“Relax,” I tell her. “If anyone notices us, we look like we having a picnic.” See? Genius plan.
Callie grabs a cookie. “I can’t believe you didn’t bring cupcakes.”
“Um, hello!” I hold up my canvas bag. “I’m not putting my precious cupcakes in this thing. They deserve better.”
While we munch on chocolate chip cookies, we watch as a group gathers around the grave of Alastor Drake. They’re a rowdy bunch and I’m thankful we didn’t try to go unnoticed at the gravesite. My pink hair might have been a dead giveaway. For some reason, gangbangers don’t usually have colorful hair. Their loss.
The group settles down somewhat when a priest joins them. “Seriously? He’s having a religious burial.” Kristie sneers in disgust.
I ignore her and grab my binoculars to spy on the group. It’s like there’s a dress code for gangbangers attending a funeral or something because they’re almost all identically dressed. Baggy jeans, t-shirt, and a bandana wrapped around their foreheads. Stylish, they are not.
“This is a waste of time. Everyone here is a gangbanger.”
I’m afraid Callie’s right. Except for the priest, of course. I assume a man of the cloth is not in a gang. I swing my binoculars left and right as I survey the crowd. Still only gang members. I increase my surveillance area to include the entire cemetery. The place is deserted thanks to Angel Band.
Wait a minute. Who is she? I focus on the woman obviously keeping her distance from the gang. Her attention is focused on Drake’s grave, though. She must be here for him. I zoom in on the woman, but I can’t see her face under the huge hat she’s wearing. Suddenly, a gust of wind blows and her hat flies off. When she stands from retrieving it, she twists and I can see her face. Jackpot!
“Not everyone’s a gangbanger here after all.” I hand Callie my binoculars. “See someone familiar?”
At Callie’s gasp, Kristie grabs the binoculars. “I knew there was something up with her.”
I’m dying to jump up and run down there to confront Linda, the travel agent. She must be involved in Drake’s death! Why else would she be here?
“Do you think she killed him?” Callie asks.
Before I can shout yes, Kristie responds. “Maybe. But why?”
“Maybe she’s running drugs through the travel agency,” I guess. I know we visited the agency and couldn’t find any evidence of drugs, but that doesn’t make her little miss innocent.
I snap my fingers. “No wonder Logan spent hours at the travel agency. He already suspected her.” We need to expand our search. “Do you think the police would lend us a drug dog for the day?”
Callie rolls her eyes at me. “You mean the same police force you said you’ve and I quote here ‘lost all faith in’?”
“I thought they arrested Logan again. You can’t blame me for being a little peeved. And don’t forget the same detectives who nearly arrested you for murder are still on the force.”
No, Callie is not some super-secret villain or something. She got caught up in the revenge plan of a woman she didn’t even know. When they say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they are not kidding. It’s a long story, but after we jumped on the case and did some snooping around, Callie was completely cleared of the charges. That’s how we figured out we’re actually pretty awesome at digging into mysteries.
“It doesn’t matter. No one in their right mind would lend you a police dog.” I glare at Kristie. Does she not believe in me? I could totally handle a police dog. “It’s a liability issue,” she explains.
Oh, insurance. Insurance problems I can understand. When I bought into Callie’s Cakes, I realized being a bakery owner is more than baking awesome cupcakes. There are things like insurance and projections and inventory. Yuck! I let Callie deal with all the boring administrative stuff. I may have a degree in finance, but numbers, and obligations, and forms bore me to tears. Actual tears.
“What are we going to do?” I ponder.
“Well, I may need some more information on Hawaii.”
“Good thinking, Callie. We’ll go back to the travel agency tomorrow.”
“I’m in.” Of course, Kristie’s in. She’s now convinced Linda, the travel agent, was in an abusive relationship. Nothing will stop her from trying to ‘save’ Linda now. She can have it. I have a man to save.
Chapter 7
Never underestimate a pixie who can bake.
“There,” I say as I finish my Fourth of July cupcake creation. I stand back and admire the results. Not too shabby if I may say so. The red velvet cupcakes are frosted with cream cheese whipped icing and topped with blueberries. Nummy nummy. If these don’t get the travel agent to talk, nothing will.
“The café’s all closed up and cleaned,” Kristie says as she enters the kitchen. She stops when she sees the cupcakes. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be leaving any minute now.”
“Duh. I’m making cupcakes for Linda.”
“Of course, you are,” she says with a sigh.
Callie rushes in. “Let’s go. I need to be home in an hour. Ben and I have plans.”
“Oh, Callie has a date,” I tease before I sing. “Callie and Ben sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage—”
“Whatever. Let’s get going.” She stops when she sees me packing up the cupcakes. “What are those for?” She shakes her head. “Never mind. We need to move.”
I take my time packaging the cupcakes. Callie can cool her heels. Perfection should not be rushed. Besides, I am not letting my masterpieces be squashed in transport. No way.
We arrive at the travel agency to find it empty once again. Except for Linda sitting at her desk, the place is a ghost town.
“Travel agents are a thing of the past,” Kristie remarks.
“Or they don’t need to worry about selling vacations because they’re running drugs,” I suggest as I walk in behind Callie.
“Hello, Linda!” Callie walks over to the desk and plops herself down. “I have some questions about Hawaii. I mean, I’m not sure about honeymooning in Hawaii. It’s a bit cliché, don’t you think?”
I stop Callie’s babbling by offering Linda a treat. “Would you like one of my cupcakes? It’s red velvet. The frosting is vanilla.”
Linda stares at me for a second before taking a cupcake. “I’m a baker,” I explain. “I’m working on my Fourth of July pastries.” Not a complete lie. She doesn’t need to know the cupcakes are to soften her up.
Callie doesn’t hesitate to snag a cupcake for herself. She and Linda munch on their cupcakes as Linda tries to convince her to book a honeymoon in Hawaii.
“Okay, enough of this,” I announce after I’ve listened to them discuss Hawaii for five whole minutes or at least it felt like five minutes. Five, extremely long minutes. “Why were you at Alastor Drake’s funeral?”
Linda jumps and nearly falls out of her chair. “Ummm….”
When she continues to stare at me with her mouth now shut in a harsh line, I ask, “Are you a drug runner? Or maybe a money launderer?”
“A money launderer?” She snorts. “You have to make money to be able to launder other people’s money.”
“Told you travel agents were history,” Kristie can’t help herself from commenting.
“Okay, not a money launderer then, but you didn’t say you weren’t a drug runner.”
“Drug runner? I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she claims, but I notice a blush rise on her face.
“I assume you’d begin with Angel Band, seeing as you know the gang and all. It’s not like they aren’t familiar with drugs.” Talk about an understatement. You want in the drug business in this town, you need to go through Angel Band first. According to my future husband, at least. I wouldn’t know.
“I am not a drug runner,” Linda shouts. “I am not a criminal! Why are you accusing me of these awful things?”
I raise an eyebrow, cross my arms over my chest, and stare her down. She knows darn well why
I’m asking.
Callie interrupts our staring contest to explain, “We saw you at Alastor Drake’s funeral yesterday.”
Linda’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “You saw me. You were at the funeral?”
I shrug. “Kind of.”
“If hiding in the trees counts,” Kristie mumbles.
“We weren’t hiding in the trees. We strategically placed ourselves to perform surveillance.”
“Ladies!” Callie claps her hands to stop our squabble. “Can we keep our attention focused, please?” She taps her watch and mouths tick-tock.
“Why were you at Drake’s funeral yesterday?” I ask Linda – again. She better answer soon or I’m calling in the big guns – aka Logan.
She collapses against her chair. “Ugh! I will never be rid of that man.”
“Aha!” I shout. “So, you did know Drake?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “He was my boyfriend.”
I gasp. She was dating Alastor Drake? I saw the guy one time, and I will never forget it. The dude was super scary. Seriously. He made Logan look like a Girl Scout. No, not one of those Girl Scouts peddling cookies. Those girls are ruthless. Just buy the cookies and walk away. They do not care if you are a baker and own a bakery. Not at all.
“Oh, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal. I had no idea who he was when we started dating.”
I snort. Is she for reals? “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. The huge Angel Band tattoo wasn’t a big clue or something.”
All members of the Angel Band gang have the same tattoo – it starts on the back of the neck with a fallen angel on his knee bowing his head. The angel’s wings wrap around the neck and meet at the Adam’s apple. The tattoo is impossible to miss.
“You wanted to take a walk on the wild side with a bad boy,” I accuse.
“And I got burned.” Linda sighs. “When I realized what an idiot I’d been, I tried to leave, and he hit me.”
“I knew it!” Kristie practically shouts.
I narrow my eyes at her. We’ll get to her mission to save every single abused woman in the world in a minute. First, we need to make sure Linda is not a killer. “The black eye was from him, then?” She nods and I continue. “We’re going to need your alibi for the day of the murder.”
“My alibi? You think I killed Alastor?”
I feel a twinge of remorse for pushing her about a boyfriend who abused her, but I need to make sure Logan’s name is cleared. Because our wedding is happening on the Fourth of July no matter what. Although I would prefer if the groom weren’t in jail.
Linda stares at me for a long minute before visibly swallowing. “Okay, I understand. I was here the entire day on the day Alastor was killed.”
“Is there anyone who can verify you were here?” Listen to me, sounding all detectivey.
“Um…” She bites her lips as she thinks. “I had some clients. I can give you their names. There are cameras as well.” She points to a black orb I assume is a camera. “Oh, and there’s an alarm system.”
“That’s a lot of security for a travel agency,” Kristie comments. She’s our resident security expert as she consulted with heaps of security firms before deciding on the security measures for the Youth Center. Those youths may be trouble, but Kristie is determined to not only save them from themselves but keep them safe in the meantime.
Linda shrugs. “I think the owner bought the place with the security already installed.”
This is all well and good, but it doesn’t explain why she went to the funeral. “Why were you at the cemetery?”
“I wanted to make sure the jerk was dead.”
Rotten eggs. That’s a good reason. I’m afraid our one and only lead just went up in flames. Poof!
Kristie walks around the desk and hands Linda her card. “If you need to talk about what happened or you want to chat, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Okay.” Callie stands. “I guess we’ll get out of your hair then.”
“Wait. You don’t want to book your honeymoon?”
Callie blushes. “Not yet. We need to set a wedding date first.” When she sees Linda’s face fall, she hurries to reassure her. “I’ll be back when I have a date, though.”
“Here.” I shove the container of cupcakes towards Linda. “You need these more than I do.” Because there’s nothing better to soothe an injured heart than my cupcakes.
“Son of a pumpkin!” I exclaim when we’re standing on the sidewalk outside the travel agency. “What are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to have to talk about it tomorrow. I need to get home.” Callie speed walks towards her car and motions us to follow her.
I drag my feet as I go. I am not a happy cupcake baker. This outing helped none whatsoever with figuring out who killed Alastor Drake. My wedding is next weekend. I’m running out of time, and I’m fresh out of ideas.
Chapter 8
No one ever said a pixie has to be sweet and innocent.
“Why are you offering me a pastry?” Callie narrows her eyes but doesn’t hesitate to grab one of the peanut butter fingers with salty milk chocolate glaze I’m holding out to her.
Kristie snorts. “She wants our help obviously,” she explains as she too takes one of the peanut butter fingers I made for them.
I don’t deny her accusation. Of course, I made the treats to butter them up. The way to persuade a girlfriend to see your side of things and help you out is through her sweet tooth after all.
“Come on,” I usher everyone to a table near the window. The café is open for another fifteen minutes, but the place is empty. Normally the tables are packed with college students studying, but it’s summer break and quieter than usual.
“Okay. The brainstorming session is officially open,” I announce as I place the treats on the table and take a seat.
Kristie stands. “I’m going to need coffee for this.” I don’t bother telling her the treats pair better with milk. The woman is obsessed with coffee. If it’s not coffee, she’s not drinking it.
I wait until she’s rejoined us with her coffee to continue. “Now, can we begin?” At Kristie’s nod, I announce, “We need to discuss how to proceed with our investigation.”
“Investigation?” Callie wrinkles her nose in confusion. “Logan’s out of jail, and the travel agent has been cleared. There’s no reason for us to continue to stick our noses where they don’t belong.”
“Says the woman who thought Logan could have been involved.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “I just wanted you to consider the possibility. You have to admit the circumstantial evidence is pretty damaging.”
“Which is why we need to solve the murder. I don’t want anything hanging over Logan’s head during our wedding.”
“Is it hanging over his head?” Kristie asks. When I merely look at her in confusion, she continues. “Does he seem worried at all?”
Honestly, I haven’t the first clue. Logan is the strong, silent type. He doesn’t keep information from me, but he’s not one to easily share his feelings either. You know whose head it is hanging over? Mine! I’ve been planning this wedding for months now. I will not let the death of some stupid gangbanger ruin it.
“Until they arrest someone, Logan will remain a suspect.” Which is totally unacceptable in my opinion.
“She’s right.” Callie nods as she licks her fingers. “Ben said the exact same thing last night.”
My eyes widen at her admission. “And when were you going to tell me this sweet morsel of information?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t want to stress you out. You’ve kind of got a lot going on right now.”
I take a deep breath and let it out before I strangle my best friend. We’ll talk about her loyalty later but for now, we need to get this investigation going.
“Let’s think about this. Who had a motive to kill Alastor Drake besides Linda?” I glare at Callie. “And don’t you dare say Logan.”
&
nbsp; “Drake headed the largest gang in the city. There are probably hundreds if not thousands of people who wanted him dead, including those in his gang. And then there are the rival gangs.” Between being a social worker and managing the Youth Center, it’s no surprise Kristie is a bit of a gang expert.
“Did you know the word gang comes from Old English, but it originates from German and Old Norse? The original meaning was going, or a journey. But the word is not considered to be related to the word go anymore.”
I was wrong. I should definitely strangle my best friend. As soon as this murder is solved and I’m married, it’s on. “Now is not the time for you to blurt out entirely irrelevant facts.” I give her my back and ask Kristie. “What do you mean some of his gang members might want him dead?”
Fireworks, a Firecracker & Foul Play Page 4