by Lin, Harper
“Maybe you just want a long hiatus. Not quit.”
I nodded. “Exactly. I was ready to start a family, but now I’m single again, so I guess that’s what I’ve been upset about too. Plus there’s this reporter following me around. I felt like I couldn’t breathe today.” I sighed. “I don’t know what I want. Maybe I just need to have these distractions. Throw baby showers and do other things that I’m interested in.”
“Like criminal investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” said Mirabelle. “I think you need this. I’ll help you in any way that I can. After all, it is a contest that I’m sponsoring. I can’t let the murderer get away with this.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, we’ll start, but first I’m going to go home and keep working on your baby shower to relax my mind a bit.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hi, Emma.”
I opened the door early Monday morning to see Aaron. Looking cheerful, he held a cup of coffee in each hand.
“Aaron, hi. I thought you were going back to Chicago. Don’t you have a deadline?”
“I was,” he said, coming inside without even being invited. “But I heard that someone’s been murdered last night and you were a witness?”
I took his coffee from the Chocoholic Cafe and thanked him. He sure was addicted to my sister’s coffee. He had gotten me a chocolate latte, one of my favorite drinks.
“That’s right,” I said with hesitation. “But maybe I shouldn’t be talking about it.”
“I was at the cafe this morning, and I heard other people gossiping about it. They said that you found the body.”
“Oh no,” I said. “How did word get around so fast? I mean, I thought investigations were supposed to stay confidential.”
“It is a small town.” Aaron shrugged. “I thought word always spread faster in small towns.”
“I suppose.” I sighed and took a long sip of my latte. Then I briefly explained what had transpired the night before.
“So, are you going to investigate?” Aaron asked.
“What do you mean?” I feigned ignorance.
“Well, I’ve asked around, and people here seem to know you more for solving murder and kidnapping cases than for being a singer. You’ve got quite a reputation here.”
“I do?” I was surprised. Sure there was a write-up or two in the paper when I helped the mayor figure out who had kidnapped his kids last month, but I didn’t know that people thought I was some sort of Miss Marple.
“Sure. So, you’re going help figure out who the murderer is, right?”
“Er. I don’t know. I mean, I have to fly to Los Angeles soon to appear on a talk show.”
“But we both know that you won’t,” Aaron said with a smile. “Look, I have an extensive background in journalism, sometimes investigative journalism. Maybe I can help.”
I looked at him. He really didn’t mean any harm. In fact, he looked excited by the prospect of working on a murder case. Maybe he was like me, bored with his daily routine and wanted to do something different.
“Fine,” I said. “Can I trust you?”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I won’t print anything sensitive in the article about this case.”
“Can I have final approval of my article before it runs?”
“Okay” he said. “I have most of it written anyway.”
“That was fast.” Aaron sure was a professional.
“But I’m looking for something else to add,” he said. “A different angle of you that no one else has seen before. An intelligent side.”
I laughed. “Thanks a lot!”
Aaron chuckled too. “I’m sorry. I mean, celebrity interviews are always so, blah. It’s more interesting when I stumble across someone with interests outside of the industry. So crime fascinates you. I can see that from some of the darker imagery in your lyrics, but the fact that you get to solve crimes in real life, well, that could be a real story.”
“If we do solve the case, we don’t have to write about it in detail, do we?”
“Well, why not?”
“Private investigators stay, well, private.”
Aaron frowned. “So really, you just want to be a celebrity who moonlights as an amateur sleuth?”
I nodded. “Exactly. If people know that I’m good at this, they’ll be cautious around me.”
“Hmm, okay. Fine. We’ll cut out the Nancy Drew angle then. But I still want to help you on this case.”
I briefed him on everything Mirabelle and I had discussed about who the killer might be, and how we were visiting the travel agency that morning for information. But I told him that I needed help with the Cherry situation. She was being detained at the police station. Evidence was mounting against her, and maybe Aaron could go see what was happening. I certainly did not want to see that Sandra ever again.
“Okay, done,” Aaron said. “Cherry Anderson…I’ll see what I can dig up at the police station, and I’ll find out more about her background.”
“Great, thanks! We can meet back at the house later.”
After Aaron had gone, Mirabelle came by to pick me up so that we could go to the agency.
“Charles is a friend of mine,” she said, referring to the manager at Sunstream Travel. “So hopefully he’ll let us know who Lena took on the vacations with her.”
“By the way,” I said. “I think we have a new ally.”
I told her that Aaron was interested in helping us with the case.
“That’s great,” she said. “As long as we can trust him.”
“He says I get final approval on the article, which is nice of him, because they never let me do that.”
“Okay.” There was doubt in her voice. “As long as he’s more of an asset than a hindrance. I just don’t trust these reporters. Remember that one woman who pretended she was your long lost BFF, then wrote the most hateful things about you? Horrible. And that other guy who kept trying to hit on you?”
I sighed. “I don’t know Aaron that well, but he seems okay. Maybe I’m naive, but we do need the help. Sterling and Sandra are certainly not letting me on anything from hereon, Sandra would make sure of it. I need all the help I can get. The murderer is still out there.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll trust you on this one.”
Sunstream Travel was just off the main street. It was the go-to agency for anyone wanting to book vacations in this town. While people usually booked vacations online these, many people in Hartfield were still behind on the times and Sunstream’s business was still healthy enough that they could afford to sponsor contests.
“How are you Charles?” Mirabelle beamed at the man with the red hair and matching red beard sitting at the front desk.
“Mirabelle.” He shook her hand. “Lovely to see you as always. And here’s the incomparable Emma Wild. My daughter loves your albums.”
“Great,” I said. “Always happy to have supporters.”
“Sophie only had great things to say about you after meeting you on Emma Wild Day.”
“It was nice meeting her too,” I said, even though I didn’t remember her exactly.
“What can I do for you ladies today?” he asked.
“We’re wondering about the winner for the contest,” Mirabelle said. “Now that Lena has, well, passed away, who gets the top prize?”
Charles made a scowl. “That’s right. I haven’t thought of that. A tragedy that something like that could happen. I certainly hope it wasn’t over this Hawaii trip.”
“Who knows what the motive was,” I said. “I suppose the winner is whoever the runner-up is.”
Mirabelle looked at me. “Who is the runner-up anyway? I forgot.”
“Let’s see, Larson’s triple fudge scored second highest, so I guess it was Larson.”
“Just out of curiosity, who came third and forth?” asked Charles.
“Demi’s strawberry shortcake was third. Cherry’s black forest cake was last.”
“Curious that Demi wasn�
��t at least the runner-up,” said Charles. “She’s usually such a good baker. I always make a beeline for her bakery stand at every festival.”
“Yes, she’s talented,” said Mirabelle. “Maybe she couldn’t take the pressure of the competition. In the previous years, she’d been in the top two, almost winning, but losing out to Lena each time.”
“It’s a shame she won’t be getting the vacation this year either,” Charles said. “But we’ll give it to Larson.”
“But he’s been on these vacations right?” Mirabelle asked casually. “Because he used to date Lena and she had won the previous times. Surely he’s bored of them by now.”
“Actually, Lena has never taken the vacation option,” Charles said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She always chose to take the cash equivalent, so we would just write her a cheque. I expected her to write a cheque this year as well.”
“Wow,” said Mirabelle. “Who wouldn’t want to go to Hawaii?”
“Maybe she needed the money,” said Charles.
“Well, we’re on our way to tell Larson that he has won the free year’s worth of hot chocolate,” I said. “Would you like us to ask him whether he’ll take the vacation or cash?”
“Sure,” said Charles. He gave us his business card. “Give him that and when he decides, he can call me here at Sunstream. It probably doesn’t feel too great to win like this, so he can call me when he’s ready.”
“Yes,” Mirabelle nodded. “It must be tough, even if she is an ex-girlfriend.”
“Well, thanks for your help,” I said. “I’ll be sure to give Sophie a signed copy of my new album when it comes out.”
“That would be great,” said Charles. “She’ll love that!”
“No problem. Oh and by the way, what is the cash value of the vacation?”
“To Hawaii for 6 nights, it’s around $6700.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“$6700?” Mirabelle mused when we were outside. “That’s some luxury vacation. What would she do with that money?”
I thought about it. “Who knows. Maybe she wants to save up for a bakery or something.”
“I don’t think so,” Mirabelle said. “I overheard her talking to one of the judges. She doesn’t want a bakery because it’s too much work.”
“That’s right. I think she has her own online business or something, and wouldn’t have time for that.”
“She’s right,” Mirabelle. “Thank God my cafe is doing well enough that I can hire people. In the first couple of years, I was working six or sometimes even seven days a week.”
“You’re lucky,” I said. “You don’t even have to do much these days.”
“Hard work pays off. As you would know. Plus, our chocolate coffee mix is going to start selling in supermarkets next month.”
“Congrats!” I said. “It’s shaping up to be a great year for you. First the baby, then your own product line? That’s really amazing. Oh, and this awesome baby shower that’s coming your way.”
“How’s that going anyway?”
“Great.”
“It’s not murder-themed, I hope.”
“Definitely not. It’ll be very cute.”
We drove to Larson’s house. Mirabelle had his address from his contest application form. Like Lena, he also worked from home. Jobs in Hartfield were pretty limited, so there were some young entrepreneurs in town. Mirabelle said that Larson also had his own online business. He sold cell phone batteries online. It was so successful that it gave him the time to bake, which was what he wrote on his entry form anyway.
His house was a bungalow, fit for a bachelor. When we knocked, he greeted us in his bathrobe. Larson was in his mid to late thirties. Blonde and losing his hair in the front, he had a slight beard and a beer belly.
He gave us a big smile and apologized for his attire.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” he said. “I’m so embarrassed. I just took a shower, which is why I’m not dressed yet. To have Emma Wild in my house too. To what do I owe the honor?”
“We’re here to congratulate you on your winnings,” Mirabelle said brightly. “I know that under the circumstances, it’s a bit difficult to get celebratory here, but you are the second place winner, and so…”
“Yes. I did hear about Lena. It’s a real shame. I went over to speak to her boyfriend Matt this morning. She has no family here, so it’s a tough burden on him with the funeral arrangements and all.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Her parents have passed?”
“Yes,” said Larson. “But we’ve been friends since we broke up, so I wanted to make sure that things were taken care of.”
“That’s kind of you,” said Mirabelle. “Oh and what’s that I smell? It’s absolutely divine!”
Larson chuckled. “I’ve been working on my fudge cake recipe. It was passed down from my grandmother, but one of the judges said it was too sweet, so I’ve been trying to improve on it.”
“It wasn’t me,” I said. “I loved the cake.”
“Thank you.”
Larson looked down at his robe. “I’m going to change. Would you like to stay here and share a piece of cake with me? It should be ready soon.”
“Sure,” said Mirabelle.
“Please sit anywhere in the kitchen.”
The oven beeped. He put on oven mitts and took out the three cake pans. He turned them onto the racks to let them cool.
“I’ll be right back.” Larson disappeared up the stairs.
“What do you think?” Mirabelle whispered to me.
I shrugged. “I guess he’s okay. Doesn’t sound like he has a motive. Maybe we can just find out what Lena has done with the money.”
“Okay—” Mirabelle was interrupted by a tabby cat strolling along by her feet.
“Hey there,” I cooed.
The adorable cat practically smiled. I’d never seen a cat so friendly.
“You are just the cutest.” I squat down to pat the cat. “Where did you come from?”
The cat cozied up to my ankles and purred.
Before long, Larson was stomping back down the stairs, dressed in a blue dress shirt, black pants and dress shoes. The cat disappeared as quickly as it came from the living room.
“You didn’t have to get dressed up,” Mirabelle laughed.
“Of course I do,” Larson said. “A famous singer and the owner of the town’s best cafe in my house? I have to look presentable! So, I won the prizes? A year’s worth of hot chocolate, huh?”
“And a trip to Hawaii,” Mirabelle added.
“But I guess you’ve been to these all-inclusive vacations with Lena in the past, so you’re probably pretty used to it by now, huh?” I watched him carefully.