“Tricking him doesn’t sound like a good idea. You’ll only make him mad, and then maybe he’ll come after my shop too. Besides, the office probably has security cameras outside that will catch us on film!”
“First of all, let the moron get mad. His bark is much worse than his bite. He’s a Cowardly Lion of a man who thinks he’s the Big Bad Wolf. As for the security cameras, so WHAT? Let them take our picture. We’re not going to be breaking in. I’ll have the key. And we’re not going to steal anything. Just have a look at her computer. Everything else will be untouched.” The woman was relentless, but I wouldn’t yield yet.
“I don’t know about this…”
“That’s fine, sweetheart. You don’t have to come along. I’ll go on my own and you don’t have to play any role in it whatsoever. Does that make you feel better?”
“No!” I exclaimed in frustration. “Since when did you get so nosy anyway? You were always the cool aunt, not the crazy aunt.”
Aunt Marilyn balked. “Who are you calling crazy? Now, I’ve just got to work up the nerve to contact that bozo Marvin again. Telling him that I want another roll in the hay and listening to his sleazy talk is going to be the hardest part of this. Everything else will be cake.”
Chapter 6
On Monday night, I sat in a cushy box seat munching on a soft pretzel the size of my face and gazing through starry eyes at Lane as he adeptly caught every hit batted his way. Aunt Marilyn sat beside me, nibbling her way through a bag of hot salted peanuts and admiring all the chiseled men in uniform.
“Police officers and firefighters look sexy in their uniforms, but there’s nothing like a baseball player in pinstripes making a homerun!” Aunt Marilyn dished with a girly giggle.
“Especially when that man is Lane Stuart,” I whispered under my breath, trying not to stare too much at his cute tush.
“He really is a looker, Danica. I predict he’ll ask you out on a real date after this game is over,” Aunt Marilyn said knowingly, sipping her Sprite through an old-fashioned swivel straw.
“We’ll see,” I dismissed, trying to concentrate on the game. Lane’s butt was enough of a distraction, but I also had worries about my shop to contend with. Would my store be financially solvent in a month or in financial ruins? If Aunt Marilyn’s plot failed, it seemed that the latter was much more likely, and I would be in jail as well as out of business.
She had easily coerced Marvin into giving her the key, and their fake rendezvous was scheduled for Tuesday at midnight. Since contacting him, Aunt Marilyn had fielded a slew of suggestive text messages from the philanderer. She cringed as another message beeped on her phone.
“I can guess who that is.” She rolled her eyes, appalled.
“Are you answering his messages?”
“I have to in order to keep up the façade.” She glanced at the phone and uttered a disgusted noise. “Ugh, he’s getting more graphic. I sure hope we find something in that office.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” I gently reminded as she tapped a reply into the phone.
“Yes we do,” she insisted.
Turning my attention back to the baseball game, I stood up and cheered as Lane caught another toss. He glanced up, and I could swear he winked at me. Flinging her phone into her purse like it was dynamite, Aunt Marilyn shuddered and refocused on the game that had the Padres far ahead of the White Sox in the bottom of the ninth.
“It’s almost over, and it looks like Lane’s team is going to win. You’ll have to give him a congratulatory kiss,” Aunt Marilyn whispered naughtily as I kept my eyes cemented on Lane. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt sure he kept casting flirtatious glances my way.
“Maybe I will,” I whispered back pertly as she laughed.
The game ended with the last Chicago batter striking out and the San Diego Padres claiming decisive victory. After tending to post-game formalities and autograph signings, Lane met me outside the locker room. I forced myself not to peek inside and try to get an eyeful of the ball players. Aunt Marilyn had already left to go home. Otherwise, she would have waltzed right into that locker room without one iota of self-consciousness.
“Amazing game,” I praised as Lane grinned and bowed his head modestly.
“Thanks, Danica. Would you like to grab a late dinner with me? I’m starved.” He placed one hand over his washboard stomach for emphasis.
“Sure, let’s go,” I replied, wanting to be bold enough to kiss him like Aunt Marilyn had urged but knowing I would never do something so forward unless I had a cocktail---or five---in my system.
“Do you like Mexican?” Lane asked as I nodded affirmatively. “Nice. I know a great little place in the Gaslamp District.”
We drove to the hip Gaslamp District of San Diego in Lane’s sporty green Mini Cooper. I had always found Minis to be pretentious, but with Lane behind the wheel, it was suddenly my favorite car in the world.
After a hearty dinner of burritos, guacamole, and nachos, we left the restaurant and drove to an out-of-the-way coffee shop that Lane had suggested.
“So where’s Mackenzie tonight?” I asked as we parked and I noted the late hour on my cell phone.
“She’s with her mother,” Lane replied, turning off the engine.
“Your ex-wife?” I presumed. I had learned many things about Lane at dinner, from his love of Spanish wine to his hatred for all sports other than baseball, but he hadn’t revealed anything about Mackenzie’s mother.
“No, actually, Shelley and I were never married.” He looked at me knowingly as I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, that’s how most people react.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem judgmental,” I said, wishing I had been born with a poker face.
“It’s okay. Most people react that way, and I understand. Shelley and I met in college. She got pregnant when she was just 19, and I was 21. Neither of us was ready for marriage, so we’ve been sharing the responsibility of our daughter ever since. Sometimes it gets a little tricky with holidays and birthdays, but for the most part it’s worked out.”
I calculated that Lane was my age, 27, and felt our romantic prospects blossoming by the instant. “It sounds like you’re both good parents.”
“We try to be. What about you? Any psycho ex-husbands I should know about?” Lane posed the question lightly, but I could tell he really wanted to know.
“No psycho ex-husbands or boyfriends!” I assured him while neglecting to add that I had only been seriously involved with one man in my life. Too soon to delve into intricacies like that.
Inside the coffee shop, we sat across from each other at an intimate booth enjoying twin glasses of cappuccino with extra foam. Conversation flowed so naturally between us that I was tempted to tell him about my predicament with Cupcakes by the Sea and Aunt Marilyn and Betty and the insane plot to trespass in the real estate office…and I was out of breath just thinking about the whole thing, so I stayed cool and sipped my cappuccino.
“So what did you study in college?” I asked curiously, taking a bite of the coconut cream pie we were sharing.
“Computer science. I was going to be a tech nerd until the Padres recruited me.”
Okay, now I couldn’t stay quiet. If Lane had a degree in computer science, then he would be the perfect partner in crime to assist with hacking into Betty’s PC. Pacing myself and struggling to keep the flood gates of information closed, I said, “That’s great.” Brainy and brawny, I thought wickedly.
“And how is everything going at your bakery?” He queried, and I could no longer hold back.
Drawing in a cleansing breath, I proceeded to spill the whole story from the moment Betty had warned me about ghosts to the ribald text messages exchanged between Marvin and Aunt Marilyn. Lane listened attentively, alternately frowning and chuckling depending on which part of the story I was telling. When I finished, he sat back in his seat and took a long chug of cappuccino. Just as I thought someone should come to the table and give me a troph
y engraved with the words Worst Date Ever, Lane finally broke the silence.
“I’m going to help you, Danica. Whoever’s been playing mind games with you can’t get away with it any longer.” His words relaxed me like an ocean breeze, and I gently sighed my relief.
“You would know exactly how to hack into a computer, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course. I actually was planning to specialize in forensic computer science back in college. If that real estate agent really is behind all this chaos, then we’ll be able to find out from her computer,” Lane promised as I tilted my head to one side questioningly.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s illegal and you barely know me. Why would you want to put your career and reputation on the line to help someone you hardly know?”
“Hmm, no reason,” he said huskily before reaching across the table to cup my face in his hands and plant a tender kiss on my lips.
Chapter 7
My lips tingled as they parted from his. For the first time I noticed how his brown eyes were soft and warm, like butterscotch. Lane clasped my hand from across the table and gave it a little squeeze. The attraction between us was clear, but I knew we had to say good night before I lost my head.
“I had a wonderful evening with you,” I murmured, massaging his hand with subtle pressure.
“Same here, Danica. It’s getting late, though, so why don’t I drive you home?”
I nodded as he reached for his wallet and left a wad of cash under the sugar bowl. Outside, the night air bordered on chilly, and Lane slid his arm around me to keep me from getting cold. The ride back to Aunt Marilyn’s house was quiet, as neither of us wanted to say good night…or talk at all for that matter. All I wanted was for Lane to kiss me for the rest of the night, but I felt strongly that we would have plenty of time for that in the future.
“When do you want to hatch this plan?” He asked frankly.
“Tomorrow night. The sooner the better. I just want to get this over with and move on,” I declared sternly as Lane gazed at me sympathetically.
“Some people can’t get past that green-eyed monster called envy. I see it all the time. Whoever has been doing this to you will pay. Maybe even with some prison time.” Lane seemed to take my situation personally, and I wondered if someone had tried to sabotage his career as well. After all, being a baseball player thrust him into the spotlight and left him vulnerable to all kinds of attacks including those cowardly anonymous ones on the internet.
Confirming my suspicion, Lane revealed, “You know, I was accused of using steroids the first year I was with the Padres. You can even look it up. There are tons of articles about it online. But my reputation was cleared after taking every medical test ever known to mankind and printing out the 70% protein diet I follow.”
“So you almost lost your place on the team?”
“That’s right. The coach wanted to kick me off just because of the scandal it caused, but once I was able to prove myself, he decided to keep me. I know what it’s like to fight for your career and reputation. That’s the reason I want to help you, Danica.”
“I thought this was the reason?” I impulsively gave him a kiss.
“Oh yeah, that too,” he quipped wryly.
After a lingering kiss that could have lasted another nine innings, we said good night as I floated up the stairs to the guest room in Aunt Marilyn’s house. The lights were all out, and I knew she was sleeping as I crept into my room. Over breakfast, I would tell her how Lane planned to help us in our plot to expose Betty. But for now, all I wanted to do was slide under the sheets and remember the sweeter-than-cupcakes taste of Lane’s lips.
***
Shouting and doors slamming were the next sounds I heard. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I leapt out of bed as pre-dawn light filtered through the sheer white curtains. Quickly grabbing for my kimono style bathrobe and wrapping it tightly around my body, I lightly stepped to the top of the staircase and listened. The loud voices had quieted a bit and didn’t sound like the bar room brawl they had just a moment ago. Had my perspective been off somewhere between sleeping and waking? But no, an agitated situation was unfolding downstairs, and I could hear Aunt Marilyn raising her voice.
“Is everything okay?” I asked loudly, emerging at the foot of the stairs and coming eye to eye with a grouchy looking man at least a decade older than Aunt Marilyn.
“Now you’ve woken up my niece!” She hissed angrily, stepping in front of me in a guarding manner.
“I’m sorry, Mari, baby. I didn’t mean to wake anyone up. I wouldn’t have come by if I had known you have house guests. Just a little impatient, that’s all…”
“That’s enough,” Aunt Marilyn retorted, walking to the door and sweeping it open wide. “Tonight at midnight. And not a moment sooner.”
Grimacing and grumbling as he left, the man I presumed to be Marvin, trudged out the door as Aunt Marilyn slammed it behind him. “Ouch!” He complained from the other side of the door. “You bruised my ass!”
“Watch your language and stop your histrionics!” Aunt Marilyn commanded, dead bolting the lock and storming into the living room.
She walked over to the wine cabinet and poured herself a glass of Cabernet. “I know. Don’t say it. It’s too early in the morning. But my nerves are shot. That man makes me want to heave.”
“It’s okay, but what was he doing here? Is he stalking you now?” I asked, worried.
“No, no. He just said he couldn’t wait to see me and wanted to start our rendezvous with the sunrise. Ugh. Such a lecherous man.” Swirling her finger around one of her springy curls, she sipped the red wine.
“I can’t go back to sleep now. I think I’ll just shower and head over to the shop to set up for today,” I announced, heading upstairs.
“Good idea. I’ll shower down here. I need to wash the nastiness of that man off of me! He had the audacity to grope me the minute he walked in the door.” She shook inside her silk bathrobe as though she were trying to physically rid herself of the unpleasant memory.
“What a pig!” I called from upstairs.
Late that night a trio of amateur sleuths would be camped out at Betty’s real estate office trying to extract vital clues about her possible involvement in the ingredient swapping. I only hoped it would be the end of my problems and not the beginning of even bigger new ones. As scalding water from the shower head burned my flesh, I feared the latter.
***
Closing time couldn’t come quickly enough that evening. The anticipation of hacking into Betty’s computer---and of seeing Lane again---was making me quiver from head to toe like an autumn leaf. Even the usually tranquil Aunt Marilyn seemed to be on edge. She had botched more than a few orders during the course of the day and wore a spacey expression on her face even when interacting with customers.
“Finally 7 o’clock!” I sighed in enormous relief.
“We should grab some dinner before heading over to the office,” Aunt Marilyn suggested, opening the register to count the day end cash.
“No, I’m too nervous to eat,” I protested. “I just want to hang out here until Lane comes by.”
Aunt Marilyn, who had been thrilled when I informed her of Lane’s computer expertise, smiled her approval. “Good idea. Let’s hope he gets here by 10. I want to be out of there way before midnight so that there’s no chance of crossing paths with Marvin.” She involuntarily shivered as she uttered his name.
The next few hours inched by until a pair of headlights shone through the storefront window. “Lane’s here,” I breathed with a mixture of excitement and relief. Excited to be in the same room with him again and relieved that he was really following through and helping me. Since my father died, I had a hard time believing anyone could be relied on for help and always tried to do things on my own.
Formally meeting for the first time, Aunt Marilyn and Lane shook hands as he stepped inside the shop. After the formalities, we huddled together and tried to map out the logistics of
our rogue investigation. Lane eagerly took the lead, urging that we spend as little time in the office as possible.
“It won’t take me more than a few minutes to hack into her desktop. Then I’ll slip this into her zip drive.” He held up a shiny red USB. “And I’ll copy all the information from her computer so that we can comb through it later on and get out of that office before someone finds us there.”
“Like Marvin,” Aunt Marilyn interjected bitterly, shivering again.
“Exactly,” Lane replied calmly, making me happy that I had spilled every detail of the story to him. “So are we ready to go?”
“Yes, let’s do this,” I answered definitively, grabbing my jacket and purse.
The three of us stepped outside, all simultaneously flinching as drizzle pattered down over our heads. “Is it raining?!” I croaked in disbelief. “I thought it never rains in San Diego!”
“Almost never,” Lane corrected. “But we won’t let a little rain get us down. Come on.”
Some cultures believe that rain is good luck and a symbol of ripe fertility. But to me, the fact that it was raining in gloriously sunny southern California was an omen of difficulties to come. I kept my worries to myself sitting beside Aunt Marilyn in the passenger seat of her car as Lane politely retreated to the back.
We reached the office in five minutes as the windshield wipers swayed back and forth, making me dizzy with fear. The normally pristine sky was dark and cloudy and the temperature must have dipped into the fifties. Stabilizing myself on solid ground, I looked at the empty office building, feeling the compulsion to turn back and forget this ludicrous plan. But as Aunt Marilyn retrieved the gold key from her pocket and the moonlight radiated off of it, I knew there was no turning back.
Sweet as Pie Crimes Page 17