by Darci Hannah
Still shocked by the news, she shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, I still think it’s the boyfriend, or one of those snooty women.”
“We can sit here and speculate all day.” I plucked two pieces of bacon off the plate as I spoke. “But we shouldn’t. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I told them, and left the lighthouse. They knew that I was going to find my dog. What they didn’t realize, and I did, was that my dog had gone for his morning visit to ‘get fish’ at Rory Campbell’s cabin.
CHAPTER 30
“I owe you an apology,” I said to the angry, albeit hot-looking man filling the doorway. “We found out the cyanide had been delivered through the coffee and jumped to the obvious conclusion. We were at the Moose trying to gather information on you. It was a shabby thing to do. My only excuse is that we were scared, and curious, and hungry. We thought that maybe you and Karen had dated.”
“Jesus . . . H . . . Christ!” he slowly expostulated, his crystal-blue eyes boring into mine like a laser. Wellington picked that moment to shove his big, fluffy head around Rory’s hip. He opened his mouth and stared at me too. “That has got to be the most stupidly honest thing I’ve ever heard. And blagh!” Rory spat with distaste. “How could you think Karen and I dated? She’s a decade and a half older, not to mention married with three kids.”
“Well, I didn’t know that until last night, did I?” I held up the cherry Danish Dylan had made. “I’ve brought you a peace offering. The burnt bacon is for my dog. May I come in?”
Preparing for an uncomfortable conversation, I took a seat while Rory plated his Danish and poured two mugs of coffee. I took the one closest to me, grasped it with both hands, and was determined to be frank.
“Look, I’m not proud of suspecting you of murder. You’ve shown Welly and me nothing but kindness since we’ve arrived at the lighthouse, but I don’t know much about you other than your passion for hunting, fried perch, and writing. You were making the coffee at my bakeshop; the medical examiner has stated that the cyanide was delivered through the coffee, not a donut as originally thought. You also know a lot about the stuff. You were the one who escorted Mia to the lawn when she started fake-choking. Only now we know that it might not have been fake after all. Do you see where I might be suspicious?”
Clenching his jaw, he tilted his head. “I appreciate your honesty, Bakewell, but your lack of perspective is astounding. All the same, it must have taken courage to come knocking on my door, especially since you think me capable of murdering a woman I’ve never met.”
“You had my dog. You still hang your morning catch on your deck, knowing he can’t resist. You knew I’d come here eventually.”
“I tried to send him home, but he likes it here. I don’t blame him. I think Kennedy scares him. Did it ever occur to you that she has a more logical connection to the victim than I do?”
“Of course. And Wellington loves Kennedy. She may be a handful at times, but she’s not a murderer. She doesn’t know a thing about cyanide, nor was she near the coffee, whereas you know a lot about killing, being in the military, and you were making the coffee.”
I’d never seen Rory go from calm to angry so fast. As if flipping a switch, his dark-lashed eyes narrowed to mere slits of icy blue as he growled, “You were desperate for a barista! You came knocking on my door in the middle of the night! I am not a barista. I can barely brew a pot of drinkable coffee, but I said yes. And do you want to know why? Not to poison a stranger, for God’s sake, but because I admire you. I admire what you’ve done. I admire the fact that you left a comfortable, lucrative career to follow a dream that led you to an abandoned lighthouse on the shores of Lake Michigan. I admire your hard work and your awesome dog. In short, Bakewell, I said yes because I wanted to see you succeed. Crazy as it sounds, I wanted to support what you’ve worked so hard to create. I jumped behind the counter and did my best, and now you have the gall—no, the audacity—to think that I intentionally poisoned some crazy woman creating a scene? Did it escape your notice that I was the one who tried to save her life by administering CPR?” His face had gone red as he sucked in air with the intensity of an overweight runner.
He was angry, and flustered, and utterly adorable. The fact that he admitted to admiring me sent a wave of pure tingling happiness throughout my body. This handsome, hunky, dream of a man admired me, possibly even liked me, and yet my head was screaming a warning at my careening heart. Rory was kind, confident, and full of integrity, and yet I’d been fooled by men before. Therefore, very cautiously, I voiced my last concern.
“It hadn’t escaped my notice that you tried to save Mia. But for a man who knows so much about cyanide, I do find it odd that you didn’t detect the smell of it on her breath. Officer Tuck told me how victims of cyanide poisoning give off a very distinctive scent, and yet you said nothing.”
His jaw dropped as he stared at me in disbelief. The silence, like his troubled look, stretched out a beat too long. My heart sank, realizing I had called his bluff. I should head for the door, I thought, and covertly reached for Wellington under the table. Unfortunately, my dog was sitting at Rory’s feet.
“Come, Welly,” I said and stood. I took a step from the table.
That move caused Rory to jump to his feet as well.
My heart exploded with fear. “I . . . I have to go—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lindsey! Sit back down!”
“No. Gotta go.” I sprinted for the door. Welly, thinking it some great game, sprang from under the table and bounded after me. So did Rory. I was just about to reach for the handle when Wellington jumped on me, causing me to stumble. I was about to hit the floor when a strong grip on my arm pulled me back on my feet. That’s when I realized I was standing between Rory Campbell and the solid wood of the door.
He started to say something but fell on top of me instead.
“Wellington, stop!” he cried, his hard chest heaving against mine. I might have thought it erotic if he wasn’t a murderer and Wellington wasn’t trying to thrust his giant head between us for a salvo of excited puppy kisses. The untimely tongue had just nailed Rory on the cheek.
Rory offered another stern command and Welly stood down, yet Rory hadn’t made a move to step away from me. “Lindsey, my God! Will you please listen to me? I am not a murderer. I mean, I have killed, but only bad people, and only in the name of my country. I don’t poison innocent women.”
“Was she a spy?” I asked, gasping for breath.
“What? No!” He looked closely into my eyes. Wellington, I noticed, had settled down and was now lying on the floor with his head between his paws. “And the reason I didn’t detect the cyanide on her breath was because I can’t. If you would have let me explain—instead of accusing me of covering up a murder before running for the door—I was about to tell you that not everyone has the gene necessary to detect cyanide on the breath. In fact, upwards of twenty-five percent of the population doesn’t have it, including me. And even if I did, the almond odor could be masked by other smells . . . like the donut she was chewing before she collapsed. For the last time, Lindsey Bakewell, I did not poison Mia Long!”
“Do you swear it?” I asked, staring back at him.
“I do,” he uttered, and further convinced me of it by bringing his lips to mine.
Rory Campbell kissed me with more passion than Jeffery Plank ever had. It was compulsive, erotic, and highly intoxicating. Time stood still, sandwiched between the door and Rory, kissing him back with a welling of need that surprised even me. I could have stayed like that all day, and he could have too, until a pestering thought finally broke through my sex-driven mind. With my hand firmly planted on Rory’s chest, I tried to catch my breath.
Rory grinned. “I knew you were going to be trouble when you moved next door, Bakewell. Never thought you’d accuse me of murder, but at this very moment I don’t even mind. My bedroom’s over there.” He pointed to a door down the hall. “I’d take you right here, but your dog is staring at us.”<
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I’d never been with a man so utterly male and so utterly sexy as Rory Campbell. I’d been thinking of ways to seduce him ever since moving next door, but could never quite pin him down. And, quite frankly, I’d been too exhausted to try. Now, however, he was inviting me to his bedroom. I should have turned off my mind and gone with it—been more spontaneous, like Kennedy. But I couldn’t. I was the responsible one.
He’d brought his lips over mine once again, ready to seal the deal, when I uttered, “Betty.”
He didn’t hear me. His passion had been ignited. He was a man on a mission, and it appeared as if nothing could deter him. He scooped me up in his arms and took a few steps toward that mysterious door at the end of the hallway. I repeated the name a little louder. “Betty Vanhoosen!”
Like nails on a chalkboard, the name had an instant effect. He stumbled, cursed, and nearly dropped me. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, regaining his grip on me. “I just thought you said—”
“Betty Vanhoosen.”
“Christ!” he uttered, and set me on my feet. “Is that your safe word? Am I moving too fast for you? I have to be honest. That name’s a real passion deflator for me.”
“I’m sorry. And please don’t take this the wrong way. You’re a magnificent kisser, but I just remembered something very important. Betty called me in the middle of the night. She woke me out of a dead sleep, but I could tell she was very frightened by something. She asked me to meet her at her office this morning. I’ve been so busy eating Danish and suspecting the worst of you when I should have been thinking of Betty. What if she’s in trouble? I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check on . . . the bedroom tour.” I offered a sympathetic smile. “It might also be a good idea if we had a few more dates before we cross that bridge. A moment ago, I thought you capable of poisoning a woman with cyanide.”
“And yet you were quick to forgive me,” he added, taking my hand. “I’m coming with you. You can’t drop a name like Betty Vanhoosen and expect me to sit at home twiddling my thumbs.”
It was agreed that Welly would stay at Rory’s cabin. We were just about to leave when Kennedy strolled across the deck carrying my rolling pin.
“Thank heavens,” she cried, the moment Rory and I came out the door. “I had a feeling you were going to sneak over here. ‘I’m going to get Wellington,’” she mocked and rolled her eyes. “You sure were taking your sweet time. The way you were dawdling I thought he might have gotten to you as well.” She held Rory in a hooded gaze while gripping the rolling pin in the middle and wiggling it like an unhinged teeter-totter. Kennedy, a stranger in her own kitchen let alone mine, had no idea how to hold a rolling pin, making the move far more comical than menacing.
“He did . . . get to me,” I told her, linking my arm through Rory’s. “But not in the way you think. I’m soundly convinced he’s innocent.”
“Really? And may I remind you that money is your forte, not men?”
“Like your habitual gambler, I’ve had a string of bad luck. I’m not willing to retire the dice just yet. Now, put down that rolling pin. We’re off to see Betty.”
“Oh, I’m not putting this thing down, darlings. But I am coming with you.”
CHAPTER 31
“Betty,” I said, walking into the vast, brightly colored office. She’d been sitting at her desk, staring out the picture window behind her. She turned at the sound of my voice and frowned.
“I . . . I thought you’d come alone.” Betty had always been brightly attired and pleasantly cheerful. Whatever had frightened her had not only taken the joy from her voice but had caused her to wear a dull, unflattering brown dress as well. Brown clearly wasn’t her color. Maybe she thought it made her blend in, like the muddy-brown pelt of a deer in the autumn forest. Only, in her colorful office it had the opposite effect.
“I’m sorry,” I said, continuing into the room with my friends. “But you didn’t specify that when we talked.”
And just like that dull-pelted deer caught foraging in a rose garden, she turned her wide, unblinking gaze on Kennedy and Rory. At last she relented. “No? Well, maybe not. It doesn’t much matter now. Come in, all of you, and shut the door. Last night I had a revelation, and I haven’t slept since.”
After we all took a seat around Betty’s desk, she confided, “You were all at dinner last night, so I needn’t tell you what a mess I made of it with Bob, blurting such sensitive information like that. He confided in me, and I blew it. My only excuse is that I was excited to have that little bit of information. I was trying to impress you all when, in fact, I really embarrassed Bob and likely made an enemy out of you, Rory. I told you all the source of the poisoning. Of course, you were making the coffee.” She looked at Rory.
“True,” he replied with a nod. “But why on earth would I poison one of Lindsey’s customers?”
Her face was fraught with worry as she answered, “Well, that was the question that bothered me last night. After Bob dropped me off at home without even so much as a good-night kiss, I was trying to come up with a good reason as to why you might slip poison into that annoying woman’s coffee. I was going through that terrible day in my head, trying to remember the details, when I suddenly remembered something that made my blood curdle.”
We were all waiting for what that was when Kennedy leaned in, prompting, “And what was that, darling?”
Betty looked at us, her face blanching as her hands began to tremble. “The cup of coffee that killed that woman came from my hand.”
Kennedy, without giving that statement deeper thought, chirped, “You poisoned Mia?”
“No,” I corrected as the confusion of that day swirled in my head. “What she’s saying, I think, is that Mia grabbed the cup of coffee out of her hand.”
“Are you sure you’re remembering it correctly?” Rory asked, concern darkening his face.
“Oh, I’m darn sure, my dears. I had come to the bakeshop with half the business owners of this town. We’d all been so excited to welcome your lighthouse bakery to Beacon Harbor. It’s been years since we’ve had a real bakery here, and who would have thought the old lighthouse would ever get a second chance to shine. Sure, the light has gone out, but you’ve breathed new life into the old place. And we were so excited to try your baked goods. The girls behind the counter were working hard to get our donut orders correct. We had quite a large coffee order as well, which you were gallantly attempting to fill.” She paused to smile at the man sitting across from her.
“That was about the time Mia came in with her posse,” I added, recalling my shock at the sight of her.
“Yes,” Betty said. “Fiona Dickel and her lot chose that moment to storm the counter as well. There was such a press of bodies reaching for the counter that it was hard to tell exactly what was happening. And you lot were all working your tails off. I remember that you, Lindsey, were helping Rory fill the coffee orders. Wendy, Elizabeth, and Dylan were helping as well. I don’t remember which one of you handed me my coffee, but I do remember Fiona bumping into me. At one point she even reached over my shoulder to knock one of the drinks off the counter, splattering the lot of us. There was so much shoving and jostling. That Mia woman was making a terrible scene, drawing our attention. Then she grabbed the latte out of my hand—MY HAND! Don’t you see? That woman wasn’t the target. I was!”
“Oh my. . . .” I brought a hand over my gaping mouth. Somehow, until that very moment, I had never considered that Mia might not have been the target—that her death might have been an unfortunate accident. The thought sent a chill up my spine.
Rory, obviously never considering this either, stared at Betty in disbelief. He was also the first to ask, “But . . . who would want you dead?”
“Probably not you,” she said, patting his hand. “Out of all the people behind the counter that day, you’re the person I know the least, so naturally thoughts of you and a possible motive took up a good deal of my night. But then I came to the obvious conclusion. I gave you th
e deal of the century on that lakefront log home. Of course, you came at the right time, but I advised the previous owners to accept your lowball offer.”
Rory, sneaking a covert sideways glance my way, countered, “It wasn’t that low.”
Betty ignored him. “I also gave you the heads-up on your newest neighbor.”
For a moment the old Betty was back, flashing a coy smile as she attempted a wink. It came as no surprise that she had talked me up before I moved in. Betty, although a habitual gossip, quite possibly fancied herself a matchmaker as well. And because she had planted that seed, Rory had plucked up the nerve to come barging through my kitchen door, albeit with a string of half-eaten fish. Unless Rory was hiding a dark secret, which I highly doubted, Betty had nothing to fear from him.
“There’s no way on earth I’d poison you either,” I added.
“I know that, dear. And Kennedy, you’re off the hook as well. You weren’t even behind the counter, but you were trying to warn us.”
“I was trying to warn Lindsey that her former wanker of a fiancé and his obnoxious lover had come to the bakeshop. I should have told her sooner.”
“Yes, but what’s done is done.” Betty sat back in her chair and exhaled loudly. “I’m afraid that leaves Dylan, Elizabeth, and Wendy.”
“You can’t possibly think one of them did it?” They were my employees and I was slightly horrified that she’d even consider them. But as quickly as I voiced my concern, Betty put me at my ease.
“I’m only mentioning them because they were behind the counter with you and Rory. Elizabeth and Wendy have just graduated from high school. I’ve known them since they were babies and would never have recommended them if I thought they were trouble, which they’re not. Sweet girls and good students too. They’re also hardworking.”
“I agree. You also recommended Dylan, which as you know I’m eternally grateful for. I know she was a bit of a wild child in her youth, but surely you don’t suspect her of tampering with your coffee?”