He shakes his head. “When are you going to get it into your head that I’d do anything for you?”
“The Tokyo earthquake of 1923 brought sushi into restaurants. Before that, sushi was just a street food, but the quake destroyed much of the city and that caused real estate prices to drop so that sushi chefs could afford real restaurants.” I clamp my hand over my mouth when I realize that I am once again spouting weird trivia because Ben’s words unnerve me.
Ben grins and shakes his head. Then, he surprises the daylights out of me by leaning over and giving me a hard kiss. “You are the sexiest nerd on the entire planet.” He picks up his menu again as if he didn’t just rock my world. “So, what should I order?”
I let his ‘sexiest nerd’ comment drop because there is no appropriate response to crazy. “Is there anything you don’t like?” He shakes his head. “Afraid of raw food?” Another shake. “Okay, let’s order a platter with a mixture of everything.”
He sets his menu down and nods. “Sounds good. Do you think it will fill me up?”
“Well…” I scratch my head and look at Ben’s big body. “Maybe we should order some tempura.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m taking them back again. “No wait, that’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t be eating that.”
“Why not? Are you allergic?”
“No, not allergic. Tempura is fried. I should stay away from anything fried.” I fidget in my seat, uncomfortable with my confession.
“Why?” He looks genuinely confused.
I roll my eyes at him. “Because I can’t afford to gain any weight. It’s bad enough I run a bakery.”
Ben captures my hands with one of his enormous hands and grabs my chin with the other one. “I said no more putting yourself down.” I start to protest, but he pinches my chin to quiet me. “You’re gorgeous. I love your curves. You look like a woman should. Man, you’re so sexy, it was all I could do to not drag you into your apartment and have my way with you when I arrived and saw you in that sexy as all get out dress.”
Finally, he’s quiet and I think I can get a word in edgewise. Ben’s not that easily deterred, however. He leans forward and stops any response I would have made with his lips. He nibbles on my bottom lip like I’m some kind of delicacy. When he thinks he’s made his point, he leans back and releases my chin although my hands are still encased in one of his over-sized mitts.
I hear a sigh behind me and look over to see Mikki. “Oh man, that was hot. Do not let him go, Professor Muller.” She flips open her order pad. “Now, what do you want to eat?”
Ben gives me a meaningful look. “We want a platter of seafood tempura and the sushi boat.” I turn to him. “Do you drink saké?”
“Not sure what that is, but I’ll try anything once.”
I turn back to Mikki. “Some saké and a bottle of still water.”
Mikki snaps her order pad closed and takes off for the kitchen. She’s back with the saké in no time. I pour the saké in two cups and then prod Ben to take one. “A toast?” He says before I can take my first sip. I nod. “To the first of many wonderful dates,” he says and winks before clinking my cup with his and taking a sip.
I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter 7
An apple a day will keep anyone away, if thrown hard enough.
“Oh my god!” Anna shouts and comes running into the bakery from the kitchen. She has her phone in her hand and doesn’t look up. She nearly crashes into me.
I put a hand on her to slow her down. “What’s going on?”
She shakes her phone in my face. “It’s Dolly. She’s dead!”
“What?” I gulp. I try to grab the phone from her, but she pulls it away so she can continue reading.
The bell over the door rings and two policemen enter. They immediately move to the counter. “Ms. Muller?” asks one of them.
“Just a sec,” I respond. “This is important.” I turn back to Anna. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t say. Just that she died on Tuesday.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide in her face. “That was when we had class.” She shivers. “We saw her on the day she died.”
Ben comes rushing into the bakery. “Callie!”
I turn and smile at him. “Hi, Ben.” His face is hard, and he looks frantic. “What’s wrong?” He moves behind the counter and shields me with his body. “What in the world, Ben?”
He ignores me and turns to the police officers. “She didn’t do it! You can’t arrest her.”
“Arrest me?” I peek at them from behind Ben’s back. “What’s going on?”
“Callie Muller?” One of the officers says and reaches behind his back for his handcuffs. What the…? He waits on my nod and then continues. “You’re under suspicion for the murder of Claire Horne. You need to come with us.”
“Who?” Anna and I ask in unison.
Ben turns to me. “It’s your pole dancing instructor, Dolly. They think you murdered her.”
“What?” I reel back at Ben’s words. “Murder? Dolly was murdered? And they think I did it?”
The officer who isn’t holding the handcuffs grabs Ben. “Sorry Detective, but you know we have to bring her in.”
Ben reluctantly lets me go. He steps back. “I’ll get you out, sweetheart. Please, don’t worry.” Don’t worry? I’m being hauled into the police station for murder. If there is a time or a place for worry, now is it.
♥♥♥
Somehow I end up in what I assume is an interrogation room at the police station. I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours. There’s no way to tell how much time has passed. There’s no clock and I don’t wear a watch when working at the bakery. I didn’t even get a chance to grab my purse or phone before the police handcuffed me and hauled me in.
A man opens the door and grabs a chair across from me. I assume he’s a detective from the way he’s dressed – a suit and tie with an obvious bulge from his waistline which can only be a sidearm. “Dr. Muller, I’m Detective Duchamps.” Another man walks in. He closes the door and moves to a corner where he stands with his arms crossed over his chest. His badge and weapon are clearly visible. I nearly roll my eyes at this obvious display of good cop/bad cop. “And this is Detective Smits.”
I reluctantly tell him, “You can call me Callie.”
Duchamps nods. “Callie then.” He opens the file he brought in with him and pretends to study it. He flips through the pages, but I know when someone’s faking reading. I lean back against my chair and sigh. I’m nervous as all get out, but I’m innocent of any wrongdoing. I’m sure they’ll figure that out quickly enough.
The detective finally gives up his perusal of the file and shuts it to stare at me. He just waits. And waits. And waits. I’m usually pretty patient, but I am in an interrogation room and I’m not even sure what’s going on. I give up. “Maybe you can tell me why I’m here?”
The detective leans forward and raises an eyebrow at me. “Didn’t you hear the officers? You’re under suspicion for the murder of Claire Horne.”
I sigh and keep a reign on my temper. “I didn’t murder anyone. Jeez, I didn’t even know Dolly was dead until like thirty seconds before the police barged into my bakery.”
“Dolly? Who’s Dolly?”
I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. “Isn’t that who we’re talking about?”
Detective Smits decides to join the conversation. “Dolly is Claire Horne’s nickname.”
Duchamps nods and leans back. “Rumor has it you and Dolly didn’t get along.”
I snort. “Dolly was a bully and thought because she was beautiful she could say and do anything she wanted.”
“Is that why you keyed her car?”
“I didn’t key her car. Why would I key her car? I have better things to do with my time than key the car of someone I don’t like.” My lecture voice is starting to rear its ugly head.
The detective pulls up a picture of a car with a scratch from the driver’s door all the way to the gas
tank. The scratch is obviously deliberate. “You didn’t do this?” I shake my head. “Several witnesses in the gym say they heard Dolly accuse you of keying her car.”
Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow at the detective. “Seriously? I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure the definition of hearsay is information received from other people, which cannot be substantiated. In other words, a rumor and completely inadmissible. Did any of your so-called witnesses also mention that I couldn’t have done it as I was in the gym talking to the manager when the incident happened?”
The detectives look at each other but don’t comment. I shake my head at them. “There’s video surveillance as well. Look,” I start to stand, “if this is all the evidence you have, then you best let me go now.”
“Why don’t you sit back down, Ms. Muller?” Detective Duchamp’s use of my last name concerns me. I sit back down and stare at him, hoping my elevated heart rate isn’t obvious. “Why did you rush off after class on Tuesday without showering?”
“I never shower at the gym.” I shiver. “I’m not comfortable with showering in front of other people.”
The detectives sneer at that. “You better get used to it. No private showers in prison.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I know you’re trying to goad me into making some sort of confession or slip up or something, but I didn’t kill anyone. Why in the world would I kill Dolly? She’s not even a blip on my radar. I’m a successful business owner, I have a PhD, I teach at the University. Why would I risk all that for someone like her?” Unfortunately, my voice has turned condescending. Probably not the best attitude when accused of murder.
That’s when Duchamps pulls a card out of the file. It’s in a clear plastic bag, which I assume is an evidence bag, but it’s still obvious what the card is – a Callie’s Cakes postcard. The yellow and white striped postcards are free with a gift box. “I assume you know what this is.”
“Of course, I know what that is.” There’s no sense denying the truth even though I’m a bit apprehensive as to why they have a card from my bakery.
The detective pushes the card across the table, and I look down. “Sorry about your car, Callie.”
I push the card back and stare at the detective. “Seriously? This is your evidence?” The detectives look smug. I’m going to enjoy bringing them down a peg. “First of all, I can prove that I didn’t key her car.” I count off on my fingers. “And secondly, that’s not my handwriting. Not even close.”
I see a moment of doubt in Duchamps face before he recovers, and his face is once again a mask. He grabs the evidence bag and puts it back in the file. “We’ll see about that.” He stands. “In the meantime, you’ll be rotting away in jail.”
The door opens, and a man I don’t know enters. “Oh no, she won’t.” He turns to me and holds out his hand. “Dr. Muller, if you will.”
I will! I stand and follow the stranger out of the room and through the maze of the police station before arriving at front desk. A police officer, a desk sergeant I presume, shoves a piece of paper at me. “Sign here, Callie.” Shocked that the man should know my name, I look up to see a frequent visitor of Callie’s Cakes. I raise my eyebrows in an unspoken question to the man who freed me, and he nods. I sign my name and hand the paper back.
“We’re really sorry about this, Callie. Most of us don’t believe you did it, but a murder is a big deal and those detectives are trying to make names for themselves.” He shrugs and blushes at me.
I smile. “I believe you.”
My rescuer grabs my elbow and gently pulls me out of the station. Once outside, I take a breath of fresh air before turning to the man. “Who are you anyway?”
He smiles at me with good nature. “I’m your attorney.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need an attorney. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Because that stopped the police from bringing you in.”
I shake my head and laugh because this situation is beyond absurd. “Yeah, okay, you got me there.”
Chapter 8
A recent study has found that women who carry a little extra weight live longer than men who mention it.
“What now, big guy?” I ask the man who claims to be my attorney.
He smirks at me and holds out his hand. “It may be time for a proper introduction. I’m Fred Advocaat.” I giggle and his smirk turns into a grin.
“You know that…” I mumble through my giggles.
“Yes,” he sighs. “I’m well aware that my name means attorney in Dutch.”
“Okay, then.” I manage to get myself under control. “I’m Callie Muller,” I say and finally reach out to shake his hand.
“Do you want a ride back to your bakery?” he asks and indicates his car which is parked in the thirty-minute zone in front of the station. With that kind of confidence in his ability to spring me from jail maybe the man is aptly named after all. It’s a quick ride back to the bakery. When you’re not in the back of a police car, it’s actually a pleasant journey.
“You’re back!” I hear screamed seconds before I’m tackled by a pink-haired fairy. Anna pulls me into a fierce hug. After a few moments, she releases me and starts shouting questions. “What’s going on? How could anyone think you committed murder? Are the police stupid or something?”
I shush her and indicate an empty corner table. Luckily, the place is fairly quiet with only two customers sitting hunched over their laptops. Anna moves off to make us some coffee while Advocaat and I settle into our chairs. I’ve barely managed to sit down when I’m hauled out of my chair. Ben picks me out of my seat as if I weigh nothing and pulls me close. He rests his head in the crock of my neck and breathes me in. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles several times.
Anna thumps Ben on his back and shouts, “Give her some air! I need answers!”
Ben chuckles and loosens his hold on me. “Are you okay?” he asks as he stares into my eyes.
“I’m fine. My attorney… hey, did you hire an attorney for me?” I’d smack myself upside my head if I weren’t imprisoned by Ben. How could I forget to ask Advocaat how he came to my rescue?
Ben leans down and rests his forehead on mine. “Yeah, I hired him. I know him through my work.” He gives me a quick kiss and then releases me. He settles me in a chair before dragging a chair over to our table and sitting uncomfortably close to me.
Anna plonks coffees down in front of everyone. “So,” she says as she plops down in a chair. “Is someone going to explain to me what’s going on before I explode or what?”
I grab my coffee and take a deep drink before answering. “Apparently, Dolly was murdered and they’re convinced I did it.” I snort. “Which is completely absurd. Why would I risk everything to kill an annoying pole dancing instructor?”
Anna scratches her pink locks. “But why do they think you did it?”
“Someone’s framing Callie,” Ben answers.
“WHAT?”
I cover my ears and wait for the ringing to stop. When I’m fairly certain Anna’s going to be quiet, at least for a few minutes, I respond. “Apparently someone took one of our Callie’s Cakes cards and wrote on it as if they were me.” I scratch my head. “Although, now that I think about it, I’m not really sure what that has to do with the murder.”
Ben grabs my hand and squeezes. “They think Dolly was poisoned by one of your cupcakes.” I gasp. Not a cupcake! “The cupcake was in a gift box with the card which was supposedly written by you.”
“I didn’t write that card! It wasn’t my handwriting! And I didn’t key her car so why would I apologize for that?”
Ben pulls me into a sidewise hug and kisses the top of my head. “Shhhh sweetheart, it’s okay. We know you didn’t do it.”
Anna snorts and rolls her eyes. “Can you see Callie keying someone’s car?” She shakes her head. “And there’s no way she would ruin one of our cupcakes by putting poison in it.”
I take a deep breath and turn
to my attorney. “What do I do now?”
“I’ll make some inquiries about the surveillance video from the gym when you allegedly keyed Ms. Horne’s car. Otherwise, this is a matter best left to the police,” he says and stands to leave.
“Left to the police!” Anna huffs. “It’s not like they’re doing such a great job now, is it? We should look into it ourselves. You know like Miss Marple.”
Ben stiffens next to me. “No, it’s too dangerous. You don’t know who the killer is or even why Dolly was murdered. Too many unknowns. Leave the police work to the police.”
I nod. “I agree. Leave it to the police.”
Anna huffs and crosses her arms over her chest before leaning back into her chair. I can already see by the gleam in her eyes she’s planning her next attack. I shake my head. As far as I’m concerned, the matter is settled. The police will investigate the murder and find the killer. Even the obviously inept Duchamps and Smits will realize I’m innocent.
It takes four days before my rose-colored glasses shatter.
♥♥♥
Anna comes bouncing in my office carrying the mail. “It’s getting busy. I could use some help out front,” she says and skips away.
“I’ll be right out,” I shout as I leaf through the mail. I’m about to stand and go help Anna when I see a letter from the University. It’s probably just a class list or something of the like, although they usually email those. Hmmm. I tear it open.
My eyes quickly scan the letter, but I can’t believe what I’m reading. This can’t be true. It just can’t be. Who do they think they are? Putting me on probation for being accused of a crime. A crime I didn’t commit. I grab my purse and stuff the letter in it.
“I’m heading to school!” I shout to Anna as I nearly run through the kitchen. Anna pokes her head through the swinging door and starts to ask what’s going on, but I don’t hear her. I’m already out the back door.
I grab my bike from my apartment hallway and hightail it to the German Department. Unfortunately, the bike ride does nothing to tame my temper. I’m seething when I arrive. I wouldn’t be surprised to see steam billowing out of my ears. I stomp to the dean’s office and demand to see him. His secretary starts to protest, but one look at me has her calling Dean Jorgenson to tell him I’m on my way.
Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker (Death by Cupcake Book 1) Page 4