Engrossed in the book, Mel didn’t hear her phone chiming until there was a pause and then it started again. She wrenched her gaze from the book and looked at her phone. She was trying to imagine a day where Joe announced to her that he really wanted a family, and could she just move aside for the young woman he had found who was going to do that for him? Gah, she was so outraged on Elise’s behalf, she marveled that Elise hadn’t gutted Todd like a fish.
It wasn’t that he had fallen in love with someone else—that happened, and graceful and considerate uncouplings were possible. No, it was that he wanted her to leave with nothing. No money, no friends, no security. She was to just pack a bag and leave their home, her home of twenty years, and go start over in some old-lady condo that he refused to give her enough money to buy. He felt she was overdue to get a job. Yeah, because women in their mid-fifties with no job skills were in such high demand in the job market. Mel was seething on Elise’s behalf.
She looked at her phone and tried to focus on the number. The display read Cassie’s name. She frowned and picked it up. She hadn’t expected to hear from Cassie so early.
“Hey, Cassie, oh my god, I’m reading the book,” Mel said. “I can’t believe Elise didn’t—”
“Mel!” Cassie interrupted. Her voice was shrill and Mel stopped talking immediately. Something was very, very wrong. “Oh, Mel, Elise is dead.”
Twelve
“What?” Mel cried. “How? When?”
“This morning, early, from complications.” Cassie’s voice was quiet, as if she could hardly push enough air through her grief to form the words.
“Where are you?” Mel asked. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Cassie said. “Mel, they’ve arrested me for her murder.”
“But that’s crazy!” Mel said. “Are you at the station? Does Steve know?”
“Yes, he’s on his way,” Cassie said. “Mel, I wanted to call you and tell you I was arrested because I don’t want you to believe I killed Elise. No matter what they say, you know me. Please don’t believe this about me.”
“I don’t, Cassie,” Mel said. “I know you didn’t do it. I believe that. I really do. Listen, Tate and Angie’s wedding is this weekend and I have no time, but I’ll do everything I can to talk to Joe about the charges against you and see if I can convince him to drop them.”
“He won’t,” Cassie said.
“You don’t know that,” Mel protested.
“My fingerprints were on the pen they pulled out of Elise’s back,” Cassie said.
“Oh, no.”
“Because of that and the fact that I stand to inherit everything, they think there’s enough proof and motive that it was me.” Cassie’s voice broke and she started to cry. “This is a nightmare.”
“Don’t give up, Cassie,” Mel said. “Steve is the best and I’ll do what I can, too. How about the bookstore? Is it okay, can your people manage without you?”
“Yes, it’s all set,” Cassie said. “Thank goodness I hired a couple of retired librarians to run the show. I know they’ll stand by me until the bitter end.”
“I will, too,” Mel promised. “Try not to worry.”
“Thanks, Mel,” Cassie said. “I just can’t believe she’s gone. I just can’t.”
She ended the call and Mel lowered her phone and stared at it. How could Uncle Stan have arrested Cassie? She knew he wouldn’t talk to her about it over the phone. She was going to have to go down to the station to confront him in person. She could only hope he was alone and that Tara wasn’t there to run interference.
She dropped the book on her desk and grabbed her bag. Angie was pacing around the kitchen on her phone when Mel came into the room. Mel gestured that she was going out and Angie raised one finger for Mel to wait.
“Can you hold on?” Angie asked the person on the other end of her call. Then she glanced at Mel and asked, “What gives?”
Mel blew out a breath. “Elise passed away and they’ve arrested Cassie for her murder. I’m going to talk to Stan.”
Angie’s jaw dropped. She lifted up her phone and said, “I have to go. I’ll call you back.”
“No!” Mel shook her head. “Your wedding. You have stuff to do.”
“No, I don’t,” Angie said. “Everything is a go. That was my cousin Denise insisting that I not put her at the same table with our other cousin Mindy. Of course, I already have them at the same table and I am not changing it!”
Mel studied her. “Looking to get away?”
“Please.” Angie put her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“Is Oz back?”
“He’s working out front with Marty,” Angie said.
“Excellent,” Mel said. “This shouldn’t take long, but I’ll let them know where we’re going just in case.”
Once Marty and Oz were up to speed, Mel and Angie took Mel’s Mini Cooper over to the police station, which was only three blocks away.
Mel scored a parking spot on the street and they hustled into the station. Officer Lopez, who was on desk duty, glanced up and then frowned.
“No cupcakes?” he asked.
“No time, Lopez,” Mel said. She blew past him, down the hall, where she knew Uncle Stan’s office was. She rounded the corner at top speed and slammed into a solid wall of man muscle. She would have landed on her butt except the solid wall reached out and grabbed her.
“Mel!” Manny Martinez lifted her up and hugged her close. He set her back on her feet and then held his arms wide for Angie.
“And the bride,” he said. He hugged Angie and she hugged him back with a big grin.
“You’re here!” Angie said. She glanced around him and asked, “Where are Holly and Sidney?”
“Still in Vegas,” he said. “They’re flying down the day before the wedding. I took a few extra days off so I could join Tate’s bachelor party and visit my family.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s tonight,” Angie said. A look of concern flashed over her face and Manny shook his head at her.
“Ange, I’m a detective with the Las Vegas PD, Joe’s a prosecutor, and all of your brothers are going to be there,” he said. “What mischief could we possibly get up to?”
She gave him a flat stare and then laughed.
“You’re right.” Angie hugged him again. “I’ve always liked you, did you know that?”
Manny grinned at her and Mel was pleased to see the camaraderie between them. For a while, Angie had been less than thrilled with Manny’s interest in Mel, not surprising since Joe was Angie’s brother. It went without saying that Angie was and always would be Team Joe.
Manny was tall and built and had a killer grin. There had been a time when Mel and Joe were on a break that she’d thought about giving Manny a chance, for about a nanosecond, but Joe had won out. Which was just as well since Manny had found true love with the owner of the first Fairy Tale Cupcakes franchise, a former Vegas showgirl named Holly Hartzmark and her daughter, Sidney. Mel couldn’t be happier for him.
“It’s great to see you, Manny,” she said.
“But?”
“No but,” she said. “I just need to talk to Uncle Stan.”
“About the arrest he just made?” Manny asked.
“How do you know about this?” she asked.
“Please, the whole station is buzzing about it,” he said. “They were taking bets on how long it would take you to get here, although Lopez said he thought you’d bring cupcakes, so I think he’s disqualified. Plus, I used to be Stan’s partner, so he clued me in.”
“You are not working this case,” Mel said.
Manny raised his hands in the air. “In an advisory capacity at most.”
“Cassie Leighton did not murder Elise Penworthy,” Mel said.
“You don’t know that,” a voice said from behind Mel.
She spun a
round to see her uncle Stan standing there. He looked as if he hadn’t slept, and she felt bad that this case had blown up on him. The media presence alone was making this investigation a misery. He certainly didn’t need Mel showing up and causing a fuss, but if she didn’t, who would look out for Cassie?
“I do know it,” Mel said. “The pen could have been taken from the signing. Cassie was in charge of the pen and the books, so of course her fingerprints were on it.”
“There’s more to it than that, Mel,” Stan said. “And I’m not going to discuss it with you, so don’t ask.”
Mel raised her hands in the air. “There is no way Cassie would have murdered a photographer, a driver, and a caterer. None. She had nothing to gain by doing that. I am telling you, someone set her up as a last-minute fall guy and my money is on Hair Plugs.”
Uncle Stan glared at her. “You’ve been reading the book.”
“Yes, and it reads like a who’s who of people who wanted to murder Elise Penworthy.”
“Mel, you have Angie’s wedding to focus on,” Stan said. “Why don’t you take care of that and let me run my investigation my own way.”
It was a curt dismissal and Mel wanted to argue, but Uncle Stan’s eyebrows had knotted themselves together in a severe frown, so she knew arguing with him about this would be pointless.
“Fine,” she said.
Manny cringed and Mel knew he was thinking that when a woman says fine, she is anything but. Uncle Stan did not seem to care until Mel looked him right in the eye and said, “I guess I’ll just have to ask Joyce what she thinks about all of this.”
Uncle Stan’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“Watch me,” Mel said. She turned and spun on her heel. She nodded at Manny as she swept from the station, leaving Angie following in her wake.
“Bye, Uncle Stan. Later, Manny,” Angie called. “See you both at the rehearsal dinner, right? Tell Holly to call me!”
Mel stepped outside and sucked in a breath. Angie paused beside her and studied her face.
“That was a bluff, right?” she asked. “You’re not really going to talk to your mom, are you?”
“Oh, yes, I am,” Mel said. “Just as soon as I get today’s baking done.”
* * *
• • •
“So, Mom, have you read The Palms?” Mel asked.
“That overwritten, bloviated novel of suburban intrigue?” Joyce asked. “Every word.”
Mel laughed. She was sitting at the counter at her mother’s kitchen. There was a tub of snickerdoodle cookies open in front of them and Joyce had just poured Mel a hot cup of coffee.
“She wasn’t very subtle with her descriptions of people, was she?” Joyce asked. “No wonder someone tried to kill her.”
Mel was about to take a bite out of her cookie, then she put it down. “They did more than try, Mom.”
Joyce met her gaze over the edge of her mug. “What happened?”
“Elise passed away early this morning,” Mel said. “They believe it was complications from her stabbing, but they haven’t confirmed it yet.”
“Oh, dear.” Joyce bit her lip and looked regretful. “I feel awful for trashing her writing just now.”
“No need,” Mel said. “The writing is not good but the subject matter is compelling. I was up all night reading.”
“Did you get to the part about the man she nicknamed Baby Doll?”
“The one who enjoyed wearing kitten heels and baby doll outfits?” Mel asked. “Oh, yeah, she really enjoyed skewering him.”
“He’s a real estate agent,” Joyce said. “I play Bunco with his wife. I don’t know how I’m going to look her in the face.”
“I wouldn’t mention the whole baby doll thing,” Mel said. “And don’t wear kitten heels.”
“As if I would,” Joyce said. She picked up a cookie and broke it into halves, then quarters.
Mel watched her as she stuffed one quarter of the cookie in her mouth and then another. “What are you doing? Portion control?”
Joyce broke another cookie in half. “No, I’m just anxious. I always play with my food when I’m anxious.”
It was true. Many a family dinner had been spent watching Joyce move her mashed potatoes around her plate like they were prized building materials and her fork was a backhoe.
“What’s bothering you?” Mel asked.
“Nothing’s bothering me, exactly,” Joyce said. Then without taking a breath she added, “Oh, all right, if you’re going to badger it out of me, the truth is I’m seeing someone.”
Mel choked on her cookie. Little crumbs landed in her windpipe and she coughed and swallowed and sucked air, but still they were stuck. Her eyes began to water and Joyce reached around behind her and slapped her hard on the back. It didn’t help. Before it turned into full-on assault, Mel held up her hand to ward off her mother while lifting her coffee mug with the other and taking a healthy swig.
“Okay, I’m good now,” Mel said. “Um, Mom, do you remember the last time you decided to try dating?”
“Yes, dear, he was murdered on our first date,” Joyce said. “Kind of hard to forget, but I think I’m ready to try again.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
It was a firm yes with no wiggle room. Mel didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, it was nice for her mom to find someone. On the other hand, what if she hated him? Not that it was her place to have any opinions about who her mother dated. If Joyce was happy, then Mel was happy. Really, she was.
“Does Charlie know?”
“Yes, your brother called last night and we had a long talk about it.”
“So, he knew before me?”
“Please do not make this a thing.”
“It’s not a thing,” Mel protested. “It’s just that as your daughter, I thought I would get preferential treatment when it came time to divulge the details of your love life.”
“There are no details,” Joyce said. “I’ve told you all I’m telling you for now.”
“Seriously?” Mel asked. “No name? Address? Snapchat snap?”
“What’s that?”
“Never mind,” Mel said. “How am I supposed to have Uncle Stan run a background check with no name?”
“Your Uncle Stan does not need to run a background check,” Joyce said. She finished off her cookie quarters by stuffing both of them in her mouth. Very suspicious.
“Oh my god, Uncle Stan already knows, doesn’t he?” Mel asked. “You told him before me, too.”
“You have Angie’s wedding,” Joyce said. “And now you have all of this murdery drama with Cassie getting arrested. I didn’t want to add to your burdens.”
Mel stared at her mother. Something wasn’t right. Her mother was being very cagey, as if she was ashamed of her new beau or something.
“He’s not one of the people in the book, is he?” Mel asked. She could only imagine how Uncle Stan would handle that.
“No, heavens no,” Joyce said.
Mel felt her internal daughter alarm system ratchet down from Defcon one back to a solid three.
“So, when do I get to meet him?” she asked.
“When the time is right,” Joyce said. “It’s all pretty new.”
“You’re not going to do anything crazy like elope, are you?” Joyce looked at her with one eyebrow raised and Mel ducked her head and said, “Oh, yeah, I tried that. It didn’t take.”
“We’re just dating,” Joyce said. She tucked her silver-streaked blond hair behind her ear and Mel noted that her mom was still a very pretty woman.
“Well, whoever he is, he’s a lucky man, and if he doesn’t treat you right, just let me know, and I’ll sic the boys on him,” Mel said.
Joyce reached across the counter and squeezed Mel’s hand in hers. “Thanks, honey. Now, do you wan
t me to ask around and see if there is any local gossip on who might have been angry enough to stab Elise over her book?”
“No,” Mel said. “I mean, if you hear a juicy tidbit at the hairdresser or Bunco, report back in, but don’t go fishing. Whoever killed Elise was willing to stab anyone associated with her signing and I don’t want you to make yourself a target.”
“All right,” Joyce agreed. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
Mel left her mother’s house with a plastic tub of meatloaf, potatoes au gratin, and a bag of salad. Dinner for her and dear Joe. Mel marveled that she could never visit her mother without leaving with a full dinner. It was as if her mother forgot she had been to culinary school and actually knew how to cook. Of course, Mel had specialized in sweet instead of savory, but still.
She zipped back to the bakery. She wanted to help Cassie, but she was beginning to freak out that the wedding was just days away and her mom was dating someone. Who was he? How had she met him? Should she ask Uncle Stan to run a background on the guy?
She arrived at the bakery to find Angie sitting at the worktable in the kitchen. She had her clipboard with her and was sitting there staring at it as if she expected it to bite her.
“What’s wrong?” Mel asked. “You look freaked out.”
“I am, because nothing is wrong,” Angie said. “As awful as it is, we found a new photographer who seems nice, and everything is right on schedule with no hiccups, boo-boos, or errors. That’s weird, right?”
“No, I’d say that’s a relief,” Mel said. “Besides, you’ve already had enough to deal with considering Blaise’s death. I know how hard that’s been on you and Tate.”
“Yeah,” Angie said. Her expression was strained. “Tate and I are going to his service tonight. I feel so awful. Here we are getting married and his poor mother . . . ugh.”
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