“Hi, Steve,” Mel said. She waved him over.
He stopped in front of her and Joe. The two men glared at each other. Steve studied Mel and Joe with a frown.
“I heard he put a ring on it,” he said.
Mel held up her hand. The diamond Joe had given her a few months before sparkled.
“I could have gotten you one three times that size,” he said.
Mel felt Joe bristle beside her.
“You know what they say, it’s quality not quantity,” she said.
“I’d give you both,” Steve said.
“That’s it,” Joe said. “How about we chat outside?”
Mel quickly looped her hand through Joe’s arm and reined him in. “Not really the time for that. Steve, this is Cassie Leighton, owner of the bookstore A Likely Story. Her author was just assaulted and, well, I’m going to let her explain what happened.”
“Cassie—can I call you Cassie?” Steve held out his hand.
“Sure,” she said. She looked a little dazzled by the aura of don’t-worry-I-got-this Steve had going on. It was one of the many reasons he was the best.
“Cooper, I’m going to confer with my client,” he said.
Stan threw up his hands as if he had reached the end of his patience. “Sure, go ahead. Why don’t you take her out for ice cream while I just sit here and think up new and different ways to ticket you in your shiny BMW?”
“Please, BMWs are for peasants,” Steve said. “I drive a Porsche.”
“Oh, you must be very good at what you do,” Cassie said.
“I’m the best.”
“And yet, you still don’t have the girl,” Joe said.
He looped an arm around Mel and pulled her close. She knew she should go all liberated woman on him and protest but her inner girly-girl was giddy at Joe’s possessive streak. Such was the inner battle of the modern woman.
Nine
“Okay, that’s enough. I’m choking on the testosterone in the air. Take your client to that booth and talk,” Stan said. “You have fifteen minutes and not one second longer.”
“They don’t call me ‘Steve Fifteen Minutes Wolfmeier’ for nothing,” Steve quipped.
Joe snorted.
“Wait, that came out wrong,” Steve said.
Joe doubled up, laughing. Steve looked like he wanted to punch him, so Stan gave him a hearty shove to the back towards the nearby booth and then turned back to Joe. With his back to Steve, Stan’s grin about split his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just need a minute.”
Mel frowned at the pair of them.
“Really, you two?” she asked. “Three people have been killed and another stabbed and you’re getting your yucks by mocking a defense attorney, who is at least helping his client.”
Both men looked duly chastened.
“Sorry, cupcake,” Joe said.
“Yeah, sorry,” Stan said. “Very unprofessional of me. It won’t happen again.”
“For at least fifteen minutes,” Joe said. Stan snorted.
Mel elbowed Joe hard in the side and he made an oomph! noise.
“Sorry,” he said. He clutched his side and gave Uncle Stan a look.
“You don’t need to do that to me,” Uncle Stan said to Mel. He raised his hands in the air. “Message received.”
“Good,” Mel said.
Uncle Stan gestured for her to take a seat at a nearby table and asked, “While we’re waiting, how about you tell me everything that happened here tonight?”
Mel recounted everything she could remember. She tried to be as specific as she could about Todd, Elise’s ex; and his second wife, Mallory; and about the woman, Shanna, who had appeared to be a friend, but maybe it had just been an act. In the retelling, it occurred to her that the most likely candidates were the ex and his new wife. Certainly, they had been the angriest, but would Mallory have made such a scene and brought so much attention to herself if she was planning to murder Elise later?
Equally puzzling was why Mallory, or whoever went after Elise, had felt compelled to kill the people associated with the book signing. What did the driver, the caterer, and the photographer have to do with her anger about her appearance in the book? It didn’t make any sense. Unless Elise had been right when she said the murders were all coincidence. Mel was betting she didn’t believe that anymore.
“Enough!” Detective Martinez shouted.
Mel, Joe, and Uncle Stan turned to see what the commotion was. Tara was standing beside the table where Ray, Angie, and Tate sat and she looked flushed and flustered. Ray was smiling at her as if enjoying her obvious upset.
“Detective Cooper,” Tara called across the bar. “A little backup here.”
“What is Ray up to now?” Joe asked.
“No idea, but you stay here and keep an eye on that situation,” Uncle Stan said. He gestured at Steve and Cassie. “I don’t trust him not to break her out of here if he thinks it’s warranted.”
“It isn’t,” Mel said. “She’s innocent.”
“I would agree with you except for one thing,” Uncle Stan said. “When you were recounting the timeline for us, you admitted that she was on her own, searching the booths while you were checking outside.”
“So?” Mel protested. “There was a bar full of people—”
“There were four guys near the bar, drinking beer, watching a game,” Stan said. “I already got that intel from the security personnel when I arrived.”
Mel snapped her fingers. “That’s it. A place like this, they have to have a security camera system. I’ll bet the bar is under surveillance and we’ll be able to see Elise’s attacker.”
“No, we won’t,” Stan said. He ran a hand over his eyes.
“Why not?” Mel persisted. “It’s a good idea.” She glanced at Joe. “Isn’t it?”
He scanned the bar. When he turned back to look at her, it was with regret. “There are no security cameras in here.”
“What? Why not?” she asked.
“Because hotel bars are notorious places for people to hook up on the sly and no hotel wants to invade its guests’ privacy by providing the damaging footage that swings their divorce towards a poor financial outcome,” Joe said, exchanging a look of frustration with Uncle Stan.
“Meaning they’re protecting the cheaters,” Mel said.
“Yep,” Joe agreed.
“Damn,” Mel said.
“Indeed,” Uncle Stan said. He rose from his seat. “I’m going to join my partner. You keep an eye on Wolfmeier and his client. I know you don’t like it, Mel, but unless she has an alibi, I’m going to have to bring her in.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t like it.”
“Consider this, then,” Uncle Stan said. “Someone went to great lengths to kill off the people working on Elise Penworthy’s book signing. Don’t you think it might be likely that her bookseller is in their sights, too?”
Mel gasped. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Before you get your back up about me bringing her in, remember that jail might be the safest place for her.”
* * *
• • •
Stan didn’t bring Cassie in. Mel wasn’t sure if it was because she had argued so hard on Cassie’s behalf or because Steve would use any false step against the police to get his client off. Either way, Stan and Tara did not bring Cassie in but instead went to the hospital to check on Elise and make sure that she was kept isolated and under watch.
On the chance that Cassie was a target, Officer Hayley Clark was redirected from watching over Oz to shadowing Cassie. Because Officer Clark was already at the bakery, the group decided to stop by the bakery for some restorative cupcakes while delivering Officer Clark her new assignment.
Mel wanted to check on Oz. She’d felt bad sticking him with
the bakery all evening while he was trying to gear up to make Angie and Tate’s wedding cupcakes. He was an amazing chef but he was still pretty young, barely out of culinary school, and she knew he’d been putting a lot of pressure on himself to make Angie and Tate’s cupcake tower perfect.
The bakery was closed but Oz, Marty, and Officer Clark were sitting in the kitchen when Mel, Joe, and Cassie entered through the back door. Oz had an amazing aqua-colored fondant rolled out in front of him on the worktable and he was shaping delicate leaves out of it for use on the wedding cupcakes.
Officer Clark jumped up from her seat and checked the door behind them. She was clearly looking to see if they’d been followed. Mel felt like telling her that they were fine but she suspected the intense young woman would check the alley anyway.
Marty took one look at their faces and disappeared into the walk-in cooler, while Oz dropped the knife he’d been using on the fondant and went to brew a pot of coffee.
While Mel and the others took seats at the table, the back door unlocked and Tate, Angie, and Ray came in. Officer Clark went to close and lock the door, but was stopped by a foot being wedged inside.
“Hold up,” the person on the other side said. “It’s Tony and Al. We’re here to check on Angie.”
Officer Clark glanced back at Angie. She came forward and peered out the window. She turned to the officer and said, “It’s my brothers. They’re okay.”
“Big family you have,” Officer Clark said. She sounded put out. “I’m going to walk the perimeter of the building. Lock the door after me. I’ll knock four times when I need you to let me back in.”
She ducked out, closing the door quietly behind her. Oz watched her from his spot by the coffeepot. He shook his head and Mel caught his eye when she rose from her seat and locked the door.
“Problem?” she asked.
“She’s just a bit high-strung,” he said. “Now that she’s off my case, it’s all good.”
“How is the author Pennywise?” Marty asked as he came back with a tray loaded down with a variety of cupcakes.
“Penworthy, Elise Penworthy. Last we heard she was stable,” Mel said. Cassie’s face looked pinched at this description and Mel patted her arm. “She’s going to be all right.”
“Does she have any family?” Oz asked. “Is there anyone who would want to be there for her?”
“Just me,” Cassie said. “After her divorce she was pretty much banished from the community, which is why she wrote the tell-all fictionalized account of the neighborhood. She has no family, and as far as I know, I’m her only friend, but the police made it very clear that I shouldn’t be there since . . . I . . . I’m . . .”
“You’re a suspect,” Marty said.
“Yeah.” Cassie’s shoulders slumped.
“It’s all right,” Mel said. She gave everyone a pointed look. “Elise is in excellent care. If there is any news, Uncle Stan will call us immediately.”
Cassie swallowed, visibly pushing down the sobs that were threatening. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just feel so helpless.”
“Wait,” Marty said. “Maybe it’s because I’m older than dirt, and I spend a lot of time thinking about what will happen when I die, but I have to ask. If this Elise has no family, who is going to get the rights to her book, the royalties and all of that, if she dies?”
“Um . . . well, me,” Cassie said.
Mel turned from Marty to Cassie as if in slow motion. She could not have just said that, could she? On what crazy planet did a bookstore owner get the rights to an author’s book?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Cassie nodded and said, “It’s weird, I know.”
“You think?” Angie asked. “Because I’m guessing if Uncle Stan knew this, you would be sitting in a different place entirely right now.”
“I told Steve, and he said it wasn’t a problem,” Cassie said, rejecting the suggestion.
Joe frowned. “That was rather confident of him. I have to tell you, from a prosecutor’s perspective that gives you motive, and you already had means and opportunity.”
“Cassie, he’s right,” Mel said.
“But it makes no sense,” Cassie protested. “Why would I harm the very person I was helping to be successful? And the vendors? Why would I hurt the people I hired to work the book signing? They were people I relied upon and did business with for years. How can you believe that of me?”
“I’m not saying I believe it,” Mel said. “I’m saying”—she paused to gesture to Joe—“others might see it as a reason for you to commit murder.”
Cassie looked at Joe with wide eyes. He studied her for a moment and then shook his head. “No, you’re right. It makes no sense. If you wanted ownership of the book, why kill the others when you could just murder the author?”
“Exactly!” Cassie said.
“Unless it was to cover up the murder of the author by throwing suspicion onto someone else,” Marty said.
All eyes went back to Cassie and she dropped her head into her hands.
“This is a nightmare.”
Mel took a cinnamon cupcake and put it in front of her, knowing it was Cassie’s favorite flavor. Cassie made no move to eat it.
The rest of the group, comfort eaters like Mel, needed no encouragement. Everyone reached for their cupcake of choice and began to peel off the wrappers while Oz poured coffee for the lot of them.
Cassie picked up her coffee and cradled it in her hands as if to warm them. Mel suspected she was still in a bit of shock from the events of the night.
“You know we can’t get involved in this,” Marty said. Everyone looked at him and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can’t get involved. If the daughters find out, they’ll go ballistic and try to have me put in a home.”
“No one is putting you in a home,” Angie said. She looked like she could spit fire at the mere suggestion. “They’ll have to go through all of us to do it.”
“No offense, but I don’t think they really consider a bunch of cupcake bakers an obstacle,” Marty said.
“We’ve been underestimated before,” Mel observed.
“But we always win,” Tate said. He patted Marty on the shoulder and that seemed to settle the matter.
“One thing I don’t understand,” Oz said. “Why were the other vendors killed? What did they have in common besides the book signing? I mean it just seems . . .”
“Excessive?” Joe offered.
“Yeah,” Oz said. He bobbed his head and his bangs swung back and forth in front of his eyes.
Joe looked at Cassie and asked, “What do you think? Did they have anything in common besides the signing?”
“Not that I know of,” Cassie said. She put down her coffee cup and picked at her cupcake. “I’ve used them all before for different events but I’ve also used others. They all work in the area, but other than that, I don’t see how they’re connected.”
“Were any of them in the book?” Tony asked.
Joe gave his younger brother an impressed look.
“Not really a big brain leap there,” Tony said. “The book has been pretty controversial ever since word leaked out that Penworthy was writing it.”
“It’s true,” Cassie said. “She started getting threatening phone calls and e-mails before she’d even accepted her movie deal. It is a very thinly veiled fictional account of that exclusive neighborhood. Elise barely disguised the people that she wrote about.”
“What do you mean?” Mel asked.
“Hair plugs,” Cassie said.
Marty clapped a hand on his bald head. “Really? And here I thought I was rocking the no hair thing.”
“You are. I wasn’t talking about you,” Cassie assured him. She looked at Mel and Angie, and asked, “If I say ‘hair plugs,’ who did you see tonight that brings that image to mind?”
<
br /> “Oh, totally, Elise’s ex, Todd Cavendish,” Angie said. “It was a sad scraggly mess up there.”
“Exactly,” Cassie said. “Well, in the book, she actually refers to him as ‘Hair Plugs’ and you can bet everyone who lived in the Palms knew who she was talking about, especially since she referenced the woman he left his wife for as ‘Child Bride,’ which was what Elise always called Mallory.”
“Nicknames like that could apply to a variety of people,” Al said. “How does anyone know exactly who she’s talking about?”
“She didn’t cloak the scandals very well, either,” Cassie said. “Chapter three is devoted to the failed banker who has a women’s shoe fetish, a borderline personality disorder, and a gold incisor.”
“Rick Jakelisk, a total nut job,” Tony said. Everyone looked at him. “What? His daughter was in my class in high school, and she was one messed-up dudette with daddy issues. Now I know why.”
“See?” Cassie said. “And you didn’t even read the book, did you?”
Tony shook his head. “But I know most of the people who live in the Palms since they went to the same high school that we did. In fact, I’d be willing to bet our entire family knows most of the people mentioned in the book through school.”
“Hit us with another one,” Al said, as if it was a game.
“All right.” Cassie thought about it for a moment and gave them all a considering look. “Baby Talk and the Unibrow had a thing for wife swapping until they tried it at a backyard barbecue with their new neighbors, who were a very religious couple, who put their house up for sale the day after the ‘incident.’”
“No way! The Swansons were into wife swapping?” Al choked on his cupcake. “I dated their daughter Anastasia. For the record, she did not have her dad’s unibrow nor did she baby-talk like her mom.”
“I don’t remember her,” Tony said.
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