Killer Cravings

by Diana Orgain

  It was Cassandra from Cassandra’s Cookies. I smiled at her; she and her workers had just finished setting up the dessert table, and I guess she had stopped by to say hello.

  “Cassandra,” Jim said in this low, annoyed tone that caused me to feel a bit uncomfortable. It was so… rude… and so unlike Jim.

  Cassandra ignored him and just smiled in my direction. “Hey, Kate, good to see you again. How were those brownies?”

  “Amazing,” I said. “As always.”

  “Wait… when did you two meet?” Jim asked.

  “I went by the shop last week to deliver the catering contract for the director,” I said.

  Jim’s face flushed, and he crossed his arms. “I didn’t know you were catering,” he said angrily.

  Why is he angry?

  Something was wrong. A sixth sense buzzed in my head. Why was he being rude to Cassandra?

  I had been sending him to her café a lot to get those brownies. Had they had some sort of spat?

  Cassandra, polite as ever, ignored Jim and continued to smile at me. “Well… anyway… I’m glad you liked the brownies. I was sure to put out a plate of them. I heard you were having twins?”

  “How did you hear that?” Jim spat and I couldn’t help but elbow him. My goodness, that tone of his!

  “Paula told me,” Cassandra said, putting her hands on her hips. “Do we have a problem, Jim?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Okay, then,” she said, shaking it off. “Well, anyway, yeah. Paula told me – she came by to taste test the raspberry and cream cheese blintzes for the party.” Cassandra motioned to the table filled with delectable treats

  I laughed. “Yum, I’ll have to try those next,” I said.

  Cassandra smiled at me and then gave Jim a queer look. With that she headed off to chat to some others who were circling the dessert table.

  “What was that about?” I snapped at Jim.

  “It’s nothing,” he said in a tone that told me he definitely didn’t want to talk about it, so I dropped it for the time being.

  We were there to enjoy a party, so I wasn’t going to let petty stuff spoil the evening. Jim was normally a friendly and personable guy. I figured something must be up to make him act that way.

  I squeezed his arm, letting him know I was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  The party continued, and apart from Vicente sulking in a corner, it was a lot of fun. We mingled, ate some amazing food, and of course once I had properly dined I headed for that dessert table.

  I took one bite of that brownie with the purple icing and had to spit it out quickly into my napkin. Nope!

  Craving done!

  In fact, I was a bit repulsed by it. I suppose I’d had one too many. I tossed my napkin in the trash, glancing around hoping no one had noticed.

  Suddenly, I heard people shouting over in the corner. “Call 911!” someone wailed.

  “She’s not breathing!” called another.

  I hurried over, and there she was. A woman wearing a Cassandra’s Cookies apron sprawled out on the floor.

  “Is she unconscious?” someone asked.

  “Is there a doctor in the house?” another called out.

  Vicente rushed over. “Back up. Give her some air,” he demanded. “Let me help. I know CPR.”

  The crowd parted for him, and he dropped to his knees next to her. I got a good look at the woman, her blonde dreadlocks splayed across the hardwood floor.

  My stomach churned.

  I was certain she was dead.

  And, to make matters worse, I knew her.

  Chapter Six

  An ambulance arrived and took over the CPR from Vicente. They spoke in hushed tones to each other about the woman’s pulse or lack thereof.

  The paramedics loaded her onto a stretcher and hauled the woman out of the theater post haste.

  The crowd buzzed around in shock, the decibel level of their distress growing to an ear-shattering crescendo.

  “A heart attack?” Someone asked.

  “But she’s so young,” another said.

  “Could have been an aneurysm,” a woman in pink tulle offered.

  “Did she just die?” a man swirling a champagne flute asked.

  Cassandra and the other employees at Cassandra’s Cookies, which consisted of four others apart from Cassandra and the woman who’d collapsed, were all standing nearby wide-eyed with horror-stricken looks painted on their faces.

  “What… what happened!” Cassandra at last exclaimed. “Morgan was fine five minutes ago!”

  No one could be sure yet – but I suspected foul play.

  Why? Because Morgan was the adulteress.

  That’s right. The man I’d been following around? Yeah, his mistress was the woman who’d just been taken to the hospital.

  I looked around for Galigani, but he and mom were nowhere to be found so I sent him a quick text to get to the lobby ASAP. I looked around with a keen sense about me. Our client wasn’t here, and neither was creepy Raymond – our client’s husband, the adulterer.

  I had just taken pictures of Raymond and Morgan last night. Something wasn’t right.

  And, what are the chances of that anyway?

  Jim rubbed my shoulder. “Aw, man,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s so sweet. I hope she’ll be okay.”

  “Jim,” I whispered, pushing him back so we weren’t too close to anyone who might overhear. “Remember that client I was telling you about?”

  “Sarah something or another?” Jim asked. “You and Kenny snapped a picture of her husband last night, right?”

  “Right,” I said and then nodded my head back toward Morgan. “Guess who the mistress was.”

  “Nooo!” he moaned in frustration for me. “Kate, do you think your client could be behind this?”

  Before I could answer, Vicente Domingo crossed the room toward Cassandra.

  “Ma’am,” he said, putting his hand out toward Cassandra. “My name is Vicente Domingo, and I’m a private investigator. If you would like for me to look into—”

  “Actually,” Cassandra said, turning toward Jim and me. She hadn’t raised her hand to shake, so she just left Vicente standing there awkwardly with his extended hand as she turned her back to him. “I was going to ask you, Kate. You’re a PI, right?”

  I grinned, flashing a smile in Vicente’s direction. He frowned, then shook his head as if this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He was about to speak, when I stepped in front of him and said, “And, I would love—”

  “She’ll think about it,” Jim interrupted, and he touched my arm like he was trying to cart me away.

  Vicente laughed and puffed up like a peacock. “Ah, no need to worry. If Kate is too busy with her babies, then—”

  Now, I was mad.

  Between Jim and Vicente, it would be a wonder if I’d ever land another client.

  “No, Jim,” I said. “I don’t need to think about it.” Then I turned to Vicente and hissed, “And I’m not too busy. I would love to help Cassandra out.” I turned to her. “I’ll do whatever I can to try to find out what happened to your employee.”

  Vicente huffed off, and a sour expression crossed Jim’s face.

  “Thank goodness,” Cassandra said. “Thank you, Kate.” She shook my hand, and I felt her trembling.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  Her grip tightened around my hand for a moment, and then she went limp; diving right into me and almost toppling me.

  Jim caught me, but Cassandra crumpled to the floor.

  “Oh my goodness,” my mother shrieked, racing toward us.

  Now the party went into full-blown panic mode. Whatever rumors had been circulating about Morgan quickly turned into ‘someone was out to get everyone at this party.’

  I immediately thought about Vicente. Could he have been so angry about the production that he would do something to hurt these people?

  But then why the caterers?

&nbs
p; Had this been an accident? Or a coincidence?

  Vicente rushed from across the room and administered CPR, while I dialed 911.

  Clearly, whatever had just happened to Morgan was repeating itself with Cassandra. So Morgan had not collapsed from natural causes.

  What then?

  Was the food poisoned? The after party had begun right after the play – what were the odds someone could poison the food while we all milled around? I noticed the glasses around the room, almost everyone had a champagne flute or martini glass in hand. Could our perp have slipped Morgan and Cassandra a mickie?

  If so, why?

  As I was contemplating my next move, Galigani and mom burst into the theater.

  “What’s happened?” Mom demanded. “We saw an ambulance.”

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  I noticed the buttons on Mom’s shirt were askew, and they both reddened. I regretted asking the question.

  Goodness, they’re worse than a couple of teenagers!

  I quickly brought them up to speed, just as the theater doors flew open, and a few uniformed policemen stormed in. One of the officers took over the CPR duties until a crew of paramedics rushed in to attend to Cassandra.

  Vicente came over to us, and I realized I had lost track of Jim.

  Where was he?

  He’d been quite a character all night. Rude was the word I kept thinking.

  Now, the police seemed to be everywhere, swarming through the crowd, taking names and contact information.

  “The first woman was dead,” Vicente said. “I’m sure of it. I couldn’t get any pulse. This one, I think will be okay.”

  Galigani nodded at him. “Yeah, I just heard the code over that officer’s scanner.” Galigani whispered, pointing to an officer near us, with a chirping walky-talky on his shoulder holster. “The first lady was DOA.”

  I bit my lip; I wanted to fill Galigani in on the first woman being our adulteress, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Domingo.

  Instead, I glanced around the room for Jim and realized he wasn’t in the lobby at all. A few people had trickled outside, so I wandered out into the parking lot where I spotted Jim speaking with an officer by a patrol car.

  Nothing unusual – a lot of people were speaking with officers about what they had witnessed. I walked toward him, and the next thing I knew Jim was being put into the back of a patrol car.

  What!

  I bolted over. “Hey!” I shouted, approaching the officer. “What’s going on? Why are you arresting my husband?”

  “He’s not under arrest, ma’am,” the officer assured me. “We’re just taking him to the station for additional questioning, and he’s cooperating.”

  “Um… okay, but why?” I demanded.

  Jim tapped on the glass of the back window. The officer opened up the back door so that I could speak with him.

  “Jim! What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shrill.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just go home, babe, and I’ll be home later tonight.”

  “Um, I think I should worry about it, seeing as how Cassandra asked me to investigate this case,” I said.

  “Just go home,” he said firmly. “I already sent a text to Galigani. Have him take you home.”

  The officer closed the door, politely tipped his hat to me, and got into the driver’s seat. I stood there with my mouth wide open trying to figure out why in the world Jim would need to be taken in for additional questioning.

  “Kate!” I heard my mom’s voice, and I turned around to see her sprinting across the parking lot. Galigani chased after her.

  “Kate, why are they taking Jim? Is he being arrested?” My mom looked near ready to keel over in shock.

  “No, Mom,” I said. “They just asked him to come in for some additional questioning, that’s all.”

  “But, why?” Mom asked, her voice full of panic.

  Galigani put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “He just has some information he wants to share with them, that’s all.”

  “What information?” I demanded.

  Galigani shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s all his text said. “I’m supposed to get you home.”

  “No way!” Mom said. “You drive Kate straight to that station. I’ll follow.”

  “I can drive my own car, people!” I said, frustrated. “I’m pregnant, not blind!”

  Mom waved a hand at me. “You’re nervous, darling. It’s not good to drive when you’re nervous.”

  I decided it would be faster not to argue with them, so I agreed. Mom walked off to her car and I turned to Galigani.

  “Before Cassandra passed out, she wanted me to investigate Morgan’s death. Now, I feel torn between leaving the scene of the crime and following Jim to the station,” I confessed. “Should one of us stay here and talk to the staff of Cassandra’s Cookies?”

  Galigani shook his head. “Family first. Morgan’s already dead. Remember the living always come before the deceased.” And with that, he put his hand on my back and ushered me toward my car.

  On the short drive to the station, I filled Galigani in on Morgan.

  “She’s the woman in the photos?” he asked incredulously.

  I nodded.

  “We have to talk to Sarah ASAP,” he said. “Do you have the photographs?’

  “Yes, at the house. I can get the prints to you tonight.”

  “When we’re done here, bring them to my office. I’ll set up a meeting with Sarah for the morning,” he said, pulling into the police station parking lot.

  We parked next to Mom’s car, and the three us of walked into the station together.

  Once inside, Galigani told mom and me to sit down and he would find out what was happening with Jim. He knew half of the officers in this particular precinct from his days of serving on the force. And because of his upbeat personality, everyone loved him.

  I tapped my foot impatiently, watching Galigani from across the station. My hormones were so out of whack, I felt like crying. Mom put her hand on my knee so that I would stop.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, Kate,” my mom said reassuringly. “It’s Jim. What sort of trouble could Jim possibly have gotten himself into?”

  She had an excellent point. I’d be surprised if someone told me my husband stomped on a butterfly. He was a softie, a total gentleman. He never made any enemies – not really. To think he could have done anything to get himself into trouble was ridiculous. After what felt like hours but was probably less than ten minutes, Galigani came over and sat down next to my mom and me on the bench.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “They’re still questioning Jim,” Galigani said. “But, they’re almost through. He’ll be able to leave in just a few minutes.”

  “But, why are they questioning Jim?” I asked.

  “The woman who was poisoned, the one who is still alive and is at the hospital—”

  “Cassandra?” I asked.

  Galigani nodded. “Apparently, she and Jim had an altercation a few weeks ago,” Galigani said. “The police were called to the scene.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, sitting up straight. “Someone called the police on Jim!”

  “Sounds like it,” Galigani said.

  “Why… why hasn’t Jim told me!” I practically shouted, and Mom hushed me. I was drawing attention to myself. I took a deep breath.

  My heart raced. “Do you know what happened?” I asked.

  “They didn’t give me details, but there was some sort of incident at the bakery. The two of them got into some verbal altercation, and Cassandra called the police to escort Jim off the property. She didn’t press charges or anything, but it’s on record,” Galigani said. “And, since Cassandra was one of the victims, they wanted to talk to him about the incident.”

  “I can’t believe Jim had to be escorted off a property,” mom said. “That doesn’t sound like Jim at all.”

  “We don’t even know Cassandra!” I said. “What coul
d they possibly have been arguing about?”

  “It wasn’t brownies, was it?” my mom asked, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Come on! Jim didn’t get into an argument over brownies,” I said.

  I know my cravings had been pretty bad with this pregnancy, but surely that would not lead Jim to getting into a fight with a bakery owner.

  Something else was up, and I didn’t like it.

  My mom crossed her arms. “I just don’t see Jim getting into an argument with someone he barely knows. Does he know Cassandra?”

  “Not that I know of,” I said, shaking my head. “He has been in and out of that bakery a lot in the past month or two picking up those stupid brownies for me. Maybe he got irritated one day when they didn’t have them and had to wait around for a long time?”

  “That still doesn’t sound like Jim,” Galigani said. “He’s a patient man. He wouldn’t just get mad and start yelling at someone over some brownies.”

  No, it didn’t sound like Jim at all.

  And, not telling me that there had been some sort of incident involving the police also didn’t sound like Jim.

  He and I never kept secrets from each other. Surely, I was missing something. Had he tried to tell me and I just shrugged it off or wasn’t listening?

  I had been really moody lately. I’d even gotten snippy with Vicente at the reception, and I normally tried to be polite despite his occasionally sexist attitude.

  We sat around in silence until Jim finally came out.

  Relief flooded me, and I hurried up to him. He scowled when he saw me.

  “Kate, I thought I told you to go home? Everything’s fine, okay? They just wanted to talk to me.” He sounded really annoyed.

  “Jim!” my mother shrieked. “Boy, you have some explaining to do!”

  Jim frowned. “It’s been a long night, Mom,” he said gently. “I’d really just like to go home and go to bed, if that’s okay?”

  Sure, be polite to Mom and rude to me.

  What did I do to make Jim angry with me?

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as we were alone in the car, things between Jim and I got… well… weird. Never in our marriage had Jim ever been so distant. He refused to talk to me about the incident with Cassandra. He outright refused. I couldn’t believe it. He never kept secrets from me.