by K. J. Emrick
“Maybe not for much longer.”
“Oh, Jerry. Rosen isn’t going to fire you. He knows you’re too good at what you do. Sure, he’s suspended you in the past over stupid things but he wouldn’t dare try to—”
“I’m not talking about being fired,” he said. “I’m saying that maybe it’s time for me to think about retiring.”
That took her so completely by surprise that all she could do was stand there and stare at him for several long seconds. “Are you serious?” she finally asked.
“Yeah. Actually, I think I am.” He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “I mean, let’s face it. This job is one of the things standing in the way of us getting married and under our new chief all I’m getting here is grief, so what am I staying for?”
She put a hand on his arm, wanting to touch him, to let him know that she was here for him no matter what. “You’re here because being a police officer is part of who you are. It’s always been part of you for as long as I can remember.”
He only shrugged. “Things change. Let’s talk about it at your place. Tomorrow. I need to let you get some sleep and like I said, I need to—”
From inside, they heard Rosen blowing his top once more. Cookie was pretty sure she heard Jerry’s name in the middle of his tirade.
“I have to get back inside,” Jerry finished. He leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. “I love you, Karen Williams. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she said. It was only after he had gone back inside and the door had closed that she held those two words close to her heart and hoped that someday soon she would be able to say them under different circumstances, in front of an altar, with all of their friends and family watching.
Well, if every chef waited for the recipe to be just right then the world would never have known the deliciousness of fudge. Or hot dogs. Sometimes you just had to take things as they were and enjoy the flavor of the dish you’d been served.
She sighed as she started up the sidewalk. That was plenty enough cooking metaphors for one night. Even for her. Time to go home.
Just as she was telling herself that, it started to rain. Just a gentle sprinkling at first, but then the water drops got fat and heavy, and she knew she would be drenched before too much longer if she tried to hoof it home in this.
Now what?
On the street, its shiny rims reflecting off the moist pavement, a BMW pulled up to the curb right next to where Cookie was walking. She sighed heavily, recalling that old saying about how you should never speak the Devil’s name because if you did you were sure to conjure him up. In a town the size of Widow’s Rest, there weren’t many people who could afford a luxury car like a BMW 640i. One of them was old man Tamlin who had just won a sweepstakes for a hundred thousand dollars and spent almost every dime of it on a new car and a lifetime membership to the Smithsonian. A classic case of having more money than sense.
The other person with that particular brand of car was none other than Benjamin Roth.
She could see him inside, looking back at her, obviously deciding whether he would lower himself to offer her a ride. He was an elegant man, as old as Cookie or maybe a few years more, yet he always managed to look so annoyingly young. If she hadn’t known him for all of her adult life she would have easily thought he was ten years younger than she was. He’d even taken to dying the gray at the temples of his coiffured hair. He was a very vain man.
When he finally did push a button to roll down the window on the passenger side she saw that he was dressed in a three piece suit, as usual. She had no idea where he was coming from at this hour of the night. Probably another business meeting. Even though he was a married man now he still kept a busy schedule buying and selling properties around the state. Who knew what hapless small business owner he’d bullied into selling out to him this time.
“Karen,” he said to her in that smooth, pompous voice of his. “Do get in the car. You’ll catch your death of pneumonia out there. I’m assuming that you’re heading home?”
Her clothes were already starting to cling wetly to her skin, and the rain was still coming down just as hard. Beggars, as they say, couldn’t be choosers.
“Thank you, Benjamin. I would appreciate a ride home to be sure.”
“Yes. Well. I’m quite certain that Jessica would have my head if I ever left you standing in the rain.”
Cookie actually spared him a chuckle as she got into the car. The smell of expensive leather almost overwhelmed her senses. As he moved the vehicle away from the curb Cookie thought about how Jessica and he had married just a short time ago, and it was still an odd pairing. At least, in Cookie’s mind it was. Jessica was one of her dearest friends. Benjamin was… the exact opposite. Although he might not be quite the monster she used to think he was, she would never count him among her friends.
After a few minutes of silence, Benjamin cleared his throat. “So tell me, Karen, what brings you out in the rain on a night like this?”
The reality of the day came back to her. “My friend died today. The police believe she was murdered.”
She expected some sort of sarcastic comment from him. That was his usual way. Instead, he surprised her again with his gentle words. “I heard. The mayor and I were having dinner earlier. She mentioned your friend’s death. I knew Sheila Tucker. It’s a shame that she’s gone. Nice woman. Smart, and humorous in her own way.”
“You knew Sheila?” Cookie couldn’t help the way that sounded.
“Of course. Her late husband and I were involved in a few business deals together. She was quite a wealthy woman, you know.”
That confused Cookie. Was he talking about the same Sheila? Her friend wasn’t a rich woman. Cookie had seen her clipping coupons from the Sunday paper, for crying out loud.
Benjamin mistook her confused silence for interest in what he’d been saying. “Oh, she was far too humble to say so, and I guess she enjoyed living there in that Cedar View place, regardless of what her wealth could afford, even though I can’t for the life of me understand why. Of course, in recent years she’d given quite a bit of her personal fortune to her daughter and that new boyfriend of hers. What was his name?”
Cookie drew in a sharp breath. “Grayson DeBeers. The police have him in custody now. They think he might be the killer.”
“Hmm. Yes, I can see that. Sheila wasn’t the type of person who would let herself be used forever. That boy had taken quite a bit from her. She probably got tired of paying for Grayson’s ne’er-do-well lifestyle and if he refused to take no for an answer… well. People have killed over less. Wouldn’t you say that’s true?”
Yes, she would. She’d seen such things firsthand. “I suppose you could be right. Everything certainly seems to be pointing at him as the suspect.”
“Then, there you go. I find that the simplest answers are often the correct answers. Now. Here we are.”
He’d pulled up in front of her bakery with a little squeal of wet brakes. She sat staring at the building, her business, her home. She was thinking about a lot of things, but she wasn’t coming up with any answers.
“Well,” she said at last, “thank you. I suppose it’s time for this old girl to get some sleep.”
“Me, too.” He hid a yawn behind his hand and then offered her another smile. “I’ve had a long day of negotiating deals and making other people money. Oddly enough, I was going to be seeing a lot of Sheila over the next few weeks. She had agreed to help finance a little project for the town. We were both going to make quite a bit of money from it, of course. I suppose I’ll have to look for other backers now.”
“A project?” Cookie asked him. She had to admit she was very intrigued. “What sort of project?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say, Karen.” He tapped his finger against his nose. “It’s all very hush hush, you see.”
Apparently he hadn’t changed all that much, after all. “Good night, Benjamin.”
She got out of the car and didn’t wait for him to
drive away before she put the key into the lock and went inside. She was halfway up the stairs to her apartment when a question occurred to her.
If Sheila actually had the money resources that Benjamin Roth seemed to think she did, then why was she living in the Cedar View retirement home?
Chapter 3
The next morning at the bakery flew by. With just herself working here again it was always rush, rush, rush. Bring out the baked goods, set the ovens for the things she needed to make next, mix up the ingredients for the items that would go into the display cases for lunch, and basically see that everyone who came in hungry left happy.
Cream did his best to help her by barking encouragement from the stairs, and accepting small scraps of food in a dish that Cookie set out for him four steps up. He knew he couldn’t come any further, however, so the best he could do was be her moral support.
It was lunchtime when Jerry came in. He was in his uniform again, even though this wouldn’t have been his regular shift. Or maybe, she thought, he was still in his uniform from last night. He certainly looked like he hadn’t slept.
He waited while she finished boxing up a dozen assorted muffins for Juliette from the post office. She was a regular customer at lunchtime, always getting a different treat for herself and the other two postal workers to share. Most of the people in town were loyal customers of the bakery, whether it was a loaf of bread before going home or a donut with their morning coffee. So far, the Flakies had proven to be a hit as well. She was having trouble keeping up with the orders that came in.
If this kept up, she might just have to hire a worker to replace her granddaughter. At least for a little while.
When she handed Juliette her change she thanked her and then rushed over to Jerry, stripping off the pair of clear plastic gloves she’d been wearing to handle the food. “Hi,” she greeted him. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I was running around all night. I had to head home to take a shower and relax for a couple of hours because I wasn’t sure when I’d get to do it again.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulled a face, and in that expression Cookie could read a lot of what he wasn’t saying. Something had happened with the case of Sheila’s murder, and he wasn’t supposed to say anything about it to anyone. Especially not to her.
And then he shrugged like he couldn’t care less what he was supposed to do.
Motioning with his head for her to follow him, he came around the end of the display case and over to the doors to the kitchen. Cookie checked that she didn’t have any customers waiting at the moment and then went in after him.
The warm aromas of baking breads mixed with the smells of spices and the less pleasant smell of the batch of croissants she had burned earlier and tossed into the trash. She really was going to need to put out a help wanted ad. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all.
Cream padded up and down the bottom stairs with his tail wagging furiously when he spotted Jerry. He liked Jerry. Usually there would be little dog treats whenever he came around but today all he had to spare was a scratch behind the Chihuahua’s right ear. Cream didn’t mind. He liked that, too.
Cookie waited for them to have their guy time before she asked, “Jerry, what happened?”
“You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say, right?”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “How long have you known me? Do you really think I just fell off the turnip truck yesterday? For crying out loud, Jerry, if you don’t think you can trust me then maybe it’s for the best that we haven’t gotten married yet because I swear to you that—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, gently, folding her into his arms, careless of the flour and baking mess that she had wiped all over her apron that was now all over the front of his blue uniform. “Hey, I know you better than that. I do. I just needed to say it out in the open first, I guess. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
Cookie took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, settling herself into his arms. “Yes. I forgive you. I love you, Jerry Stansted, but there are times when you are just such an infuriating specimen of a man.”
“Like, when I keep putting our wedding off?”
“If I were you,” she said, poking him in the chest, “I wouldn’t go there.”
Behind them, Cream growled, and then gruffed at them.
“See? Even Cream knows we have more important stuff to talk about. Just tell me what’s so wrong that has kept you awake for most of the night.”
“Right. Um. Just prepare yourself for this one, okay?” He waited, maybe expecting her to say something or ask another question. Then he rushed through the rest of what he had to say in a single breath. “Amanda is missing and no one seems to know where she is.”
She pushed back from him, just far enough to look into his eyes. “Amanda? You mean, Sheila’s daughter? Jerry!”
“I know, I know. Chief Rosen wants to keep this quiet for now. At least until we can confirm that she hasn’t just gone off somewhere to process her mother’s death.”
“Chief Rosen can suck an egg for all I care,” Cookie said, using language that her mother had always told her a lady should never resort to. “And if you expect me to believe that he’s keeping this quiet out of the goodness of his heart and consideration for the family, then you must have a bridge to sell me as well. He’s only doing this to keep himself from looking foolish in the papers.”
“Cookie…”
“Jerry, you know it’s true. Rosen is only after his own glory. The only reason he keeps his job as chief is because no one has challenged him yet. I’m sure if someone else ran against him there would be a landslide vote that would bury Rosen forever!”
“Sure. That, and the fact that he has connections ranging from the mayor to the governor. The man is a snake, but he’s a well connected snake.”
“Yes. That too.” She sighed as she tried to wipe the flour and powdered sugar off the front of his uniform. She was mostly successful. “So why are you telling me this if you know it’s going to get you in trouble with Chief Blowhard?”
He chuckled at her sarcastic characterization of his boss, and then he shrugged. “I know you led us right to Grayson. I thought maybe you’d have some ideas of where we could find Amanda. Let’s assume she did go somewhere just to think about the mysteries of the universe and mourn her mother’s passing in private. Do you have any ideas where that might be?”
“Oh, my goodness, Jerry. I was friends with Sheila. I could tell you almost everything about her…” Well, she thought to herself. Not everything. If Sheila was really as rich as Benjamin Roth seemed to think, Cookie hadn’t known a thing about that! “But, I only knew Amanda in passing. I could tell you where her house was but I’m sure even Chief Rosen has figured that one out.”
“Yes, he did. We’ve been all through her house but it didn’t really help us. Her car is still there, which is odd, but her purse and her wallet are gone. We’re thinking maybe a friend took her somewhere.”
Cream lifted his head and tipped it to one side, his doggy ears perked up. He had a point. That didn’t sound right to Cookie, either. “Grayson doesn’t know where she might have gone?” she asked. “Or who she might have gone there with?”
“He’s not talking to us anymore. Sort of clammed up after our last conversation. I guess he knows how much trouble he’s in.”
“Hmm,” Cookie said thoughtfully. While that was probably true, she didn’t see why he wouldn’t answer questions about where his girlfriend might be. There was nothing incriminating about that.
Was there?
While she stood there wondering what all this meant, Cream broke the rules and padded down off the stairs, making a straight line over to Jerry and pawing at the cuff of his uniform pants. Jerry scooped him up, and accepted a few doggy kisses from his little pal.
“Come on, Cream,” he said. “Let’s take you around bac
k so you can do your business. I’ll bring him upstairs when he’s done, Cookie. Then I have to get back to work. It’s all hands on deck for now, is the way Rosen put it.”
“Uh-huh,” Cookie answered distractedly. She was trying to remember something Sheila had told her the last time they’d had lunch together. Something important, about her late husband.
Oh. Now she remembered.
“Jerry, I think I might be closing up a bit early today. Would you mind waiting for me after you and Cream have your little walk?”
“Uh, sure. I guess. Mind telling me why?”
“We’re going for a drive,” she said cryptically. When Cream whined and licked at his nose, she smiled his way. “Yes, Cream. You can come, too.”
The Cedar View Retirement Home didn’t seem as cheerful as the other times that Cookie had come to visit here. Or maybe, she thought to herself, her emotions were coloring the way she saw things.
She had friends here, and acquaintances, and she and Sheila had often gotten together for lunch. Although, they hadn’t been out together for a while. Cookie would always regret that. She remembered how they would sometimes go to a restaurant but quite often, Cookie would just make something to bring over while her granddaughter Clarissa watched the bakery. She was reminded again that finding help for the store was going to have to be a top priority. Then she was reminded that a friend had just died, and her business problems were going to have to be put on the back burner.
The point was, she had never minded bringing over food for them to share, but if Sheila was really a wealthy woman, why not eat out at restaurants all the time?
With a smile, she considered the possibility that her friend had simply enjoyed her cooking.
Cedar View was on a nice, quiet street near the post office and the library, where trees lined the walkways around the building and gave shade to several benches on both the front and back lawns. It was a pleasant place, and the last place that most of the residents would ever live. There were private apartments, a nursing staff that was always friendly and smiling, and the companionship of friends both new and old.