“You are a mind reader, thanks.” I grabbed the drink. “Be back in a few.” As I turned the corner toward the basement steps I bumped into Richard Lord.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Ashland’s pastry queen,” he sneered. As usual he was dressed in golf attire. I wasn’t sure if he ever spent any time on the links or just liked the look. Today’s outfit included pink and green plaid shorts, shockingly white golf shoes, a pale pink Polo shirt, and a matching cap.
“Morning, Richard.” Richard wasn’t usually an early riser. He liked to make an appearance on the porch of the Merry Windsor later in the day when there was the best chance of being seen by the most people.
“It is a good morning, isn’t it?” He glanced at me and then whipped his head in the direction of police headquarters. “Did you speak with Lance?”
What did he know? Did this have anything to do with why Lance had been hanging around in Medford? I clutched my coffee. Richard had a way of getting under my skin just by being him.
“Where are you off to this early?” Richard stared at me with his beady eyes.
“It’s none of your business, but I happen to have a meeting.” Richard tried to make everything and everyone in Ashland his business.
“A meeting with who? Your friend Lance? Because I hear that he’s … hmmm … how shall I put it? Unavailable.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Richard.”
“Oh, but I think you do, Juliet Capshaw. I think you do.” He tipped his cap.
I sighed. “I need to get downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” His lips turned into a thin hard line. “You’re not still really thinking of going forward with your silly expansion project, are you? Take my advice, it’s a terrible business decision.”
“Right. And I’m sure if Mom and I canceled our contract you wouldn’t take on such a terrible investment, either?”
He tossed his head to one side and let out a half snort. “Ha. As I’ve told your dear mother a thousand times, you should leave the business decisions up to those of us who actually know business.”
I wanted to punch him. The man was vile and such a chauvinistic pig.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said through my clenched teeth.
“Let me offer you another nugget of wisdom, Juliet Montague Capshaw. I know about your plans and I’m not having some flaky pastry chef try to outdo me. You’re in over your head. Managing one tiny coffee shop has obviously taken its toll.” He paused and ran his grubby eyes over me from head to toe. “Get out now while you still can. You can’t handle three businesses, and let me tell you, I won’t stand for it and neither will Ashland.”
He brushed past me, intentionally bumping my shoulder and nearly knocking me off balance. The man was an oaf. I knew he was trying to rattle me. Unfortunately, it worked. Richard had tapped into my fears. What if I was taking on too much? What if I was in over my head? And what did he mean by three businesses?
Chapter Twenty-four
“Juliet, is everything okay?” Mom asked when I huffed down the stairs.
“I’m fine. I just bumped into Richard Lord.” I shuddered.
“That would explain it.” She squeezed my hand. “Do you need a minute or are you ready to look at the flooring?”
“Richard Lord is not going to stop me from enjoying this process. I’m good. Let’s go.” I returned the squeeze and dropped her hand.
Robert updated us on progress. I couldn’t believe the difference with the walls torn out. The basement property had been brought down to the studs. The space appeared huge and to the delight of both of us things were progressing even quicker than planned. The redesigned walls would be framed in and Sheetrocked in the next few days. Once the walls were complete the electrical and plumbing work would start. If things continued at this pace we would easily meet our July deadline.
“I can’t believe how much they’ve already completed,” Mom said as we returned up the stairs. “I’ve heard so many horror stories from other business owners about contractors dragging their feet and it taking weeks and months longer than anticipated.”
“Me, too,” I agreed.
She grinned. “We must have good construction karma.”
When we reached the top of the stairs we stopped on the corner to debrief for a moment. “Have you heard anything about Lance this morning?” I asked, glancing across the street to the police headquarters. There wasn’t any sign of press gathered outside.
“No. Doug is in Medford again this morning.”
“When I bumped into Richard he hinted that he knew something. Do you think he could?”
“Really?” Mom frowned. “I don’t think so, but Doug has been incredibly tight-lipped.”
“It’s Richard. He probably bulldozed his way in there and demanded answers.” I paused. “By the way, have you met Detective Kerry yet?”
Mom shook her head. “No, I’m still waiting to meet her. Although I have the sense that Doug thinks she’s doing a good job. Maybe his retirement plans will get bumped up sooner than we expected.”
“You haven’t talked about it?” This news surprised me.
“Oh, no. You know that Doug has been talking about retiring for quite some time now. It’s been an ongoing discussion for us. I think he wants to take his time to find the right person to replace him. It’s one of the reasons he’s been back and forth between here and Medford lately. I have the sense that this is the first test.”
“What about Thomas?”
Mom nodded. “Thomas will certainly be considered. Doug has been grooming him for the role, but he’s not sure that Thomas wants or is ready for the next level of responsibility.”
I believed that. Thomas relied on the Professor’s wisdom and expertise. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t an intelligent and instinctive cop, but I could imagine that Thomas wouldn’t be thrilled to hear that the Professor was considering retirement.
“Doug is committed to finding the right fit for Ashland. It’s not exactly a cookie cutter assignment. He said he might need to get creative. Maybe he’ll pair Thomas with someone new and they can team up.”
“That makes sense.” I thought about the Professor’s gentle yet firm approach to investigations. When he finally retired, his presence would be sorely missed.
“It’s nothing to worry about yet, dear.” Mom patted my hand. “Doug is a planner so he’s thinking ahead.”
“What about wedding plans? Any new insights after our discussion last night?”
She shook her head. “I wish. There has to be a space big enough to accommodate our guest list out there somewhere, but I have yet to find it. At the moment, I’m leaning toward hopping on a plane and eloping to Vegas.”
“Mom, you can’t be serious!” That was a one-hundred-eighty-degree shift from inviting the entire town to a potluck in the park.
“Can you imagine Doug and me in Vegas?” She laughed. “But there is something compelling about the idea.”
“Can I help?” I felt bad that I hadn’t been more involved.
“No, no. It’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. I’m having a brief moment of panic, which I’m sure is part of the process.” She attempted a smile.
“Mom, is there anything else?” I thought about my conversation with Sterling.
She stared wistfully at the cheery front window display and then down at the basement steps. “Your father would have loved this, you know. He would be so proud of the chef and woman you’ve become.” Her voice caught.
I reached for her. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, too.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it? How something so wonderful can stir up the sadness.” Her eyes were moist. “Doug has been wonderful. He has assured me that it’s normal to miss your father right now, but I didn’t expect to be so…” She trailed off.
“Torn?” I offered.
“That’s a good word. I’m blissfully happy. Doug is a wonderful man, and I can’t wait to embark on new adv
entures with him, and yet every night when my head hits the pillow I can sense your dad, standing over me.”
“He’s sending you his blessing.”
She smiled and twisted her wedding ring on the chain around her neck. “I don’t doubt that. He would certainly approve of Doug. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he brought us together. I’ve been lonely without him. I’m not lonely with Doug, but I suppose that I thought that missing your father would fade with the loneliness. It’s the opposite. I almost miss him more.”
“Me, too.” I leaned into her. We held each other.
“How do we always end up like this?” Mom said after a minute. “Are we hopeless romantics or emotional messes?”
“I think we’re women,” I kidded and tried to wink. Instead I felt my top lip contort into what must have been a goofy grin.
“Poor Doug, he has no idea what he’s getting into. Yesterday, I teared up watching a Hallmark commercial.”
“Well, that’s totally understandable. Those commercials are designed to trigger the waterworks.”
Mom laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears. She glanced at Torte’s steamy front windows. “Now that we’ve had our cry for the day should we get back to it?”
“You bet.” I let her go first.
“Jules! Jules!” someone called after me.
I turned to see Thomas sprinting across the plaza from the police station. “You go ahead,” I said to Mom. “I’ll catch up.”
She nodded and disappeared into the bakeshop.
“Hey, you’re just the person I was hoping to see,” Thomas said, slightly winded. His iPad was tucked under one arm and he held a sealed envelope in his hand.
“Me, too.”
Thomas’s boyish face lit up at my comment. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I meant because I wanted to talk to him about the investigation.
“Want to sit?” He nodded at an empty bistro table.
“Sure.” I brushed pollen from the wrought-iron table. “Have you learned anything new? Is Lance still in custody?”
Thomas sat and rested his iPad on the table. “Geez, Jules, give me a minute to breathe.” He grinned. “Lance is still over there, but I have to find Detective Kerry and give her this.” He patted the sealed envelope.
“What is it?” My eyes went to the envelope Thomas clutched in his right hand.
“Not sure. Either lab results from the crime scene or a report on names that we’ve run through the system.” He stared at the envelope for a second and then tucked it into his back pocket.
I blew pollen dust from my hands. The tree above us was heavy with the sticky yellow powder. Soon it would transform into glowing pink blooms. “How are you and Detective Kerry working together by now?”
Thomas leaned his elbows on the table. “I don’t know. I really hope that the Professor isn’t thinking of giving her a permanent position, because I can totally see her changing everything. She is crazy serious.”
“Yeah, I got that impression.” I filled him in on my conversation with Lance, making sure to explain Lance’s suspicion that Thad and Tracy had been having an affair.
“The balding set guy?” Thomas asked. He removed his elbows from the table. They were covered in pollen.
I brushed it off for him.
“Thanks.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have pictured a gorgeous actress going for someone like him. Antony, I would get. It makes sense. You hear about movie stars falling for each other all the time.”
“Agreed.” I nodded. “Maybe it’s the fact that Thad is older?”
A brief look of envy crossed Thomas’s face. “Why is it that women always go for older men?”
I knew that he was referring to Carlos, but I ignored the comment. “Have you guys found out anything more about John Duncan?”
Thomas shook his head, but I saw his hand instinctively touch his back pocket where he had stored the envelope. “Nope.” He picked up his iPad. “But on that note, I should get going. I don’t want to be late to meet the Kerry. Thanks for intel, Jules.”
“Anytime.” I waved and watched him leave. He obviously knew much more than he was telling me. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t part of law enforcement and I knew that he was being extra careful given the circumstances of this investigation and Detective Kerry’s watchful eye. Something was in that envelope. Was it evidence clearing Lance, or was it information about the mysterious John Duncan?
Chapter Twenty-five
I couldn’t stop thinking about John Duncan. When I returned to the kitchen and tried to distract myself with baking, even pastry couldn’t keep my thoughts from returning to the mystery. When I told the Professor about Judy overhearing the fight between Antony and Brock, he had said that the name John Duncan was common, but if anything came up in their database they would know. Could that be what was in the envelope?
I had been worried about Stephanie’s ability to work under the influence of sleep deprivation, but if I was being honest with myself my heart wasn’t in the kitchen. After an hour of going through the motions I decided to keep my promise to Lance and go talk to Thad.
For cover, I boxed up an assortment of pastries. If I happened to bump into Detective Kerry I would simply tell her I was delivering an order. She couldn’t argue with that. I took the long route around the far side of the plaza to avoid another potential Richard Lord sighting. One Richard interaction was plenty for the day—for the week, for the month, for the year. Forever.
I stopped to admire some of Vera’s costumes on display in the front windows of the Education Center at the base of the hill that led up to the theaters. The amount of work and detail that went into each costume was mind-blowing. One of the ball gowns from Cinderella must have had a million tiny beads.
And I thought my hands got tired working bread dough, I thought, as I headed up the hill. I had no idea where I might find Thad and what I was supposed to ask him, other than confronting him about his relationship with Tracy. I wished I had had more time with Lance. He had been cryptic and I hoped he wasn’t sending me on a wild-goose chase.
When I arrived at the theater I asked a stagehand if he had seen Thad. He pointed me to the props department. I hurried downstairs before I ran into anyone else. It was amazing what kind of doors a pastry box could open. No one ever declined a box of baked goods. Particularly starving artists.
Thad was kneeling in front of a Grecian column when I stepped into the workroom. Tools lay all around him as he twisted a screwdriver into its base.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” I said, holding out the pastry box as an offering. “I thought you might want a pastry. I brought a bunch for the entire crew.”
He finished tightening the screw, stuffed the screwdriver in his tool belt, and stood up. His expression was leery. “You brought everyone pastries?”
“I know that things are stressful around here and thought everyone might want a pick-me-up.”
“A pastry pick-me-up?” His lip curled. “What?”
Maybe I had been wrong about a pastry delivery box being a perfect disguise. Thad folded his arms and stared at me with disbelief. I decided to try another tactic. There were a few people working on various props throughout the room, so I lowered my voice. “Actually, I’m here for Lance. He asked me to talk to you about Tracy.”
Thad’s eyes darted around the room. “Not here.” Without another word, he stalked out of the room. I took that as a sign I should follow and ran after him. He trudged down the corridor underneath the theater without turning around. Finally, he came to a door with his name on a gold placard, threw it open, and waited for me to catch up.
His office was nothing like Lance’s. For starters, it was half the size, and cluttered with tools, broken parts, and set models that reminded me of my childhood dollhouse. He didn’t bother to clear a space for me to sit. Instead, he slammed the door behind us and leaned on it. Was he blocking me from leaving? Should I be worried? Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more.
&nb
sp; “What did Lance say?” Thad asked, fiddling with a roll of duct tape on his tool belt.
I wasn’t sure where to start.
Thad stared at me. “Well?”
Thad’s eyes burned into me. Maybe I should leave it to Detective Kerry. I wavered for a moment. Finally, I said, “I know that Tracy’s pregnant.”
His hand clamped the tape. “So.”
“Lance seems to think that you’re the father.”
His shoulders sank. “We were so careful.” He wasn’t exactly talking to me. He stared at a sketch of Cinderella’s castle on the far wall.
“Is it true?”
He sighed and moved away from the door. For a minute, I thought he was going to tell me to get out, but instead he walked over to his desk and sat on the edge. He motioned for me to have a seat in his chair. I did and set the pastry box on the desk. “I can’t believe Lance knows. Who else knows?”
“I don’t think anyone.”
“That’s good.” He grabbed a pencil from his tool belt and stabbed it in his palm.
“I’m probably being naïve, but I don’t understand what the big deal is. I mean, of course a pregnancy is a big deal, but why does it matter if anyone knows?”
Thad rubbed his balding head. “We were discreet,” he repeated, not answering my question.
“Right. I’m sure you were.”
He removed a miniature flashlight from his tool belt and stood. Then he began pacing in front of the desk, flipping the flashlight on and off. “What are we going to do? I need to find Tracy.”
“I’d like to help,” I offered. “I got the sense that Lance does, too. That’s why he asked me to come talk to you.” That wasn’t entirely true. I was never one hundred percent certain of any of Lance’s motives.
“This isn’t great.” Thad shined the flashlight on the wall.
“Is there something I can do?”
He cleared his throat and seemed to focus. “You’re sure no one else knows? Just Lance?”
I paused. Should I tell him about Vera? As far as I knew Vera thought that Antony was the father, but she definitely knew that Tracy was pregnant. “Well, I think there might be another person who knows that Tracy’s pregnant,” I said. “I don’t think they know who the father is, though.”
Another One Bites the Crust (A Bakeshop Mystery) Page 20