“What time did the murder take place?” asked Heather.
“The medical examiner places the time of death between five and seven a.m.,” said Ryan. “We don’t know exactly what time she came in that day, but it was usual for her to get in before six.”
“And that’s so early there’s probably no neighborhood witnesses who could report seeing someone entering here,” Heather said.
“Exactly,” Ryan agreed.
“You said she was killed by the center counter?” Heather asked, moving towards the large counter. There were still some remnants of the non-perishable baking supplies on the counter and a well-worn recipe book.
“We believe so,” Ryan said. “The blood trail began here, so we believe this was where she was stabbed.”
“Stabbed in the back?” Amy asked.
Ryan nodded. Heather looked around the room.
“It’s possible that someone could have snuck up on her from the back door,” she said.
“And it looks like there was evidence of someone forcing the lock open,” Ryan said. “The killer broke his way in and committed the crime.”
“So, it’s not somebody who had keys,” Amy said.
“Why didn’t Megan Baker hear the killer breaking in and coming up behind her?” asked Heather.
“She had music playing,” Ryan said. “It must have made it hard for her to hear.”
Heather decided to focus on the murder weapon next, and asked, “Was what stabbed her from this kitchen? Or did the killer bring it in with him?”
“We believe it was from here,” said Ryan. “It matches a set.”
“That’s interesting,” said Heather. “So, the killer broke in but didn’t bring his own weapon.”
“Or he decided that he liked the knife found here better,” said Ryan. “It’s not something that could be traced back to him.”
“And where was the body found exactly?” Heather asked.
“Over here,” Ryan said, pointing to an area with some paperwork on it. It was a small shelving unit between the kitchen and the office.
"So, she was attacked at the counter there but then moved over here?" Heather said, asking for confirmation.
Ryan nodded. “Based on the blood trail, we know that she headed this way.”
“She knocked over a folder of recent invoices,” said Peters. “They were all around her when we arrived.”
“Why was she headed that way?” Heather asked. “The two exits are the opposite way.”
“She might have been headed to the office and the phone there,” said Ryan.
“That makes sense,” said Heather. “But could the invoices have anything to do with her murder?”
“Not that we could determine,” said Ryan. “We think that they are a coincidence.”
“Could we look at them?” asked Heather.
"Well," Ryan started. "I think the invoices are more a formal part of the investigation, rather than baker-ly advice."
“It’s fine,” Heather said, stopping him from putting his foot anymore inside his mouth.
“Yeah,” Amy said, sarcastically. “We’ll just take the recipe book and analyze that.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Heather said. “We should look at the recipes.”
“Do you want to branch into making cupcakes?” Peters asked with a smile.
Heather replied, “No, but maybe we could figure out what the last thing she was working on was. I don’t know if it would be important or not.”
“You’ve already helped a good deal,” Ryan said. “We’ve found the ruby because of you. And jewels make me think that a lover is involved. I want to question he boyfriend again.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t help with that, can we?” Amy asked. “Because it doesn’t have anything to do with sugar and spice?”
“Well,” Ryan said, relenting. “Maybe you could just watch.”
Watching an Interrogation
“This is dumb,” Amy said, crossing her arms.
“We’ve watched interrogations on the other side of the mirror before,” Heather said.
“I know,” said Amy. “But that was because the police didn’t trust our skills. I thought Ryan did.”
“Ryan does trust us,” Heather said. “He just wants to impress his new boss.”
“This is the same boss that sometimes wears flipflops to the station?” Amy asked.
“He’s still the chief,” Heather said, smiling at the description of him.
"I just don't like being told that if the chief comes by, we can't say we're helping," said Amy.
“We don’t do this for the recognition,” Heather reminded her.
"Give me a donut, and I'll stop complaining," said Amy.
Heather obliged, and then the two women turned their attention to the questioning that was beginning inside the interrogation room. Scott Hauser looked like he hadn't slept in days. He looked grungy and was dressed in stained sweatpants and sandals.
“Mr. Hauser, we’d like to talk some more about your relationship with Megan Baker,” said Ryan.
“What’s the point?” asked Scott Hauser. “She’s gone and remembering the past won’t bring her back.”
“Maybe there’s a point to finding her killer,” Peters suggested.
“I guess so,” said Scott. “But I don’t know what else I can tell you to help with that. I didn’t get to see her the day before she died because she said she had to work.”
“Was it usual for her to work so much?” asked Ryan.
“She normally started her day early and then went home early. Sometimes we’d get early bird specials. But she had to work more recently because she lost an employee. He broke a leg or something,” said Scott.
“Did it upset you that you didn’t get to see her as much?” asked Ryan.
“It does now that she’s gone,” said Scott. “I lost out on seeing her.”
“Mr. Hauser, how many people knew that she went into Cupcake Cove that early in the morning?” Ryan asked.
Scott shrugged. “It wasn’t a secret, but I guess she didn’t advertise it either. Her employees definitely knew.”
“And you knew?” Peters asked.
“Yes. I knew,” said Scott. “But I didn’t go there and kill her.”
“Where were you that morning?” Ryan asked.
“I was home asleep,” Scott said. “I don’t have to go to work as early as she does.”
“You were home alone?” Ryan prompted.
“Of course, I was,” said Scott. “I wouldn’t cheat on Megan. I loved her.”
“You loved her so much that you’d buy her jewels?” Peters asked, trying to make a segue.
“What do you mean?” Scott asked.
“We found a large ruby in her kitchen,” Ryan said. “Did you give it to her?”
“A ruby? No,” said Scott. “We didn’t need to bribe each other to like one another with gifts. If I got her anything, it was something personal. Not just jewelry.”
“So, you didn’t give her the ruby?” Ryan reiterated.
“No,” Scott said. “I just told you that.”
“Then, do you have any idea where she got it from?” asked Ryan.
“I don’t know,” Scott said. “Maybe she bought it for herself. Maybe she wanted a red stone.”
“Is it possible that someone else gave it to her?” asked Ryan.
“Like who?” Scott asked back.
Ryan shrugged. “You tell me.”
“It sounds like you’re implying that she was seeing somebody else,” said Scott. “But Megan wouldn’t do that to me. She was honest, and she loved me. She wasn't cheating."
“Maybe she wasn’t cheating,” Peters said. “Maybe there was someone who was giving her unwanted attention. Maybe that person gave her the gem.”
“Do you have any idea who that might be?” Ryan asked. “Do you know anyone who would have given it to her?”
“No,” Scott said, and that was all he was going to say.
Ryan started to wind down the interview when Heather tapped on the glass. He tried to ignore her taps at first, but then excused himself and met them outside the room.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“You mentioned finding a partial shoe print at the crime scene,” said Heather. “Could those sandals match?”
Ryan smiled. “We might as well check and see.”
He returned to the interrogation room and asked Scott Hauser if he would mind them examining his shows.
Scott stood up and took off his shoes, yelling, “Fine! It doesn’t matter. None of this matter. Try and kick up dirt on us. It won’t help. I didn’t kill her. And we were in love.”
He threw his shoes toward the detectives and barged out of the room, shoeless. It appeared he planned on walking home barefoot as he headed out of the station.
“At least a good portion of this island is sand,” Amy said.
“He seemed really upset,” said Heather. “But is it because he knows he’s about to be caught as a murderer? Or that his girlfriend is dead?”
“And that he has no shoes?” offered Amy.
They were about to discuss the case more when Chief Chet saw them. He insisted that his officers and friends call him by his first name, and so he was "Chief Chet" instead of "Chief Copeland." He wasn't wearing flipflops that day, but was wearing a baseball cap and had unbuttoned his shirt. He was the most casual chief that Heather had ever met, but his force did seem to be still run effectively.
“Heather and Amy,” he said jovially, revealing he remembered their names. “What brings you here today?”
Heather shot her bestie a look.
“We’re delivering some donuts,” Amy said with a sigh.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” he said, gratefully accepting a Mulled Cider Donut. “Delicious.”
“Have you been getting bad news?” Heather asked.
"You don't miss a beat," Chief Chet said. "It's just that there have been more murders on the island recently. I need to make sure that my detectives are up to the task of catching all the bad guys. I hope your husband is as good as we all heard he was."
“He is,” Heather assured him.
Chief Chet accepted another donut. “I need him at the top of his game. Because we’re not going to let Key West become anything but paradise. Everyone has their own part to play.”
Heather nodded, not sure if he meant that “her part” was to stay away from the investigations.
Walking and Wondering
“I don’t think Cupcake likes the case,” Amy said. “Her namesake has become a crime scene.”
Heather nodded, looking at the kitten that kept tilting her head in confusion.
“It’s okay, kitty,” Heather said. “Let’s go for our walk.”
Cupcake loved a walk as much as doggy Dave did, and they both enjoyed the tropical weather as they walked near the sand. Heather and Amy were joined by their significant others as they walked the pets, but both of the men were being quiet.
“What’s up with them?” Amy asked.
“Sorry,” Jamie said, realizing she was talking about him. “I’m just thinking about my business. I’m really excited for it to start. I should make some flyers to advertise it.”
“I could help you with that,” Amy said.
"Thanks," Jamie said. He was about to give her a kiss to show his love and appreciation, but Dave tugged at the leash because he saw something he needed to sniff.
“What about you?” Heather asked her husband. “Are you thinking about the case?”
“Yes,” Ryan said. “But I’m also thinking about what Chief Chet said to you. Does he think that I’m not doing my job properly?”
“I don’t see how he can think that,” said Heather. “You’ve found out a lot of information about the case already, and it’s just a matter of time until you figure out who did it.”
Ryan frowned. “The problem is that this isn’t the first thing that he’s said about it. He was telling a story about how another cop had to pick up the slack on traffic duty. It made me feel like he thought I wasn’t pulling my weight yet. That’s why I’ve been so reticent to get you involved in this case. I don’t want him to think that I can’t do my job.”
“You’re a wonderful detective,” Heather said. “He’d be a fool not to see that.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“And we won’t go to anymore interrogations or crime scenes until we know it won’t get you into trouble,” said Heather.
She heard Amy sigh behind her.
“Of course,” Heather said. “If you want to just discuss the case aloud, we’d be happy to talk to you about it.”
Ryan smiled. “That way you can still feel a part of the case?”
“Exactly,” said Heather. “Now what do you think about the boyfriend as a suspect?”
"He doesn't have a strong alibi, and significant others are always people to look into," said Ryan. "However, the sandals he was wearing when we spoke to him don't match the partial we found at the crime scene."
“He shouldn’t have stormed off,” Amy said. “He could have gotten his shoes back.”
“Then he wouldn’t have had to worry about any “no shoes, no service” signs,” Jamie joked.
“The thing that is puzzling me is that I don’t see any reason why Scott Hauser would lie about giving Megan Baker the ruby,” said Ryan.
Heather nodded. “If he had given it to her, it would have made sense. He was her boyfriend.”
“This means that someone else gave it to her,” said Ryan.
“Another man?” Amy suggested, “Could he be the killer?”
“The other man could be the killer,” Ryan agreed. “Or Scott Hauser still could have done it. His motive could have been discovering that Megan Baker had another lover. He got jealous and turned to murder.”
“But who is the other man?” Heather asked. “Did her assistants ever mention seeing someone else she was romantically involved with near the store? Or did her neighbors notice anything?”
“The neighbors only remember seeing Scott Hauser at her house, but that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t seeing anyone. If she was being secretive, they might not have met at her place,” said Ryan. “I think this is a good lead to follow. Peters and I are going to look into finding the other man who gave her the ruby.”
“That’s a good lead,” Heather said. “But I’ve been thinking more about those invoices. What if she wasn’t headed towards the phone to call for help? What if she was trying to leave us a clue about her killer?”
“And the clue is in the invoices?” Ryan asked.
“It would be nice if she could have left a clearer clue,” Amy said. “Like if she could have used one of those pieces of paper and written the killer’s name down.”
“I don’t think she had much time,” Heather said. “But she did what she could to leave a message.”
“I’ll look at the invoices again,” Ryan said. “Right after I find the other man.”
“We could look at them?” Amy suggested.
Ryan faltered.
“No,” Heather said, saving him from having to respond. “Besides, we have our own case to solve.”
Romance and Recipes
“This is my least favorite part of investigation,” said Amy. “The research phase. Which turns into the stare at pages of paper phase.”
"At least there are donuts," Heather said.
“True,” Amy said, grabbing one and taking a bite.
They had worked at Donut Delights for the morning rush but were now sitting at a table in the corner looking at romantic poems that were found hidden at the bookstore and at a recipe book that was found at a crime scene. Heather’s assistants, Janae and Luz, were manning the counter and kitchen.
“There’s something strange about this recipe book,” Heather said.
“Because it somehow seems like a re
cipe for murder?” Amy asked.
"No," Heather said. "Because there are multiple listings for some recipes. Like there are three entries for red velvet cake."
Amy took the book away from her friend and looked at it. It was more like a binder than a bound book, and it was full of handwritten recipes.
“Maybe these are different iterations of her recipes,” Amy said. “Like she tried it one way, and then decided she liked the cupcakes a different way a little better. You’ve adjusted some recipes as you experiment with new flavors.”
"That's true," said Heather. "But I get rid of the old recipe once I feel like I've improved upon it. I don't hold onto a recipe that calls for milk when I discovered that cream goes better with it.
Amy thought about it. "Are they different in other ways? Like is one red velvet recipe gluten-free or vegan or missing something else that a customer could be allergic to?"
“They’re not labeled that way,” said Heather. “They all just say Red Velvet Cupcakes at the top, though they do have different page numbers at the bottom.”
“Are the ingredients different?” Amy asked.
“A bit,” said Heather. “The main difference seems to be proportions. Maybe that’s what the difference is. One is if you want a smaller batch of twelve cupcakes. And one is if you want to make batter for forty-eight.”
“Could you just do the math and multiply?” Amy asked.
Heather shrugged. “I’m just not sure what other reason you would have for having all these similar recipes.”
“Maybe she was just bad at multiplication,” Amy agreed. “I used to have a cheat sheet to convert teaspoons to tablespoons until I started working with you so much."
Heather flipped through the recipe book with her friend, feeling like they were missing something. However, she couldn’t make sense of why there were extra recipes for pistachio or blueberry cream cupcakes.
“All right,” Amy suggested. “Next case. We’re stuck on this one. Let’s move to the next.”
Heather laid the poems out in front of them, and Amy groaned.
Mulled Cider & Murder: An Oceanside Cozy Mystery - Book 8 Page 3