that was devoid of any sense that an individual actually used it.
“You’re here to get the rest of his belongings?”
“I am. Would you mind helping me? Would that be too much to ask?” She said and Sandy again couldn’t believe her good luck. This would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about Carver’s life. Hoping that she wouldn’t run into Dean Winters, Sandy readily agreed and helped Melanie take a few boxes that she hadn’t noticed earlier to Melanie’s car. Sandy noticed a picture on the pile of boxes. It was a young man, maybe in his early twenties with a young child about five with him.
“Not to be rude, but is this your son? I mean, you look way too young to have a son in his twenties, but...?” Sandy let her voice trail off.
“Yes, that’s Jasper. My stepson.” She said somewhat tensely, “And that’s my granddaughter.” Her tone changed when she mentioned her.
“She’s adorable.”
“Thank you. I wish I could see her more...” she let her voice trail off and her face became closed as she led Sandy to her car.
Sandy sensing that there was more to the story said, “I’m sorry about your husband’s death. I know this must be hard for you.”
She didn’t say a word for a second, but Sandy saw her eyes seem to mist over, “It is. Even though we were separated, it’s still hard.”
“There’s a cafe around the corner. You look like you could use a sympathetic ear. And I don’t mind listening...I know I’m a stranger, but...”
She looked ready to say no and Sandy knew she was reaching, but then suddenly Melanie nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for asking. Just a few minutes away from all these memories would be great.”
Cheering on the inside, Sandy said, “Great. It’s walking distance.” After everything was in the car, she and Melanie started walking down the street and Sandy surreptitiously glanced behind her as she saw her grandmother come out and look in her direction with a quizzical look. “I’ll be back,” she mouthed and her grandmother gave her a thumbs up, slid on a pair of shades and walked to her own car.
“So how long were you two married?” Sandy said as they sat at the quaint cafe in the small town. It was known for its milkshakes so Sandy had convinced Melanie to order one. They made chitchat as they waited.
“About ten years. We met when Jasper, his son, was ten. It was pretty stereotypical really. I was the nanny and in Jasper’s mind that made me the villain when I married his father.”
“Why? Did you guys have a weird relationship before that?”
“He adored me. But as soon as his dad was interested in me, all of a sudden he turned on me. I guess he just really didn’t want his mom to be replaced. They lost her to cancer a year before I came in as the nanny.”
Sandy nodded, “Yeah, it’s hard to lose a loved one. I lost my mother really young too. I don’t remember her though. I was raised by my grandmother. My father wasn’t in the picture much.”
She nodded, “I can identify. I was raised by a single mom, but I never even met my father. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I married Carver. He was older and just seemed so important. When I met him, I thought he was so regal. So different from every other guy I met in L.A. He was intelligent, well-spoken and he just swept me off my feet.”
“So what happened?” Sandy asked, hoping that the question wasn’t too personal and apparently it was as Melanie shrugged and said, “People grow apart.”
“Well, at least you have your granddaughter to keep his memory alive.”
She shrugged and then their waiter appeared with their shakes.
With surprise in her voice, Melanie said, “Gosh, this is good!”
“I told you.”
She seemed thoughtful as she said sadly, “I don’t know if I’ll ever see my granddaughter again. Jasper probably has her convinced that I’m Satan Incarnate.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Sandy said taking a sip of her shake.
“Oh, it is. Especially now that Carver’s dead. Jasper thinks I want money and fame when he’s the one who’s bitter because his father didn’t get him into the business.” Melanie said and then took another slurp, this time with more force.
“Jasper wanted to be on television?” Sandy asked carefully, not wanting to sound too interested.
“Sort of. He had this script that he had written and he figured with his father’s connections that it could be made into a movie. When that didn’t pan out, he blamed his father. He accused him of ruining his life, first by marrying me and then by not helping further his career.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, and now because of that, I’ll never see Sarah.” She said the last part with a stricken look.
“Sarah’s your granddaughter?”
She nodded, “When Carver and I separated, I begged Jasper to still let me see Sarah. I’m not sure why I even bothered. He just laughed at me and said he didn’t want Sarah around either of us.” Melanie shook her head.
“The worst part is that he’s in town. Staying at the s
ame hotel as I am. I’m not sure how he heard about Carver, but he was here even before I was. And when Sarah spotted me she ran to give me a hug, but Jasper stopped her. It was heartbreaking.” Melanie quickly grabbed a napkin and wiped at her eyes. Sandy’s mind was stuck on the fact that Jasper had been in town before Melanie. How long had Jasper been in town? But she knew how she could find out.
“I’m sorry,” Sandy said truly meaning it.
Melanie didn’t say a word; she seemed lost in thought for a moment and then before she could continue her phone rang and she went to answer it.
“This is Melanie,” she said and Sandy politely looked elsewhere and drunk her milkshake while Melanie talked. She pretended to not eavesdrop, but it was hard. It seemed Melanie was on the phone with maybe a lawyer.
“I’m entitled to that money, Walker. I won’t be cut out over some technicality.” Hmmm...Maybe Melanie isn’t as magnanimous as she makes herself seem, Sandy thought to herself.
“I don’t care,” Melanie continued, “It’s your job. Just do your job.” She then hung up abruptly, without bothering to say good-bye.
“I’m sorry. I have to go,” she said seeming flustered now. “It was really nice to meet you, ummm....What did you say your name was again?”
“Annie. Annie Michaels,” Sandy said trying to sound as sincere as possible even though she stumbled over the name.
“Well, Annie, I appreciate you listening. I really do. Thanks,” and with that she tossed down more than enough cash to pay for the shakes and disappeared through the door. As soon as she was out of sight, Sandy removed the flash drive from her purse and tapped it against the table, wondering if possibly whatever was on that file would help any in the case.
4
“This is where we’ll set up the cameras,” a man said as he came through the doors of Hot Stuff the next day. Sandy and Kat stared at the man and the camera crew and then back at each other. Sandy was still carrying the flash drive in her pocket since she hadn’t had the opportunity to look at it yet. After meeting with Melanie, she had raced home and contacted the manager of the hotel where Melanie and Jasper were staying. The manager, Jefferson, also happened to be an old flame of hers.