Beachfront Bakery 02 - A Murderous Macaron

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Beachfront Bakery 02 - A Murderous Macaron Page 19

by Fiona Grace


  “OOF!” Ali cried, slamming into the back of the slim, blond woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  She stopped speaking as the woman swirled. Pale green eyes. Fuchsia top. It was Piper.

  “Piper!” Ali cried, hugging her tightly.

  “They released you,” Piper said.

  Ali nodded. “And you? Are you okay? I’m sorry I got you dragged down to the station.”

  Piper shook her head. “Don’t be. It was actually kind fun. And useful. My agent got me an audition for a cop show, so it’s all good research.”

  Ali smiled with delight. “Oh, Piper, that’s fantastic. What is the role?”

  “Corpse Two,” Piper said, proudly.

  Ali chuckled and looped her arm through Piper’s. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m exhausted.”

  “Me too,” Piper said, yawning deeply. As they headed to the exit, she added as an aside, “I wonder if Dave will let me borrow the duvet tonight. I feel like curling up all nestled away.”

  Ali cast her eyes over to the young woman. “Piper, please don’t tell me you and Dave take turns using the duvet?”

  Piper shook her head. “No! Don’t be ridiculous. The duvet is Dave’s. He just lets me borrow it sometimes.”

  That was worse!

  “What do you sleep under, Piper?” Ali asked, growing increasingly aghast.

  “I have one of those thingies. You know, the net things.”

  “A mosquito net?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Oh, Piper!” Ali exclaimed. “That’s it. I can’t bear this any longer. You’re coming with me.”

  They headed out into the dark, warm evening.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “You sure you don’t want the bed?” Ali asked Piper, as she handed her a spare blanket. “I don’t mind taking the couch.”

  “Absolutely not,” Piper told her. “My daddy would throw a fit if he found out I forced my host to give up their bed!” She patted the couch cushions beside her. “I’ll be perfectly fine here.”

  The two women had returned to Ali’s apartment following their interviews at the station, both weary from the long, emotionally drawn out day. Ali had convinced Piper to stay over rather than return to her sketchy apartment in the dark.

  “Well, if you insist,” Ali said. “Sleep well. We’ve got a lot to get done tomorrow morning.”

  Piper yawned. “Five a.m. wake-up call. Makes me sleepy just thinking about it.”

  Ali smiled and headed to her bedroom.

  Piper, having been unofficially promoted to assistant, had agreed to start working the standard baker’s hours alongside Ali. And while the health inspector wouldn’t be arriving until nine, there was plenty of work for the pair to be getting on with in advance of the bakery reopening. Ali wanted to pass on all the social media responsibilities to Piper, who was significantly more adept at that side of things than she herself was. Perhaps she could find some way of erasing Miriyam’s nasty thought bubbles off their website’s comments section.

  Ali climbed into bed, her body weary from the long day. She’d expected to drop straight to sleep, but her mind felt unsettled.

  She blinked up at the ceiling. She should’ve been on a high. She’d solved the case. She’d be getting her bakery back tomorrow. She patched things up with Piper. Life was about to return to normal. But instead, Ali felt a strange sense of disquiet.

  Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, Ali was struck by the sudden, nagging doubt that one of the threads Detective Elton had tied up for her in the interview room was still loose. That something wasn’t adding up.

  She tossed and turned in bed, wracking her mind to find out what was bothering her, before finally deducing it must just be nerves about tomorrow. If everything went well with the health inspector, she’d be getting her bakery back, and her life would be on track once again. There’d be plenty to organize—Piper’s contract and health plan, the macaron relaunch, to name a few—and Ali was probably just antsy to get it all going. That nagging feeling was just coming from all the items on her to-do list popping into her mind.

  Yes, that’s all it is, Ali reassured herself.

  And with that thought in her head, she drifted off to sleep.

  *

  “Is that him?” Piper asked, pointing to the bakery some distance away from where she and Ali were currently strolling side by side along the boardwalk. “The health inspector?”

  Ali squinted. Her eyes were fatigued from a fitful night’s sleep plagued with anxiety and dread, and a terrible, gnawing feeling that something just wasn’t right. It was a feeling she’d not been able to shake all morning, even as she’d talked Piper through the various administrative ins and outs of running the bakery.

  “He’s early,” Ali said, her gaze finally falling on a man in a suit pacing the boardwalk in the space between Emilio’s and Marco’s respective outside dining areas. “And he’s brought company.” A second man was standing at a distance from the first, his knee crooked against the outer wall of the bakery, his arms folded.

  Ali’s heart skipped, fearing for a sudden moment it was Fat Tony, or Joe, or one of the other mafioso here to even the score. But, frowning with confusion, she realized it was Detective Callihan.

  “Correction,” Ali said to Piper “He brought… backup?”

  “I guess he deals with a lot of grumpy people in his line of work,” Piper said, with a shrug.

  The last thing Ali wanted on her reopening day was any kind of association with the cops! But she figured it was a small price to pay for Detective Elton’s favor.

  The women walked up the waiting men.

  “Morning all,” Piper exclaimed, cheerfully. So much for being groggy in the morning; it seemed Piper was actually a natural early bird. She was going to suit the baker’s life very well.

  “Good morning,” the inspector said, looking a bit perplexed that someone had greeted him with warmth rather than hostility. He was a funny-looking guy, with a long bony nose, small chin, and slim, ostrich-like neck. In his brown checkered shirt and blue slacks, he looked like the sort of guy who spent his free time doing crosswords and math puzzles. Ali suspected he was a whiz at Sudoku.

  Detective Callihan pushed up from the wall. “Let’s get this over with,” he said. He was clearly far from thrilled to be here. “I have actual work to be doing, instead of babysitting Elton’s evidence handovers.”

  Ah, that’s why he’s here, Ali thought. Detective Elton had assigned him to hand over the keys. She really had come through for Ali.

  Wearing gloves, the detective removed Ali’s keys from a clear evidence baggie and twisted them in the lock.

  “What?” he said, defensively, when he caught Ali watching. “They’re still Willow Bay police evidence until Mr. Williams here signs the paperwork. I’m just doing my job.”

  Ali held her hands in truce. “I never said a word.”

  Detective Callihan huffed and shoved the door to the bakery open. “After you,” he barked.

  Clearly, he was still miffed about Ali ruining his date last night, and having Detective Elton assign him this task for Ali’s benefit, and to his detriment, had added insult to injury.

  Ali paced inside the bakery. The dust that had been stirred from their sudden intrusion sparkled welcomingly in the morning light. The familiar smell of pastry wrapped her in comfort. She paused briefly to let it sink in. She was back. The nightmare was over. Like the sparkling dust now settling, the case would soon be settled too, and life would go back to normal.

  Piper clapped a hand on Ali’s shoulder. “It sure feels good to be home.”

  Ali smiled. “Just one more formality to overcome.”

  She nodded at Mr. Williams, the health inspector, as he got straight to work, following some kind of list procedure on his clipboard. Every little scritchy check mark he made sent a wave of joy through Ali, and the troubled feeling that had kept her awake last night started to dissipate. It must’ve just been the an
ticipation of this moment disturbing her, some kind of misplaced worry that her luck would turn and everything would go wrong at the last minute.

  Speaking of everything going wrong… Ali looked over and saw the forlorn figure of Detective Callihan standing alone beside the window seats. He was staring absentmindedly at his fingernails, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Ali looked at Piper. “Can you accompany Mr. Williams?” she asked. “I think I have an apology to make.”

  “Sure thing,” Piper said. She headed over to the health inspector and began chatting merrily. They disappeared into the kitchen together.

  Ali steeled herself, then sidled up to Detective Callihan. “I’m sorry about your date last night,” she said.

  He glowered at her. “It wasn’t a date.”

  Ali blinked, surprised. “It wasn’t? But Detective Elton said—”

  “Detective Elton doesn’t know anything about my personal life,” he interjected. “We’re colleagues, not friends.”

  His tone was clipped. Positively hostile. Ali felt herself recoil instinctively, bumping her rear end on the chair behind her. It was the same chair Callihan had helped her into after she’d nearly fainted. She hardly recognized him as the same man anymore, the man who’d shown her kindness, who’d brought coffee and pastries for all his staff members.

  “Sebastian, is everything okay?” Ali asked him.

  The detective tensed. Then he let out a long, weary exhalation.

  “I’m getting divorced,” he said. “That ‘date’ I was on? It was with my wife. My one last-ditch attempt to prove to her she matters more to me than my job.” He let out a wry, mournful laugh. “As you know, I flunked.”

  Ali’s heart dropped with pity. No wonder he’d been so furious with her for meddling. Her actions had driven the final nail in the coffin of his marriage.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ali said, with sympathy.

  “Don’t be,” Detective Callihan replied. He looked at her, his dark eyes earnest. “She was right, wasn’t she? I do care more about my job than her. Last night was proof. And it’s something we’ve both known for ages. It was a long time coming. And to be honest with you, I’m relieved.”

  “You are?” Ali asked, surprised.

  “Kate and I started dating when we were fifteen,” he explained. “We were twenty when we married. We felt so grown up at the time, but looking back now, we were just kids. We had no idea then how life would change us, shape us, and how our wants and needs and … desires would change.” He scratched his neck, looking a little awkward. “We were clinging on to something we both knew we’d lost years ago.” He smiled. There was a hint of sorrow in his face, but more than that, there was an expression of hope. “We’ve agreed we’re better as friends. And I’m going to try and get a promotion. It’s weird, isn’t it? One door closes, another opens…”

  Ali nodded slowly. She understood. How many warning signs about Otis had she willfully ignored? How much of herself had she changed in order to force something that was never meant to be? And look at what had happened when the door on their relationship closed. She’d come here, to Willow Bay. She’d opened her bakery. Met Delaney. Piper. Discovered her father was still alive. The truth, in one way or another, always came to light eventually, and it was the truth that set you free.

  Just then, the health inspector stepped out of the kitchen and tore a page from his clipboard. Carbon paper, Ali noted, that made a copy on subsequent sheets beneath it. He placed the yellow original sheet in his folder, then handed the second pink copy to Detective Callihan. As he presented the final green copy to Ali, he announced, “Clean bill of health.”

  “Really?” Ali squealed with joy. She clutched the paper in her hands. The check marks were faint on her duplicate of a duplicate of a duplicate, but they were there, along with the signature. Her heart soared.

  “Well, almost clean,” Mr. Williams said with a paternalistic edge to his voice. “You do have one minor infraction to address.”

  “Oh?” Ali asked, her eyes scanning the page for the single X she’d received. “What for? I’ll fix it right away.”

  “Your sandwich board,” Mr. Williams said. “Don’t store it in the kitchen when it’s not in use, you can accidentally carry dangerous bacteria into your kitchen—dog pee, bird droppings, that sort of thing. Keep it here in the dining area. And clean it down once in a while.”

  Just then, Piper came waddling out of the kitchen carrying the Mr. Macaron sign in her hands.

  “As you can see, there’s a wad of gum stuck on it,” Mr. Williams continued. “Case in point. Human saliva is full of bacteria.”

  “Got it,” Ali said, nodding as she took in the sight of the peculiarly colored blue-black gum stuck on Mr. Macaron’s cheery pink face.

  Suddenly, Ali was hit by a memory. The gum had been Brandon’s. He’d stuck it on Mr. Macaron right before he came into the bakery. It had been her first impression of him. The second impression was that he looked far less healthy in real life than on the screen, paler, blotchier, his skin having an almost green-gray undertone. There’d been a glean of sweat on his brow. At the time, Ali had thought he had skilled editors to fix his complexion in post. But now, suddenly, a terrible, new explanation for Brandon’s sickly appearance fell into Ali’s mind. Brandon looked sick because he was sick. He’d been poisoned before he even set foot inside the bakery.

  All at once, Ali’s mind went into overdrive, so much so she could hardly see the people around her anymore. Detective Callihan’s words—“It’s all yours”—sounded like they were coming from far, far away. The jangle of her keys as he held them out to her sounded like a tolling bell.

  “I was wrong,” she blurted, her voice breathless.

  Detective Callihan, still holding the keys up for her to take, frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “I was wrong!” Ali cried again. The pieces were falling into horrible, damning place. This was the loose thread that had been plaguing her all night!

  Jennifer Cliff couldn’t have killed Brandon, because he’d been poisoned before he’d set foot inside her bakery! Whatever incriminating thing Jennifer had actually been doing with the ingredients had nothing to do with poisoning Brandon. Because why would she risk introducing herself to Ali at the restaurant? Why draw all that attention to herself with business propositions, rather than staying out of sight? She was up to something, sure, but it had absolutely nothing to do with Brandon.

  Detective Callihan jiggled the keys in front of Ali again, impatiently. “Ali. Can you just take the damn keys?”

  But Ali looked straight past him, straight at the cheeky, smiling face of Mr. Macaron, obscured by the blue-black wad of Brandon’s gum. And suddenly, she worked it all out. Suddenly, she knew who had poisoned Brandon Lennox. It was someone she hadn’t even suspected, not even for a second. Someone who’d easily, quietly, and unassumingly flown right under everyone’s radar.

  And with that thought, Ali hurried for the exit.

  “Ali?” Detective Callihan cried after her. “For Pete’s sake! What are you doing?”

  Ali didn’t even slow. She slid right out the door and took off down the boardwalk.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  “ALI!” Detective Callihan’s voice yelled from behind.

  Ali’s legs pounded along the boardwalk. She heard a bark, and turned to see Scruff come hurrying to heel. He looked excited to see her running like that, and was eager to join in the fun.

  “Good idea,” she panted. “I might need backup.”

  She turned off the boardwalk at the trash can where she’d discarded Seth’s hot dog and onto the road, halting as several cars passed. Then, as soon as the coast was clear, she pelted across the street to the opposite sidewalk, and burst in through the doors of the vintage candy store.

  The kind old clerk’s head darted up at her loud and sudden intrusion. He looked startled.

  “No dogs!” he exclaimed, his gaze going straight to Scru
ff, who had presumably decided to chance coming in with Ali since she’d not expressly told him to wait outside. Then, on realizing who the human accompanying the canine was, the clerk’s eyes widened, and his ears turned pink beneath his bushy tufts of white hair. “Miss Sweet? Is everything okay?”

  Before Ali had a chance to speak, Detective Callihan came careening in behind her.

  “Ali!” he exclaimed, bending forward, hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “What is going on?”

  Ali ignored both questions. Instead, her eyes frantically scanned the shelves and the glass jars of candy on display behind the counter. Finally, her gaze settled on what she was searching for. There, nestled among the yellow bonbons and pink candy shrimps, was a jar filled with gumballs. The color? A peculiar blue-black.

  “AHA!” Ali cried, pointing a finger at the man. “It was you! You poisoned Brandon! You laced the gum with poison!”

  The clerk frowned, holding his hands in the air. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to feign ignorance.

  But Ali had noticed the change in his demeanor. It was the same awkward stiffness that had overcome him when she’d last been in his store asking questions. Back then, she hadn’t known how to interpret his peculiar behavior, assuming it was something to do with her lost father and his past connection to him, but now she realized it was because she’d been getting too close to the truth. He was shifty because she’d told him she was investigating the murder of Brandon Lennox.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Ali accused. “You’ve been here for years. You’ve dealt with Brandon Lennox before. What happened? Was he rude to your face? Did he write a terrible review about you?”

  The clerk shook his head, still trying to keep up his baffled pretense. But Ali could see right through his act. He was a bad actor. His ears were giving him away. They were growing more and more red by the second.

 

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