Killer Sweet Tooth

by Gayle Trent

  “We need your help,” I told Mark. “Or at least, I do.”

  “We do,” China said. “You’re my friend. Besides, our entire town needs to get a killer off the streets. It’s your problem too, Mark.”

  He smiled. “Right you are. So, how can I help?”

  “You tell us,” I said. “We’ve got a pretty strong feeling that one of the Elvis impersonators in town murdered Dr. Bains-worth.”

  “And Daphne thinks it has to do with jewelry because of some photos she found in his office,” China said. “Did Jim ever talk with you about any jewelry?”

  Mark shook his head. “I was hired to investigate his wife, and that’s what I did.”

  “His secretary believes you found evidence she’d been having an affair,” I said.

  The PI looked wary.

  “Oh, come on, Mark,” China said. “Jim’s dead, and Daphne needs your help. You won’t be breaking confidentiality at this point.”

  “She was having a fling,” Mark admitted. “Had been for quite some time.”

  “Maureen Fremont said you’d given Dr. Bainsworth a photograph of the man she was seeing,” I said. “Do you have a copy of it?”

  “Not with me,” he said.

  I told Mark about the Redbird Hotel key card I’d found. “Since Dr. Bainsworth had hidden the key card in the picture frame, I thought it might be a regular room he kept somewhere. But now I’m wondering if it was proof of somewhere Angela had stayed.”

  “Angela had been in Mexico. She and her . . . er, amigo would meet there on occasion.” Mark inclined his head. “Her lover could have engaged Jim in some sort of theft or smuggling plot, I suppose . . . without realizing who he was dealing with, of course.”

  “Or maybe he knew exactly who he was dealing with,” China said.

  “Here’s our plan,” I said. “China has a really expensive necklace she wants me to wear to the convention hall this evening. We believe it’ll draw out the smuggler, if there is one.”

  “It’s dangerous for untrained people to try to perpetrate their own sting operations,” Mark warned us.

  “That’s why we want you to help us,” China said.

  “And I’m willing to pay you whatever your rate is,” I said. “What is your rate?”

  “We’ll get to that if and when I decide whether or not I’m willing to sign on for this harebrained scheme,” Mark said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I thought if you could maybe wire me up somehow . . . you know, to a recording device . . . and you could be on the other end . . .” I trailed off. It did sound like a harebrained scheme when you said it out loud.

  China picked up where I left off. “And you could have some law enforcement standing by.”

  “Actually, they’ve been following me and Myra anyway,” I said. “It won’t be hard to find them. I even got one of them to give me a ride home on Sunday night.”

  Mark closed his eyes and shook his head. “I might regret saying this until the day I die, but I’ll help you.”

  “Great.” I smiled. “I’ll call Myra.”

  Mark opened his eyes. “No, you won’t. The fewer people that know about this, the better. That way, her reactions are genuine.”

  “What about Ben?” I asked. “I have to let him know.”

  “Talk with him. If he wants in,” Mark said, “he can be with me. What time do you need to be at the convention hall?”

  “Five thirty.”

  Mark nodded. “Then I’ll be at your house at four thirty.”

  CHAPTER

  Seventeen

  BY FOUR fifteen P.M. I was wearing a black dress with a deep V, black patent pumps, and China’s $15,000 heirloom necklace while I paced the kitchen waiting for Ben and Mark. I’d even swept my hair up off my face to keep it from somehow obscuring the necklace.

  After speaking with Ben, he and Mark had decided Ben would drive them to my house. Myra wouldn’t be suspicious of Ben’s vehicle in my driveway. Then before Myra and I left, Ben and Mark would leave. They’d switch to Mark’s van, where they could remotely listen through the wire I’d be wearing.

  Luckily for me, Ben and Mark arrived before my pacing ruined the floor.

  “Wow,” Ben said when he came inside. “Just . . . wow.”

  “Isn’t this necklace incredible?” I asked.

  “You’re wearing a necklace?” Ben teased. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Yes, you do,” Mark said.

  “Thanks. Having this necklace on makes me so nervous.” My hand went instinctively to the pendant. “Well . . . that and the fact that we’re trying to catch a thief, smuggler, killer . . . whatever.”

  “Everything will be fine,” Ben said. “Mark and I will be right outside in the van. The second we hear anything suspicious, we’ll be in there.”

  I nodded. “I know. I just . . .”

  “Let’s get you wired up before your friend gets here,” Mark said. He placed the wire around my neck. “Place this little transmitter there in your bra, and then we’ll tape the wire to your body so it doesn’t become visible.”

  I did as he instructed, turning my back to the men in order to tape the wire in place. “Are you sure this will work? Will I have to point my chest in the direction of whoever’s talking?”

  Mark chuckled. “No. By all means, don’t do that. You’ll give us away. Act naturally. We’ll be able to hear everyone within twenty yards of you.”

  “All right.” I took a deep breath.

  “You’re going to do great,” Ben said. “And if nothing else, we’ll get a funny story out of it.”

  “I don’t want a funny story. I want to catch the bad guy and prove my innocence—again.”

  “You will.” He kissed my cheek. “We will.”

  “When you get to the convention hall,” Mark said, “don’t look around for the van. Just go about your business like we’re not even there.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  The men left, and I put the cake in the car.

  Within ten minutes of doing so, I heard Myra humming “Viva Las Vegas” as she traipsed up the walkway. I flung on an emerald wool cape, grabbed my car keys and purse, and hurried out the door.

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you ready to go?” When she didn’t answer, I turned.

  Myra was staring at me in slack-jawed confusion.

  “What?” I asked. “What is it?” I was afraid the wire might be sticking out or something.

  “You tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know once we’re in the car,” I said. “We really do need to go.” I got into the car and strapped on my seat belt.

  Myra followed suit. “I didn’t know you planned to get so dressed up.”

  I glanced at her outfit—a beige suit with a dark brown sweater—before looking into the rearview and backing down the driveway. “You’re dressed up,” I pointed out. “And you look terrific, by the way.”

  “Maybe so, but you look like you could start a riot,” she said. “Are you like Miss Scarlett going to the Wilkes’ barbecue to woo every eligible man there?”

  I merely smiled at the Gone with the Wind reference and restrained myself from calling Myra either Mammy or Aunt Pittypat.

  “Nope,” I said as I merged with the traffic. “Actually, Ben is picking me up from the convention hall, and we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

  “In that case, the way you’re dressed is kinda cruel, don’t you think?” she asked. “Scottie might think you went to all this trouble for him.”

  “Myra, this getup is tame compared to your Ann-Margret costume.”

  “Yeah . . . but I was trying to attract attention,” she said.

  “I’m trying to attract attention too,” I said. “Remember we’re doing more than simply delivering a cake and setting up the display, you know.” She didn’t know just how much more we were doing, but I think Mark was right that it was best to keep her in the dark about the surveillance equipment. Myra had already proven her tendenc
y to be a little over the top when it came to spying.

  It wasn’t until we arrived at the convention hall and got out of the car that Myra noticed the necklace. A shaft of light caught the large center diamond and nearly blinded her.

  “Have you got on a new necklace?” she asked.

  “Sort of. When we get inside and I set the cake down, I’ll show it to you,” I said, handing Myra a box containing the items I needed for the display. I carried the cake and resisted the impulse to glance around the parking lot. We walked into the convention hall and were immediately greeted by Scottie and John.

  “Whoa,” Scottie said. “If you were trying to take my breath away, you succeeded.” He took the heavy cake from me and carried it to a nearby table. “You look incredible.”

  “So do you,” John said to Myra. “My knees buckled the instant you walked through the door.”

  Myra laughed and playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, you silver-tongued devil.”

  John kissed her cheek.

  Scottie stepped in closer to me. “I don’t have a date for tonight.”

  I smiled. “I do.”

  Myra announced, “Daphne’s got on a stunning new necklace. Let me see that up close.” She all but elbowed Scottie out of the way as she zeroed in on my throat like a hungry vampire.

  “That is stunning,” Scottie said. “Was it a gift?”

  “Actually, it’s a loaner,” I said. I looked at Myra. “Remember Pat, China’s cousin who was hired to clean Dr. Bainsworth’s office?”

  “The hobbit?” She looked incredulous. “This necklace belongs to the freakin’ hobbit?”

  I laughed. “In a roundabout way, I guess. Or at least it did. She found it somewhere and gave it to China to thank her for helping her get the cleaning job.”

  “You say she found that necklace?” John asked.

  “That’s what she said, and—get this—she thought it was fake,” I said. “But China had it appraised, and it’s definitely not fake.”

  “Then how come she’s letting you borrow it?” Myra asked.

  “You know China,” I said. “She’s not really the type to wear such showy jewelry, and she’s generous to a fault. When I admired it at her house earlier today, she insisted I wear it tonight.”

  Myra’s brow furrowed. “Maybe she’d let me buy it from her. Did she say what it’s worth?”

  I lowered my voice. “Keep this under your hats because I don’t want to get mugged in the parking lot later, but this piece is worth fifteen thousand dollars.”

  Myra gaped, and John whistled.

  “Where’d you say this chick was cleaning?” John asked. “The White House?”

  I laughed. “Nope. It was a dentist’s office. Can you imagine?”

  “No, ma’am, I cannot,” John said. “I believe I’m in the wrong profession.”

  “China didn’t say exactly where Pat found the jewelry,” I said. “I’m not accusing her of stealing anything from anyone.”

  “Of course not,” John said.

  “Well, did she find any more pieces?” Myra asked. “Maybe Pat would be willing to sell something else . . . something that hasn’t been appraised yet.”

  “China didn’t say,” I said. “Call her tomorrow and ask her. But for now, I’ve got to get this cake set up.” I looked at Scottie. “What’re you guys doing here this early anyway?”

  “I wanted to be here in case you needed me,” he said.

  That sentence was so loaded I didn’t dare comment on it. Instead I just smiled and said, “Then let’s get to work.” I saw that the convention hall staff was starting to set up buffet warmers on long tables at the front of the room. “Will we be putting the cake on one of those buffet tables? If so, I need to try to get the convention staff to work with me to make enough room.”

  “It’s okay,” Scottie said, placing his hand at the small of my back and steering me toward the front of the room. “I instructed them to give you a separate table.”

  “Thank you.”

  He grinned. “I do what I can. See, it’s the smaller table there to the right.”

  “That’ll work great,” I said.

  “I’ll grab the cake and—”

  “No, wait,” I said, interrupting him. “Get the box from Myra first, please. It has the tablecloth in it.”

  “Will do,” he said.

  I stepped over to the table Scottie had indicated and placed my wrap and purse on a chair. Scottie brought me the box, and I took the gold lamé fabric I was using as a tablecloth and arranged it—with some of the fabric to be pooled around the cake—on the table.

  “I like it,” Scottie said. “Elvis would have too.”

  “I know,” I said with a smile. I started to go get the cake, but Scottie was way ahead of me. Literally. He sprinted in front of me so he could grab the cake. “Just don’t run back with it. If you drop it, I’ll kill you!”

  “Gee whiz,” he said as he returned with the cake. “You really are a femme fatale tonight, aren’t you?”

  “You know I wouldn’t actually kill you,” I said. “I’d cry and scream and stomp and pout. And I’d still charge you for the cake, but I wouldn’t murder you.” I thought I should make that clear not only to Scottie but to Mark and Ben as well.

  He sat the box down, and I opened it.

  When he saw the cake, Scottie laughed. “Man! That is amazing! John, get over here and look at this!”

  I lifted the cake and placed it onto the gold lamé fabric.

  Scottie laughed again. “Have you ever seen anything like it? Can you believe it’s actually a cake?”

  I turned and smiled at him. “I’m so glad you’re happy with it.”

  He picked me up, took a big step backward, and then spun me around. “I love it. Thank you.”

  I laughed too, albeit nervously, and I desperately hoped I hadn’t become unwired. “I’m not done, you know. Wait until you see the finishing touches.”

  “No,” he said, sitting me down gingerly. “Don’t do another thing to it. That Caddy is perfect exactly the way it is.”

  “I’m not doing anything else to the car,” I said. “But the table isn’t finished.” I took out the little surprises I’d been working on to go with the cake. I unboxed a Hawaiian lei made of white and pink fondant plumerias and placed it on the table next to the cake. I also had some of the cake balls Ben, Leslie, Lucas, and I had made, and on these, I’d piped Es, Is, and Os. I put them on a light blue platter at the left side of the table so they would spell out rows of EIEIO. I had milk chocolate guitars, white chocolate guitar picks, and three-dimensional hound dogs molded out of modeling chocolate.

  Scottie said, “All that’s missing is—”

  “The blue suede shoes?” I said, interrupting with a grin as I took out the last box. I opened the box to reveal a dozen cupcakes adorned with tiny blue suede loafers.

  Scottie laughed and kissed my cheek. “Have I told you that you’re amazing?”

  “Just now,” I said.

  “Pretty cool,” John said, nodding his head. “I’d kiss your cheek too, but my date might get jealous.”

  “Heck, I’d kiss her whole face myself if she’d let me wear that necklace,” Myra said.

  “I need to go get into costume,” Scottie said. “Will you stay awhile? I want to make an announcement, introduce you to everybody—you know, for making the cake and all.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  He grinned. “Thanks.”

  “What about you?” Myra asked John. “Don’t you need to get into costume too?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll wait until Scottie gets back,” he said. “It’d be rude for both of us to leave you ladies unattended.”

  “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” Scottie said. “I brought my costume over from the hotel, so all I have to do is go into the dressing area and change.”

  With a wink, Scottie jogged to the stage door.

  I took my camera from my purse and took several photos of the cake and
the other items I’d made for the display. They’d be a terrific addition to my website gallery.

  John strode over to a table and pulled out two chairs. “Care to take a load off, ladies?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Myra said, sitting in one of the chairs John offered.

  I still wasn’t sure the table looked to suit me, and I went back over to fuss with it some more. John came over to get me.

  “It looks wonderful,” he said. “Come on over and chat with me and Myra for a few minutes.”

  “All right.” I went over and sat at the table beside Myra, but I still kept stealing glances at the cake table. It was important to me that everything be just right.

  John blew out a breath. “I’m telling you it’s great. Ain’t it great, Myra?”

  “It’s fantastic, Daphne,” Myra said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “What are you going to do when somebody cuts into that pink Cadillac?” John asked. “I hope Scottie is there to catch you if you faint.”

  “Oh, what’s the fun of having a cake no one can eat?” I asked.

  He looked thoughtful. “Could you ladies come with me a second?”

  “Come with you where?” Myra asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s something out there in the parking lot I think you ought to see,” he said.

  I frowned. “It’s awfully cold out there, John. What is it?”

  “Come with me and see.” His tone made me nervous.

  “Just tell us what it is, and that way we’ll know whether or not we want to see whatever it is,” I said.

  “Can’t you go get it and bring it to us?” Myra asked.

  “No.” He looked around to make sure none of the convention hall employees were paying attention, and then he bent down and took a small pistol from an ankle holster concealed by his jeans. “Very calmly and very quietly get up and come with me outside, or I will shoot you. By the time anyone knows what’s happened, I’ll be gone.”

  Myra’s jaw dropped. “Is this a joke?” she squeaked.

  “No joke, sweetheart. Move.”

  A LOT OF crazy, jumbled-up thoughts tumbled through my mind while I was straddling the center console of a stolen rusty brown pickup truck and a madman poked a gun in my ribs. I wondered why Mark and Ben hadn’t tackled John the minute we stepped out of the convention hall. After all, John had made it clear he’d shoot one of us and escape before anyone knew what was happening. Maybe they wanted us to get more solid evidence . . . but they weren’t the ones being threatened right now. Where the heck were Halligan and Kendall? I thought about opening the passenger door and pushing John out into the road before he could get a shot off, but I quickly dismissed that as a bad idea.