by Fiona Grace
“This is preposterous,” the clerk said. “I thought you were a nice girl. Richard Sweet’s daughter. But clearly you take after your mother.”
Ali was too focused on the murder to actually take offense at that statement. “Oh I’m Richard Sweet’s daughter, all right,” she said. “I won’t stand for injustice. For revenge. For petty retribution. You killed a man! Why? Because you didn’t like what he wrote about your store?”
“I did it for my granddaughter!” the clerk suddenly yelled.
Silence fell. Ali felt her vision go twenty-twenty, her senses finely attuned. Beside her, Detective Callihan became suddenly very alert as well.
“Your granddaughter?” Ali repeated.
“She was part of Brandon’s crew,” the clerk said, his shoulder slumping with defeat. “Before he made any money. Back when he was just a food critic, before he became this silly version of himself. She was one of the first people to work for him, for free, too, because she was sure he’d make it one day. Then he met that awful Jordan character.”
“Jordan?” Ali asked.
“The cameraman,” the clerk continued. “He steered him in the wrong direction. My granddaughter wasn’t happy—she and Brandon were romantically involved, you see, and Jordan kept pushing him toward prank videos that were making him physically unwell, not to mention putting his safety at risk. But Brandon sided with Jordan. Instead of listening to her concern, he fired her. He broke that poor girl’s heart.”
Ali was stunned as she listened to the story unfold. “You killed Brandon because he broke your granddaughter’s heart?” she said, incredulously. “Kids go through breakups all the time. Are you planning on murdering every single guy who hurts her?”
“Brandon wasn’t the one I was trying to hurt!” the clerk cried.
Ali suddenly realized what he was implying. “It was Jordan…”
The clerk nodded sadly. “And it wasn’t because of a broken heart, it was because of a broken spirit. I watched my vibrant, talented granddaughter lose her hope … and her trust in mankind. I watched her give up on her dreams. Jordan ruined Brandon, and ruined my granddaughter in turn. She tried to sue them for loss of earnings, but failed. She had a breakdown. She was left penniless. Hopeless. Destitute. It was the most painful experience of my life.”
“Even so,” Ali countered, “that’s no reason to kill a man.”
“He wasn’t supposed to die,” the clerk said, shaking his head sadly. “Brandon emailed me, saying he was coming to the boardwalk to do a video, and he wanted to make amends with me for what had happened.”
Ali realized then that must’ve been how the rumors of Brandon’s visit first got out.
“All I wanted to do was give them a taste of their own medicine,” the clerk continued. “So when he and Jordan came in here that day, acting like all they needed to do was apologize and it would make all the bad blood go away, I pretended it was fine, that I’d accepted their apology. I gave them plenty of sweets as a gesture of good will, strong-flavored ones like the blue-black licorice, that could mask the taste of the super-strength laxatives I’d pre-laced them with.”
“Laxatives?” Ali parroted, almost in disbelief.
“That was all I was trying to do,” the clerk said. And suddenly, his shoulders began to shake. Huge, great sobs overtook him. “I promise that was all I ever meant to do!” he wailed.
Astonished by the admission, Ali turned to face Detective Callihan to see whether he was buying the explanation. By the sucked-in expression on his face, she deduced he was not.
“Laxatives don’t kill people,” the detective said.
“It was mag—mag—magnesium sulfate,” the clerk choked out, before collapsing forward against the till into his arms and sobbing uncontrollably.
Ali again studied Detective Callihan’s reaction. This time, his skepticism had disappeared, and a look of understanding had come over him.
“What is magnesium sulfate?” she asked.
“It’s a type of salt, one that has very swift laxative effects. In most people, it’s safe to consume. Too much will give them nothing more than a bad stomach. But if someone already has high blood pressure, it can cause an electrolyte imbalance, toxicity… and death.”
“Brandon ate processed food for a living,” Ali said with a gasp of understanding.
Detective Callihan nodded. “His blood pressure was probably already catastrophically high from his lifestyle. The last thing he needed was an extra-strong serving of highly absorbable salt…”
The clerk looked up from his arms. “I didn’t mean to hurt him! I’m sorry!”
Ali continued to Detective Callihan. “The gum Brandon was chewing is still stuck to my sandwich board. If you test it, you might find the magnesium sulfate in it.”
“You’re right,” Detective Callihan. “Go and tell Piper not to touch it.” He took the handcuffs from his belt. “I’ll get this guy down to the station.”
Ali turned to look at the blubbering clerk as he spoke, and was just in time to see him disappear through a swing door behind the counter.
“He’s getting away!” she cried.
Detective Callihan shoved the handcuffs back into his belt and sprang into action, leaping in full action-hero style over the counter, before disappearing through the same swing doors after him. He moved so quickly, they’d not had a chance to stop swinging.
Scruff started barking at all the excitement.
“Quick!” Ali told him. “Let’s go and block his escape route!”
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Ali rushed out of the candy store and onto the sidewalk. To her surprise, the clerk had already made it out the back exit and around the front to the street. He took one look at her and pelted across the road without even looking.
Car horns blared. Tires screeched. The heavy traffic zigzagged in all directions as they attempted to avoid hitting the crazed man running straight in front of them. A large truck slammed to a halt right in front of Ali, blocking her view.
With the traffic now come to a standstill, Ali ground her teeth and she took off after him, following the path of chaos he’d left in his wake.
Car horns honked as she darted across, weaving and dodging until her feet landed on the other side.
Ali was surprised to find herself remarkably unscathed—excepted for her burning lungs and cramping calves muscles. She looked left and right for the clerk. He was halfway up the road, heading toward the underground parking lot. Ali ran.
As her legs pounded, Ali realized Detective Callihan and Scruff were nowhere in sight. She must’ve left them on the other side of the road when she’d darted across. She was alone.
She reached the entrance to the parking lot and shadows swallowed her as she headed down the slope, her footsteps echoing around the large space. She halted, her chest heaving from the sprint, and listened out for the sound of the clerk’s footsteps.
Instead, she heard the sudden sound of a car’s engine revving to life. Two bright headlamps dazzled her.
Ali instinctively shielded her eyes with her arm and gasped, before realizing what was happening. The car was coming right for her, accelerating toward the exit she was blocking!
She had just a second to react. Inspired perhaps by Detective Callihan’s earlier movie-hero move, Ali jumped onto the hood of the car and clung on for dear life.
The car drove up the ramp and out into the hot, bright sunshine. Through the windshield, Ali could see the clerk, who appeared to be panicking at the fact she was attached to his vehicle. Ali was panicking too. She’d not thought this through! What if he swerved and threw her off into the passing traffic?
As it stood, there was no passing traffic, because the road was still gridlocked from where their chase had halted the cars, and just like that, the clerk promptly crashed into the back of another car at standstill.
“Oof!” Ali cried, losing her grip. She went rolling, and landed right way up on the trunk of the car they’d rear-ended. It was almos
t elegant.
Through the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, Ali heard the whomp of the clerk’s crash bag inflating, and saw the big pillowy white through the windshield fill up and pin him to his seat. Then she heard a bark and turned to see Scruff come hurrying toward her. He leapt up onto the trunk beside her.
“Get off of there!” the driver who’d been rear-ended screamed angrily.
Ali took Scruff in her arms and slid down from the trunk, her feet landing on asphalt. Her legs wobbled beneath her. She couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done, and was stunned to be all in one piece. Scruff licked her cheek to congratulate her.
Suddenly, Detective Callihan was there.
“Ali, you good?” he cried as he hurried past her toward the clerk’s door.
“I’m good,” she said, nodding.
Detective Callihan pulled open the driver’s door and shouted, “Hands where I can see them!” at the groaning clerk inside. He removed his handcuffs from his belt. “Sir, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Brandon Lennox.”
Ali watched as Detective Callihan cuffed the clerk and removed him from the vehicle. He looked dazed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done either. It seemed as if he’d made mistake after mistake. Bad decision after bad decision. Everything had snowballed from one mistake into a huge catastrophe.
Suddenly, Ali wondered if everything he’d said to her before about her father had been a lie as well, a diversion tactic.
“Wait,” she called to Detective Callihan. “Before you take him away, I need to ask him something.”
Detective Callihan glanced around. His backup vehicles were still a fair way off, impeded by the traffic that had built up around the scene.
“Be my guest,” he said with a little shrug.
Ali made eye contact with the ashamed-looking clerk. “What you said about my dad, was that just to throw me off the scent?”
The clerk shook his head. “No. It’s true. I really did see your dad a couple of years back.”
“Where? When?” Ali fired at him. “Do you know where he is now?”
He shook his head. “You should ask Lavinia.”
At the sound of the fortune teller’s name, Ali’s eyes widened. Did he mean ask Lavinia because he believed she truly had fortune telling powers, or because the woman actually knew something about what had happened to her father?
“Why Lavinia?” Ali questioned.
But her voice was drowned out by the sound of the sirens as Detective Callihan’s backup arrived. The detective hauled the clerk up from the hood, ready to guide him to the awaiting vehicle.
“Why Lavinia?” Ali cried again at the clerk, growing more desperate.
The clerk said nothing as he stumbled under the force of Detective Callihan’s grip.
“Sorry, Ali,” the detective said. “Time’s up.”
“No, wait,” Ali pleaded with him. “I need to know!”
But it was no use. Detective Callihan was not to be swayed. He shook his head and tugged the clerk away.
Ali watched, dazed, stunned, and confused, as the clerk was guided into the backseat of a cop car, taking his cryptic clue with him.
EPILOGUE
“They’ve gone,” Piper announced.
Ali peered from the counter where she’d just finished laying out the rainbow macarons, and looked at Piper. She was peering at a laptop.
“What’s gone?”
“The posts from Miriyam,” Piper said.
“You worked out how to delete them?” Ali asked, surprised.
Piper smirked. “No. I had words and she took them down.”
Ali raised her eyebrows. “You ‘had words’? What does that mean?” Images of Piper threatening Miriyam Fat Tony style flickered through her head.
“Oh, you know,” Piper said, tossing her glossy blond hair over her shoulder. “I just threatened legal action.” She grinned mischievously. “Slander. Et cetera.”
Ali chuckled. “I’m impressed. And grateful.”
Piper batted the compliment away. “It was the least I could do.”
“No, I mean it,” Ali said. “You really came through for me, Piper. I’m surprised you even forgave me after what I did to you.”
“It’s water under the bridge,” Piper told her. “Ooh, speaking of bridges, I saw my new therapist. She’s lovely.”
“I’m glad,” Ali said, relieved that the health care package she’d purchased was up to par. “But what’s that got to do with bridges?”
“Her name is Bridget,” Piper said with a little shrug. “Did I forget to say that bit?”
Ali laughed. “Right. I think it’s time to open back up. Don’t you think?”
Piper nodded.
Ali went over to the door and opened it.
To her surprise, Seth was standing there waiting. Ali’s stomach flip-flopped at the sight of him.
“Hey!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you saved the day and caught the bad guy,” Seth said, with his characteristic mischievous smile. “I came to congratulate you.” He pulled a red rose from behind his back.
“A rose?” Ali asked, smirking.
“It’s corny,” Seth said, “I know.”
Ali grinned. “It’s not corny! I love roses. I just don’t associate them with congratulations, is all.”
“What do you associate them with?” Seth asked slyly.
“Romance…” Ali said.
“Oh I see,” Seth joked. “In that case, perhaps we should redo our first date, since you ran out on me? Or was that a non-date? I forget.”
Ali laughed. “I’d love to,” she said. “Just one condition.”
“Yes?” Seth asked.
“We don’t go to La Vie En Rose.”
“It’s a deal,” Seth said. He took a step back, a flirty smirk on his lips. “I’ll call you…”
And with that, he turned and left.
Ali clutched the rose as she watched him go, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Then she spotted someone on the boardwalk watching her, and her stomach dropped. It was Nate.
He flashed her a sad smile and a half-wave, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts and sauntering away, head bowed.
Ali felt awful. She was about to go after him, but to say what? He’d seen her flirting with his own two eyes. He’d seen the rose. There was no way to make that any better.
Filled with conflicted emotions, Ali headed back inside the bakery. But barely a second later, she heard the bell go over the door as it was opened again. A disheveled-looking woman entered.
It took Ali a moment to realize it was Jennifer Cliff. She looked far from her usual elegant self, wearing gray sweats. Her hair was flat and scraped back into a messy bun.
“Jennifer?” Ali exclaimed, surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”
Jennifer smoothed a hand across her flyaways. “I came to apologize,” she said.
“Apologize?” Ali replied. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I was the one in the wrong. I thought you checking the ingredients for allergens was a ruse when all along you were telling the truth.”
Jennifer shook her head resolutely. “I wasn’t telling the truth. The kid with allergies was a ruse, you were right about that. I don’t even have kids.”
Ali frowned. She didn’t understand. “Then what were you doing?”
“Stealing your recipes,” Jennifer said. “I was… planning on undercutting you all along.”
Ali faltered. “I don’t understand.”
“The business deal,” Jennifer said. “I was only going to run it long enough to get your brand name associated with the macarons, then I was going to end it and make them in-house. We do it all the time. The customers are none the wiser.”
“Oh,” Ali said, feeling flabbergasted. “That’s… well, that’s really underhanded of you. I’m a small business owner, just like you are. I’m not the enemy.”
“I know,�
�� Jennifer said in a small voice. “And being thrown in jail overnight thinking I was about to get charged with pilfering trade secrets was a sobering experience, mark my words. I won’t be doing it again in a hurry.”
Ali pressed her lips into a thin line. Jennifer Cliff may well have been scared straight by her twenty-four hours behind bars, but Ali was in no doubt she would’ve continued on her immoral business practices had she not been caught. People like Jennifer Cliff were never really sorry, they were only ever sorry they’d been caught.
“Anyway,” Jennifer said with a big sigh. “I just wanted to come in and clear the air. I probably won’t see you in La Vie En Rose again. And, well, I won’t bother you here either.”
Ali gave a tight nod. “Goodbye, Jennifer,” she said, coolly.
*
Ali sank into her couch at the end of her very long reopening day at the bakery. She gazed at the single red rose Seth had given her, which she placed in a glass vase.
She was excited for their do-over date. But her mind was still full of everything she’d learned. The candy clerk had assured her he was telling the truth about her father. If he’d been to Willow Bay as recently as a couple of years ago, that meant he wasn’t as distant as Ali had always presumed.
She made a resolution right there and then. She would find her dad.
Just then, she heard a knock at the door. It didn’t concern her quite as much as the first knock, because at least now she wasn’t expecting murder detectives to show up, and knew it might just be Delaney, so she trotted over and pulled it open.
It was Nate. And he was holding a huge bunch of shasta daisies. They were so large, he was cradling them in his arms.
Ali gasped. “Nate?” she exclaimed, gazing at the giant daisies. “Those are my favorite flowers. How did you know?”
“Because you told me,” he said. “Your dad took you to a theme park when you were little, called Giant Land. And when you realized the daisies were real, you said they were your favorite. So your dad bought you seeds for your birthday but you were never able to get them to grow.”
Ali was taken aback by the amount of details Nate had remembered. “How… how do you remember all that stuff?”