Sprinkles of Suspicion

by Kim Davis

  “No, we’re good, Officer.” Tori gave him a smile and batted her eyelashes, but instead of looking sexy, she looked creepy with blood dripping from her lip. “I just tripped and fell.”

  “Can I get you medical assistance?” Officer Callahan asked her chest.

  “No. I’ll be okay. Right, Emory?”

  Officer Callahan finally looked at me. “Emory? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Larry.”

  He peered at my bloody lip. “Are you okay? Where’s Philip?”

  Good question. Where could that chicken husband of mine be?

  “I’m fine. I accidentally tripped when Tori did.” I looked back at the house and mumbled, “Philip’s using the bathroom. We’ll get cleaned up as soon as he’s out.”

  Larry looked back at Tori’s chest. “We got a call about a fight going on. Disturbing the peace.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him nothing had happened, but he glared at me and shook his head, so I closed it just as fast.

  “Now, if you ladies will take it back into the house and keep it quiet, I’ll be on my way. Make sure Philip calls when he’s available.”

  Officer Callahan adjusted his sunglasses and then got back in his vehicle. Once he had driven out of sight, Tori turned and limped up the steps to her house. I followed close behind but stopped short when she slammed the screen door in my face.

  “Get off my property,” Tori said with a snarl. “I don’t ever want you here again.”

  “I need to talk to Philip first.”

  “If he ever wants to see your ugly face again, he’ll call you.”

  I couldn’t help it. My voice escalated to a shrill shriek as I tried to yank open the screen door. “You’d better watch your back, Tori! I’m not going to let you get away with this!”

  “Go away. You don’t want the cops to come back. What would your mother think if you got arrested?”

  She knew me too well. My mother would be mortified. I backed down the steps and began the walk of shame to my bike.

  “Oh, Em?” Tori opened the screen door and stuck her head out. “You’re the one who’s going to regret this.”

  I limped down the block to my bicycle, happy to see it was still where I’d left it. I had dropped it to the ground in the middle of the sidewalk when I first spied Philip’s vehicle. I wheeled the bike around the corner and found a low concrete wall to sit on. Thick shrubs had been planted behind it to shield the house from the street. I touched my lip gingerly and winced when the gash stung. I imagined how swollen my lip must be. My bones ached, and I couldn’t fathom riding the bike home, so I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket and called my sister.

  “Carrie? Can you come pick me up?”

  “Where are you? What’s going on?”

  Behind the shrubs, a lawn mower sprang to life, the buzzing noise cutting a path of pain through my pounding head. The smell of sharp green grass floated on the air as the mower moved toward me. A sneeze exploded from my mouth, and I walked farther down the street.

  “I’m around the corner from Tori’s house. Can Thomas stay with the girls?” I touched my swollen lip again and shuddered. “They shouldn’t see me in this condition.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Just come pick me up, and I’ll tell you then.”

  I gave her directions then found another shady spot to sit under, away from the piercing whine of the lawn mower. It sounded like it had been supercharged, which wasn’t something you needed when mowing Southern California’s postage-stamp-sized yards.

  Carrie finally pulled up in her dark-blue minivan.

  “What the heck happened to you?” Carrie reached into her purse and retrieved a pack of baby wipes then handed them to me. “Don’t you dare get blood in my van.”

  “I’ll try not to.” I sounded whiny, even to my own ears.

  Grateful that Carrie would drop everything to pick me up, I was still annoyed that her life seemed so perfect. Her shoulder-length red hair wasn’t frizzy like mine, and her makeup appeared always in place, even though she didn’t have to cover up a generous number of freckles like I did. My eyes were green with flecks of brown, which often looked muddy, whereas her eyes were a gorgeous solid green. And she didn’t have a husband carrying on an affair with her best friend.

  Carrie shook her head at the tone of my voice, jumped out, opened the cargo hold door of the van, and helped me stow my bike. She carefully avoided getting tire dirt on her impeccably clean white shorts and then used one of the baby wipes on her hands before getting back into her vehicle. After peeking at the love bite on my neck, Carrie kept her lips pressed together in a grim line. She didn’t say a word until I asked her to stop by my work to retrieve my car.

  “Okay, but you’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “I’ll tell you once we get to my condo,” I promised her.

  Once we reached my home and unloaded my bike into the garage, we got comfortable on my sofa. I told my sister, who was older by a few minutes, my entire torrid tale.

  “I knew Philip was bad news the minute I met him.” My twin shook her head. “Tori too. I never understood why you liked her. She’s just not our type.”

  Our type. Caucasian Presbyterians. Did everything by the book. Didn’t color outside the lines. Pretty much summed up how my mother and Lars raised us. Whatever my sister might say about Philip, my mother had adored him from day one. She might have even loved him more than she loved me.

  “I put the blame completely on Tori. She’s the one who ruined my marriage.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Faced with the reality of Philip’s betrayal, I needed to make some hard decisions. Right now, though, I didn’t want to voice those choices out loud.

  “I don’t know why you’re defending the bas… um, the guy.”

  We didn’t swear either.

  “He gives you a love bite then runs to his tawdry girlfriend for more? And what is Mom going to say about all of this?”

  “Probably the same thing you’re saying right now.” I glared at her. Why couldn’t my sister be more understanding? “Except I’m sure it will somehow be my fault.”

  “You remember, don’t you, that you’re supposed to help me with the party tomorrow?” Her sigh was loud. “How am I supposed to explain your appearance? I can’t tell people you were in a fight. I have a family-friendly reputation to uphold.”

  Of course Carrie would make the situation all about her. I loved my sister dearly, but she was often self-absorbed. Maybe it had something to do with being the oldest, even if only by a few minutes.

  “I’m sure telling people I fell off my bike will work.” I pulled some dried grass from my hair, a reminder of my fight with Tori. “Everyone knows what a klutz I am, anyway.”

  “You want me to lie?” She looked like she’d seen a snake slithering in the street.

  “No. You don’t have to say a thing, Carrie. I’ll lie.” Might as well add that to my growing list of sins. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there to help, and it will be fine.”

  “And you’ve just about finished the cake, haven’t you?” My sister, the professional party planner and caterer, was on top of every detail. “I’ve promised my friend that your horse-themed cake will be spectacular. We can’t disappoint her little girl.”

  “I know that. Stop worrying.” A five-mile bike ride would have been preferable to this chat. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “Okay, as long as you’re sure. I’ve got to run and get Sophie and Kaylee to their ballet class.” She turned, put her arms around my shoulders, and pulled me into a hug. “I really am sorry this happened to you. I’m just angry that jerk hurt you and I can’t fix it for you.”

  “Thanks.” I returned the hug. “And thank you for picking me up and letting me spill my guts.”

  “You need to call Mom and tell her.”

  I groaned. “Can’t you tell her for me?”

  “No way.” She grinned. “I’m not about to face the firing
squad for something I didn’t do. That’s your responsibility.”

  Chapter 3

  I had told my sister another little white lie. The cake wasn’t under control, and it would take a long day and most of the night in the kitchen to finish it. If I had stayed home last evening instead of going out with Tori, I wouldn’t be facing some of my current problems.

  Decorating cakes was a hobby I discovered when my sister became pregnant with my twin nieces. Twins ran in our family. I wanted to do something special for my sister’s baby shower, so I made the cake and then got hooked. Thanks to all the cake-decorating shows and competitions aired on cable TV, I’d pushed myself to try more difficult designs using different techniques. People told me I was talented, and I even won ribbons at last year’s Orange County fair for both my decorating and unique cupcake flavors. I dreamed of opening my own bakery and specializing in cupcakes, especially on the days when I was fed up with crunching numbers at work. Who would have thought an accountant could be so creative?

  I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working on horse-themed decorations using gum paste, fondant, and royal icing. The hours flew by as I lost myself in the sweet world of creativity, and I blocked out the ugly scenes I had participated in earlier that day. I wasn’t about to let the drama in my life disrupt the happiness my cake would bring to a little girl. My heart felt nothing but pure joy whenever I witnessed a child’s face light up upon seeing their birthday cake.

  When the doorbell rang, I jumped, nicking my thumb with the blade of the X-Acto knife I used to cut cowgirl boots from pink fondant. I glanced at the clock and figured that only two people would visit this late. I hoped for Philip and not my mother.

  Apparently, I was a bad girl and God didn’t listen. My mother, Addie Gosser Whitendale, stood on my porch. Her flawless face, illuminated by the carriage lights flanking the front door, barely concealed her anger. She brushed past me into the house before I even had a chance to invite her in. I took my time closing the door and securing the lock before I turned to face my mother.

  “Emory Danae Martinez, just what do you think you’re doing?” Her voice sounded two octaves higher than normal, and her face had turned scarlet. “What are people going to think about you? About your family?”

  “It isn’t my fault. It’s Philip.” I rushed to get my words out when I saw her take a deep inhale, ready to launch more disapproval my way. “Besides, Tori started it. Carrie’s right. I shouldn’t have trusted her.”

  “Don’t you blame this on Philip. You’re the one who should be ashamed of yourself.” A sob escaped her lips, which was unusual because my mother was a very stoic woman. “And then to post it on Facebook. I am utterly humiliated!”

  “Mother, what the heck are you talking about?” She wasn’t making any sense, which irritated me, since I always seemed to get blamed for anything bad that happened. Plus, I had at least a few more hours of work left before the cake would be finished, so I didn’t have time for this. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady. Your calls just go into voice mail. Why can’t you ever answer your phone?” Her voice lowered, and she enunciated each harsh word. “You march yourself to your computer right this instant and take that, that… that photo down right now. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Even though I had no idea what she was talking about, I knew I’d better not argue. I grabbed my cell phone, remembering I had turned it off so I wouldn’t be disturbed while decorating. After the phone powered up, I saw that twenty-five messages cluttered my voice mail. This couldn’t be good.

  I turned on my heels and marched to the guest room, where we kept our computer. While waiting for it to boot up, I sucked on my nicked thumb. I sensed my mother watching me from the doorway. Her perfume, Chanel No. Five, drifted into the room, but I noticed her keeping distance between us. Perhaps she was avoiding the computer?

  “Where did I go wrong with you, Emory?” She sighed and tucked a strand of her shoulder-length salon-colored ash-blonde hair behind her diamond-laden ear. My stepfather treated her like a queen. She favored St. John Knit suits and casual wear, but tonight she wore jeans and a T-shirt, which made her appear much younger than her fifty-five years. “I know it was hard on you when your dad left, but I’ve tried to make up for that and give you a good life.”

  My dad, Joel Gosser, took off before I turned ten years old, abandoning us. He packed up his stuff while we girls were at school and my mom was at work and disappeared. Didn’t say goodbye or even leave a note. My mom eventually found out he had run off to Reno with a twenty-something-year-old hooker. Well, I called her a hooker, but I was sure she was one of his students in the night-school math class he taught at the local junior college.

  Right after we married, Philip found out Joel lived in Las Vegas and thought I might want to contact him. I declined. Until he left us, I had been Daddy’s girl, while Carrie was Mama’s girl. Essentially, I felt blame for his abandonment. Maybe if I had been as perfect as Carrie, he might have stayed. Almost eighteen years had passed, and I still struggled with his leaving if I allowed myself to think about him.

  A few years later, my mom married Lars Whitendale, who loved her to the moon and back. He’d treated us like his own daughters, taking us on lavish vacations and giving us top-notch educations. My twin adored Lars from the very beginning, and they developed a close bond. I respected him and what he did for my family, but from the beginning, I resented him. Irrational as it might seem, I wanted no one stepping into the spot where my dad should have been. Despite my growing respect and fondness for Lars over the years, my mother probably sensed my earlier attitude, which resulted in our relationship becoming strained at times.

  “This has nothing to do with you or Dad.” I looked back toward the computer, which was still going through the boot-up cycle. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my mother about my cheating husband. “Philip and I are going through a rough time right now.”

  Addie almost choked. “As if your behavior isn’t to blame. I’ll be surprised if Philip ever forgives you.”

  Uh-oh. How did they find out about Randall already? I didn’t even really know….

  Finally, the Facebook login screen came up, but when I tried my password, the page failed to load. I tried again, but access was denied.

  “Something seems to be wrong. It won’t accept my password.”

  “Try my account. It should work.” My mother wouldn’t look me in the eyes as she gave me her password.

  Addie’s Facebook page loaded quickly, and a scream erupted from my lips. My vision started going black, and I almost threw up. In bright living color, I stood against a wood-paneled wall with my sheer black blouse unbuttoned and half of the tiny lacy black bra on full display. Randall nuzzled my neck as his hand caressed me. One of my hands rested on his shirtless back, while scratch marks, obviously left by my nails, showed across his rippling muscles.

  “Oh my god! That can’t be me,” I screeched, my hands shaking as I tried to log out of my mother’s account and access my account so I could delete the photo. I couldn’t believe my mother had witnessed this. “There are hundreds of likes and over ninety shares on this photo already. Oh. My. God!”

  Nothing I did would allow me to access my own Facebook account. Whoever posted the photo had also changed my password. And that person must have been Tori.

  “Emory, do something now.” My mother sounded close to having a heart attack. “What if your grandparents see this?”

  “Okay, don’t panic.” I felt panicky enough for the both of us. “I’m going to run over to Tori’s house and have her straighten this out. She’s a computer whiz and can fix it.”

  “You said Tori is part of your problem with Philip.” She looked at me from the corner of her eye. No way would she look at the computer screen and risk seeing that picture.

  “Oh, nothing so serious that can’t be fixed. She’ll help me out.” I seemed to be getting
good at lying, even under pressure. I should probably worry about myself.

  “All right, if you think that’s a good idea.” She went quiet for a moment. “I’ll call your grandparents, have a nice long chat with them this evening, and keep them away from the computer. Text me when it’s fixed.”

  “I must have been drugged last night. Nothing else makes sense, and I don’t remember this or how I got home.” After making sure I had fully logged out of her Facebook account, I powered off the computer and turned toward my mother. “It’s not my fault.”

  “You can worry about that later, young lady. Right now, you get that thing off of Facebook.” She still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Expect a serious discussion about this. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  As I drove the five miles to Tori’s house, I tried to figure out who had drugged me. It was the only explanation for why I blacked out. And why would someone do that to me? Even if Tori was having an affair with my husband, I didn’t see her doing this. If Randall had drugged me, wouldn’t Tori have noticed?

  I pulled into Tori’s driveway and parked behind her Mini Cooper. I slowly got out of my car and wondered what to do since there weren’t any lights on in the house. Dim streetlights barely illuminated the area, so I gave myself a moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Tori might have gone out with Philip or with other friends and left her car here. I fervently hoped she wasn’t home.

  All of a sudden, Jimi Hendrix music pierced the silent darkness, pulsing from Stoner Dudes’ balcony. Pungent smoke drifted down. Maybe she was partying with them. I had never been invited to a party at their apartment, thank goodness, but they had shown up with Tori at a barbecue Philip and I hosted earlier this summer. My husband had been beyond angry about them crashing the party.

  I searched my purse and found the house key Tori had given me months ago. I rang the doorbell and knocked several times, just to be sure no one was home, before using the key. No one answered the door. The inhabitants upstairs wouldn’t be able to hear me over the blaring music, so I felt somewhat safe. I decided to let myself in for a quick look at her computer, hoping to delete the offending photo, change my password, and leave without her ever knowing I had been there. I really didn’t want to get into another fight with her, but I didn’t trust myself not to try to finish what I had started earlier.