Till Death Do Us Tart

by Ellie Alexander

  “That’s a dangerous combination,” I said out loud.

  “Right. That’s why we decided to play him. She was trying to get inside his office and the company’s headquarters, but couldn’t figure out an angle. I brought her a bunch of peach roses for her birthday a few weeks ago and the idea hit me—have her go undercover. You know, come clean. Tell Jarvis that you hired her to look into the family,” he said to Lance. “Then she told the dude that she couldn’t find any dirt on the Browns. The plan was simple. I was supposed to follow her to his office and hang around the window outside. She pointed me out to him and told him that I was her ex. She played it perfectly. She came outside shaking and cowering behind Jarvis. He told me to get off the property immediately. I pretended like I was going to punch him, shouted a bunch of profanity at them, and promised Megan that she hadn’t heard the last of me. Then I waited in my car until she left.”

  I understood why Thomas had said that he believed Adam. He sounded sincere.

  “It started out great. Megan begged Jarvis for his help. She knew that she’d have to document the ‘stalking’ incidents, and we staged a couple more public fights. I went everywhere she did, which was great because I was her second set of eyes. I saw everyone coming and going from the Brown Family Group headquarters. Jarvis helped her get the restraining order and Megan had access and an excuse to stop by the offices on multiple occasions. Each time she did, she found a way to do some digging. She was on to something.” He paused. I watched as he clutched the photo in his stained fingers. Unless he was an actor of OSF’s caliber I was sure that he was telling the truth. He had loved her.

  “Why were you and Jarvis fighting earlier?” I asked. “I saw you two down by the creek.”

  Adam placed the picture on his lap. “Yeah, that’s right. I wanted the restraining order. I knew it was going to look bad with the cops. Who’s going to believe my story?”

  Lance cleared his throat.

  “And I wanted a chance to see him face-to-face. I don’t know what’s going on over at the Brown Family Group, but that guy is corrupt for sure. Megan told me that she’d learned something new. We were going to talk after the wedding, but then…” He couldn’t finish.

  “Do you think that Jarvis killed her?” I asked.

  He tried to compose himself. “I don’t know. Maybe. She had to be on to something. I warned her that something shady was going down. I was worried about her. I’ve never been worried before, but I had a bad feeling about this case. There were too many weird connections. Like you and that woman Clarissa.”

  My heart dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the one who put something in your wine,” he said, giving me a hard stare.

  Lance stepped closer to me. “We heard that’s the story you’ve given the police. Quite convenient to throw suspicion away from yourself, wouldn’t you say?”

  Adam shook his head. “No. It’s not convenient. It’s the truth. Clarissa hired Megan to tail you. She thinks you’re having an affair with her husband.”

  “She hired Megan?” I repeated Adam’s words as if saying them again would help them make sense.

  “Yep. I told the police. I saw it all that night. Megan wanted me there. She was working the case. She told me to get hired as a temp and keep my eyes open.” He pushed up the sleeves on his leather jacket.

  “Did she tell you what or who you were supposed to be watching?” Lance asked.

  “No. She just said that the two of you were going together and she was sure that she was close to having enough evidence on the seedy Brown Family Group to go to the police. Said it all came down to money. Big money. There is a bunch of cash missing. Like in the millions. She wanted me there. That’s all she said. The fact that she didn’t say more is one of the reasons I was so worried. Megan was one tough woman, but I think she wanted me there for protection. I hung as close by her as I possibly could without getting noticed.”

  “And you saw Clarissa?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. I was outside when you came up with the bottle of wine. I was only a few feet away. Like I said, Megan had me spooked, so I stayed in close range. The four of you were talking and I watched Clarissa put something in the glass and hand it to you. You refused and Megan took the drink. The next thing I knew she was on the ground. Then everything happened so fast.”

  “You’re sure?” I turned to Lance.

  Lance raised his eyebrows and whispered, “I told you so.”

  Adam moved the picture from his lap. Then he picked up the file folder he had come in with. He stood and handed it to me. “Positive. The file is here.”

  I stared at the label which read: “Juliet Capshaw.” Adam had been telling the truth. Clarissa had hired Megan to follow me. And worse, she had tried to poison me.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Take a look at that. You want proof. There’s your proof,” Adam said. “I swiped it. It was a stupid, rash move. I told the police they could find it here, but I had to get back here now to return it before they get here.”

  “You stole evidence from a crime scene?” Lance asked in a holier-than-thou tone. We were hardly in a position to judge Adam.

  “Yeah, but like I said, I brought it back.”

  Lance leaned over my shoulder as I leafed through notes about my daily routine and photos of me crossing in front of the Lithia fountains and chatting with customers at Torte. I felt sick to my stomach. What a violation of my privacy. I couldn’t believe that Megan had been tailing me. That must have been why she and Clarissa met at Torte and why I’d seen her hanging around the plaza. It had nothing to do with Lance’s family and everything to do with me.

  “You know, Megan didn’t think there was anything going on, if it makes you feel any better.” Adam cracked his knuckles.

  “It doesn’t. Not really.” I sighed.

  Lance snatched the file from my hands. He clicked off a dozen photos on his phone and then handed it back to Adam. “Why didn’t you just give this to the police? You should return it right now.” He glanced at me. “Better yet, why don’t I call Thomas? He needs to have a little chat with Clarissa immediately.”

  I was too stunned to speak.

  Lance stepped outside to call Thomas.

  Adam tried to console me. “Look, I know it’s weird to see yourself like that, but Megan was discreet.”

  “Discreet in watching my every move.” I quivered.

  “It was her job.” Adam picked up the picture again.

  “I don’t understand what happened the night she was poisoned. You disappeared right after she fell to the ground. Why were you and Megan fighting? I saw you in the barn before she drank the wine.” There were some holes in his story.

  “We weren’t fighting. She didn’t want me to blow her cover. That’s all.” He massaged his goatee.

  “But why didn’t you tell the police that you saw Clarissa spike the wine?” I pressed.

  “I did tell the police. I came out that night when Megan was in the hospital to tell the police. I mean, I tried to. My first concern was for her, but I knew I had to stay in the shadows. I watched to make sure she was going to be okay. I waited until the ambulance arrived. Then I went to the hospital to check on her, but they wouldn’t let me in. I knew that the cops would think that I had done it. My plan backfired. Megan had filed a restraining order against me and I knew that would be the first thing that would show up in their investigation. I also knew that it was going to be impossible to get back into this office once the police were involved, so I came out here. Megan had said that she was close to having enough tangible proof in the Brown investigation to go to the police and I wanted to get my hands on it before they did.”

  “So you were here?” The hairs on my arms stood up. Was Adam a masterful liar? Maybe I had misread him? Something didn’t add up. Was he implying that the police knew about the restraining order? Megan was killed in this very spot. Had he hidden under her desk and waited for her to return?

 
He must have noticed the look of trepidation on my face. “Yes, but not for long. I did not kill Megan. I looked through the files quickly, but I wanted to get back to the hospital to see how she was doing. When I got back, the police were gone so I snuck into her room. She told me that Jarvis had just drawn up the papers for the restraining order but hadn’t submitted them yet. She asked me to go to the Brown Family Group headquarters first thing in the morning and snag a copy of the restraining order. She also wanted me to search his office again. I wanted to stay with her, but she made me promise. I should have stayed with her.” His head dropped.

  “Did you go to the Brown Family Group?” I asked.

  “I did. I found a way into Jarvis’s office.”

  “You mean you broke in?”

  “In the field we like to call it ‘finding a way.’”

  “Okay, and?”

  “And nothing. It was clean. Too clean. Like weirdly clean. Tons of shredded files jamming up the paper shredder. That kind of thing. I got there too late.” He paused. “Maybe if I had had more time I would have found something. But Leo’s personal assistant—or whatever she is—Sarah, caught me.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah. Said she had some filing to do, and told me to get out or she would call the cops. I didn’t want to risk it, so I took off. There was no sign of the restraining order. I couldn’t find a single document that might incriminate Jarvis or Leo. Nothing. It was a waste of time, and time I should have been at Megan’s side. If I had been there she would still be alive.” He broke down. The big biker guy coughed and sputtered out tears.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I should have stayed with her at the hospital. I should never have left. I can’t believe she’s gone.” He clenched his right hand into a fist and pounded it into his left hand. “I went back to the hospital that morning—early. She was already gone. I don’t know why. She must have been after something. She must have hidden evidence or something here. We made a pact not to communicate via phone in the short term. She couldn’t exactly get a restraining order filed if there was a record of her calling me. I did get a call from a pay phone that morning, but she didn’t leave a message. She was always careful. When I learned that she’d been discharged from the hospital I came here to find the place swarming with police and the ambulance, and then overheard that Megan was dead. I’ve been laying low and trying to piece together who killed her ever since.” He buried his face in his hands.

  Between his reaction and the file of Megan’s notes on me, I believed him. Why Clarissa had tried to poison me was another matter.

  Within a few minutes the front of the office lit up with red and blue police lights. Thomas and Detective Kerry arrived. Lance led them inside. “Show them the file,” he said to Adam. I noticed he was still holding the ruler. It had become his prop.

  Adam handed over the file.

  Detective Kerry’s green eyes fumed with anger. “Enough, you guys. This has to stop. We don’t have jurisdiction to seize evidence.” She turned to Thomas. “Call the Medford lead.”

  Thomas gave her a thumbs-up, and made the call.

  Detective Kerry’s scowl stayed in place as she studied the photos and notes. “This woman thinks you were having an affair with him?” She held up a photo of Roger.

  “Woman of a certain age,” Lance said in a snarky tone.

  “Men of a certain age,” Detective Kerry shot back.

  Lance flicked the ruler like a wand. “Touché, dearest. Touché.”

  “Let’s go,” Detective Kerry said to Thomas, tucking the file under her arm. “We need to get to Medford headquarters.”

  Thomas gave me a parting glance. “Are you okay, Jules?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “But before you go, do you both think that Clarissa is connected to Megan’s murder?”

  Detective Kerry put a hand on her narrow waist. “You can rest assured that we’re going to track every possible connection we can find. Regardless, this is attempted murder.”

  My stomach swirled. Clarissa had actually tried to murder me. I couldn’t believe it. Why? Was Carlos right? Was she jealous of me? I racked my brain to try and think of any signal I could have accidentally given that might have made her think I was interested in Roger. Nothing came to mind.

  For the first time, Detective Kerry’s eyes softened. “I understand this is disturbing. I need to warn you that we’re likely going to need you to be actively involved in the case. You won’t need to press charges. Assuming we can compile enough evidence, the state will do that.”

  Thomas nodded. “In criminal matters like this, the prosecution will review our file and determine the next steps.”

  The room began to sway. Lance grabbed my arm to steady me.

  This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Clarissa, a woman who was practically a stranger, had tried to kill me and in the process an innocent victim had ended up dead.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I drove home in a daze. Even Lance was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive. When we made it to the plaza, he placed a hand on my knee. “Don’t worry, Thomas and Detective Kerry will make sure that Clarissa is locked up for a long time to come. Of that, I’m sure.”

  “It’s not that. It’s the entire thing. Why would she think that I was having an affair with her husband? And hire a PI?”

  Lance exhaled. “It is a tad extreme.”

  “And then what? Megan told her there was nothing between Roger and me and she didn’t believe her? So she decided to try and kill me?” I could hear a shrill tone creeping into my voice. If Clarissa had been unhinged enough to poison a drink, could she have snapped? Maybe she was angry that Megan didn’t find any evidence of an affair. What if that pushed her over the edge and she killed Megan in retaliation?

  “It appears that way.”

  “Do you think she killed Megan too?”

  “She is the most likely suspect, with one glaring issue.”

  “What, motive?”

  “Exactly.” Lance tapped the dashboard. “Darling, it’s late and you’ve had quite an ordeal today. Go home. Get some beauty sleep. I’ll make a few calls in the morning. As we know, Clarissa is engaged in the art community. Maybe we should look into any fund-raising connections with the Brown Family Group. What if she’s pocketed some of that cash? There could be dozens of connections that we haven’t considered. Let me do a bit of digging and we’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I got out of the car. Lance hugged me tight.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you.” His voice was thick with emotion.

  “Me too.” I kissed his cheek.

  He walked me to my apartment and waited to make sure that I got inside safely. I was lucky to have him as a friend. Inside Carlos and Ramiro were still snoozing, completely oblivious to the drama that had unfolded. I wished I could doze off into a dreamlike state. However, sleep was futile. I tossed and turned for a few hours, playing out every scenario in my mind. I must have missed something. There had to be a clue I had overlooked. Was Lance right? Could Clarissa have been embezzling money from the arts foundation? The Professor always said that money was a top motive for murder.

  Sometime after four I gave up the fight and tugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. With Carlos and Ramiro happily dozing I made my way to Torte. Ashland was like a ghost town at the early hour. The air held a slight chill. Or maybe it was just me.

  I unlocked the front door and surveyed the progress. Roger and his team had managed to put the dining room back in functioning order. The temporary coffee counter and pastry case had been installed and the kitchen had been resealed with thick plastic. There were PARDON OUR DUST signs posted on the plastic and hanging on the windows, but otherwise it looked like we were ready to be back in business as soon as we gave the bakeshop a cleansing wipe-down.

  The only challenge would be carting pastries and cakes from the basement, up the stairs outside, and then back into Torte until the n
ew stairwell had been installed.

  I locked the bakeshop and headed for the basement. I needed to bake. Nothing else could soothe my nerves like baking.

  The basement was eerily quiet when I unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs. I turned on the lights and plugged my phone into the speaker system. With classical music playing, I made myself a pot of coffee and started a batch of yeast rising. Soon, I was up to my elbows in sticky bread dough. The act of kneading and pounding the dough helped center me. We rotate daily bread specials. This morning I opted for a honey wheat with chunky walnuts and a black bread with chocolate and molasses. We would toast the honey wheat and slather it with almond butter, apricot preserves, and a touch of salt. The black bread would be used for our grilled cheese special with goat cheese, balsamic vinegar, and thin slices of Granny Smith apples.

  Once I had kneaded each loaf into lovely pillows I found my scoring knife. Scoring bread is more than just for aesthetics. It allows the dough to expand in a controlled manner as it bakes. For the wheat bread, I used the edge of the razor-thin tool to cut stalks of wheat into the loaves. For the black bread, I carved dainty spirals and tulips. The creative art of scoring gave Torte’s breads a distinctive, beautiful signature.

  I lost track of time as I massaged sweet loaves into greased pans and set them on the warming racks.

  I didn’t even hear the door open or footsteps until a voice sounded behind me.

  A man’s voice shook me from my happy baking escape.

  “Juliet.”

  I dropped a loaf on the floor and turned to find Roger staring at me. He looked as if he had had less sleep than me. His hair was messy and his shirt untucked from his jeans.

  “Roger, you’re here early.” I glanced around for the clock, but we hadn’t hung it up yet. It couldn’t even be five yet.

  “You probably heard the news.” His eyes were bloodshot.