A Fatal Finale

by Stacey Alabaster

  He sounded as shocked as I felt. I thought it over for a moment. “Do we know the name of the buyer?”

  I heard some papers shuffling on the other end of the line before Blake produced the name. “Akos Touring is the name of the company.”

  It wasn’t anything that sounded familiar to me. It didn’t really matter anyway. I just couldn’t believe that we finally had a real buyer.

  “The offer is generous,” I said, holding my breath, waiting for Blake to give me some kind of reaction. Surely, he would only be calling if he was willing to take it. “What do you think?” I asked Blake. It wasn’t an offer to just buy my half. This buyer wanted the whole place. Meaning that Blake’s best laid plans and intentions would all come falling down now. I bet he was regretting the day he ever went into business with me.

  “I think it’s better I just cut my losses now,” he said softly. I breathed a sigh of relief that I hoped he wouldn’t hear. I knew this was what was best for both of us. We’d tried our best, we’d had good intentions when we went into business with each other. It just hadn’t worked out. This was the best possible way it was going to end.

  I brightened up and tried to offer him a suggestion. “You could take your profits and invest in another small coffee shop…”

  “Like the one I sold, to get into business with you? The one that was a huge success? The one that I built from scratch all on my own?” He still sounded bitter, to put it mildly. There was dead silence on the line for a few minutes.

  I gulped. I stared up at the stars. “I’m sorry, Blake. I’m so sorry about everything that has happened… If I could undo it all, I would…”

  “Undo it?” he asked. “That is a curious way of putting it. I’m starting to think that all of these rumors might be actually true.” He ended the call.

  I collected myself for a few moments before I went back inside. The news was a lot to take in. Jackson was sound asleep by the time I went back to the bedroom.

  I didn’t tell Jackson about the call for some reason, and when he asked me the following night how my day had been while we were eating dinner, I just moved my salad around my plate and murmured that it had been ‘fine.’

  “Is there something wrong, Rach?” he asked, reaching for the serving spoons so he could get a second serving of the Caesar salad.

  I shook my head. “No. I guess it’s just taken some adjusting to life here, that’s all… It kind of all hit me today.”

  Jackson thought about my quandary for a moment. “Once you get to know a few people in town, you’ll feel more at home.”

  I nodded. “I might go for a walk tomorrow. I haven’t even checked out the town properly yet…”

  It was three miles to town, so it took about forty minutes to walk there. There was a general store not too far from us, which meant that going into the town wasn’t strictly necessary. Since I did most of my shopping at the little general store, I hadn’t gone into town very much. But Jackson was right—it was time to get more social.

  That day, the forty minutes didn’t seem so long. I didn’t mind the time it took to clear my head, so I left the car behind and started to walk. All the hiking I’d been doing had strengthened my legs and it was easy to walk even on the part of the journey that was uphill.

  My heart lightened a little as I reached the town, the population of which was roughly 800 people. There was something comforting about seeing all these people, locals, going about their day-to-day business. People stopped and smiled at me and said hello as I walked past. I knew this was a place I could belong to. I stopped at the deli and ordered some honey-smoked ham to take home later. And a half-dozen croissants. Why not?

  After picking up some fruit and another bridal mag from the news agency, I wondered if I ought to start the journey back home. If I bought too much more, it was going to be a pain to lug it all back on the forty-minute walk. I received a text from Jackson asking me to pick up a block of cheddar cheese. I replied, “You might have to get that yourself in the car I think!” And laughed to myself as I put the phone away and started to head back.

  But something made me turn back and wander back up the street. Maybe I should just get the darn cheese and give my arms a workout. There was a supermarket the next block over that would have the cheese Jackson was after.

  “Hello there, good morning,” people would sing out as I passed them.

  “Good morning to you as well!” I smiled at everyone as I walked past them, the sun shining on my face

  There was a bright yellow building at the end of the block as I approached it. I laughed a little and shook my head, dismissive at first, thinking, that color reminds me of Bakermatic, and thinking that someone must have used the same color scheme to make people think that it was an actual Bakermatic. At least until you got inside and realized it was called Baking Mania or something like that.

  But the closer I got the less amusing it seemed. I was in disbelief—shock, actually—as I looked up at the logo and saw that it actually did read “Bakermatic.” Not Baking Mania. I had to check a few times to make sure that it was a legitimate franchise and not someone just ripping it off. I poked my head inside the door.

  The official Bakermatic logo was everywhere.

  “Can I help you with something, miss?”

  I turned my back and left, like I had been slapped in the face, and hurried back home.

  Jackson picked up a knife and slid it down through the giant block of vintage-aged cheddar cheese. Careful, I thought, watching it. It would be easy to take off a finger. “We might need to get a second car,” Jackson pointed out. Shortly after we moved, I had sold my old one for a few hundred dollars. We’d both thought we would only need one. But living three miles out of town and having different schedules had shown us otherwise. “I’ll look at the car sales tomorrow.”

  I just nodded.

  “Something wrong?” Jackson asked as he placed the crumbling slices of cheddar onto a plate. “You are looking at this cheese like you want to murder it.”

  I was still incensed about the bright yellow monstrosity I had witnessed earlier. I told Jackson all about it. “I am surprised that there would be any franchises in a small town like Lakes Entrance,” I said. “I thought they were all about local fresh produce down here.”

  Jackson sliced more cheese than either of us would be able to get through. “There is room for both local produce and chain stores here… Lakes Entrance is coming into the modern age slowly but surely.” He was defending the town where he and his family had spent their summers. It made sense. I just didn’t agree that modern had to include large corporations.

  But Bakermatic was one of those places that always prided itself on looking rustic and local, even if in reality, it was run by a large corporation. “They probably convinced everyone in this town that they are ethical. A small mom and pop store,” I said, growling a little as I thought about it. “It’s not right.”

  Jackson laughed a little uneasily. “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this, Rachael,” he said. “I think it’s great they’re here in Lakes Entrance. I get my coffee from there in the morning before I head into the vet’s office.”

  My mouth fell open. “You can’t get your coffee at Bakermatic! Don’t you remember what they did to me?” I felt a bitter flood of betrayal. “They tried to put my store out of business.”

  Jackson wrapped the cheese back up and put it into the refrigerator while I waited for him to defend himself.

  He turned around slowly. “I don’t think this is really about Bakermatic, is it, Rachael?”

  “What else is it about?” I could feel my blood pressure rising and my voice was getting higher-pitched. I was no longer sitting down. I was pacing across the kitchen.

  Jackson looked at the floor. He still had his apron tied around his waist. “It’s about what happened in Belldale… If you had really left everything behind, then you wouldn’t be reacting so emotionally to such an inconsequential thing.”

 
Oh, he did not just say that.

  “I am not acting emotionally,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I am acting entirely reasonably. I don’t want you to get coffee from Bakermatic. It’s a betrayal.”

  “And I don’t want you investigating this case!” Jackson spat out, exasperated.

  I stopped. That had thrown me. “I—I’m not investigating the case,” I said, disarmed. I sat back down again.

  He stared at me. “Then what have you been keeping secret from me?”

  I took a deep breath. “I promised you that I had dropped it, okay? And I meant it.”

  The yellow was so bright that I practically had to wear shades. Actually, I thought. That’s not such a bad idea. I grabbed them out of the pocket of my hoodie and placed them over my face. Incognito. I pulled the hood over my head. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the window, I realized I didn’t actually look that incognito. I looked more creepy than anything. Oh well. The main point was that I wouldn’t be recognized.

  Maybe it was the detective in me still wanting to come out to play, but I had to make sure that Jackson wasn’t actually going to go to Bakermatic that morning. After our argument the night before, he had promised me that if he needed coffee in the morning, he would either make it at home or go to the locally-run coffee shop on the corner.

  But I just had to make sure.

  I glanced around to make sure no one was looking before I pushed my way through the front door.

  It was strange how identical the inside was to the Bakermatic that had been in Belldale. For a second, I was taken back to that time in my life, and the bitterness I felt stinging my chest rivaled the bitterness of the burnt coffee that Bakermatic served. I wondered what Blake would make of a place like Bakermatic. It would probably be the one thing we’d actually see eye-to-eye on.

  To be fair, there was a lovely girl with long, dark hair standing behind the counter, spine straight, ready to serve me with a happy attitude.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked me with a cheery smile.

  I didn’t want to order anything or give them my money, but if I was going to sit there and wait, I was going to need at least a coffee to buy me some time at one of the tables. “A long black.” And maybe I was also going to need some food. “And a ham and cheese croissant,” I said, trying not to think about the fact that it was prepackaged and probably full of preservatives. And nowhere near as good as the one that Jackson would have made me at home that morning, if I had stayed home instead of running out the door, trying to spring him later.

  Ah well, heated up, it all tasted pretty good anyway. I started pulling apart the buttery pastry and chewed on it as I waited, slumped down in one of the booths so that I could see who came in through the doors, but they couldn’t see me.

  Bakermatic was fairly quiet that morning, more of a drip of customers than a torrent, so I could see each one individually. A man walked in wearing a polo similar to Jackson’s new uniform from the clinic. Too short to be Jackson, though. And balding at the back. Definitely not Jackson.

  A woman with long, black hair and just the hint of a belly came waltzing through the doors. It was strange. The way she swanned in really reminded me of Simona.

  No way.

  Was that actually…?

  I sat up and took my hood off for a moment and then realized that for this one, I really, really didn’t want to get caught. This was too juicy. I put the hood back on and slid further down in the booth.

  She greeted the woman behind the counter as though they were long lost friends. I couldn’t believe it. It really was Simona. I leaned down and watched them. They seemed to catch up a little, swapping stories about their lives, before Simona ordered a latte to take away, waving cheerily

  What on earth was Simona doing here in Lakes Entrance?

  “That woman who was just here…” I said, speaking to the girl behind the counter as I returned my tray to her.

  “Which one?” She frowned.

  “The one with the long, black hair.” I nodded at the girl. “Looks a bit like your own hair.”

  She shook her head. “Just a customer.”

  “Really?” I asked, not believing her. “She wasn’t a friend of yours?”

  The girl looked uneasy and glanced around for someone to save her. I knew my tone was getting frantic, but I just knew that she was lying to me. When the doors opened and a new customer came in, she looked relieved and told me to have a great day.

  I was going to have to break my promise to Jackson. I was going to have to start investigating again.

  12

  Jackson waved the paper cup in front of me. It was empty. His cup from that morning. “See?” he said. “Got my morning coffee from the corner store just like I said I would. Tasted a little weak, to be honest. Tomorrow, I’ll just have to ask for an extra shot.”

  “You didn’t have to bring me proof,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as I walked into the kitchen.

  “I wasn’t sure you would believe me otherwise,” he said, and I guiltily realized that was probably true.

  “How was your morning?” he asked me. “Where did you get your morning coffee?”

  “I, uh, didn’t have any today,” I said. “Trying to cut back.”

  He pressed me a little more, asking if I’d seen anything interesting in town. Yes. I had. Simona, here in Lakes Entrance, for some reason. Frequenting the chain store that she used to work for. It was very interesting. It was crazy. But I couldn’t tell the man standing in front of me.

  I didn’t like keeping secrets, but telling him was only going to make it worse. After the argument we’d had the night before about Bakermatic, I couldn’t very well admit that I’d been hiding out there waiting to catch him. And I certainly couldn’t tell him I was investigating the Rogan case again.

  “Are you sure that everything is okay?” Jackson asked, frowning a little.

  I nodded.

  He had some news for me. Apparently, he’d set me up on some kind of ‘friend date’ with a volunteer from the veterinary clinic. Her name was Carine, and he told me she was a bit quiet and nerdy, but very nice and that he was sure that we would get along. “It would be good for you to have a friend down here,” he said as he slipped on his hiking boots, ready for his evening exercise. “It’s not practical for Sue to drive down here every weekend. Maybe Carine can help you with the wedding planning. It’s not stressing you out too much, is it?”

  I jumped on that question. It gave me an excuse for my weird mood. “It is a little, actually,” I said, feeling relieved. “Sorry if I have been a little weird. A lot on my mind with the planning.” I took Carine’s number off him and promised that I would go on the friend date.

  I really needed Pippa. She would tell me what to do about Jackson.

  And she might be able to help me come up with some clue as to what the heck Simona was doing in Lakes Entrance. She was always able to come up with surprising angles and answers to questions. Sometimes, I couldn’t see the obvious thing right in front of me, but Pippa’s quirky point of view was able to see it differently.

  But Pippa wasn’t here. I tried to accept that as I stared down at Carine’s number and shoved it in my pocket.

  Two Weeks Later

  “It can’t be a coincidence,” I said, stirring a second sugar into my coffee. Ever since I’d moved to Lakes Entrance, both my sugar and coffee consumption seemed to have followed. “I’ve seen Simona in Bakermatic here three times now.”

  Carine was struggling to follow. “In what way isn’t it a coincidence?” She peered at me over the top of her glasses.

  She was okay. She was fine. She had regular-colored hair. Light brown. Didn’t look like it had ever been dyed, actually.

  “It has to be related to the murder of Rogan,” I said, as though that was obvious. “Don’t you remember the story I told you?”

  She looked a little like she was drowning at sea without a lifejacket. “Oh, yes, right. You think that Simona…is that
her name? Is the one who killed that man. And her being her in Lakes Entrance…proves that?” She looked at me, desperate for confirmation. Or approval. I sighed. She didn’t get it. Not really.

  Carine volunteered at the veterinarian clinic on the weekends, but she had a full-time job. She worked at the bank and had been there for seven years, since graduating high school. She was basically the anti-Pippa. Her job at the bakery aside, I think the longest Pippa had ever kept a job was seven weeks—not years.

  Carine stared into her coffee. She was about to offer me a sensible solution, I just knew it. And I knew that I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Maybe she was just driving through town? Lakes Entrance is right on the freeway.”

  “It’s five miles off,” I said flatly. “You have to turn off. You have to know it’s here.” Suddenly, I remembered when I had told Simona that I had been visiting Lakes Entrance and she seemed very familiar with the place.

  I tilted my head and looked at the young woman sitting across from me. At least Carine was sensible enough. I needed that in a detective partner, I supposed. But did I need it in a best friend?

  To be honest, in that moment, I wasn’t sure I even needed sensibility in a detective partner. I needed Carine to use a bit more imagination. Simona hadn’t randomly turned off the freeway three times in the last two weeks to grab a coffee at a town two hours away from her house. Something was going on. I just needed to fit the puzzle pieces together.

  “Sure. She may have been just driving through. But why was she stopping at Bakermatic? At the place she used to work?” My voice came out in short little bursts, like pressure was pushing them up through my throat.

  Carine was wide-eyed and starting to look nervous. I could tell she was wondering why I was interrogating her and turning our catch-up over coffee into something far more strange and intense. She stumbled for the right thing to say. “I suppose she is just comfortable with the place? She knows what the menu is. She probably orders the same thing every time.”