Ooey Gooey Bakery Mystery Box Set

by Katherine H Brown

  “You come in here, tell me if I talk to you it could help me out, and now you’re trying to get me to confess to conspiracy to murder?” Regina shook her head. “You must be a bigger idiot than I thought, sweetheart. I still can’t believe you were let go after they found you with the murder weapon at that stupid company retreat.”

  I ignored her and kept trying. “He’s Asian, lots of demon tattoos kind of like Asnee; oh, and he said Asnee was his son.”

  Surprise flashed in Regina’s eyes, her brows lifting slightly. Then she quirked her lips up and shrugged. “Don’t know. Never heard of him.”

  “Yes, you have, you recognized that description. I saw it.”

  Regina pursed her lips.

  I pushed on. “You know him. Do you know where he lives or hangs out? Places he might be? He drove a white Mercedes but he ditched it….”

  At the mention of the car, Regina bolted forward in the chair. “What did you say?” I scooted back. She looked like she might strangle me at any moment. I slid my eyes around the room, trying not to turn away from Regina, and was disappointed to see the guard was on the opposite side of the visitation area. Hopefully still close enough to save me if Regina lost it. Gulp.

  “What did you say he was driving?” she demanded.

  “A white Mercedes.”

  The snarl that crossed her face was downright scary.

  “I can’t believe that no good son-of-a…what does he think he’s doing, driving my car? My car! The nerve. And you say he abandoned it?” Her fingernails were all but digging into the table in front of her as she balled them in and out of fists.

  Yes! I did a little cheer on the inside. A hot topic, a pressure point I could use. I couldn’t pass up on this opportunity. “Is that your car? Wow, that sucks. Police have it now. Like I say, first, he tried to kill me in a car wreck and then he ditched your car on some little back road. Too hot to drive, I’m sure.” I tilted my head up at the ceiling for a moment. “You know…” I let the sentence linger. “I think he even left the keys in it.” I mean, I wasn’t sure but he probably did; Regina didn’t have to know that. “I’m surprised it wasn’t stolen before the police took it.”

  Regina was pissed. Boiling over mad. I thought at any minute steam would rise from the tight bun on her head and out both ears, just like on all of those cartoons. Maybe I’d gone a little too far.

  “It seems kind of unfair that he’s out there, joyriding in your car, while you’re stuck in here. He did kill someone, too, yet he gets no punishment. The police don’t even know his name.”

  “Susumu Takumi.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “His name. Susumu Takumi.” Regina repeated it slowly.

  “Wait. I wasn’t ready.” Gosh, I wish you were allowed to bring a phone or pen and paper in here. “Can you spell that?”

  Silence.

  “Okay, guess I’ll just look it up.” Susumu. Susumu. I tried repeating it in my head. I needed to get out of here and tell someone. “One last thing. Any idea where we might find him?”

  “You’ll tell the police I helped?” She folded her arms across her chest again.

  “I will. I don’t know what they might do, but I will tell them.”

  “And you won’t testify against me?”

  I paused. We really needed this information. I didn’t want to be looking over one shoulder for the rest of my life. I knew I had to do the right thing though; there was no way I wasn’t going to testify, I had already decided that passing out or no passing out I was going to get in that box tomorrow and share Regina’s involvement in the trafficking, the abduction of myself and my friends, and the incriminating voicemail confession. I could lie. I opened my mouth, “No deal. I have to testify. I will be honest and I will answer with any information I know. But I will also tell them you were cooperative if we are able to catch what’s his name.”

  “Susumu,” she rolled her eyes at me like I was an idiot. “Fine. I had to try. I figured you were too much of a goody-two-shoes.”

  Goody-two-shoes…that’s another one I’m going to have to look up. When did people start saying these oddball things anyway?

  Regina spoke again and I shook my thoughts away. Time to listen.

  Chapter 24

  I rapped hard on the truck window and laughed when Griff jerked upright. I caught him sleeping.

  “What’d you do that for?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Because I can,” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Griff cranked the truck. “Did you learn anything?”

  “You better believe I did.” I had more information than I expected from Regina. Scary information.

  “Okay. Where to now?”

  “We need to talk to Sheriff Kent. Quickly.”

  I called to let the sheriff know to expect us. During the long drive back to Seashell Bay, I shared what I learned with Griff. By the time we got to the sheriff’s department, I was tired, but I prepared to repeat it all anyway.

  “Shoot!”

  “What’s the matter?” Griff and I were halfway up the walkway.

  “I forgot to ask Regina if she knew who might be driving the dark-colored car.”

  “You mean the one that actually ran you off the road after you made her think someone used her car to do it?” He laughed.

  “Listen,” I wagged my finger at him. “I got us a ton of information, did I not?”

  “I’m not judging.” Griff held the glass door open for me. “Ladies first.”

  The secretary escorted us immediately into Sheriff Kent’s private office.

  “Any incidents on your drive?” Sheriff Kent shook both of our hands but directed the question to Griff.

  “Not one.”

  “Good. Good.” We all sat down and the sheriff leaned his elbows on the large desk between us and him. “Tell me Miss Rivers. Did you catch anything on this little fishing expedition of yours?”

  “A whopper,” I told him. “According to Regina, the man who is after me is named Susumu Takumi.” I had looked it up on the drive and found similar first and last names, though for different people. “Susumu is the leader of a small group of Yakuza.”

  “Come again?”

  “Yakuza. Basically, if I understood her correctly, they are Japanese gangsters.” Scary ones, I thought about the articles I had skimmed.

  “What in the world would Japanese gangsters be doing in Alabama?” Sheriff Kent picked up a pencil, twirling it between his fingers.

  “I don’t know. Regina didn’t say where she met them. Honestly, I was lucky she told me as much as she did.”

  “Understood. Go on.”

  As Sheriff Kent nodded for me to continue, I thought back over my conversation with Regina. “She says besides Susumu and Asnee, there were three other men that she knew of. They were brought on board as muscle and transport.”

  “We can assume one of the other three was the man Susumu shot at the construction site,” Griff spoke up.

  I agreed. “Probably. Similar tattoos. The tattoos have symbolism for the gang, though obviously, we can’t go around assuming everyone with tattoos is a bad person. The Yakuza have very specific tattoos with meanings associated, so it is still something to keep an eye out for.”

  The sheriff now used the pencil to jot down notes as I spoke. When he looked up from the notepad, I continued. “Regina gave me two locations where you might find him.”

  “You didn’t want to start with that bit?” Sheriff Kent chastised. “Where at?” His hand hovered over the notepad, waiting.

  “Besuto Auto Repair or Asian Garden Restaurant.” The former was located on the long stretch of highway between Seashell Bay and Lion’s Cove; the latter over in Lion’s Cove.

  “Asian Garden is out of my county,” Sheriff Kent commented what we already knew. “I can take a run at Besuto Auto Repair though.”

  “If he spooks, Regina said Susumu can become a ghost pretty easily.” My warning earned a frown from the sheriff. “I’m not tryi
ng to tell you how to do your job. I’m only trying to help and give you all the information I can. I need this guy behind bars so I can sleep at night.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll put an unmarked car on Besuto tonight and tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, a weight lifting off my shoulders. “Do you think you could get word to Officer Campbell about Asian Garden? He isn’t too fond of me and I doubt he would listen.”

  “I’ll give him a call if we catch this so-called Japanese gangster.”

  “Great.” We shook hands again with the sheriff and he buzzed the secretary to escort us out. Back at the truck, Griff asked what was next on our agenda.

  “Honestly, I really need to get back to the bakery. At the way we’ve been going, the town is going to think that Sam and I sold it to Gladys.”

  “You need to eat something,” Griff frowned. “Besides cookies.”

  I closed my mouth again; he cut me off before I could tell him I would grab something to eat at the bakery. Better step up my game if I’m getting that predictable. Plus, I thought about the new clothes we bought this weekend, he’s probably right. I might need to eat something besides a load of sugar every so often or I’ll be buying bigger size clothes next time. “I will agree to eat whatever you decide, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We order it to-go and you drop me and my food off at the bakery. I’d feel better if you went and checked on Sam.”

  “That’s fine by me.”

  Soon, I was sitting on a stool, crunching happily on asparagus and steak from a little plastic box. “Victoria, do you want some?” I really should have called and asked if they wanted us to pick them up food; since I didn’t, the least I could do was share.

  “No, but thanks anyway. Some fancy chef guy delivered us some sandwiches. They were fancy too, the sandwiches; I think he called them Croque Monsieur.”

  Interesting, Chef Fabio is making deliveries for Gladys.

  I finished up my meal, scarfing down the last large bites of steak in a very unladylike fashion, and tossed the container in the trash. After washing and drying my hands, I gathered an assortment of ingredients.

  “What are you making?” Victoria wanted to know.

  “No idea,” I told her honestly. “I just need to mix something, create, forget about the last few days and let my brain run on auto-pilot for a bit.”

  She nodded. “I get that. It’s kind of like when my Aunt Sophie decides to re-organize her bookstore. She spends days un-shelving, sorting, stacking, and re-shelving books and when I asked why, she told me that it’s like hitting a reset button for her mood or something like that.”

  “Exactly!” I pour melted butter into a bowl. “Your aunt sounds like a smart lady. Wait, she doesn’t own Babbling Books here in town, does she?”

  “Yeah. Have you been in there?”

  I scooped sugar into the butter mixture. “Once or twice. I’ve gotten used to ordering things online, and that includes books, but I remember finding an awesome cookbook section in her store now that you’ve mentioned it.”

  Victoria grinned. “Don’t tell my Aunt Sophie that. Books are her babies.”

  “Noted.” The microwave beeped. I pulled a small bowl of melted chocolate chips out and poured them into the butter-sugar mixture. Next came the batch of dry ingredients. While I incorporated those into my cookie dough, I watched Victoria check the oven timer and bend over to peer inside. “What’s baking?” I asked.

  “Coconut Macaroons.” She paced the kitchen, always coming back to look inside the oven.

  “First time baking them?” I asked.

  She stopped short and spun to face me. “How’d you know? Oh my gosh! Are they burning? Did I mess them up?”

  My head fell back in laughter. “No. I’m sure they are fine. You seem a little nervous, that’s all.”

  “Ah. Okay. I guess I don’t have to look in on them every three seconds for the oven to bake right, huh?”

  “No. Why don’t you make yourself some coffee and relax.” Sam and I had been stocking more decaf ever since coming back from our catering gig to find Victoria zooming around in an espresso-induced frenzy. “It looks like those still have six more minutes; you will wear yourself out. How long did you set the timer?”

  “Eighteen minutes,” she ran her fingers across her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll sit down a minute.”

  “The macaroons will be great. Don’t doubt yourself, remember.”

  While Victoria brewed a small cup of coffee, I looked back at my dough. It was missing something. I wandered into the panty and spun in a slow, slow circle. Just looking. Thinking. Aha! I grabbed the hazelnuts and extra-dark chocolate chips off of a shelf.

  Victoria sat on a stool, her knee bouncing rapidly. I talked about my cookie dough to distract her. Her knee stopped bouncing. She listened, asked questions, and sipped her coffee. Then the oven timer buzzed. The poor girl jolted up like she’d been electrocuted. Her coffee overturned, dark liquid fingering out in every direction.

  I took pity on her as she froze, her gaze darting between the mess and the oven. “I’ve got the spill. You get your macaroons.”

  Delicious coconut smells enveloped the room as Victoria opened the oven door wide.

  I soaked coffee up into a dish rag and tossed it in a bin of other dirty ones. I’d need to take those home to wash tonight; it was yet another thing that I had neglected, being so focused on the trial and distracted by the attempts on my life. Good excuses, yes, but guilt gnawed at my insides. The Ooey Gooey Goodness Bakery was my dream; I loved our business and it deserved proper care. I intended to do better from now on.

  Gladys poked her head through the swinging door. “What’s Sam’s favorite Fourth of July cookie?”

  “Red, White, and Blueberry Truffles,” I said automatically. “Why?” It was too late. The swinging door swung slowly to a stop. Gladys had popped out before I could ask the question.

  “Odd,” I murmured to myself. Pulling my phone from my apron pocket, I checked for messages. Nothing from Griff or Sam. “I wonder what that was all about.”

  “Earth to Piper.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  Victoria waved me over to the counter. “Do these Coconut Macaroons look right to you?”

  “They look perfect.” I leaned closer, noticing that besides the tray of perfectly toasted coconut confections were four grayish-black blobs. I pointed to them. “Except these. These look strange.”

  “Oh yeah. I used food coloring on those to see if we could include them for the Fourth of July goodies menu.”

  “Gotcha. Well, I think you should use a little less food coloring, maybe only one drop, and they should brighten up.”

  Victoria rubbed her hands together. “So. Are you going to taste one with me?”

  “Absolutely!” I put my hand on her wrist as she reached for the tray. “Um, but maybe not the black ones. Just a regular macaroon for me please.”

  “Yeah, they do look kind of terrible, don’t they?”

  “Completely.” I laughed, then bit into my macaroon. Whimpered. “This is excellent. Moist, amazingly tender, slightly crunchy on the coconut covering the outside.” I swallowed the remaining half and licked my thumb and finger of the sweet goodness. “Victoria, did I mention you are hired forever…whenever you want to work here.”

  She threw her arms around me. “Thank you. Thank you for giving Millie and I a shot at working here, and for keeping us longer than that first weekend. I’ve had so much fun and now I know more than ever that I want to apply to the Culinary Institute of America. I wasn’t sure I would be good enough, but you make me feel like I can do anything. You’ve taught me so much and I want to learn everything. I want to learn styles from different countries, I want to learn about rare ingredients, all of it.”

  I watched the excitement light up her entire face. Joy coursed through me. I had wanted to encourage Victoria. I had worked to increase her confidence. But to see
her passion and her plans bubbling out of her, to hear her say that I helped inspire her to go for her dreams, that made me incredibly happy, proud, and honored all at the same time. To make a difference in someone’s life, there isn’t anything like that feeling.

  My cookies baked quickly. They were ooey gooey goodness for sure! “What should we call these?” I asked Victoria as I handed her a warm cookie to try.

  “Let’s see.” She chewed thoughtfully. “Chocolate with more chocolate and nuts. Maybe something like Chocolate Doubles? Double Downs?”

  I snapped my fingers. “How about Double Deluxe Cookies?”

  “That’s good. Yeah, let’s call them that. Great job, can I have another one?” Victoria held out one hand while using the other to shovel in the rest of her cookie. A girl after my own heart.

  Victoria volunteered to load the dishwasher so that I could go up front to stock the display case and talk to Gladys.

  “Have you heard from anyone next door today?” I thumbed in the direction of Flo’s Flowers as I bent over to unload cookies onto the shelves.

  “Not a peep, though that isn’t surprising.”

  “Why not?”

  “With the number of flower and cookie promo coupons I’ve seen today, Flo probably hasn’t stopped moving all day long. The girls, too.” Gladys fanned a small stack of redeemed coupons in front of my face.

  “Those are all from today?” I held the stack, flicking through. There had to be more than thirty.

  “Every last one,” she started to stick them back in the register.

  “Good grief! Here let me keep those. I need to take those home with me and figure out a schedule for baking all of the requested Fourth of July specials.” I didn’t know if I should be excited or overwhelmed; the promotion idea taking off so well surprised me. I considered the short amount of time before the big day. Five. In five days, it would be Independence Day. Yikes!

  “There’s Millie now.” Gladys nudged me and pointed to the door.

  The bell jingled as the girl sped inside.

  “Piper! I’m glad you’re here.” Millie hugged Gladys and me on either side of her. “You have got to call Sam. Right now!”