by Kim Davis
“What?” I peered into her face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” I poked her in the arm. “I’ve seen this color on you before. You’re pregnant.”
Carrie practically beamed. “But you can’t let Mother know you found out before she did. Promise?”
“I can be quiet for a price.” I giggled, but inside I panicked when I thought of everything that I had to do. “Go home and rest. I’m sure I can handle this.”
I glanced back and watched Randall walk around the band’s stage.
“He’s one fine-looking man, isn’t he?” Carrie whispered in my ear. “Don’t forget your marriage is ending. Doesn’t hurt to look around now. Especially at a guy who’s willing to volunteer at a party for a little girl he’s never met.”
My mouth fell open. I’d never heard my sister talk like this before. Must be the pregnancy hormones. “Um, I’m not sure how to break the news to you, but that’s Randall… Tori’s cousin.”
“OMG! How? Why? Shouldn’t he be home in mourning or something?”
I felt a sudden chill. Randall had acted surprised when I expressed sympathy over Tori’s death. “I don’t think the poor man knows about Tori. What should I do? I can’t be the one to tell him. Don’t you think Tori’s mom would have called him?”
“Maybe the poor woman is too distraught to make calls yet.” Carrie groaned. “I need to get out of here before I cause a scene. This morning sickness had better not last as long as it did with the twins.”
After I hugged my sister goodbye, I went back to the kitchen. I dished up platters of heated baked jalapeño poppers and bowls of Cowgirl Caviar. With Carrie out of the picture, I decided we would serve the appetizers on the table with the rest of the food.
Thomas came as promised, his pudgy body dressed in tight Wrangler jeans and a blue plaid shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. His cowboy hat was perched tight around his moon-shaped head, and his dark-blond hair curled at the edges, where it brushed the tops of his ears. We quickly placed bowls of Mouthwaterin’ Melon, Campfire Corn on the Cob, and the last chafing dishes filled with Git Along Little Hot Doggies, Wagon Wheels Mac & Cheese, and barbecued ribs on the long serving table. After we centered the birthday cake on the cake table, I took more photos, and the party guests arrived. I smoothed my hair and went out to the party room to greet them, wishing all the while I had thought to put on some lipstick and comb my unruly hair.
Alina and her mom, Madison, were the first to arrive. Alina’s hot-pink wheelchair was decked out with balloons and wrapped with sparkly tulle. A glittery crown sat on the birthday girl’s shiny black curls, and her sparkling brown eyes, framed with the longest lashes I’d ever seen, scanned the room. A huge smile lit up her face when she saw her birthday cake.
“Happy birthday, Alina!” I bent down and gave the slight girl a hug. “I love your cowgirl shirt and boots.”
She turned her beaming face at me, clearly happy with her hot-pink paisley cowgirl shirt and blinged-out matching cowgirl boots. Her jean shorts had miniature pink horses embroidered around the hemline.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Emory,” Madison gushed. “The cake is fantastic. It’s too pretty to cut into, though.”
“I took lots of photos, so don’t feel bad. Let me know when you want to serve lunch, and I’ll get you and Alina plates.”
“You’re a doll. Thank you.” Madison swiped at her dark-brown eyes. “I’ll take Alina to get pictures of the cake and visit the horses for a few minutes. Most everyone should be here soon, so let’s serve in about twenty minutes. Will that work for you?”
“Sounds good. We’re ready when you are.”
It warmed my heart to see Alina’s happy expression at the prancing horses decorating her cake. The young girl was nonverbal, one of the many symptoms of Rett Syndrome. However, as I had found out long ago, the eyes were truly the window to your soul and could speak volumes even when your lips couldn’t.
I gave Thomas a thumbs-up and then directed arriving guests where to place the birthday girl’s gifts. I also answered questions about the cake and the party food. It didn’t take long for the fifty guests to arrive and fill the room with their laughter and happy chatter. Some of the small children chased one another around the gingham-covered tables while a few others whined to their parents that they wanted to pet the horses. Several other Rett girls had arrived, each decked out in pinks and purples and each pushed in equally girly wheelchairs.
I was relieved to see Bill had moved his chair right next to the adult-only cupcake stand so he could keep a close watch while the kids zoomed around. I walked over and stood next to him. “As soon as guests go through the chow line, feel free to get a plate of food for yourself. My brother-in-law and I will take turns watching the cupcakes so you don’t need to.”
“I’m happy to help out, ma’am.” Bill pointed at the long table of food. “I’ll have to admit my mouth is sure waterin’ smelling your cooking. I appreciate the offer.”
As soon as Madison and Alina returned and greeted their guests, I grabbed my rustic chow triangle to call everyone to lunch. The clanging metal got everyone’s attention. Once the noise level settled, I welcomed everyone to the party.
“I want to wish Alina a very happy birthday and thank all of you for joining her to celebrate.” I hated being in front of a crowd and wished my sister were here to do this. “The food will be served buffet style, and there are picnic tables outside with plenty of shade. For the girls using wheelchairs, we have special tables set up for them, so please be considerate and use the picnic tables if you can. I’ll start the chow line for Alina, and then I’d like to let her Rett sisters go next. Thanks for coming, everyone.”
I jangled my triangle one last time. Then I grabbed two of the heavy-duty disposable plates with hot-pink plasticware wrapped in pink gingham napkins tied with raffia. Thomas had opened the lids on the chafing dishes, and savory smells filled the room. My mouth watered.
I quickly filled the plates and wandered out to the patio, where the picnic tables were. I stopped suddenly when Randall dropped to one knee, in front of Alina. His deep baritone voice sang the birthday song while he held her tiny hand in his dark tanned hand. Alina had the biggest smile on her rosebud lips, and she peeked shyly through her long lashes. Not only was the man hot, he could sing too. I tried to clear my head of that thought and placed the plates down in front of Madison when he finished the song.
“Thanks, sweetie.” Madison gave my hand a squeeze before she tucked a strand of her long, curly black hair behind an ear. “Have you met Randall Burke? He’s part of the band that will play for us after lunch.”
I tried to avoid looking at Randall, but my gaze was drawn to his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Uh, yes. We met earlier.”
“I can’t thank both of you enough for making this party so special for Alina.” Madison swiped at her eyes again. “Alina says thank you too.”
Apparently, Alina couldn’t stop looking at Randall either. Her smile was huge, and she swung her bedazzled boots back and forth.
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat, winked at Alina, and, much to my chagrin, winked at me. “I’d better go grab a plate of that awesome grub before we play. Thanks for feeding the band, Emory.”
With that, he turned and strolled to the banquet room, and my gaze followed those perfectly fitted blue jeans.
“Wow, just wow.” Madison fanned her face once Randall moved out of sight.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” My hand touched the knotted handkerchief around my neck. The problem was I had kissed him, and it looked like I had enjoyed it immensely. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember a single darn second of that kiss. It hit me right then that it could have been Randall who drugged me. All along I had assumed a random person at the bar slipped something into my glass of wine while it was waiting for delivery to our table. Until now I’d assumed Tori would have been watching out for me, but wha
t if she left for the restroom and he doctored my drink? How did I know Randall was safe to be around?
Chapter 9
“Are you okay, Em?” Madison asked with concern. “You looked like you were spacing out for a minute.”
“Sorry. I was going through a mental list about everything I need to do at the end of the party. I don’t want to leave anything behind.” The lies seemed to be slipping off my tongue much too easily these days.
“Alina and I can’t ever thank you enough for the amazing party, especially the birthday cake.” Madison fed a small bite of the wheel-shaped macaroni and cheese to her daughter. “You really need to let me pay you for the cake. I can’t even imagine how many hours you put into creating it.”
I waved her off. “It’s my gift to the birthday girl. You’re actually doing me a favor and helping me build my portfolio, so I’m happy to do it.”
“Oh?” The mother speared a small piece of watermelon and fed it to Alina. “Are you opening a bakery?”
“One of these days. I need to work out some things, but in the meantime, it will be nice to have a portfolio to show prospective clients.” At the top of my list of priorities needed to be clearing my name as a murder suspect. I looked up to see Thomas waving at me. “Time go help my brother-in-law, but please let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“You’ve done so much for us already. We’ll be fine.” Madison stood, gave me a hug, and winked at me. “Well, maybe send that cowboy back on over here for a bit.”
I hurried back to the banquet room, where I found Thomas scurrying to freshen up the chafing dishes.
“Sorry about that.” I grabbed the container of extra watermelon. “I didn’t mean to chat with Madison so long.”
“That’s okay.” He placed more ribs in the silver warming tray. “The band members are heading in. I figure they’ll have large appetites, so I want to make sure we’re prepared.”
I had hoped Randall had already been through the chow line, but as I glanced around the room, I saw him talking with four other men, all dressed in tight blue jeans and blue plaid shirts. Darn! I didn’t want to face him yet.
As if he sensed eyes on him, Randall turned his head and gazed right at me. Flustered, I spilled the container of watermelon. Fortunately, most of the fruit stayed on the serving platter, but a few unlucky skewers slid to the floor. Heat flooded my face. Why, oh why, did I let that man get to me?
I picked the skewers up off the floor and headed to the kitchen to dispose of them. My sister was a generous caterer, so I knew we should have plenty. When there were leftovers after a party, Carrie boxed them into individual servings and dropped them off at church, who delivered the food to some of the elderly parishioners living alone. She was thoughtful like that.
When I came back to the banquet room with wet paper towels to wipe the floor, my face heated even more. Randall knelt on one knee, cleaning up the watermelon. Could this get any worse? I wanted to turn around and hide in the kitchen. But, of course, that wasn’t possible.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”
“No problem. Accidents happen.” He grabbed the wet paper towels from my hand. “It’s the least I can do for getting a free lunch.”
“Well, it’s not exactly free. You’re donating your time to play for the birthday girl.”
His rich baritone voice laughed, sending sparks down my spine. “The band is brand new, and we’re anxious to play. We need to get some Yelp reviews and word of mouth going.”
Yeah, I got it. Kind of like my portfolio. “It’s still a nice thing to do.”
He stood, tipped his imaginary cowboy hat, and strolled to join his band mates in line for the chow. My eyes drank in the sight.
Someone cleared their throat right next to my ear, making me jump.
I turned and almost screeched when I saw Thomas’s flushed red face staring at me. “You don’t have to sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. In fact, I said your name a couple of times, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Uh, no. Guess my mind was elsewhere.”
“Your sister filled me in.” Thomas smirked and jerked his head toward Randall. “Can you take over so I can call Carrie and see how she’s doing?”
My face heated up again. Great. Why couldn’t my sister keep our conversation in confidence? I’d also hoped to sneak out of the room before Randall made his way through the banquet line, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Sure. I hope she’s better.”
“Me too. I’m guessing this morning sickness will run its course like it did with the twins. A couple months of discomfort and then she’ll be fine.”
I shook my head. Carrie seemed to have experienced more than a little discomfort today, but what did I know? “Don’t worry about the food. I’ve got it covered.”
After I checked the chafing dishes and refilled the ones that were getting low, one of the elderly guests needed my help to take their plate to the seating area. Thomas was standing next to the cupcakes while talking on his cell, so I knew he wouldn’t let any little hands swipe a cupcake they shouldn’t have. As it worked out, I left the food station just before Randall came through the line. I chatted with several of the guests, and when I saw Randall exit the banquet room, I made my way back to replenish the food. We needed to prepare for the onslaught of people wanting seconds.
I kept myself busy washing out empty containers (I wanted less work to do after the event) and keeping an eye on the food levels. Thomas checked on me a couple of times in between talking to guests and sitting with the birthday girl and her mom. I had forgotten that Carrie and Thomas were friends with Madison from their college days, which explained why my sister had comped so much for this party.
While the band played their toe-tapping music, I went to the door to watch. Randall’s band sounded good—really good. Randall not only sang but played the guitar too. Their music seemed a bit like George Strait at times and more contemporary, like Luke Bryan, on other songs. Some of the guests wheeled the birthday girl out onto the makeshift dance floor and danced with her. My eyes got a little misty seeing Alina’s smile light up her face as she was surrounded by friends and family to celebrate her special day.
I got Thomas’s attention, and he came back to help me place the cake and cupcakes on a rolling cart. The plan was that the band would play three numbers and then we would take the cake out to Alina for her birthday song. While guests ate their cake and ice cream, the band would play for another forty-five minutes.
The cake, which thankfully hadn’t toppled yet, was secured in place on the rolling cart with the plates, napkins, and forks stowed on the lower shelf of the cart. I put the ice cream into a specially designed ice chest to keep it from melting too quickly. Dry ice rested inside a secured bottom compartment so no one could accidentally touch it while we served the frozen treat. The moment we finished our preparations, I heard Randall announce that it was time for cake and then immediately launch into the birthday song.
Thomas and I wheeled the cart out to oohhs and aahhs and stopped in front of Alina. She clapped her hands in delight. As soon as the song ended, I cut pieces of cake while Thomas scooped the vanilla ice cream. Randall jumped off the small stage and helped serve the guests who sat in wheelchairs and the elderly who had difficulty getting around. Next, he offered the cocktail cupcakes to adults and brought back a single leftover cupcake, which he ate in two bites. The guy was almost too good to be true. I shook my head and concentrated on the knife in my hand, making sure I didn’t hurt myself or Thomas, who stood next to me.
Once the band started on their second set, I began the cleanup. Extra cake got boxed up for guests to take home, the leftover food got placed back in the coolers, and the dishes were washed, all to toe-tapping music. As the party wound down, I wiped off the last table, grateful Thomas hadn’t grilled me over whatever Carrie had shared with him. I had almost forgotten the murder, and I preferred to keep it that way for
as long as possible. Call me an ostrich, but there was something to be said about ignorance being bliss.
“There you are!” My back was toward the door, and while I recognized the masculine voice, I couldn’t place its owner. “Don’t you ever answer your cell phone?”
I turned and saw my attorney.
“The police want to talk to you about the murder weapon. Does a silver-plated cake knife with the monogram EMP mean anything to you?”
I became lightheaded, and my head spun. How had my wedding-cake knife ended up being used to kill Tori?
Chapter 10
“Seriously, Emory, don’t you understand you need to be available and not flitting off to parties and ignoring your phone?” Mel Shearwood rubbed the white stubble liberally covering his jaws. “You’re lucky the police didn’t come find you with sirens blaring and haul you off in handcuffs.”
“How… where? What do you mean, my knife is the murder weapon?” I shuddered. My sister would be in line to kill me after my mother killed me if I was arrested in front of all these people. “For your information, I’m not flitting around to fun parties. I’m actually working.”
He finally saw the dishcloth and antibacterial spray in my hands. “You still need to keep your phone on at all times.”
“Sorry. Why do the police think it was my cake knife that killed Tori?”
“For starters, it has your monogram, and Philip confirmed your knife is missing at home.”
My head spun again. Philip seemed ready to throw me under the bus, so to speak. “I have no idea how someone could have used my knife. It must be a coincidence. Did they check for fingerprints?”
“They were wiped clean.”
“Where did they find it?” I turned to finish the table I had been cleaning. There had to be a mistake. The knife couldn’t be mine.
“In a dumpster behind a convenience store a couple blocks from Tori’s house.” Mel reached over and grabbed the dishcloth from my hand. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. You need to collect your belongings and go for your interview with the investigator right now.”