Sprinkles of Suspicion

by Kim Davis

  I stepped out of the bathroom, and the captain led me to his office. His rubber-soled shoes squeaked beneath his lumbering gait on the graying linoleum flooring that covered the hallway. He apologized for the mess as he removed stacks of Australia and New Zealand travel books from the burgundy-tufted upholstered chair sitting opposite his leather executive chair. Even though the wood desk was small, his office felt crowded. He placed his phone in front of me.

  “I’ll give you a moment while I start the paperwork I’ve got to fill out.” Captain Newman paused, his liver-spotted hand resting on the doorknob. “Open the door when you’ve finished your call.”

  Once I could no longer hear his squeaky footsteps, I picked the receiver up and made the hardest phone call of my life.

  “Hello?” My mother answered after the first ring, sounding groggy.

  I glanced at the clock hanging on the military beige-painted wall and noticed plaster chipping in places. It was ten forty-five already? That explained why she sounded groggy.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” My mother sounded impatient.

  “It’s Emory. Can I talk to Lars?”

  “What’s wrong? Please tell me you got that… that picture down.” My mom’s voice got louder. “I spent half the night waiting for you to text me. Why are you only now returning my phone calls?”

  I rolled my eyes. A little over two hours had passed since I’d left her at my house to go visit Tori. She was really trying to pour on the guilt. “Can I talk to Lars? Please?”

  “Young lady, don’t you take that tone with me. What’s going on?”

  Oh lord, I didn’t want to be the one to tell my mother. Much better to have Lars gently explain my predicament to her.

  “Um, I need an attorney.” The bile in my throat threatened to choke me. “I’ve been arrested for murder.”

  Too late, I pulled the phone away from my ear when her shriek blasted my eardrums.

  “Emory, what did you say to your mother? She looks like she’s going to pass out.” Lars was generally soft-spoken, but he now had panic in his voice.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you get an attorney for me? I’ve been arrested for murder.”

  A sharp intake of air followed by a slow exhale filled the phone. “Where are you now?”

  “Costa Mesa. Captain Newman has me sitting in his office.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Mel Shearwood. He’s a good criminal defense attorney, and I went to law school with him. We still play golf every now and then.” He covered the speaker and mumbled something to my mother before getting back on the phone. “Hang tight, kiddo. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  I opened the door as Captain Newman had requested and sat back down to wait, this time in a visitor’s chair.

  Shortly thereafter, he came back in and set a cup of hot tea in front of me. “Are they on their way?”

  I nodded my head as I blew on the tea to cool it. “He’s bringing Mel Shearwood.”

  “Good choice.” He sat behind his desk and swiveled his chair back and forth while seeming to study the photographs of himself and local dignitaries hanging on the wall. “I spoke with District Attorney McMann. He agrees with me, and we won’t charge you at this time.”

  A sigh of relief escaped my lips. “Thank you. Someone set me up, and Philip was cheating….”

  “Enough, young lady.” The captain held up his hand, palm facing me. “Didn’t I tell you to not say a peep until your attorney arrives?”

  “Yes, but you’re not charging me. I thought I should explain what happened so you can catch who killed Tori.” I scowled. Didn’t they want to catch the murderer?

  He locked his hazel-colored gaze onto my muddy green eyes and over-enunciated every word. “You are the number-one suspect. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Oh boy. This wasn’t going the way I thought it would when he said I wouldn’t be charged.

  “Wait here and finish your tea. I’ll send Lars and Mel in when they get here.” Captain Newman stood abruptly and left the room. I suspected he was making sure I wouldn’t accidentally incriminate myself again.

  It seemed like I had waited forever, with nothing to do but browse through the captain’s retirement travel brochures, when my stepdad finally poked his head into the office. When he stepped into the room, I jumped up from my chair and hugged him. The wrinkles around his light-blue eyes were deeply creased, and his tan skin made his white hair seem even more vivid. He said he looked much older than his sixty-five years because he spent a lot of time on the golf course before anyone knew about sunscreen. Even though it was close to eleven thirty, he still dressed in carefully pressed khaki slacks and a wrinkle-free golf polo.

  “Emory, this is Mel Shearwood. He was kind enough to meet with us on such short notice.”

  Mel stepped around Lars and held out his hand, which I shook. He was a head shorter than my stepdad, bald, and in serious need of a shave. A thick gray five-o’clock shadow covered the lower part of his face, while bushy gray eyebrows perched over his pale-blue eyes. His skin was leathery, and he also looked like he spent a lot of time in the sun. Unlike sharply dressed Lars, Mel had hastily dressed in a wrinkled river bar T-shirt that stretched tight over his large belly, faded blue jeans, and flip-flops. I tried not to notice he needed to cut his toenails. After all, he was here to help me.

  “Mrs. Martinez, you need to change out of your shirt and leave it with the front desk for evidence.” Mel scratched his chin. “You’d better get a move on before they change their minds and decide to detain you.”

  I looked at my bloodstained shirt. “I don’t have anything to wear home.”

  “You can wear one of your mother’s shirts. She keeps a change of clothing in the trunk of my SUV just in case.”

  Of course she did. Addie would never appear in public with as much as a drop of coffee staining any part of her clothing. “Okay, I guess that works.”

  After changing into my mother’s Ann Taylor white crepe cap-sleeved top, which was carefully wrapped in tissue to prevent wrinkles before being stored in Lars’s Escalade, I handed Mel my bloody shirt. The stained garment was wrapped tight in a white plastic bag.

  “Captain Newman has agreed to give us until Monday at ten to answer questions.” Mel led me to the front of the station.

  “But I have to work Monday.” It seemed inconceivable to skip work. I never called in sick, and since Philip had started working graveyard shifts three years ago, I had taken no vacations.

  “This is more important than crunching numbers, Mrs. Martinez. You must call in sick or take a personal day.” He paused and made eye contact with me. “You can plan on spending most of Monday with me. Now, what do you say we stop off at Denny’s for a midnight snack and discuss your case?”

  The restaurant was only a block from the police station, and it didn’t take long for us to make our way to an empty table. I plopped down onto the brown plastic banquette seat, which sank beneath my weight, until my chin practically rested on the table.

  “Are you ready to order?” The waitress sounded tired and more than a little annoyed. It was just after midnight, and she probably resented us making her work at this ungodly hour.

  “I’ll take your waffle breakfast, eggs over easy, bacon, and coffee.” Mel handed her the menu.

  “Nothing for me.” Lars handed the plastic-covered menu to the waitress.

  “Um.” I fiddled with the menu, trying to decide whether I needed to eat or not. I couldn’t remember having dinner, aside from a few licks of buttercream and maybe a cookie or two. Or was it three? Plus, I was sure I’d have to pull an all-nighter to get the cake done.

  The waitress impatiently tapped her pen on the order form after she smoothed her mousy-brown, limp hair away from her lined face.

  “I’ll have what he’s having.” I pointed at Mel. “But make mine scrambled eggs.”

  As soon as the waitress had shuffled away and out of hearing distance, Mel leaned in and rested his e
lbows on the table. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything. Even if you think it’s incriminating, you need to tell me up front. I can get pretty pissy if I find out you’ve omitted anything or tried to cover up something.”

  “Yes, sir. Before I get started, is there any way you can get a picture removed from my Facebook account? Someone seems to have changed my password and posted a, um, a not-so-nice picture of me.”

  “It will take some work, but yes, I can do that. Does this picture have anything to do with the case?”

  “I’m not sure. But that’s why I was at Tori’s house. I think she may have posted it.”

  Mel nodded and took out his cell phone. “I’d better take a look and see what we need to preserve. What’s your username?”

  “You don’t need to see this. I just want it gone.”

  He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes until his bushy eyebrows practically touched each other. “Did you not understand what I told you only a moment ago? I get pissy if you try to hide anything from me.”

  Lars patted my arm. “I promise I won’t peek.”

  “You know about this? Please tell me you haven’t seen it.”

  Lars shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen it, nor will your mother tell me what it’s about, except that it’s making her crazy. I had to promise her I wouldn’t get on Facebook until she said it was safe.”

  I glanced back at Mel, who had his fingers poised over his iPhone. He looked ready to type my name. “Okay, it’s Emory Gosser Martinez.”

  As he entered my name, I covered my face with my hands and rested my head on the table.

  “Excuse me, miss.” The waitress juggled two cups of coffee and three glasses of iced water and looked for a way to put them on the table without drenching me.

  I straightened up and stared at the ceiling.

  Mel exhaled noisily. “I hope this is your husband.”

  “No. That’s the problem.”

  Mel kept his gaze on the tiny screen.

  “So… how many likes are there?”

  Chapter 6

  “Over five thousand.”

  “Sh… yikes!” I looked at Lars and shrugged. “Oh, sorry. I mean, that’s terrible.”

  “That’s probably the right word, since your mother’s not here.”

  “How can there be that many, though? I don’t even know that many people.”

  “The photo was tagged for public viewing, which allowed it to be shared over nine hundred times. That means all those people’s friends have it showing up in their news feeds, who then like and share it.” Mel finally tore his gaze away from his phone and redirected his eyes to my chest. “I’ve got a techie who can block the image. We can’t permanently delete it since the police will consider this part of their evidence trail.”

  Upon realizing I was wearing my mother’s white blouse over my hot-pink sports bra, I wrapped my arms across my chest, hoping he’d get the hint. “Whatever it takes. I don’t want anyone else to see it.”

  My attorney punched a couple of buttons and put the phone to his ear. His techie’s loud voice boomed out of the phone. “Yo, what’s up?”

  “Kurt, I need you to block a photo from the Facebook account of Emory Gosser Martinez.”

  The techie mumbled something I didn’t quite understand.

  “Trust me, you’ll know which photo it is. We need it done immediately.” After more mumbling from the tech, Mel disconnected and laid his phone onto the table as the waitress placed our waffles in front of us.

  “He’ll take care of it, but if someone downloads the photo to their hard drive, there’s nothing we can do.” My attorney took a huge bite of his eggs and then crammed a full piece of bacon into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then put his fork down. “Kurt will reset your Facebook password so you should be able to log back in. Use my last name, Shearwood, all lower case, for the password.”

  I nodded and hoped no one thought it worthwhile to permanently save my infamous photo.

  While my attorney devoured his waffle breakfast, I started from the beginning and told my entire wretched story. Lars appeared uncomfortable and even embarrassed at times, but he didn’t interrupt.

  I nibbled at my waffle while talking, but the eggs were much too cold to consider eating. “Can you help me?”

  “I’ll admit it’s not looking so great for you, especially since there are witnesses who heard you threatening the deceased and you were at the scene of the crime with evidence all over you.” Mel shoveled another bite of waffle topped with egg into his mouth. Yellow yolk dribbled down his chin. “However, I’ve gotten clients off with worse cases.”

  “But I’m innocent! Don’t you think the police will find the real murderer?”

  “You’re a very convenient suspect, so, unless there’s other evidence left at the crime scene, you’d better be prepared for a hard battle to clear your name.” Another huge bite of waffle disappeared into his maw. “It sounds like someone went out of their way to let you take the blame.”

  It was almost two in the morning when Lars dropped me off at my condo. The streetlights glared in the darkness, and a coyote howled mournfully in the distance. When I opened the front door, I expected Piper to be whining by the door, eager to go out. Instead, even after I called for her, silence greeted me.

  Switching on the kitchen lights, I saw Piper’s leash missing. I assumed Philip picked her up, but I didn’t see a note. His empty closet confirmed he’d stopped here and packed up all of his clothing and toiletries. I briefly wondered where he was staying but then decided I didn’t care. Instead, I headed back to the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and tackled the birthday cake and cupcakes I promised my sister I would finish before the party began at noon today.

  I started with the Cowgirl Quencher Mocktail Cupcakes. Since I used a cake mix as the base, these were pretty foolproof and easy to make, despite the list of ingredients. Pineapple juice, peach nectar, orange juice, and coconut extract provided the tropical flavors in the cupcakes. I replicated the flavors with a glaze after they baked, which helped keep the cupcakes moist, and included the same flavors again in the frosting, which provided layers of yumminess. Grenadine and a drop of pink food coloring made the frosting the perfect color for a little girl’s birthday party. I would add colorful rainbow sprinkles to the tops of the frosting for this party, but if I made these cupcakes for a tropical-themed party, I might garnish them with slices of pineapple or a colorful paper straw or umbrella.

  While the mocktail cupcakes cooled, I started in on the adults-only cupcakes. The flavors were similar, but I swapped in peach schnapps and coconut rum for a little boozy flavor. I wouldn’t put pink food coloring into the frosting, nor would I use sprinkles on the adult cupcakes. I needed to keep them looking different from the cupcakes prepared for the children.

  By the time six rolled around, my kitchen looked like a disaster zone. Pink buttercream decorated the cabinets, the walls, and even my hair. All I had needed was a gentle whip to fluff the frosting back up before I piped swirls onto the cupcakes to hold the multicolored sprinkles. Instead, a twirling vortex opened when I accidentally switched the KitchenAid mixer to super-high from a standstill all at once. Then I knocked over an open container of the sprinkles, and they crunched beneath my feet while I frantically tried to finish the cupcakes. I blamed it all on lack of sleep.

  For once, I was glad I didn’t have Piper underfoot. She often came wandering into the kitchen when I baked and licked up the crumbs and frosting that found their way onto the floor. With this mess, she would’ve needed to be crated so she wouldn’t get sick from being a doggie vacuum cleaner. She was one of the reasons I didn’t sell my cakes. I would never pass inspection for a business license. So, instead, I gave my cakes and cupcakes as gifts to friends and family while building up a portfolio and turned down requests from those who wanted to hire my services. If I wanted to go into business full-time, I needed to find a bakery, and realistically, we didn’t have the money for that,
thanks to my husband.

  Philip was adamant about buying our Huntington Beach condo three years ago, located just a few blocks from the beach. The down payment wiped out our savings, and between the two of us working full-time, we made the mortgage payments with just enough left over for other moderate bills. As an accountant, I should have known better, but Philip was very persuasive, and I caved. It seemed like we were always short of money. I cringed as I remembered our many arguments over Philip wanting to buy the latest and greatest gadget and my attempts to be the voice of reason. How would we manage financially when our marriage ended? I didn’t want to think about it, but a reckoning would come sooner rather than later. His betrayal would never be forgiven.

  An incessant ringing and pounding pulled me reluctantly from the deep sleep I had finally given into around seven. I rubbed my eyes and grimaced when I realized it was already ten thirty. Carrie would be angry I wasn’t ready to go. She lived by her schedule and wouldn’t appreciate my tardiness.

  I shuffled to the door and opened it. Before Carrie could give me a piece of her mind, I cut her off. “Give me five minutes, and I promise I’ll be ready.”

  “Fine, but put a bandana over that thing on your neck. I can’t have you around the kids looking like that.” Carrie looked me up and down and exhaled in resignation. “You have pink frosting in your hair.”

  I reached up and tried to feel for the sticky mess, wondering if I could find time to wash my hair.

  She breezed past me and started loading up the cake I had barely finished a few hours before. “Come on, Em. Get a move on. Mom told me a little about your night, so I’ve got a triple-shot latte in the van for you.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. I was wondering how I would get through this party without falling asleep on my feet.” My blurry eyes stung, and I tried to rub the sleep out of them with the palms of my hands. My hands started shaking when I remembered the blood that had covered them. I needed to shove all thoughts of finding Tori the night before out of my head. There would be plenty of time for that later, but for now, I had a party to cater.