by Fiona Grace
Jennifer Cliff was a killer, and Ali knew just the way to prove it.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Ali drew to a halt outside the shabby-looking apartment building and double-checked the door number against the details on the slip of paper in her hand. This was definitely the address Piper had given her.
Ali was surprised there was even a rundown area of Willow Bay, nestled into the other side of the hill to the ocean views, and was more surprised to learn that her employee was living here. The block was sketchy, in need of a good lick of paint and a clean-up, with litter all over the walkways. The constant noise of lives in progress—a murmuring TV, a woman arguing in Spanish, a baby wailing—rumbled away in the background.
The place made Ali uncomfortable. She wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. She rapped her knuckles against Piper’s front door.
Coming from inside, Ali heard the sound of a myriad of bolts being drawn, then the door opened several inches before bouncing on its lock-chain.
A tall, well-built, dark-haired man appeared in the gap. He looked down his nose at Ali, suspicion sparking in his brown eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, in a distrustful tone.
“I’m sorry,” Ali stammered. “I think I must have the wrong address. I’m looking for Piper—”
“Yeah, she’s in,” the man interrupted. He looked over his shoulder and bellowed into the din. “PIPER!”
“Thank you,” Ali said, but he was gone before she’d even uttered the second syllable.
Ali peered through the gap he’d left behind, into the dimly lit apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with a shabby couch and La-Z-Boy arranged around a coffee table that looked like it had been Frankensteined together by a drunk carpenter. The walls were textured, in that bobbly kind of wallpaper that reminded Ali of a grandma’s house. There was nothing about the place that even remotely fit Piper’s personality. And there was a distinctive smell of mold that made Ali’s nose crinkle with disgust.
Just then, Piper herself filled the gap Ali had been snooping through, and Ali startled back. Piper’s long blond hair was wet from a recent shower, making soggy, dark patches on the shoulders of her fuchsia-colored T-shirt.
She took one look at Ali, and said, blandly, “Oh. It’s you.” She unhooked the lock chain and pulled the door open, then began rubbing her damp hair with a worn-looking beige towel. “What do you want?”
She was clearly far from thrilled to have Ali turn up on her doorstep, and Ali certainly couldn’t blame her after what had happened at Best Hot Dogs. But her mission to apologize and get Piper back on the team fell by the wayside, as the sudden, more pressing issue of Piper’s living arrangements reared its head. Now the door was fully open, Ali could see the large black mold spots climbing the walls. Piper’s house was a health hazard.
“Who is that man?” Ali asked in a low whisper, peering past Piper to where the guy had flopped into the La-Z-Boy and cracked a can of energy drink. The TV buzzed in the background.
“My roomie,” Piper replied, nonchalantly. “Dave.”
“Is he a friend of yours?” Ali couldn’t quite picture Piper and her roomie Dave hanging out watching TV together on the couch, or sharing beers and anecdotes at the end of the workday.
“I found him on Craigslist,” Piper said.
Ali immediately felt a maternal urge to pluck Piper right out of the apartment and whisk her away to safety. “Piper, that’s really dangerous!” she squeaked. “He could be anybody! A murderer! A crook!”
“A backstabber?” Piper said, pointedly. She fixed her pale green eyes on Ali, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Ali snapped her lips together. She deserved that.
“What do you want?” Piper asked, curtly.
“I came here to ask for your help,” Ali said. Dave now had his feet up on the monstrosity of a coffee table, and the bottoms of his white socks were gray with dirt. “But now I’ve seen this place, I think I’m going to offer my help instead. Piper, you can’t stay here.”
“Well, I can’t exactly afford anywhere else on my wages,” Piper replied, slinging her towel over one shoulder and folding her arms in a hostile, defensive manner. “Meds and therapy aren’t cheap, you know.”
That hit Ali right where it hurt. She felt guilt swirl inside of her all over again. When she’d rashly offered Piper work back in the diner, she hadn’t even considered any of the extra responsibilities that might entail. She felt awful that her young employee, who she’d so gallantly thought she was taking under her wing, felt unable to talk to her about her health and financial struggles. Far from saving Piper, Ali had let her down.
“You’re right,” Ali said with a sigh of deep, genuine sorrow. “And listen, I’m going to give you a pay raise, okay? Enough for you to afford one of the cottages down on the beach near me. They’re small and a bit rundown, but they’re a damn sight safer than here. I’ll call my landlord, see what he has available.”
The frown that had been on Piper’s face since the moment she’d realized it was Ali on her doorstep started to smooth out. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” Ali replied. “And I’ll write you a contract. Get you on payroll. I’ll look into a health insurance plan to cover you. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that stuff before. I’m new to all this. You’re the first person I’ve ever hired.”
Piper unfolded her arms, dropping her guarded stance. A look of guilt flitted across her features. “I feel bad now.”
“Don’t,” Ali said, immediately. “That’s just your anxiety telling you to feel bad. I’m your boss, I have a responsibility to make sure you’re okay. And I will do that. If you’ll let me.”
Piper twisted her lips, as if reneging slightly on her earlier stance. “How do I know I can trust you again after what happened at Best Hot Dogs?”
Ali’s stomach clenched with shame as the memory of that moment came back to her in full force; the look of betrayal in Piper’s eyes; the sinking realization that she’d gotten everything completely wrong.
“I’m really, truly sorry about that,” Ali said.
Piper seemed to have tensed up again. “It was really mean.”
“It was,” Ali said, nodding her agreement. “And I was acting irrationally. Immorally. This whole thing—the murder, my bakery closing—it’s put an enormous strain on me.” She thought of Gangster Joe and his mafiosos. “I’ve made a bunch of really terrible calls recently.” She shook herself. She was getting sidetracked from the task at hand—apologizing to Piper in a way that adequately conveyed her genuine regret. “I’m not trying to excuse myself. I should never have invaded your privacy like that. It was wrong.”
“Did Seth spill the food over me on purpose?” Piper asked in a small voice. “To get me out of the way so you could look in my bag?”
“Yes,” Ali replied, her voice shrouded with shame. “I asked him to.”
“But why?” Piper asked.
She sounded like a child who’d been picked on attempting to understand their bully’s motivation.
“I thought… “ Ali began, then paused. How could she say it? “I thought you might have poisoned Brandon.”
Piper’s expression fell, in a dramatic, sudden way. Her mouth, her eyes, her blond brows, they all turned down as Ali’s awful admission hit home.
“You thought—” she stuttered. “You thought I’d killed someone?” It was back again, that childlike, incredulous, pained squeak of incomprehension. “Why?!”
Ali’s stomach dropped all the way to her toes. Her throat tightened. Piper was betrayed all over again.
“I was following wherever my leads took me,” Ali said, her explanation sounding inadequate now even to her own ears.
“They led you to me?” Piper cried. “How? Why?”
“Because I found out about your old job,” Ali admitted. “The one on the boardwalk last summer, selling popcorn. Your old boss told me all about it. Willow Bay is a small community. I was going to find out sooner or later. Why didn
’t you tell me yourself? If I’d known you’d met Brandon before and that he was responsible for you having gotten fired last summer, then I might not have jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
The fury left Piper, and she slumped her shoulder against the doorjamb, as if suddenly exhausted by everything.
“I didn’t want you to know I’d been fired before,” she said in a weary voice. “I thought you might change your mind about hiring me if you found out about my track record. And when I heard Brandon was coming to town, I realized I had to pretend like I’d never seen him before or else you’d work it out. I guess I owe you an apology too.” She chewed on her bottom lip, a look of guilt on her face.
“How about we just wipe the slate clean?” Ali said. “Start afresh?”
Piper seemed hesitant. Finally, she nodded. “I’d like that. Only… the bakery is closed now, isn’t it? We won’t be able to start anything afresh.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” Ali said. “It’s why I came here in the first place. I think I worked out who killed Brandon.”
Piper looked surprised. “You did?”
Ali nodded. “Yes. But I need your help identifying them. If I’m right, we could be back in business as early as tomorrow. What do you say?”
A smile stretched across Piper’s lips. “I’m in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The two women hurried down the hill, heading for the upmarket part of town where La Vie En Rose was located. It felt a bit like going from one world to another—from Piper’s dilapidated neighborhood hidden behind the hills, to the swanky, ocean-fronted glass buildings on the other side.
“Where are we going again?” Piper asked. Her hair had quickly dried in the heat of the sunshine, and fell like pale golden silk down her back. “I’ve not been to this part of town before.”
“La Vie En Rose,” Ali explained, leading the way to the fancy restaurant Seth had taken her on their date.
“Why?”
“It will make sense when we get there.”
Ali hadn’t wanted to explain too much to Piper at the outset, because she didn’t want to influence her in any way. She needed it to come as a surprise. Only the girl’s unfiltered reaction could prove, or disprove, her hypothesis.
They reached the glass doors, and Ali tugged on the golden door bar to open them. A gust of cool air conditioning whooshed from inside, making Ali suddenly aware of the beads of sweat on her neck. But it wasn’t just the hot sunshine making her sweat. It was the nervous anticipation of what she was here to do…
The same server who’d been on duty the night of Ali’s date was standing at the wooden podium. “Good afternoon,” he said, his smile accentuating the deep laugh lines either side of his mouth. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We’re here for a business meeting,” Ali said. “I’m Ali. This is my assistant, Piper. We’re from Seaside Sweets to meet with Jennifer Cliff.”
In her peripheral vision, Ali could see Piper shoot her a panicked look. As the server glanced down at his book, Ali quickly met her eye, silently attempting to convey that there was no need for alarm. Of course, that in itself was a bit rich, considering she was about to accuse a woman of murder. Needless to say, her silent communication did nothing to calm Piper’s evident worry.
“I don’t see anything in the book,” the server said. He picked the phone and dialed an internal code. “I have two women here for a business meeting,” he said into the receiver. “They’re from Seaside Sweets.”
Ali could hear the distorted response coming through the earpiece; Jennifer Cliff sounded positively delighted.
“Will do,” the man said into the phone. He returned it to the receiver. “She’s on her way down. If you could excuse me, please.” He looked past them. A couple had come in behind while they were talking. Ali had been so hyper-focused on her mission, she hadn’t even noticed.
She and Piper stepped aside, tucking themselves out of the way next to a large tank filled with tropical fish, as the busy restaurant ebbed and flowed around them.
“Ali, what’s going on here?” Piper asked under her breath.
“Just trust me,” Ali told her. “It will all make sense in a minute.”
Just then, Jennifer Cliff appeared, coming around the side of the fish tank, craning her head in search of them. She was dressed in a crimson peplum top and tight black pants, her dark hair in the same half-bouffant style as she had when Ali first met her.
“There you are,” she said, smiling invitingly. She stretched her arm all the way out for Ali to shake. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Ali took her hand. Jennifer Cliff had a vigorous, overenthusiastic handshake.
“And you,” Ali replied. She gestured to Piper beside her. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing my assistant along. This is Piper.”
Jennifer let go of Ali’s hand and took Piper’s.
A sudden look of recognition passed between the two women. Jennifer’s was so fleeting, Ali knew she had consciously cleaned the expression off her face. Piper’s, meanwhile, remained on her face.
“Oh gee, I know you!” she said with all her innocent, friendly, southern-girl charm.
Jennifer took a very distinctive step backward, almost as if reeling in astonishment, though she quickly tried to play it off by saying, “You do?”
“Yeah,” Piper replied. “I never forget a face. You were in the bakery the other day, asking about the macarons. I guess it must’ve been macaron launch day.” She laughed at her own ditziness.
“That’s ringing a bell,” Jennifer said, sounding extremely evasive. Her eyes had started darting nervously all over the place.
“Yes, I remember,” Piper continued. “Because you needed to see the ingredients. Your kid has an allergy or something, wasn’t it?”
She looked extremely proud of herself for remembering the details of Jennifer’s visit. Ali had expressly told her to try and remember the customers in order to foster brand loyalty. People were far more inclined to buy coffee from a person who knew their name and asked after their kids than someone who treated them like a faceless, nameless cash cow.
“That’s right,” Jennifer said, nervously running her hands down the folds in her peplum top.
Ali observed her reaction with curiosity. Her behavior was only serving to fuel her suspicions.
“Too bad about what happened later…” Piper said. Then her smile faltered. The penny was starting to drop.
Bingo, Ali thought. Piper had confirmed what she’d suspected all along. Jennifer Cliff had visited the bakery on the day of Brandon’s murder. The disgruntled woman had seen an opportunity to get her own back on him and was framing Ali for the crime.
Just how she’d slipped the poison into the macaron, or why she’d chosen Ali’s bakery of the many establishments along the boardwalk to frame, Ali didn’t know yet. But that’s what she’d come here to find out. Jennifer Cliff was about to experience an Ali Sweet style interrogation.
“Would you two like to come with me?” Jennifer said, her tone suddenly clipped. She gestured with her arm toward the back corridor. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Ali replied, thinly. “I believe we do.”
She followed.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The three women settled into the back office of La Vie En Rose. It was far away enough from the dining area of the restaurant for the piano music to be drowned out, but close enough for the delicious scent of food from the kitchen to linger in the air. Ali thought about the prawn linguine Brandon Lennox had scathingly attacked in his blog post, the supposed catalyst for this whole debacle.
Imagine being murdered for criticizing prawn linguine, she thought.
The shunt of Jennifer Cliff’s chair legs on the carpet snapped Ali back to attention.
“I must say, it’s quite unusual for people to bring their staff to business meetings,” Jennifer said, opening a binder and sliding out a pen. She clicked the lid. “I wasn�
��t aware your till operator would be joining us today.”
“Oh, Piper’s actually my assistant,” Ali said. “We make all our business decisions together.”
In the seat beside her, Piper puffed up with pride. And while Ali had initially only brought her along to confirm what she suspected, that Jennifer Cliff had been in Seaside Sweets shortly before Brandon’s murder, she was now glad to have someone in this with her. There was still the all-important interrogation to get through…
Jennifer blinked at Ali’s statement, like her mind couldn’t compute. She seemed to give up on trying to understand, and smiled, in a well-practiced, professional, and detached way.
“Well, I’m very glad you decided to discuss a possible business venture with me today,” she continued. Before adding, a little skeptically, “Both of you.”
Piper beamed. “We’re thrilled to be here,” she said.
Either her southern-girl charm was showing, or she was much better at acting personable than Jennifer Cliff was.
Once again, Jennifer blinked at the pair of them. Then she looked down at her binder and began to flip through the colorful page-tags. “Yes. I’m very excited at the prospect of adding your macarons to La Vie En Rose’s new afternoon tea menu,” she said, finding the section she was after; a brochure secured in a pocket punch folder. She slid the brochure out and handed it over to Ali. “These are our quarterlies and projections.”
Ali scanned the first page. “I can see why you’re exploring new avenues, since your finances are on a downward trajectory.” She looked up, locking eyes with Jennifer. “Let me guess, you got a one-star on Yelp?”
Jennifer’s mouth pinched. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, it’s just how it goes, isn’t it?” Ali continued, trying to sound nonchalant. “In this era of social media. It’s like having a school yard full of bullies behind you twenty-four hours a day. I have my own one-star Yelper. Miriyam, from Kookies. You might have met her. She’s running a one-man hate campaign against me. A sort of death by a thousand cuts assassination attempt. So far, I’ve been lucky and weathered the storm. She’s not that big of a deal.” She pointed at the graph in front of her, at the place where the profits began to dip. The dates corresponded with Brandon’s blog attack on La Vie En Rose. “Looks like your reviewer was far more influential though!”