Carrot Cake and Cryptic Clues

by A. R. Winters

  “So,” said Howard, “is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I looked at him thoughtfully. “What time did you get to the party on Saturday night?”

  “I was out all day golfing,” he said. “And then I had a few beers with my buddies. I got home about an hour before the party was supposed to start, just in time to shower and change. Why?”

  I frowned thoughtfully. “So you couldn’t have seen someone coming into the house with a bakery box.”

  Howard shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t home. So I’m not sure what I was supposed to have seen.”

  I sighed. “Well, thanks for your help.”

  “It’s not a problem. And, our secret is safe?”

  I made the motion of zipping my lips and throwing away the key. “No one knows apart from you and Helen.”

  When I got to the kitchen, Beth was sitting on a stool, looking bored. Helen was working silently, putting some kind of filling onto puff pastries and folding the pastry sheets into triangles.

  “Where’ve you been?” Beth hissed at me softly as I sat down next to her. “I’ve been bored to death.”

  “I was just chatting with Howard,” I said out loud, watching Helen. She was standing at a right angle to us, but her ears seemed to perk up at the mention of Howard’s name. “We had a pretty interesting talk.”

  Helen didn’t respond, so I said, “Helen. How long have you two been together?”

  That got her attention.

  She turned around to face me, her eyes betraying nothing. “What’re you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and Howard, of course. He was just telling me about your secret. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else.”

  She gulped and glanced at Beth.

  Beth said, “I won’t tell anyone either.”

  “So,” I said. “How long’ve you two been together? It must’ve been convenient, living in the same house.”

  Helen rolled her eyes. “Sure. You could call it that. Nobody found out.”

  “Not even Celeste?”

  “Not even Celeste. Or Sharon. Howard and I got together just a month after I started working here. There was no way I’d have tolerated Celeste’s outbursts otherwise. That woman just never was happy. Not even with everything she had.”

  I nodded. “And now she’s not here.”

  Helen shrugged. “Yeah, well. Like I said the first day, she got what she deserved.”

  “And you didn’t see anyone bringing in the cake, did you?”

  Helen eyed Beth warily. “You’re the one who gave me the cake.”

  “The cake was switched out.”

  “I was too busy to do anything like that. When would I bake?” Helen said.

  “Whoever switched out the cake didn’t bake,” Beth said. “They bought it from Dave’s Desserts.”

  “I’ve never heard of the place,” said Helen. “And I wouldn’t have time to leave the house to pick up anything. Celeste insisted I do a bunch of laundry. Tableware for the guests, and then clean out the whole house in case anyone wanted a tour of the place.”

  I half-believed her. Sure, she must’ve been busy. But she could also have found time to stop by the bakery and pick up a nice cake with which to poison her boss.

  “Who else was around the house after Beth stopped by?” I said. “I know Howard was out all day.”

  “Sharon and Fred came by for lunch, and then afterward, Sharon said she wanted to watch a movie, so they disappeared into her room.”

  “Were they both in her room the entire time?” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  Helen shook her head. “I was running around, so I don’t know exactly. But Fred went out to the driveway a couple of times to have a smoke. And I know Sharon came down to the kitchen to grab some fruit. Fred came to the kitchen to get some juice. And then Fred and Sharon both went to the living room with Celeste to look at the decorations for the party.”

  I nodded thoughtfully and exchanged a glance with Beth. Fred and Sharon had both been downstairs once in a while, and Fred had even gone outside a couple of times. One of them might’ve seen the cakes being switched out. At the least, they might’ve noticed Helen getting a paper box from a man.

  Beth said, “Do you know when Sharon gets back from LA?”

  “Not till after dinner,” said Helen. “She likes to make a day of it when she has to work in LA. It’s a pretty long drive, after all.”

  I nodded. “And what about Fred?”

  “This time of day? I reckon he’d be at home.”

  Sharon could give me his address, I decided. We really needed to check if Fred might’ve seen Helen doing anything suspicious.

  “Are you guys done here?” asked Helen. For a housekeeper, she wasn’t particularly welcoming.

  I wondered suddenly if Howard might’ve killed Celeste after all. I hadn’t checked his alibi yet, and he might’ve come home in between his golf game and hanging out with his buddies in the bar. He could’ve switched out the cakes.

  If Fred had seen Helen and Howard kissing, perhaps someone else had seen them, too. Perhaps that someone had been Celeste, and perhaps she’d told Howard that she intended to divorce him and destroy his business and political aspirations.

  “Did anyone else know about your relationship with Howard?” I said. “Perhaps Celeste had found out about your affair.”

  Helen shook her head. “When Howard got home from his golf game, I overheard Celeste accosting him, asking him where he’d been. She said that if she discovered he was having an affair with anyone else, she’d divorce him immediately.”

  “So she had no plans to leave him,” I mused.

  “No,” said Helen. “She had absolutely no idea about us.”

  I said, “Have you talked to Howard about your relationship since Celeste’s death?”

  Helen shook her head. “I didn’t want to seem insensitive.”

  “Good idea. But now that Celeste’s not here, were you thinking of making your relationship public?”

  Her cheeks reddened a little, and she smiled shyly. “A woman can dream, right? Not that I’m clingy or anything. But maybe we can go public when it seems decent.”

  “You could even get married,” Beth suggested. “Maybe have kids with him.”

  Helen shrugged, trying to act cool. “Maybe,” she said. But her eyes sparkled and I could see her face shining with hope.

  She was in for a rude awakening. But I decided to keep that information to myself—for now. If she’d arranged for Celeste’s death in the hopes that she could have a real relationship with Howard, she’d been mistaken.

  In the meantime, I just had to prove that she was the one who’d switched the cakes. I couldn’t wait to talk to Fred and hear all about what he might’ve seen.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After three attempts, I’d managed to get a hold of Sharon and grabbed Fred’s address from her. By the time Beth and I drove up to Fred’s apartment, it was almost noon, and the sun was high overhead. The skies were a bright blue, and the warm weather would’ve been perfect for a stroll along the beach.

  Instead, Beth and I parked on a side street a half hour north of the beach. The north side of the town was slightly more impoverished; there were more faceless apartment complexes here than stylish Spanish bungalows. The streets were still well-tended, with ample parking spaces and leafy green trees, but the houses had a derelict, uncared-for air about them.

  We walked up the flight of stairs to Fred’s apartment and knocked. There was no answer, and after yet another round of knocking, Beth and I were still standing in the hallway, waiting.

  A door from across the hallway opened, and a man stepped out. He was medium-height and lanky, and he nodded when he saw Beth and me.

  “You’re here to see Fred?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, but I guess we missed him. I think I’ll have to give him a call.”

  “I saw him leave a few minutes ago to get the paper and
some milk, I think he said. He should turn up if you wait another couple of minutes.”

  “I hope so,” I said, smiling. “It would be a shame to drive all this distance and not see him. I’m Mindy, this here’s Beth.”

  “Darren. You guys don’t live in Santa Verona?”

  I don’t know why I felt the urge to fib. Perhaps it was a fear of being ratted out to Detective Buchanan as being the people who interfered in an investigation. So I said, “We’re Fred’s cousins. We came up from LA to see him.”

  “Oh.” Darren raised one eyebrow. “So that lady who visits Fred must be your mom? Or is she another aunt?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Fred’s aunt visits him a couple of times a week, sometimes every day. I’m looking for work right now,” he explained. “So I’m home most days. I see her driving up in a nice red Porsche. I’d like to own one of those someday.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. She might be my Aunt Tilda. Aunt Tilda drives a Porsche.” Actually, now that I thought about it, Celeste drove a red Porsche. “What’s this woman look like? Blonde, skinny?” Darren nodded, and I said, “Yep. That’s Aunt Tilda all right. We’re off to see her right after this.”

  “Family reunion. Sounds fun,” said Darren before disappearing inside.

  Beth and I waited a few nervous minutes before Fred showed up.

  “Why do you think Celeste was coming over here?” Beth asked as we waited.

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there was only one reason a woman like Celeste would be driving up to the north side of town to see a handsome young man.

  “This is a nice surprise,” Fred said when he showed up a minute and a half later. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  He unlocked the door, and we stepped inside. The front door opened onto a large studio apartment. On the far end of the room, there was a queen-sized bed. The front area housed a flat-screen TV, a sofa, and a kitchenette. A door led off to the bathroom, and there was a large wardrobe near the bed.

  “This is cozy,” I said as Beth and I settled down onto the couch.

  Fred put his milk and newspaper away, and then he joined us, sitting on a wooden chair adjacent to the sofa. A brown leather jacket lay draped over the back of the chair. “It’s small,” he said. “But it’s all I need. I was saving up to buy a condo near the beach after I got married.”

  “I’m sure Howard and Celeste would’ve chipped in for that,” Beth said. “They’ve got so much money.”

  Fred shrugged. “I didn’t want to go to them.”

  “So,” I said, “you really love Sharon, huh?”

  He half-smiled, half-frowned at me. “Of course.”

  I said, “Then why were you sleeping with Celeste?”

  He froze, staring at me with that same half-smile. And then, a second later, he recovered, laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I had a chat with a PI I know,” I lied. “He said he took photos of you and Celeste together.”

  Fred paled.

  “So,” I said, “what was going on?”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  Beth said, “You haven’t told us anything else. Maybe we’d understand if you explained.”

  Fred gulped and looked from me to Beth. “It’s not like that,” he said. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with her.”

  “Oh?” I said. “Was someone forcing you at gunpoint?”

  “No,” he said. “But she might as well have been.”

  “Start from the beginning,” I said. “What was going on?”

  Fred took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He exhaled loudly and said, “Celeste never liked me, okay? When no one was around, she’d say it was a shame I was so handsome but so poor. She was meaner when no one else was around. She told Sharon not to marry me.”

  “We know that,” Beth said. “Celeste hated everyone.”

  “She came over to my bar one night, after I’d closed up. She said we needed to talk. So we came back here. I had a few drinks. Next thing I know, I’m waking up next to her.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “Let me guess. She hated you so much, she wanted to sleep with you.”

  Fred shrugged. “She said it was a mistake, and we agreed not to tell Sharon. It was a one-time thing. But then she kept showing up. Said we were just having fun, what’s wrong with that? As long as Sharon didn’t know, she wouldn’t get hurt.” He glanced at me and Beth, his expression pleading.

  I nodded, trying to hide my disapproval. “Ignorance is bliss.”

  “Exactly.” Fred sounded relieved that I understood. “Anyway, the wedding was coming up. I told Celeste we should end it, but she said she’d tell Sharon. That she had photos. What could I do?”

  “End it?” suggested Beth.

  Fred looked at her wildly. “Don’t you understand? If I ended it, she’d tell Sharon. And then, I went to their house once and I overheard Celeste telling Sharon that I was no good. That Sharon would find out soon enough the kind of things I was up to. I knew Celeste meant to tell Sharon.”

  There was silence for a few seconds, and then Fred said, “Don’t you see? I really loved Sharon. I couldn’t let her go.”

  Beth and I exchanged a glance. We were both thinking the same thing: Fred must’ve been the one who’d exchanged the cakes.

  He’d had enough time to make the switch. Fred could’ve brought the cake with him when he came over, left it in the car, and made the switch when he came downstairs later for a smoke. If Dave saw Fred, and heard his voice, he’d probably be able to identify him.

  Beth said, “So you’re the one who bought the cake from Dave’s Desserts. You even live nearby.”

  “I wasn’t sure that she’d eat the cake,” Fred said slowly. “I knew she always had some dessert after a party.”

  “And you knew Howard wouldn’t be there to save her,” I added. “You knew he’d be away with Helen.”

  Fred looked at me. “You said you had some photos of me and Celeste?”

  I nodded. “But I’m not sure that’s relevant now. I mean, you did kill her, after all. Why don’t we just go down the police station and sort this out?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m going to marry Sharon Rocheford. I’m going to be a Rocheford. It’ll be a big deal. A huge wedding. And a career changer.” He grinned maniacally.

  “I thought marriage was about love,” said Beth.

  “Sure.” Fred nodded. “It can be about both. Love and a great career.”

  I looked at Beth, and she shrugged. We couldn’t force Fred to go to the police station, but we could go there ourselves. Detective Buchanan might not be too thrilled about our meddling, but I was sure he’d check out the story and connect the dots himself.

  I said, “We should get going.”

  “Where are the photos?” said Fred.

  “I lied about that,” I admitted. “I just wanted to hear about you and Celeste.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Fred ran a hand through his hair. “I could’ve just lied and said I didn’t know her.”

  “I guess so,” I said. “But we know now.”

  Fred shook his head. “I can’t believe this. You’re going to tell everyone, aren’t you? I sleep with one crazy woman, and my life gets ruined.”

  “You did kill her, too,” I reminded him.

  Fred got up and walked over to his kitchenette area. He opened a drawer and pulled out a gun.

  “What’re you doing?” I said, standing up quickly.

  Fred turned the gun over in his hand slowly. “This is only a week old,” he said. “After Celeste started threating to tell Sharon about us, I knew she had to go. The walnut idea was a brainwave. I thought I’d have to shoot her. But I guess I can shoot someone else now.”

  He pointed the gun at me, and then at Beth. “Who do I start with?”

  “Don’t shoot us,” I begged. “Please don’t shoot.”

 
; “Why not?” Fred smiled. “I’d like to sort everything out before I get married. It’ll be the wedding of the year.”

  I forced myself to think fast. “You don’t want to get blood on your carpet. It’ll be a hassle. And your neighbor’s going to hear the shot and call the cops. You don’t want all that trouble.”

  Fred continued pointing the gun at us, but he looked thoughtful. “You’ve got a point,” he said finally. “Maybe we can go down to the beach. It’s quieter once you go further west, and I can just leave your bodies there. Maybe even a note, like a suicide.”

  My stomach felt all queasy, like I’d eaten a bad enchilada, and I noticed that Beth looked like she was about to throw up. But I forced myself to nod enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea,” I said. “Suicide. Brilliant. Why don’t we go down there now?”

  Fred nodded, and said, “Go to the door and face it. Don’t even think about running away, or I’ll shoot you in the hallway.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. Beth and I stood near the door, facing it.

  I could hear Fred shuffling around, and then he said, “Okay, now open the door.”

  I looked back at Fred. He’d grabbed his leather jacket and slung it over his right hand. I knew the jacket was hiding the gun from view.

  As if he’d read my mind, Fred said, “The gun’s right here. I’ll shoot if you don’t do what I say.”

  I nodded to indicate that I understood, and then I opened the door. Beth and I trooped out and down the hallway, past the closed doors of Fred’s neighbors. I wished someone would come out, maybe talk to Fred and distract him. That would give us a chance to dash for the car and race off.

  But nobody came out.

  We were on the street, near Beth’s car.

  “Where’d you park?” said Fred. “We’ll take your car. It’ll look more realistic.”

  A few cars drove past us, not giving us a second glance.

  I said, “It’s the gray Mazda.”

  We walked over to it.

  Fred said, “Keys.”

  He was standing a few paces behind us, and Beth and I turned to face him. We were on the sidewalk, and Beth’s hatchback hid us from the view of anyone driving down the street.