by Fiona Grace
As the lawyer started dragging Bo for the door, Ali continued with her intentionally incorrect version of events.
“With Bo dead, you decide to stage the scene. Point the finger of blame in a different direction. You spot the Seaside Sweets paper bag he dropped. Perfect. You drag him to his car, put him in the driver’s seat, then drop the donut to the floor and…”
Suddenly, Bo broke free from the lawyer and swirled on the spot, marching up to Ali with a furious red face and a pointer finger raised.
“WRONG, WRONG. WRONG!” he screamed. “It was nighttime. There were tons of people around! I didn’t drag him into the bushes; he was already in his car when I pounced! I didn’t hit him with a rock—just ew, gross—I choked him with my bare hands! And it wasn’t a donut, it was a Danish!” He huffed, his breath ragged, his face beet red, and put his hands on his hips. “I am so sick of dealing with imbeciles!”
A stunned silence fell. Every pair of eyes in the room was locked on Bo. Ali cracked her knuckles and sank down into her chair with a satisfied smile.
“Oh come on,” Bo sneered, still irate. “Please don’t tell me you think that counts as a confession? That won’t stand up in a court of law! None of you are credible witnesses! Two penniless chefs and a fat lawyer in a bad suit!”
Teddy gasped with offense.
Ali’s smile grew wider. “You’re right. The three of us wouldn’t be great in a witness box. But they are.”
And at that moment the kitchen door swung open and out came Detective Callihan and Detective Elton.
“Bo Bronnigan,” Detective Elton said. “You are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Marvin Chessley.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do that,” Detective Callihan said.
Through the window of Marco’s pizzeria, Ali watched the black Merc speed off into the night. In the back seat, cuffed, sat Bo and his lawyer. In the front, Detective Elton. And left behind to take statements and tie up loose ends was Detective Callihan.
“I’m firing up the wood oven,” Marco announced. “I need to stress eat an entire calzone. Anyone else?”
“Ooh, calzone sounds great,” Teddy exclaimed.
“I’m more of a simple margherita girl myself,” Ali said. “Pizza’s at its best when it’s uncomplicated.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Detective Callihan added. “Thin crust. Thick sauce. Strategically placed mozzarella and—”
“—fresh basil,” Ali finished.
They grinned at one another.
“Two calzones and two margheritas coming right up,” Marco said.
“Oh, no,” Detective Callihan replied. “I’m on duty, I can’t stay—”
But it was too late. Marco had already disappeared into the kitchen.
“Stay,” Ali told Sebastian. “You deserve a pizza. Especially after convincing Detective Elton to go along with my plan. Seriously, how did you do it?”
“Not gonna lie,” Callihan said, taking a seat at the table where Teddy still sat. “I didn’t tell her it was your plan.”
Ali fake gasped. “The cheek of it!”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Detective Callihan said with a blush. “You know what she’s like. She’d never have been on board if she knew you were having anything to do with it. Hence suggesting this location.” He gestured to the pizzeria.
“I did wonder why you were so adamant on not using the bakery.”
Ali sat beside him, opposite Teddy. Straight away, her brother flashed her one of his girl-you’re-flirting looks. Ali promptly ignored it.
“I’d better get your statements,” Detective Callihan said, taking his notebook out. “Then when Detective Elton asks me why it took so long to get back to the station, I have an excuse.”
“Let me help you with that!” Teddy said. “I can talk for hours.”
“He loves to tell a story,” Ali confirmed.
“Actually, better just hand it over,” Teddy said, gesturing for the pen and notebook.
Detective Callihan shrugged and passed them both to him.
Ali couldn’t help but study him. The Detective Callihan she knew when she first moved to Willow Bay was a totally different man than the one now sitting beside her. Gone was his preppy look, his stiffness and rule following. Now he was relaxed, willing to bend the rules on occasion, able to let down his hair just a little bit. But the part of him that had stayed the same was his care and compassion. She’d seen that the very first time they’d met, when he’d taken care of her after she’d seen the dead body wash up on the beach. That hadn’t changed. His caring nature was part of his core.
Delicious smells started to radiate from the kitchen and Ali’s stomach grumbled. If her bakery wasn’t already between two pizzerias, she’d be tempted to cook savory food as well, like calzones and pizzas. Milo Baptiste had taught her how to make the perfect pizza dough during his masterclasses, so it wasn’t that she didn’t have the skill for it. And the speed with which one could transform a ball of fresh dough into the most mouth-wateringly tasty pizza seemed like magic to her. If she had the spare cash to buy a wood oven, it would be at the top of her list.
“So, here’s something I still don’t understand,” Ali said, turning to Detective Callihan.
“Sid?” he said, reading her mind.
“Exactly.”
“Well, turns out you were right. It was unrelated.”
Ali clapped her hands. “Aha! Say that again, it felt good.”
“You were right,” Sebastian repeated, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “At least halfway,” he amended with a smirk.
“So it wasn’t a prank?”
“Not quite. It was a sort of initiation. Sid’s trying to make a name for himself on the graffiti scene and needed to do something big. It’s all about point scoring to get in with the in-crowd.”
“Huh,” Ali said. “So that explains why he was being weird in the store, and why he ran.”
“Yeah, he knew you were the owner of the store he’d vandalized. He was so confused when I was questioning him about murder.”
“Is he free now?”
“Actually, no. That’s kind of up to you. Do you want to press charges?”
“Nah,” Ali said. “I’m feeling generous.”
Detective Callihan laughed. “Alright then. But if you want help painting over it, just give me a shout, okay?”
From across the table, Teddy looked up from the notebook and flashed Ali another one of his knowing looks. She kicked him, as the blushes heated up her cheeks.
“Yeah,” she told Detective Callihan. “That would be great. Thanks.”
Just then, Marco whirled back in carrying trays laden with steaming pizza and calzone. He slid them onto the table to the sound of delighted ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs.’
Teddy leaned in across the table. “So Sebastian. Tell me about yourself. Straight? Married?”
Detective Callihan laughed. “Straight,” he confirmed. “And very single. I’m divorced, actually. Too independent. Too focused on the job. But I’m okay now. It was the right thing to do in the end. There’s a girl out there for me somewhere who’s just as independent. Just as devoted to her work.”
He patted his lips with his napkin, and as he did, Teddy’s eyes bored into Ali. She kicked him under the table.
“Anyway,” Detective Callihan finished. “I won’t go into all the gritty details. Poor Ali’s already heard it all before.”
“Has she now?” Teddy said, and a sly grin spread across his lips.
EPILOGUE
Ali leaned down and put the final touch onto her cake, then stood back and admired her handiwork. Perfect.
The kitchen doors opened, and Delaney swirled in, carrying a tray full of finger foods.
“Why is Detective Callihan up a ladder painting your store?” she asked. “Is this how he spends his Saturdays off work, doing DIY for free?”
Ali chuckled. “He offered. I wasn’t go
ing to say no.”
Delaney smirked. “Well, Scruff is out there keeping an eye on him. It’s a pretty funny sight, a murder detective up a ladder being supervised by a stray....” Her voice trailed away as her gaze fell to the cake on the countertop that Ali had spent the morning creating. “What is that? A skatepark?”
“Yup,” Ali said, nodding. “It’s a halfpipe. You know, the thing you do tricks on.”
“And...why?”
“It’s a long story. It’ll make sense later.”
Just then, Piper called from the bakery floor. “Ali! Your mom’s here!”
Ali wiped her hands on her apron and headed out the doors. The bakery was looking fantastic with bunting, balloons, and sequins all over the tables. Ali had tasked Piper with decorating it for the party that afternoon, and she’d done an excellent job.
“Wow, Pipes,” she said, as she headed to the door to let her mom in. “I think we should branch out into party planning.”
Piper’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really? I’d love that.”
“Definitely. Let’s sit down and brainstorm a business proposal soon.”
As Piper punched the air excitedly, Ali reached the door and pulled it open. “Hi Mom.”
She opened her arms wide and was pleasantly surprised when her mother moved into them without hesitation for an embrace. As she hugged her mom tightly, Ali realized with a sense of irony that today was the day her mother had originally been scheduled to come and see her bakery for the first time.
They moved apart.
“Isn’t that your local detective painting your store?” Georgia asked with confusion. “Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time?”
“Apparently not,” Ali said, smiling to herself. “I guess Willow Bay is just a safe little town.”
Georgia rolled her eyes at the quip. “It looks very nice in here,” she said, glancing around. “I must say throwing a party to celebrate defeating a council bill is rather unusual. But any excuse for champagne.”
“Speaking of,” Ali said, ducking away to fetch the bottle and flutes. “I got this for you, funnily enough. For your visit. Then I forgot all about it when you turned up early. Shall we?”
“Yes please.”
Ali chuckled and popped the cork. It flew up into the air, hitting the ceiling fan covered in streamers, before plopping down to the ground and rolling out of sight under the display fridge. She filled each glass, listening to the bubble and fizz.
“To us,” Ali said, offering her glass for her mother to clink.
Georgia took a glass but paused, her lips pursed in thought.
“To us,” she finally said, clinking her glass against Ali’s. “I know things have been...difficult. Between us.”
Ali hesitated. Her mom was rarely self-reflective. For her to have picked up on the difficulties and tensions of her visit was somewhat astonishing.
Feeling as if an avenue had been opened here, Ali suddenly found a monologue pop into her mind, fully formed and perfectly articulated: the words she’d always wanted to say to her mother. They were the exact lines she’d recited with Teddy when running lines for his movie. The ones he’d paused after, complimenting her for the conviction she’d used. Now she understood why she’d delivered them so perfectly. They were her words. Her thoughts.
She cleared her throat and recited them again. “What I do with my life is my choice, not yours. Don’t judge me to your own standards. You’re free to make your own choices, and I am free to make mine. We are different people.”
She stopped, searching her mother’s eyes for acknowledgement.
“You’re right,” Georgia said, finally. “And… I’m sorry.”
Over the rim of her champagne flute, Ali’s eyes widened with surprise. She had never heard her mom apologize for anything in her life. “What for?”
“Not giving you a chance,” Georgia replied. “For whatever reason, you want to do this. And you don’t seem to care that it might not work out. I might not understand why but I need to accept that you’re walking your own path.”
A huge sense of relief washed over Ali. It felt as if a weight she’d been carrying around her whole life had been lifted. Her mom finally got it.
Georgia took a small, agitated sip of her champagne. “Ali, I need to tell you something,” she blurted.
Ali’s quick lived elation disappeared, replaced now with ominous dread. “What?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“It’s something I didn’t tell you,” Georgia replied in an uncomfortable voice. “Because I was trying to protect you.”
Ali narrowed her eyes. Her heart started pounding with nervous anticipation.
“What is it?” she pressed.
Georgia’s eyes suddenly darted away. “It’s regarding your father.”
Ali’s heart skipped a beat. “What about him…”
Georgia shook her head. “Nothing. I shouldn’t talk about him now. You’re busy with your party and...”
“Mom,” Ali said, tightening her grip on the champagne flute. “I can handle it. Whatever it is.”
Her mom kept her eyes averted, looking everywhere but at Ali. She shook her head. “I don’t want to upset you in front of all these people.”
Ali’s heart started thudding as hard as jackhammer. “Okay, you can’t just say something like that then leave it hanging. Please, Mom, what is it?”
Georgia finally looked at her, anguish flashing behind her eyes. She started to wring her hands in front of her. Ali had never seen her look quite so perturbed. It made her stomach churn with fear.
“I don’t want you to judge me…” Georgia said quietly, under her breath. “You may be an adult now but you’re not a mother, so I don’t know if you’ll be able to understand the decisions I had to make for your well-being and—”
“Mom!” Ali said, reaching out and taking hold of her mom’s hands to stop her nervously wringing them. “Please. Just tell me. The build-up is killing me.” If she didn’t speak soon, Ali was going to squeeze her champagne glass so hard that it would shatter.
“He wrote to you,” Georgia blurted.
Ali paused and blinked, astonished. Her brain seemed to be having trouble assimilating her mom’s words, almost as if she’d said it in a foreign language that she now needed to translate.
“Wrote?” she echoed. “To me? What do you mean he wrote to me? Wrote what? Cards?”
Her dad had sent birthday and Christmas cards for the first few years after the divorce. That had only really dwindled after Ali had reached adulthood. But that was hardly a secret.
“Letters,” Georgia continued, speaking rapidly. “Long ones.”
Ali frowned, her brow so furrowed it was actually starting to hurt. “I don’t understand…,” she murmured.
“I have them all,” Georgia continued. “The letters. I couldn’t throw them away just as much as I couldn’t give them to you. But they all have postmarks on them, and maybe you can find him that way.”
Ali began to tremble. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Her dad had written to her? More than once? Significantly by the sound of things? The man she accused of drifting away had always been there? And her mom had kept that hidden?
“I—I want to read them,” Ali stammered. “All of them.”
“You will,” Georgia said, nodding with acceptance. “I kept them all. I’ll send them on.”
Ali stared at her, fighting the urge to scream. How could she do this? How could she sit silently on a secret this big? Hadn’t it weighed on her every time she’d watched her daughter cry over her father drifting out of her life?
A million questions fired in Ali’s mind, but only one came out of her mouth. “Why?” Her tone was much sharper than she intended. Now that her mom had opened up and spilled her big secret, she didn’t want her to withdraw into stubborn silence again, and she knew if she attacked her that’s exactly what would happen.
“I was trying to protect you from harm—”
>
“—No, I mean, why now?” Ali corrected. “Why did you tell me now?”
“It was Teddy…” Georgia said slowly. “He told me what happened to you in Wave Bay.”
Ali’s chest sank as she recalled, painfully, that dreadful, disappointing day back in Wave Bay. Then she let out an exasperated huff at the realization her brother had broken his promise not to tell their mom about what she was doing.
“I didn’t know you wanted to find him,” Georgia continued. “You were so angry with him, I thought it was better to let him go. To not rock the boat. To let bygones be bygones.”
Ali struggled to catch her breath. “Of course I was angry,” she managed to squeak. “I was a teenager. I thought he didn’t love me anymore. But that didn’t mean I ever stopped loving him. Or wanting him in my life.”
“I know that now,” Georgia said, sadly. “But I didn’t at the time. Hannah cut him off. Teddy hated him almost as much as me. But you… I didn’t realize you felt differently. And when Teddy told me you went to Wave Bay looking for him…” She hiccupped on emotion. “Darling, it broke my heart. Thinking of you there, alone, searching for your dad like a lost little lamb...”
Tears glittered in her eyes, and Ali’s heart lurched with compassion. She had never been honest with her mom about her feelings. She’d always pretended she didn’t care about their dad leaving, because no one else seemed to. It was easier to be angry and hateful than to yearn. And she’d never told her mom she was going to try and find her dad because she’d not wanted to hurt her. Which was exactly the same reason her mom had hid the letters. They had both been trying to protect the other from pain and worry, when all along the best thing for both of them would have just been to be honest.
“Will you forgive me?” Georgia asked in a small voice.
Part of Ali wanted to say no. To tell her mom that her actions had been wrong, and harmful. That she’d exacerbated the pain of her father leaving by a million percent.
But the other part of Ali understood her mom was only trying to protect her from pain. Her intentions had been good, even if they had done more harm in the long run.