Promises: Star's Bakery (The Baker Girl Book 2)

by Mary Jane Forbes

  Chapter 44

  Daytona Beach

  AT 11:25 A.M. Manny’s cell vibrated on the kitchen counter. He checked the display and answered.

  “Salinas.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Salinas. I’m Detective Shepherd, Criminal Investigation Division, Dallas Police Department. The chief has been called away—”

  “Hold on Detective. I’m putting you on speaker so my partner can hear you.”

  “Hello, Detective Shepherd. I’m Liz Stitchway.”

  “Good. Glad you’re there Ms. Stitchway. To repeat, the chief has been called away to help with a mass arrival of illegals over the border. He assigned the Wainwright case to me. He said to tell you, quote, Detective Shepherd is a man he trusts. End quote. I’m to work on nothing else but bringing the Dale Wainwright case to a conclusion without bloodshed. The chief filled me in, brought me up to date. He said that Louise Wainwright is the only one on the inside, with the exception of two private investigators, you, Mr. Salinas, and your partner, Ms. Stitchway. You are working the case at the location where Mr. Wainwright’s body was found—okay so far?”

  “So far. Just to let you know, your counterpart here is Detective Fred Watson, Daytona Beach Police Department.”

  “I know. The chief told me about Watson and I’ll call him as soon as we hang up. The chief also said that he knew the players. But he wants you to be the point man.”

  Detective Shepherd quickly filled the two investigators in on the very fruitful past two hours—incriminating conversations between four people—Jude Rattigan, Cliff Stanfield, and Lou and Thom Weed.

  Shepherd and the two private investigators decided it would be best if they gave Jude and Thom enough rope to further incriminate themselves, make an airtight case, and now that included Clifford Stanfield. Other than the cigar box of evidence in the closet linking Jude directly to the death of his father-in-law, the remaining three were circumstantial, co-conspirators at best.

  The police needed more evidence to build their case. No slipping out of the grips of the law with the plea that Dale Wainwright was dying, decided to leave this world by his own hand. If Jude and Thom carried out their plan to travel to Daytona Beach, further incriminating themselves, Detective Watson would arrest them there. The downside, if the pair made the trip, it meant the Daytona Beach witnesses were at risk.

  Shepherd finished up saying, “If the pair decides against the trip, I’m ready with a warrant to search the penthouse, pick up the box of evidence. At the exact same time officers will arrest Stanfield at his office, and arrest Lou and Thom Weed at their home.”

  “Understood. We’ll wait to hear from you.” Manny shut the cover on his cell. He and Liz were to stand down until Shepherd called. Catching Jude and Thom in a compromising act in Daytona Beach would be preferable to build a case, but at a great risk to Star and Benny. In that event, a plan had to be ready, would have to be developed quickly.

  A sting!

  Chapter 45

  MANNY DISCONNECTED THE CALL. He and Liz sat staring at each other. They didn’t like what Detective Shepherd said. Didn’t like one word.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Liz asked rocking Lizzie.

  “Yeah. We have to meet with Star and Benny fast.”

  “And, Tyler. After all, he substantiated Benny’s identification of John Doe, saw Doe at the bakeoff. I don’t care if you ask Star not tell him, she’s going to let Tyler know something is going on. You call them while I pack up Lizzie’s travel case, or better yet, ask them to meet here. More private. No chance of anyone overhearing.”

  As if in agreement, baby Lizzie let out a whopper of a burp, then a proud smile with a drool of milk over her tiny pink lips onto her bib.

  “Wow, baby girl, that was a good one. Yes it was,” Liz cooed to the startled baby, her eyes open wide. “Manny, you’d better call Fred. He has to be involved. Tyler and Star can pick up Benny. Tell them not to let on to Gran. She shouldn’t be involved. Besides she isn’t in danger. If Star told her anything, Gran’s testimony would be hearsay.”

  Manny nodded in agreement, smiling as he punched in Star’s number—Lizzie still kicking from the burp that shook her little body.

  • • •

  WITHIN AN HOUR, the participants had arrived, arrayed on the chairs and couches in the Salinas’s cheerful living room. A slipcover of bright red, gold, and orange flowers protected a loveseat.

  Manny, with Liz adding details, relayed to Star, Tyler, and Benny what they knew so far. Detective Watson, nodded from time to time agreeing with Manny’s summation. It jived with the information Detective Shepherd had told him.

  “So, you’re saying that Louise found her father’s wallet, put two and two together, and came up with Jude killing her father?” Star asked. Tyler sat next to her on the loveseat.

  “Yes. That’s why she wanted to talk to Liz and me, and why she didn’t engage in a conversation when she and Jude … and Cliff, met you at the bakery … when you gave her the letter.” Manny stood by the fireplace, feet spread, looking from face to face as he spoke.

  Then it was Detective Watson’s turn. He added the details of the wiretap, and the distinct possibility that Jude and Thom were planning to come to Daytona Beach to see to it that Star and Benny didn’t get a chance to testify to the fact that they saw the two men in Daytona Beach when they were supposed to be in Dallas. Watson was careful not to use the word murder, but putting all the information together, Tyler, Star, and Benny knew the magnitude of what was being said.

  Tyler rose from the loveseat, paced around the expansive living room. Another time, under different circumstances, he would have noticed, commented on the beauty of the home facing a stand of tall pines circled with lush green palmetto bushes, a narrow river beyond.

  Staring out the window, he began to pepper the investigators and the detective with questions.

  “Does Jude have a gun?”

  Manny looked at Fred. “Detective Shepherd asked Louise that question. She said he does have a gun, as does Thom. The two go target shooting together from time to time. In answer to your next question, no, she doesn’t know where he keeps it.”

  “I’m assuming, if they come here, you guys will get your evidence to nail down a conviction … somehow … preferably without anyone getting killed?” Tyler remained with his back to the group.

  Liz and Manny shared a glance. Oops. The chance of a good guy being on the receiving end of a bullet was now hanging in the air.

  Fred spoke up. “Yup, that’s what Shepherd wants.”

  Tyler turned, looked Manny in the eyes. “Are these guys thugs, hired-killer type, or bumbling idiots who think they can get away with murder to get a billionaire’s fortune?”

  Manny didn’t blink. “Thugs—maybe. Hired killers—doubtful. Idiots thinking they can get away with murder? If they were thinking rationally, then the answer to your question would be no. But money, billions, can twist a man’s mind.”

  “I suppose this Detective Shepherd is worried about Louise Wainwright … her safety?”

  Fred rubbed the scar on his cheek. “Yes.”

  Tyler joined Star on the loveseat. Gripped her hand, raised her hand to his lips. “Okay, what’s the plan? A way to catch the bastards off guard if they come here—”

  Fred snatched his cell off his belt. “Detective Watson.”

  Fred listened, scanned the people in front of him. “Understood. I’ll let Manny know … and the others.” Fred returned his phone to the loop on his belt. He touched the scar on his cheek. His black eyes narrowed.

  “Shepherd recorded several conversations over the past thirty minutes. Star, the lawyer, Clifford Stanfield, will be calling you shortly to set up a meeting with you and Benny at the bakery. Lou, Louise’s daughter, made reservations for Jude and Thom. She made the reservations under assumed names. They are planning to be in Daytona Beach New Year’s Eve. Shepherd will call back with flight numbers, time of arrival as soon as he has confirmation.”
>
  Benny had been watching, taking everything in, didn’t have anything to add until this moment. “Hot dog. I’m with Tyler. Let’s take the bastards down.”

  Chapter 46

  DETECTIVE WATSON AND MANNY, the point man, along with Liz began formulating a plan. Star and Benny, their eyes switching back and forth, speaker to speaker, listened. In the end, Fred Watson and his men would move in with the arrest.

  Tyler paced at the back of the room, interrupting occasionally with a question. Star was a bystander in their plan, a non-participant. But, the fear that something could go wrong, the fear that Star could be hurt, or worse, never left his mind. As the plan came together, point and counterpoint, Tyler interjected his thoughts, his ideas.

  Star wanted to be at the bakery because Jude and Thom thought they were meeting with her. It was possible she could help. But Tyler was adamant that she stay in the background with the officers on standby until the time they swarmed in for the arrest.

  Before leaving the Salinas house, Star received the phone call that Detective Shepherd warned was coming from the lawyer. Clifford Stanfield called her cell, explained that Louise Wainwright had demanded he meet with Star and Benny Howard regarding the codicil to her late father’s will. Dr. Wainwright wanted certain questions to be answered in a deposition showing that the pair had not hatched a conspiracy to gain a significant windfall from his demise. Stanfield set the meeting for 9:30 p.m. The late hour was due to the constraint of flight arrangements. Star was to inform Benny Howard. Most importantly, she and Benny were to arrive at the bakery alone.

  Star made notes of Stanfield’s requests to be sure nothing had changed since Shepherd’s wiretap information. All was the same with a few embellishments. Of course, everyone knew that it would not be Clifford Stanfield walking in the bakery door, but Jude Rattigan and Thomas Weed.

  Chapter 47

  New Year’s Eve

  THE NIGHT WAS BLACK as thick oil deep in the earth. Heavy clouds rolled in blocking the moon. A chill filled the air. No one ventured out on the streets of Daytona Beach in the frigid blackness. No one ventured to the ocean’s sandy shore.

  Not yet.

  A few hours remained until the hands of the clock signaled a new year, and then, warmed with alcohol coursing through their veins, they could dash out scream and yell—Happy New Year!

  The glow of the souvenir shop windows sent eerie shadows from building to street. The windows with scantily-clad mannequins staring out with unseeing eyes, were unfazed by the frosty air.

  Preparations for New Year’s Eve had been made, altered with the advent of the dropping temperature. Bars were doing a brisk business, fueling the celebration. Revelers happily hunkered down where it was warm waiting for the celebration to begin.

  The temperature dipped to twenty-one degrees testing the record low of nineteen for Central Florida.

  Jude parked the rental car at the end of the strip mall, glanced at his cohort. “What’s the matter, Thom?” he asked through tight lips.

  “Do we have to get rid of them? Can’t we just scare them … maybe pay them off if they keep their mouths shut. Threaten—”

  “You shithead. Don’t you dare get cold feet. Look. See those lights four shops up? That’s the bakery. Now get out of the car and keep a grip on your gun. I’m leaving the car unlocked so we can get away without fumbling with the doors.”

  “Shit, it’s freezing, Jude. I thought Florida was supposed to be warm.”

  “Shut up. We’re lucky it’s cold. Our overcoat pockets are deep. The stupids won’t know what hit them. Now, come on. Hurry up.”

  The two men hunched down in their coats, collars up sheltering their necks from the frigid air as they approached the bakery. Little white lights circling the window frames blinked merrily against the cold.

  “What the heck is this?” Thom muttered, peering in the corner of the window. The shop was shadowy—indirect lighting washing the back wall, the little lights at the front windows.

  “I don’t know. Must be decorations for New Year’s Eve,” Jude said irritated with Thom’s constant jabbering. “You know how some cities plan a First Night party. See the Happy New Year sign—Complimentary coffee at midnight. See there, just decorations. Look at the dough boy. Must be nine feet tall.”

  “Looks like a blow-up Michelin Man to me,” Thom said sliding behind Jude.

  “With Star’s Bakery apron around his middle?”

  Thom shook his head. “Yeah? What’s with the guy in the wheelchair, over in the corner? Baby New Year?”

  “No, stupid. Don’t you know anything?” Jude hissed. “It’s that lawyer guy … the TV series. Perry Mason. It’s a mannequin.”

  “Yeah? Sure looks real,” Thom whispered leaning into Jude’s back.

  “That guy with Star, Benny, he’s in a wheelchair,” Jude said, hunching his shoulders against a blast of frosty air. “Everyone knows him. He’s the cashier. Come on. Cliff told them to leave the front door open.”

  Jude yanked Thom in front of him, jabbed him in the back to get going.

  Thom nudged the door open a crack.

  “Go on, shithead. Hurry up,” Jude muttered through his chattering teeth, giving Thom a push, shoving him through the doorway.

  The door swung wide as the two men stumbled forward, fists drawn up in their coat sleeves for warmth.

  “Miss Bloom, I’m here,” Jude called out. “Clifford Stanfield.”

  A tall black police officer banged through the swinging door, slapping a billy club against his open hand. “Stop right there, gentlemen.”

  Jude took a half step to the side of Thom so he could see the officer. “I have a meeting with Star Bloom and Benny Howard. Where—”

  “We’ve had a rash of robberies tonight. Descriptions fits you two. Mind if I frisk you?” the officer asked taking a step toward the men.

  “Yeah, we mind.” Jude stepped up alongside Thom.

  “We’re here on official business, officer,” Thom stuttered.

  Click. Click

  Thom and Jude looked sharply to their left.

  The jukebox had suddenly come to life, Auld Lang Syne blaring into the bakery—old acquaintances should not be forgot. Colored lights morphing from one color to another bounced off the floor, walls, glass cases in rhythm with the music.

  “Officer, is everything okay out there?” Star called out from the kitchen.

  “Not sure, Miss Bloom. These two say they have a meeting with you and a Mr. Howard.”

  “A meeting with me and Benny? Two men?”

  Belly laughter erupted, filling the shop along with old acquaintances.

  Thom and Jude’s heads snapped right. Wide eyed they stared at the Michelin Man, his white hulking figure rocking, enormous black eyes sliding back and forth as laughter continued to belch from his body.

  “I’ll get the coffee, Miss Bloom,” Perry Mason called out, rolling to the coffee service table beside the cash register.

  Thom backed up a step, stepped on Jude’s foot. The laughing Michelin Man continued rocking forward toward Thom. At the same time, the officer moved closer.

  Rattled, Jude’s eyes darted from the jukebox, to the white laughing hulk, to the officer closing in. “Get back. Get back, or I’ll …” he shouted over the noise, the racket hitting his nerves.

  “Or you’ll do what?” the officer said taking another step.

  Jude, bug eyed, stammered, “Back off … or I’ll shoot.” The strangled words caught in his throat as he pulled his hand from his coat pocket waving his gun.

  Jude and Thom’s faces drained of color as Perry Mason stood, stood more than eight-feet tall, his masked face grinning. “GUN! GUN! ”

  Startled, Jude shot at Perry Mason, pumping two bullets into his chest. Perry fell back into his wheelchair, blood squirting in the air.

  The hulk, his laughter every louder, bumped into Thom. Thom pulled the trigger shooting through his coat pocket at the hulk. The recoil caused him to stumble backward into J
ude, who pulled the trigger as he went down hitting himself in the foot.

  Perry Mason rocked back, hands falling to the side over the arms of his wheelchair, a red stain spreading on his white shirt.

  The hulk, groaning, slowly slithered to the floor into a heap of heavy white plastic.

  Four officers rushed in the front door, four more from the kitchen, through the swinging doors.

  Thom’s legs buckled when Perry Mason rose from his wheelchair. Perry was alive … but Jude shot him.

  Thom crumpled to the floor in the fetal position, crying, crying, crying. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. It was Jude. It was all Jude.”

  Struggling against the sweat pouring down his neck, Perry pulled his head off. Now a mere five-foot-seven, Benny slumped back into his wheelchair mopping up the ketchup on his shirt, the shirt that covered his bullet-proof best shielding him from the top of his head to the tip of his toe. He had practiced standing for several hours waiting to perform his part as Perry Mason, but he was feeling a little faint from the heat of Perry’s large head.

  Officers hauled Thom up from the floor, still crying that he did nothing. They hauled Jude to one foot the other bleeding from his gunshot. Both were cuffed. One officer hauled Thom over his shoulder, two other officers lifted Jude under his arms, his legs. Both were deposited in the caged van parked out back.

  Detective Watson, hands on his hips, scowled down at the headless Perry Mason. “Benny, you promised you’d stay back. That was the deal.”

  “Yeah, well, I just sorta ad-libbed. It was spur-of-the-moment, my roll on. I was ready, had the ketchup rigged to spurt. You guys had me covered—bullet proof vests overlapping top to bottom.” Benny sheepishly looked up at the big officer who continued scowling down while holding out his handkerchief.