by Meg Macy
Her voice boomed with a cheery ring. “Sasha!” Elle grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the counter. “And right here’s the woman you need to talk to about the picnic. Sasha Silverman’s in charge. You have room because of a few cancellations, right?”
“Yes, we do. It’s fifteen dollars.”
“Per person?”
“For a family up to six. Ten bucks for two to three people.” I crouched near the little boy who’d reached out a hand to pet Rosie. “Always ask first if a dog’s friendly, okay? She won’t bite. Go ahead and scratch behind her ears. She loves that.”
Instead he threw his arms around my dog, giggling when Rosie licked his face and neck. “It tickles!”
“Good doggie.” The woman rummaged in her purse for a few bills. “Here’s the fee then, and I’ll bring my sister and her kids. I’m so glad I ran into you! Some of my friends told me a few weeks ago about the picnic, and I’m glad we can join in the fun.”
“I don’t have any reservation slips with me—”
“Here, I’ve got you covered.” Elle wrote out a paid-in-full receipt on a slip of paper and handed it to her. “Bring that on Monday with a packed lunch and as many teddy bears the kids want to bring. We’ll have signs directing everyone to the right shelter. Sasha’s providing the lemonade and cookies.”
“Great! See you then.”
The woman hurried outside with her little boy in tow. Elle grinned. “There. One cancellation filled. I bet Mary Kate has a few more. She told me earlier today how you found Will Taylor in the factory. Pretty gruesome.”
“You got that right, girlfriend.”
I plopped down on a chair while Rosie nosed the shelves. Elle fetched a ragged bunny from behind the counter, so my dog stretched out on a rug for some serious chewing. I loved this bookstore. Its oak planks salvaged from an old church matched the floor in Fresh Grounds; wall-to-wall shelves, a play area for kids, and the varnished wooden board across a double row of cubicles that served as the counter made it cozy. The cubicles had cushions. Charlie the tuxedo cat was always curled up inside. I guessed Whiskers must be hiding.
My cousin Matt worked days at the Quick Mix while Elle ran the shop. She was a natural with customers. She’d added a pair of cozy armchairs in the bay window on either side of a table display of books to draw customers from the street. Besides children’s books, they sold all kinds of mystery, thrillers, romance, fantasy, science fiction, and even nonfiction. A selection of family games lined a long shelf behind the counter. An arched doorway led to the adjoining coffee shop and bakery. Noise was an issue, but the exchange of customers offset that disadvantage.
“I saw this online.” Elle showed me her iPad with a local news report about the murder. Dave Fox was listed as a source in the article. “No real details. Police want to keep all that to a minimum, I suppose.”
“Can I ask you a question? What is Huron Valley?” I asked. “Like if someone said, ‘You’ll go back to Huron Valley if you’re not careful.’ I’m just curious.”
Elle raised her eyebrows. “Could be a bunch of things. ‘Huron Valley’ refers to the area around Ypsilanti. There’s the Humane Society, a hospital, and the school district. Oh, and there’s a women’s prison. The Huron Valley Correctional Facility.”
“Bingo.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t say right now. Sorry.”
The information was disheartening. I realized now that Maddie hadn’t dug deep enough when it came to Lois Nichols’s background check. While she sounded sincere ten minutes ago, literally begging me that she had nothing to do with Will Taylor’s murder, the hair on the back of my neck prickled with uneasiness. What the hell. Had we harbored a murderer in our midst?
Detective Mason’s words haunted me. But he lived right next door. . . . Even though plenty of people fudged the truth all the time, I had little experience on knowing whether someone was lying through their teeth.
And that scared me half to death.
“Hey! How’s it going?” Mary Kate popped through the arched doorway, holding a square plate. “Here’s your apple blintz. The very last one, lucky duck.”
“I am eternally grateful. Coffee?” I asked. The first bite oozed cinnamon and sweetened apples, plus crunchy pastry. Rosie stretched up, paws on my knees, sniffing hard, but I gently pushed her down. “Not for doggies. Sorry.”
“I’ll get her a peanut butter biscuit.” Mary Kate soon brought back a cardboard cup within minutes. “Mint mocha, skinny. I put whipped cream on it anyway, and chocolate syrup drizzled on top.”
“Mm. You’re a lifesaver.”
“And here’s Rosie’s treat.” She held out a round cookie baked for any dogs who had to wait outside while their humans enjoyed the coffee, treats, and camaraderie inside Fresh Grounds. “What a good girl. What’s the matter, Sasha? You look really down. Of course, after yesterday, we expect that, but—”
“She has a friend in Huron Valley Correctional Facility,” Elle interrupted.
“I do not!” I laughed with them. “All right, I should know teasing when I hear it. But when someone mentioned the name ‘Huron Valley’ I didn’t know what they meant. It didn’t sound good.”
“It’s the only women’s prison in Michigan.”
“Stop it, Elle.” Mary Kate snapped her fingers. “Drink up. Get happy again.”
I sipped the coffee with my eyes closed. The thought of Lois Nichols in prison shook my faith in Maddie’s instincts. She wouldn’t have hired someone with a prison record, would she? I set the cup down and texted my sister, hoping the little ding of an answering text would relieve some of my tension. Then I savored the last few bites of my apple blintz for a longer time. Mmm. So good. I flexed my shoulders. Relaxed. Carbs worked magic on my stress.
“I need an intervention, too.” Elle poured out a handful of colorful candy-coated chocolates from a glass jar on the counter. The top clinked when she shut it. “Don’t tell Matt. I’ll buy him another package at Costco. But ever since I heard about Will Taylor, I’m popping these like pills. I’m so nervous. What if a serial killer is loose?”
“Oh, Elle,” Mary Kate said with a laugh. “I really doubt if it’s that bad.”
“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I said. “What if someone’s trying to make trouble for us? Someone with a grudge, like Jack Cullen.”
She looked puzzled. “I don’t know. He can barely lift a coffee cup. I’m sure he didn’t have anything to do with Will’s murder.”
“Maybe you’re right. But why would he be snooping around the factory?”
“Because he’s a nosey parker,” Elle said.
“Oh, I have two families to make up for those cancellations,” Mary Kate said.
Relief washed over me. “That’s three out of five. All right, ladies. What can you tell me about Will Taylor having a girlfriend? Is it true? Do you know who it might be?” I noticed that Mary Kate and Elle exchanged meaningful glances. “I want all the dirt.”
“Ooh, dirt! Dirt!” Elle closed the adjoining doors to the coffee shop. “I hereby call an official meeting of the Guilty Pleasures Gossip Club.”
She also flipped the sign on The Cat’s Cradle door to Be Back Soon and perched on a stool by the counter. Rosie curled up at my feet on the rug for a nap, so I stretched out my bare legs with a contented sigh. Uh-oh. Should have been more awake with that razor in the shower. Thank goodness I was among friends who wouldn’t notice the strip of fuzzy leg hair I’d missed.
“Come on, then. After all that’s happened, I could use something juicy.”
Mary Kate raised an eyebrow. “Well. From what I heard back in May, Carolyn was so busy with her shop, she never realized Will was coming home later and later and skipping meals. Debbie Davison—she supplies us with honey for the tea we offer, plus for baking—once told me she saw Will’s Camry following Vivian’s car—”
“Vivian Grant?” I squeaked.
“Yep. In a few weeks, most people knew they h
ad a thing going.”
“Everyone except Carolyn,” Elle added.
“And me, apparently. So how did she find out?” My curiosity rose, but my phone rang then with its cheery piano Peanuts ringtone. Maddie loved her Vince Guaraldi CD as much as her Snoopy collection in the office. “It’s Mads. Hang on a minute, okay?”
My sister sounded rushed after I answered. “Hey, Sash. Dad’s in his own room now, but I can’t talk long. Mom said the doctor should be here any min—”
“Wait, listen. Did you know Lois Nichols might have a criminal record?”
“No way is that possible! I’m careful about checking all their references and previous employment. Oh, here’s the doctor. We’ll talk later.”
Frustrated, I slipped the phone into my pocket. So Maddie hadn’t known. Lois’s arrest and conviction may have been long ago, and she might have omitted the facts on her employment application. I figured Detective Mason would nose out the truth, though, on his own. I turned back to my friends, updated them on my dad’s condition, and then finished my coffee.
“Okay, let’s get back to the gossip.”
“Well.” Mary Kate’s eyes shone. “Didn’t you hear about the huge food fight at Pretty in Pink?”
“What? When was this?”
“Late June, I think. Where were you?” Elle asked. “Wait, you and Mads were helping your parents move into a new condo in Florida.”
I nodded. “Sure missed something big. How come I didn’t hear anything after we came back, though?”
“That’s because you jumped into the Fourth of July teddy bear parade,” Mary Kate said. “So Carolyn finally figured out that Vivian Grant and Will—”
“What would she see in him?” I still had trouble believing it.
“Takes all kinds,” Mary Kate said with a laugh. “Garrett saw Caroline storming into the bakery. I don’t know why he was walking past that day, but boy howdy, did things spiral out of control! What a mess.”
“I remember,” Elle said. “He and Uncle Gil were volunteers at that Habitat for Humanity house. Near the curve on Kermit Street.”
I nodded. “Oh yeah. Uncle Ross volunteered, too, but he hurt himself and left early. But a public food fight at Pretty in Pink? Wow.”
“Yup,” Elle said. “I don’t know how Carolyn finally found out about their affair, but it all started on a Saturday, around the midafternoon slump time. She slammed the door so hard it shook the whole building, according to Wendy Clark.”
“Yeah, stopped Garrett right in his tracks,” Mary Kate said. “He figured something must be up, so he called the cops.”
“Wendy Clark called first. I love those gorgeous lace cookies she decorates for Vivian.” Elle poked Mary Kate. “Is she helping you with the teddy bear cookies for the picnic? Cool! You ought to steal her away from Pretty in Pink. She’s getting tired of Vivian’s bad moods, from what I’ve heard.”
“We’ve talked, but keep that under your hats.”
“Anyway, Wendy said Carolyn marched into the shop and screamed, literally screamed, that Vivian had no right to be ‘boinking her man,’” Elle continued.
“Whoa,” I said. “No kidding?”
“Then Carolyn unhooked the half door and came into the back, where they did all the baking and decorator work—”
“And started throwing icing bags, cupcakes, you name it,” Mary Kate cut in.
“Wendy was so shocked. She blocked Carolyn’s access to the wedding cake she’d just finished decorating.” Elle rubbed her hands together. “Imagine if Carolyn had thrown that! She was ranting about seeing Will and Vivian stark naked in her kitchen, doing the nasty right on the table. Ugh, ugh, ugh. And no doubt in her bed, of course.”
Memories flooded back, bad memories. I swallowed hard. I’d never told my best friends about finding my ex in our bed with his paramour. The thought of sleeping there or in any room of our apartment turned my stomach; I could definitely sympathize with Carolyn Taylor. Despite Flynn’s pleas, I’d packed my bags and left for good. Nothing he said or did changed my mind. His usual flowers, candy, and jewelry no longer worked to ease that pain.
Trust couldn’t be bought.
I banished all that to a locked room inside my head. Tried not to think of how Flynn had failed me once again after I’d swallowed my pride and called him for help. He hadn’t lifted a finger to track down my parents. Always too busy, then and now.
“So that’s it? She threw icing bags and cupcakes?”
“Oh no.” Elle grinned. “Carolyn did a smackdown, right on the bakery floor, trying to rip Vivian’s hair out. Yelling and screaming bloody murder—”
“By that time, the police arrived,” Mary Kate added.
“Yeah. Digger Sykes said Vivian and Carolyn had frosting in their hair, on their clothes, and cake crumbs were everywhere. What a mess! Wendy said it took days to clean the bakery so they could pass health inspection again.”
“Carolyn posted a ton of selfies, too, on Facebook.”
“Get outta town!” I blew out a long breath. “On her timeline?”
Mary Kate giggled. “Yes! A few are still there. Carolyn snapped photos of all the damage and posted them. Her friends all clicked ‘like’ and commented how she was so courageous. My brother told her it wouldn’t look good in case Vivian sued her for slander, so she took them down. The ones showing the bakery’s name, anyway.”
“Here, take a peek.”
Elle handed over her cell. I scanned through half a dozen photos showing the bakery’s interior, which looked like a tornado had hit. One showed Carolyn standing in front of the scalloped pink-and-white-striped awning, with frosting in her hair and coating her eyelids; she held one arm flexed in a pose like a weight lifter pumping iron, with a huge smile on her face. Her timeline was loaded with selfies, showing Carolyn inside the Holly Jolly Christmas shop, eating one of her gingerbread cookies, posing with customers, you name it.
“We all thought her business would suffer,” Mary Kate said, “but it slows down in summer anyway. Even though it looks like she’s working nonstop.”
“Carolyn told me she started selling online.” Elle tossed my empty cup in the trash. “I’ve seen her at the post office sending off boxes and packages.”
“So, why didn’t they get divorced?” I asked. “I know Will was tired of Carolyn’s stalking him. You’d think he’d file if he refused counseling.”
“He preferred playing around. I heard Jenny Woodley met him for dinner, probably on the sly, in Ann Arbor.”
“Ooh. Rumor only, or is there proof?”
“No idea.”
“I heard the Silver Leaf Bed and Breakfast is strapped for cash,” Mary Kate said. “They’re always running some kind of promo to get bookings. But let’s get back to Carolyn and Vivian.”
“Well, she demanded that Will end the affair with Vivian. I’d have divorced him,” Elle said. “They don’t have kids, so that would have been easy.”
“But.” Mary Kate glanced out the window, her reddish-blond ponytail swishing behind her head, as if making sure no one would overhear. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement and her voice dropped to a whisper. “This is very hush-hush. Do. Not. Repeat. Pinky swear.”
We agreed, linking fingers, and waited for her to continue. “Carolyn may have signed a prenuptial agreement,” she whispered, “that guarantees her almost nothing, except for the Holly Jolly shop, if they divorced. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Your brother told you that?”
“Shh! Mark would kill me if he knew anyone else found out. So you don’t know anything, right?” Mary Kate blinked half a dozen times rapidly, on purpose, making me laugh. “I’ll see if I can find out the actual terms, because I’m curious. You knew she opened the shop after her first divorce.”
“Yeah, that’s old news,” Elle said drily. “So what was it like, finding Will dead?”
“Oh, come on.” I shuddered. “You don’t want to know. Trust me.”
“But we’ve n
ever seen a dead body—”
“Speak for yourself,” Mary Kate interrupted. “My grandma died in her sleep. In my bed, over the Christmas holidays. Mom bought me a new mattress, but I couldn’t sleep until she let me switch rooms with Boomer We didn’t tell him, though.”
“Ha! Your brother would think it was cool,” Elle said. “A dead body wouldn’t faze him at all, especially now that he’s a Marine.”
“Boomer’s an IT specialist.”
“Trained for stealth assignments. Snuck up behind me the last time he came home on leave,” she said, “and I jumped so high, I almost hit the ceiling.”
We all laughed. I loved chatting with my friends whenever possible. We hadn’t shared in a major gossip fest in a while, but my sense of relaxation quickly dissipated. Carolyn’s prenup as a motive for murder sobered me. Fast.
“I wonder if Detective Mason knows about what happened at Pretty in Pink,” I said slowly. “It’s bound to come out if it was that major of a catfight.”
“Oh, you better believe it was. Major-major. Colossal,” Elle said.
Mary Kate nodded. “Titanic.”
“Well, Carolyn was with friends all night at the pub.” I stood, smoothing my khaki shorts. Rosie rose, stretched, and shook herself, clearly ready to go until Elle scratched behind her ears. “And that cake wrestling match didn’t sink either of them in terms of their businesses. I hope this murder doesn’t ruin ours.”
“It won’t,” Mary Kate reassured me, although I had my doubts. “I’ve been asking all the customers I know—not the strangers, of course—if they’ve heard anything. Or if they saw any cars in your parking lot Thursday night.”
I smiled at my friends, hoping they wouldn’t notice how worry plagued me. “Thanks for the laughs today. With what’s happened at the factory, and with Dad in the hospital, it’s been pretty crazy. I’ll see you both Monday at the picnic.”