Custom Baked Murder

by Liz Mugavero

  “We can do gas,” Stan said.

  “Excellent. And then we’ll need recessed lights, plus some drop fixtures. We’ll choose those later.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.” Kevin scribbled another note. “I’ll get right on those orders.”

  “Wonderful,” Patricia said. “Wait! The counters.” She snapped her fingers. “We’ll want marble counters, too. And stainless steel sinks. I think two, right, Kristan?”

  “I’d actually like to sketch it out first,” Stan said. “Char said she’d help. Out of all of us, she’s got the best eye for what a functional kitchen needs. Kevin, thanks so much for coming out. If you want to start pricing those pieces, I think we’re good for today.” It felt good to exercise some authority, anyway.

  Patricia frowned, but kept her mouth shut. Kevin nodded gratefully, mumbled something about having a nice day, and fled.

  “I wasn’t quite finished,” Patricia said.

  “It’s fine, Mom. I’d prefer if you didn’t order things without my sign-off, though.”

  Patricia seemed unfazed by Stan’s directive. Either that or she hadn’t even heard her. “I was up early and decided to get a head start on the day. I assumed I’d see you here anyway. You can’t dillydally, the opening will be here before you know it.” She picked up her Chanel purse from the hook she’d carefully hung it on to prevent dust from finding it and searched for something inside. “By the way, I called my contact about your pastry cases. You can’t leave those things for the last minute, Kristan. These people are quite sought after. They aren’t sitting around waiting for you to call. I gave him an overview of what you want and your number. He’ll be contacting you.” She pulled out a lipstick and mirror and freshened her lips.

  “Mom.” Stan clenched her fists at her sides and counted to ten. Scruffy came over and sat at her side, watching anxiously. She could tell whenever her mom was upset. “I told you I wanted to buy local as much as possible. There’s a guy Jake told me about—”

  Patricia waved her off dismissively. “Darling. You don’t want some local guy you’ve never heard of doing something so important. The cases will be the center of your shop.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t—” Stan broke off and forced herself to take a deep breath. A woman had been murdered in her mother’s bathroom. Patricia clearly wasn’t processing it very well. They didn’t need to argue about pastry cases. “Mom. Forget the pastry cases. What’s really going on?”

  Chapter 31

  Patricia pursed her freshly painted lips. “Whatever do you mean, dear? Nothing’s going on except that I want my daughter to succeed. Is there a problem with that?”

  “I’m talking about what happened Saturday. That had to have some effect on you, no?” She couldn’t seem to keep the sarcasm out of her voice when it came to her mother, and it infuriated her. She was thirty-seven years old, for goodness’ sake. Her mother shouldn’t be able to push her buttons so easily.

  Patricia kept her eyes focused on the mirror pretending to examine her lips more closely. “What happened was horrifying. But they’ve closed the case. We all have to move on, sad as it is.”

  Stan’s stomach sank. “Mom. Tell me you don’t really believe Richard was responsible.”

  “What else should I believe? That’s what the police believe.” She snapped the mirror shut and turned away.

  “Come on. You’ve stayed in touch with Richard long after I broke up with him. Heck, you two conspired behind my back. Of all people, you should be skeptical.”

  Patricia didn’t turn. “People do all kinds of things for all kinds of reasons, Kristan,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

  “Why were all those people there, Mom?” Stan asked. “The people from Warner? Were they there for you or Tony?”

  “They’re acquaintances,” Patricia said, hanging her purse on the hook again. “Tony has a large circle. Sometimes worlds collide. I’m sorry you were upset.”

  “Why didn’t you at least give me a heads-up?”

  “Because I was extremely busy,” her mother said. “Do you think I had time to run every guest by you?”

  “No, but maybe you could’ve mentioned my ex,” Stan said sarcastically.

  “We’re all adults. I figured you could handle it.”

  Stan opened her mouth to fire back, then closed it. Her mother was detouring her. All their conversations seemed to go this way, like there was a chasm between them so wide that all the important words got lost in it. Maybe she was still overtired, but today it made her sad. She wished she could find the right words, words strong enough to make it all the way over. And, most important, be heard and understood.

  She tried a different tactic. “Are you back in your house yet? I’m guessing they gave you the all clear.”

  “I’m staying at Char’s a few more nights. While the . . . cleaning crews come in.”

  “Is Tony staying there?”

  “Yes,” Patricia said through gritted teeth. “Why?”

  “I’m curious. If I need to reach you, I want to know where to find you. Where was Tony on Saturday, anyway? Why was he so late to the party?”

  They stared at each other. Scruffy looked from one to the other, then started to bark. She had the cutest bark, a woo-woo sound that charmed everyone who heard it. “It’s okay,” Stan murmured, patting her head. “Well?”

  “He had a prior commitment that ran long,” Patricia said.

  “That cut into your engagement party? Come on, Mom. I know you. You were mad at me for being late, and I’m not your fiancé.” Stan took a step forward, holding out her hand, a peace offering. “Mom. Please. This is me. I’m still your daughter, and I don’t want to see you hurt. What’s really going on? Do you know where Tony was?”

  Patricia said nothing for a long time, studying her daughter. Stan held her breath, thinking for a fleeting moment that she might open up and confide in her. Together they could help Jessie and the rest of the police get to the bottom of this.

  But then the corners of her mother’s lips turned down and heat flashed into her eyes. Her glare could’ve struck down Voldemort faster than Harry Potter’s wand. “It’s not your concern. If you want to show some concern, you can ask your media friends to stop publicizing this story, since the culprit’s been caught. Now that’s the end of this conversation.”

  She may as well have slapped Stan right in the face. What had she been thinking? Of course her mother would never confide in her. “You never cease to amaze me,” she said, hoping Patricia couldn’t hear her voice shake. “Cyril’s going to write whatever story he wants. And you know what? I don’t blame him. This whole thing stinks to high heaven.” She called Scruffy, prepared to storm out in a grand exit. Instead, a sharp rap sounded on the front door.

  Their heads both swiveled in that direction. Jessie Pasquale stood on the other side, as if she’d heard the argument from across town and driven over to put in her two cents. Stan motioned for her to come in. Jessie pushed the door open, taking in the scene.

  “Morning. I saw your car and thought I’d stop in,” she said to Stan, with a curious look at Patricia.

  Patricia inclined her chin. “Trooper.”

  “Ms. Connor.” Jessie turned to Stan. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure.” Stan walked into her back room, motioning Jessie to follow. Patricia went back to her plans for the kitchen, but Stan knew she’d be trying to hear what was going on. “What’s up?”

  “I’m working on a new case,” Jessie said with a grimace. “Your sister just called the troop and asked if we could escort someone out of town. Some guy staying at Char’s. Said he was following her around. Since it’s my town they called me. After they laughed at her. You know anything about this?”

  Stan dropped her face into her hands and groaned. Frog Ledge was supposed to be peaceful, not full of murder and all this insanity. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Jessie this drama, with all the other drama going on. “It’s Kyle McLeod.”

  Jessie’s fac
e was blank for a minute, then recognition dawned. “The chef?”

  “Yup. He tracked her down and now he’s staying at Char’s.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “He sent someone over to serenade her this morning. She’s mad. And hurt.”

  “Great. Unless she’s in danger, I can’t help her.” Jessie sighed. “I can’t run the guy out of town. I can’t even keep him away from her unless she can prove she needs a restraining order. You know that, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do I need to tell her that?”

  Stan considered. “Probably. Since I already told her she couldn’t call you if he hadn’t done anything.”

  Jessie exhaled loudly. “Glad I have some important work to do today keeping the town safe. Any luck with your mother?” she asked, lowering her voice.

  Stan looked away guiltily. “No. We didn’t even get to that yet. We got in a fight.”

  “A fight,” Jessie repeated.

  “I know, I know. I’ll try again. Just not now, okay? She makes me crazy. You might end up with another murder on your hands.”

  Chapter 32

  Stan accompanied Jessie back to her house to have the conversation with Caitlyn about what the state police could and could not do. It was preferable to the conversation she needed to have with her mother. To her surprise, she found her sister in the kitchen chatting with Brenna and Francie like they’d been friends for ages. Caitlyn had Brenna’s laptop open in front of her. They all looked up expectantly when Stan and Jessie trooped in.

  “What’s going on?” Stan asked, taking in the scene. “And where’s Eva and the dogs?”

  “I’m entering all your Pawsitively Organic orders into a new accounting program Brenna downloaded,” Caitlyn said. “Eva’s playing in the backyard with the dogs.”

  “I told her all about it and she wanted to give it a try,” Brenna said to Stan. “Hey, Jess.”

  “Bren. Ms. Tucker,” Jessie said with a wave.

  “Please, dear. It’s Francie. How long have you known me?”

  “Sorry,” Jessie muttered. “I never know what to call people when I’m working.”

  “I didn’t know you knew business software,” Stan said to her sister, intrigued. “Or that you were even interested in business.”

  “Of course I am,” Caitlyn said. “I do similar work for the museum I volunteer with, and sometimes I help out on the finance committee at Eva’s school.” She folded her arms and leveled a stare at Stan. “What, do you think I’m stupid or something?”

  Brenna and Francie got real interested in their cookie cutting.

  “No! Of course not. I’m sorry. Thank you. Can Jessie and I talk to you for a second?” she asked. “Alone?”

  Caitlyn rose haughtily and swept out of the room, a move she’d clearly perfected by watching their mother. Stan looked at Jessie, shrugged, then followed Caitlyn into the den. Jessie trailed behind.

  Caitlyn perched on the couch, looking at them with a touch of defiance. “What’s up?”

  “You called the police with a complaint,” Jessie said.

  Caitlyn crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I did.”

  “Well, I’m here to take your report. What happened?”

  “I’m being stalked,” Caitlyn said, lifting her chin.

  “Stalked. By whom?”

  “Kyle McLeod. He followed me to town and won’t leave.”

  “I see.” Jessie nodded. “What’s he done?”

  “He came here and caused a scene, then sent other people here to cause a scene. Then I saw him driving around the green today when I was walking with my daughter. It seems,” she said, shooting a look at Stan, “that he’s got a room at the local B&B.”

  Stan felt her face turn red. She should’ve told her sister about that before she heard it elsewhere.

  “What kind of a scene did he cause when he came here?” Jessie asked. “Were you threatened?”

  Caitlyn shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. He said he wanted me to give him another chance.”

  “You said he sent other people. Did they threaten you?”

  “They sang to her,” Stan said.

  Caitlyn shot her a nasty look. “It was intimidating.”

  Jessie waited.

  “Well?” Caitlyn said.

  “Well what? I’m still waiting for the threatening part,” Jessie said.

  Caitlyn threw up her hands. “He’s following me!”

  “Listen,” Jessie said. “We take stalking very seriously. I’m happy to help you take action against someone acting in that manner. But I cannot simply run people out of town because you don’t like them. That’s what free country means.”

  Caitlyn glowered at them both. “I know that.”

  Stan resisted adding a childish I told you so.

  “Then you should know there’s nothing I can do unless you want to file a restraining order. And even then, Mr. McLeod would not be asked to leave town. He’d have to comply with keeping a certain distance from you. Would you like to do that?”

  Caitlyn leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. “No. I guess not,” she said, sounding defeated. “I should just go home. He can stay here.”

  Stan and Jessie looked at each other. Jessie mouthed, Now what?

  To Stan’s dismay, she saw a tear roll down her sister’s cheek. Shooting Jessie a look, she went and sat next to her. “Hey,” she said. “Don’t cry.”

  Caitlyn opened one eye and glared at her. “I don’t want Kyle to bother me anymore. He broke my heart, and I don’t want to see his face. But I don’t want to be the one who has to leave town.” She swallowed. “I kinda like it here.”

  “You do?” Stan asked, unable to hide her surprise.

  “I do.”

  Stan sometimes forgot Caitlyn was a real person to whom real-life things happened. And she felt real-life feelings about those things. It made her more likable. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. Do you want me to talk to him?”

  Caitlyn and Jessie both stared at her. “And say what?” Caitlyn asked.

  Stan sighed. “I don’t know. I’m trying to be helpful. But it’s none of my business, so I have no idea why I’m offering that.”

  But her sister smiled. “Wow. Thanks for asking. It’s . . . really nice of you to offer.” She leaned over and threw her arms around Stan. Stan didn’t know who was more surprised, she or Caitlyn. “Even if you didn’t tell me he was staying here.” She squeezed, then let go. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem. I have to put my big-girl pants on and figure it out. It’s all good.” She swiped a lingering tear away. “But listen, about your business. If you think this software could work for you, I’m happy to stick around and get your financials up and running. You can do tons of reporting in it, share with your team, do invoices right from your phone, all kinds of things. What do you think? It will really help you when the shop gets going.”

  “I think . . . that sounds great,” Stan said.

  Caitlyn stood. “Then I need to get back to the computer. You’ve got a lot of work to do before you open. Sorry to bother you, Trooper. Thanks for coming out.”

  And she sailed out of the room, leaving Stan wondering when, exactly, her sister had been abducted by aliens.

  Jessie looked at her.

  “Don’t look at me,” Stan said. “I have no idea who that was.”

  Chapter 33

  With Caitlyn focused on something constructive, Stan knew she should go back to her mother and try again. She needed her mother to back the idea of her working for Tony; otherwise, he might be suspicious by the offer.

  But she didn’t have the energy or the desire. She couldn’t help it—she was angry at her mother. At the thoughtless way her mother treated her, at her condescending attitude, heck, at the Italian marble. Who was she to order marble tile without consulting her? Her shop wasn’t a marble-tiled place!

  Jake would know what to do. He always did. Plus, she hadn’t had a chance to fill him
in on yesterday’s developments yet. So after Jessie left, she and Scruffy got back in the car and drove straight to the library. They found him in the children’s section, leaning against a couch in the middle of the room while Betty and Lorinda argued over where to put it.

  “I think it needs to be near the windows,” Lorinda said. “People like to read by the sunlight.”

  “If they’re looking out the window, they aren’t paying attention to the programming,” Betty insisted. “Besides, it’s nearly out in the hallway. We want more places for people to sit, not less. Stan!” she exclaimed, noticing her in the doorway. “And Scruffy! Who’s my favorite little dog?”

  Scruffy bolted for Betty, who crouched down to give her a hug and be licked nearly to death in the process.

  Jake and Lorinda both turned toward her. Lorinda waved a hand with long, purple nails. “Hi there!”

  “Hey, babe,” Jake said. “What’s up?”

  “This isn’t going to work,” she blurted out.

  Betty and Lorinda froze in place. Even Scruffy sat completely still. Jake cocked his head, studying her, then chuckled. “Wow,” he said, but his voice sounded off-kilter. “It hasn’t even been a whole month.”

  Stan stared at him, confused, then burst out laughing. “Oh no, silly! Not us. I’m talking about my mother as an investor. Are you kidding? How could you think that?” She crossed the room and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back fiercely.

  “You scared me for a minute,” he murmured into her hair.

  Behind them, Betty and Lorinda breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” Betty said. “You two are my favorite couple!”

  Stan smiled and tipped her head back to look at Jake. “Mine too,” she admitted.

  “Honey, just push that couch over to the window and go help your lady,” Lorinda said to Jake with a sidelong glance at Betty. “She clearly needs you right now.”