A short time later, she walked into Ingersoll’s Bakery, pausing in the doorway as the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread wafted toward her. Her mouth drooled at the display cases filled with loaves of bread, muffins, cupcakes, cookies, tarts and other baked goods. Half a dozen people milled around the sales floor, waiting for their numbers to be called for service.
“Rory?” Teresa waved at her from the far corner of the store. “We’re set up over here.”
The wedding planner motioned toward a table situated in an alcove, out of the traffic area of the store. “Thanks for doing this. I have a good idea what my client wants, but it’s nice to have a second opinion.”
Rory sat down in one of the three chairs placed around the table.
“I’m happy to help. Tell me about the bride.”
“She’s in the technology field like you are. Lives up north. VP of some tech company. As you might imagine, she’s very busy, so she delegated the cake selection to me.”
“She’s missing all the fun. She’s getting married here in Vista Beach? Why not up north?”
“She grew up here. Her parents still live in her childhood home. You’re doing me a huge favor. This is a new bakery for me. She’s insisting I use it.” Teresa leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think the owners are friends of the family.”
A woman wearing an apron emblazoned with Ingersoll’s logo walked over bearing a platter filled with small plates of various flavors of cake. “Sorry to keep you ladies waiting.” After introducing herself as one of the owners, the woman sat down and began going over the various options of cake flavors, fillings and icing. After she explained everything to them, she stood up. “Remember, we can make each layer of the cake a different flavor. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything or have any questions.”
“This place is busy.” Rory eyed the constant stream of customers coming in and going out the door as she took a bite of the cake nearest her.
“People were lined up down the block the day they opened their doors and it hasn’t stopped since.”
“I can see why. If the cakes are any indication, this place is incredible.” Rory took a bite of a lemon cake with lemon filling. “This one’s really good. My favorite so far.” Her next bite was of a white cake with raspberry filling. “It’s sad about Willow, isn’t it? Asia, over at her store, said you two were close. How long did you know her?”
“We met when she moved here. I went into her store to check it out and we hit it off instantly. Those were good days,” Teresa said a bit wistfully.
“Do you know anything about her family? I heard she moved here from New Mexico.”
Teresa laid down her fork. “She mentioned that to me too, but she never really said anything else about her past. For some reason I got the impression she was married once, but I didn’t get any details.”
“Did she have any conflicts with anyone that you can think of?”
“She was complaining the other day that she lost her sunglasses. They’re expensive. So expensive she had her name and phone number stamped on the eyeglass case.”
“No one called to say they found them?”
“Not that I heard of. She thought one of the homeless people near the pier stole them.”
“Why would she think that?”
“I have no idea. Doesn’t make sense to me either.” Teresa pointed to the plate nearest her. “What do you think of the chocolate? It’s good with the raspberry filling.”
Rory took a bite and sighed. “I love it. Do people have chocolate cake at weddings?”
“Pretty much anything’s done now. Some people don’t even bother with a cake, others have cupcakes. This bride’s a bit of a traditionalist. Wants the bride and groom on top of a tiered cake and everything.”
Rory was trying a bite of orange cake when she felt someone watching her. She glanced up to see Detective Green standing to one side, a curious expression on his face. She raised her fork in greeting, then turned to answer a question Teresa had asked. When Rory looked up again, the detective was going out the door with a bag in his hand.
Before Rory could ask any more questions about Willow, Teresa’s phone rang. When she looked at the cell’s display, a concerned look came across her face. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” As Teresa headed toward the door, Rory heard the words “you can’t!” and “lawyer.” When Teresa returned to the table ten minutes later, her face was pale and there were traces of mascara under her eyes. Avoiding Rory’s gaze, she picked up her pen and consulted her notes, her hand trembling as she wrote something down.
Rory set down her fork and looked with concern at the woman. “Is everything all right? Was it bad news?”
“It wasn’t good news, that’s for sure.”
“Is it your kids? Are they okay?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Rory had never seen a more devoted mother than Teresa. She volunteered at the school her children attended, helped them with their homework and never missed a recital, play or sporting event her three kids were involved with. She couldn’t imagine the woman not knowing where her children were every minute of the day.
“What are you talking about?”
Teresa directed her words at the table and said in a hushed voice, “Trent kicked me out last week. He changed the locks on the house and barely lets me see the kids. Now he’s talking about getting lawyers involved. He’s threatening to sue for full custody and move away. I can’t live without my monkeys.” A tear trickled down her face. She reached into her purse for a tissue, took off her glasses and dabbed at her eyes.
“He can’t do that, can he? You’re their mother.”
“He knows important people, big-time lawyers and judges. He’s already been spreading it around that I have psychological problems.”
“Why would he do that?” Rory said, her voice subdued.
Teresa looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, then lowered her voice and continued, “Because I had an affair. Well, you can’t even call it that. It was only one night. Trent’s been so busy with work. It was nice to have someone pay attention to me, to think I’m sexy. I got carried away. I regretted it the next day. It’s not like he hasn’t done the same thing. I forgave him, but he thinks because I’m a woman it’s different. I felt so guilty about it I had to tell someone. This mess is all her fault! I’m glad she’s dead.”
“Who? Willow?”
“That’s right. I told her about my…mistake in confidence. She wasn’t supposed to repeat it to anyone. I guess I should have seen it coming. She kept on harping about how important it was to be honest in a relationship. It never occurred to me she would actually tell him.”
“She told your husband?”
Teresa blew her nose. “She decided it was the best thing for us. She always thought she knew what was best for everyone, no matter the consequences. Damn her!” She slammed her pen down on the table so hard the plates rattled. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Rory made a zipper motion across her lips. “You can trust me. Do you need any help?”
“Thanks, but I’m okay for now. I’ve been staying at the Akaw for the last week since Trent kicked me out.”
“That must be costing you a bundle.”
“Not a cent. I know one of the owners. He’s letting me stay for free until I work things out with my husband.”
Rory thought back to last Friday when they were testing out the conferencing software.
“Last week. You weren’t just borrowing that room for a few hours.”
“That’s right.” Teresa blew her nose again and picked up her pen. “Let’s get back to work. I can’t do anything about my situation right now, but I can do my job. It’s all I have at the moment. You’ve tasted them all. Give me your top th
ree.”
As they went over the cake flavors, half of Rory’s mind was on Teresa and how she blamed Willow for her marital problems. Given her devotion to her children, the idea she might not be able to see them could have pushed Teresa over the edge. She could have fought with Willow and, in the heat of the moment, grabbed the knife and plunged it into her chest. Once she realized what she’d done, she could have tried to make it look like a burglar entered the house.
As they finished up, Rory wondered how she could find out where Teresa was Friday night after the software test. She went through her mental Rolodex to see who might be able to give her the answer.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Liz stared at the laptop screen as Rory typed. The two sat side by side at a table in Liz’s condo that evening, air conditioner humming in the background, keeping them cool.
“You can find loads of information on anyone if you know their birth date and name. And if you know their place of birth, it’s even better.”
Liz shuddered. “That’s scary.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century.” Rory directed the browser toward a website that specialized in finding people. “One of my clients told me about this one. She found an old school friend through it.” She keyed in the information they had on Willow and clicked the Search button. Before long, they had a list of records, but only one with the exact birth date. She selected the one she wanted, plugged in her credit card number and moments later, they were staring at the information.
Liz leaned forward and peered at the display. “Is it the right person?”
“Move your head, I can’t see.” Rory scrolled through the record until she came across a list of last known addresses. “That’s Willow’s place here in Vista Beach. We hit the jackpot.”
“The next address is one in New Mexico. You said that’s where she was born, right?”
“That’s what Dawn said.”
“I have an idea. Let me take it from here.”
Rory printed out the report on Willow before the two women swapped places.
“I’m thinking one of her old neighbors in New Mexico can tell us something.” Liz directed the browser to the appropriate county assessor’s office and searched for addresses on the street where Willow had lived before moving to Vista Beach. “Bingo! One of these should do the trick.”
They stared at a list of properties that included the names of the current owners.
“Let’s try these two.” Liz pointed at two lines on the screen. “They’re the houses on either side of the one she lived in. We need to find their phone numbers.”
“That’s easy. Reverse phone lookup.”
Minutes later, they had the information.
The first number Liz tried, the person on the other end of the line hung up when she mentioned Willow’s name. They had better luck with the second. A quivery voice came over the cell phone’s speaker. Liz introduced herself to the woman on the other end of the line.
“Did I hear right? You’re a real estate agent in California?” the woman said.
“That’s right, ma’am. I have a client who’s thinking of renting a house to a Willow Bingen. She gave your name and number as a reference.”
Rory crossed her fingers and listened on in silence.
“Glad to hear she’s not homeless anymore.”
Rory and Liz exchanged puzzled glances.
“Did you say she was homeless?” Liz asked.
“I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you that. Not something she was proud of. Got evicted from the place next door.” She talked a mile a minute all about her former neighbor without Liz having to ask a single question.
When the woman stopped talking, Liz said, “Just to be sure we’re talking about the same person, could I text you a photo?”
“Sorry, love, I don’t have a cell phone. No need, I’m home all day. But I do have email. You can send it there.”
Liz wrote down the email address, then thanked her and hung up. A short time later they sent her a photo they found of Willow taken at an event at Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint.
Half an hour later, they received a reply saying, “That’s not the Willow who lived next door to me,” followed by a photo of a stranger.
“Who the heck is Wispy Willow, then?” Liz said, voicing Rory’s own question. “Do you think the police know?”
“I haven’t heard anything. Maybe they’re keeping it quiet.”
“Or they don’t know. You’d better call Dashing D and tell him, just in case.”
A few minutes later, Rory was on the phone with the detective.
“News about the jewelry already?” he said in his deep voice.
“No, this is about Willow herself.”
He sighed and mumbled to himself. “What about her?”
She quickly told him what they’d learned, leaving out the part where she’d paid for some of the information.
“How did you find this out? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. We’ll verify it.”
“How come she hasn’t been caught using a false name?”
“She probably bought a birth certificate and social security number from the homeless woman in New Mexico. As long as they’re about the same age and race, it’s not that hard to get away with, especially since the woman lived in another state.”
“What about the real Willow’s family?”
“She probably doesn’t have any. Thanks for the information. We’ll look into it. Do me a favor though, will you? Stop investigating.”
Chapter 13
Wednesday morning, Rory stood in a hallway at the gym, staring at yoga-pant-clad bodies contorting themselves into positions she could only imagine trying. Her muscles ached just watching the women. “I’m not doing that. I wouldn’t be able to move for a week.”
Yoga mat under one arm, Liz waited with her friend outside the exercise room with a half dozen other students for the current class to finish and another to begin. “It’s not that hard. You wouldn’t be doing those moves anyway. That’s an advanced class.”
“It doesn’t make sense for us to be in the same place. We’ll have better luck splitting up. You can do your yoga thing while I check out other parts of the gym. Someone must know something about Lance. Meet you here after class.” Rory headed down the hall toward the area reserved for cardio equipment while Liz joined the group entering the exercise room for the yoga class.
Rory looked over the sea of equipment before heading toward a row of treadmills. She stepped onto one and studied the console. Unsure what program to select, she chose one at random, following the start-up instructions on the machine’s display. Holding lightly onto the handrails until she became accustomed to the motion, she kept up the pace until the treadmill accelerated and she found herself huffing and puffing. She stabbed at the buttons until it slowed down to a walking pace and at an incline she felt she could handle.
A middle-aged woman dropped a towel over the machine next to Rory’s and put a water bottle in a holder. She pressed buttons on its display and, once the treadmill started moving, put her feet on the belt and started walking. She glanced over at Rory curiously. “You’re new here.”
“Guest pass. A friend thinks I should join.” Rory winced and rubbed the front of her right leg, which was beginning to throb.
“Not used to exercising, are you? You shouldn’t overdo it on the first day. You could injure yourself. I’m Marcia, by the way.”
“I’m Rory. It’s not the treadmill that’s the problem. I went skating the other day for the first time.”
Marcia cast a sympathetic glance in Rory’s direction. “That’s hard on your legs. Don’t worry, keep on exercising and your quads and hamstrings will toughen up in no time. Have you gotten the official tour yet?”
“Tour?”
“Everyone who comes in on a guest pass
gets a tour. They let you explore a while on your own, then snag you before you leave. One of the PTs will show you around.”
“PT?”
“Personal trainer.”
“Someone mentioned one to me who’s supposed to be really good.” Rory tilted her head to one side as if she couldn’t quite remember what her fictitious friend had said. “Vance. No, that’s not it.”
“Lance?”
“That’s right. Lance. Do you know him?”
The woman’s face took on a dreamy quality. A smile played about her lips as she stared into the distance.
“Marcia?”
She brought herself out of her reverie. “Sorry. I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He only takes male clients these days. Something about a jealous girlfriend.”
“Really?”
Before Rory could ask any more questions, a woman walked by and cocked her head toward the next room.
Marcia’s eyes lit up. She pushed a button on her treadmill. It had barely decelerated to a stop when she grabbed her towel and water bottle. “Excuse me. I need to go. Enjoy your workout.”
Marcia and half a dozen other women headed toward the exit. Curious, Rory followed them into the weight room next door where the clang of weights and murmur of voices filled the room. As if they’d done it dozens of times before, the women scattered around the large space filled with weight machines, positioning themselves next to various pieces of equipment already occupied. They pretended to wait their turns, but all their attention was focused on two men in the middle of the room. Lance was spotting a gray-haired man doing bench presses with a barbell that held an amount of weight Rory couldn’t imagine lifting in a million years.
Audible sighs could be heard around the room as the women watched Lance work, sighs the personal trainer either didn’t hear or had learned to ignore.
“That’s him, that’s Lance,” Marcia said as Rory joined her by a rack of free weights. “The one standing. He’s always here during the week about this time. Except last Friday when he was away on business. Disappointing day for everyone here.”
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