Murder Most Sweet

by Laura Jensen Walker

  Tavish poked his head around the bouquet. “For the lady of the house.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” I said, breathing in the heady scent, “but it’s your birthday, not mine. You shouldn’t be bringing me flowers.”

  “I will always bring you flowers,” Tavish said, leaning in for a kiss. As our lips met, I wished—not for the first time—that I had stuck with my original plan of a romantic dinner for just the two of us.

  Gracie barked at Tavish’s feet, circling around him in her excitement. He ended the kiss with reluctance and bent down to pet her, but she zoomed toward the dining room, continuing to bark and shooting backward glances at him.

  “Someone’s certainly excited tonight,” Tavish said. His eyes met mine with a flirtatious gleam. “I know the feeling.”

  “Let me just put these on the table,” I said, hurrying toward the dining room and beckoning the birthday boy to follow. “There’s wine, if you’d like.” As I approached the doorway and the hidden group within, Tavish came up behind me and snaked his arms around my waist. He kissed my neck. “Mmm, you taste good,” he said, nibbling my ear. “Shall we skip dinner and have dessert first?” he asked in a seductive tone.

  “Surprise!” everyone yelled as my face flamed.

  * * *

  Char pushed back her plate and groaned. “I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “I know how you feel,” Mom said, patting her nonexistent stomach.

  “Everything was delicious, Teddie,” Sharon said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “She certainly has,” Tavish said. “That’s the best dinner I’ve had in I don’t know how long. It’s been ages since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

  “How quickly they forget,” I teased. “What about that Wisconsin lunch I made you just a few days ago—the one where you scarfed down multiple brats?”

  Tavish made a quick recovery. “Ah, but that was a barbecue—entirely different.”

  “Teddie inherited her cooking ability from her father’s side of the family,” my mother interjected. “My husband was a wonderful cook.” I glimpsed the hint of tears in her eyes. “And his mother made the most amazing desserts. That woman could bake anything.” She chuckled softly, remembering. “I gained ten pounds when we first started dating. I, on the other hand, can’t even boil water.”

  “Perhaps not.” Tavish returned her smile. “But you are quite a splendid shopper. Those sausage rolls were scrummy. Thank you so much for that lovely, unexpected treat.”

  Mom basked in his praise.

  “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Brady said, “but I’ve been waiting all day for the treat Ted’s got in the refrigerator, and I’ll bet Tavish has too.” He turned a pleading gaze to me. “Can you put the poor man out of his misery and bring him his birthday cake already?”

  “Aw, honey,” Char said, “I love how you always think of others first.”

  Surveying the table, I asked, “What do you say? Are you ready for cake?”

  “Yes, please,” Tavish said.

  Jim licked his lips. “To paraphrase Marie Antoinette, let us eat cake.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Brady said.

  Char and Sharon pushed back their chairs and collected the empty dinner plates. “We’ll help.” They followed me into the kitchen.

  Pulling the birthday cake out of the fridge, I set it on the counter.

  My Musketeer pals gasped. “Oh my goodness,” Sharon said, “you’ve outdone yourself. That is the most gorgeous cake I have ever seen. Tavish is going to love the decorations.”

  Char nodded in agreement. “I’ll say. Is there anything you can’t do, Wonder Woman? You can be really annoying sometimes. If I didn’t love you so much, I would hate you.”

  “Spreadsheets,” I said, as I stuck the candles on the cake. “I can’t do spreadsheets. Or taxes, or algebra, and geometry … any kind of math. That’s why I’m a writer.”

  “A really good writer,” Sharon said. “I still can’t believe the news about your book sales. That is so exciting! Will you still talk to us when you’re a best-selling author?” she teased.

  “If you’re nice. Otherwise I’ll act as if I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  After we finished singing “Happy Birthday” and Tavish blew out the candles, Jim asked Brady, “Have you heard anything more about that pervert Ron Simms? Have the Gary cops dug into his whereabouts on the nights the two women were killed and found the proof they need to get him off the streets?”

  “Murder is off the table tonight,” I said firmly.

  “Ya got that right.” Brady drooled as he looked at the Danish layer birthday cake. “The only thing on the table I want to dig into is Ted’s cake.”

  All at once, Gracie growled and zoomed toward the kitchen, where she began a frantic barking. Brady started to get up to check it out, but I told him to stay and eat his cake. “It’s probably just the neighbors. Or a skunk. Gracie hates skunks.”

  I joined my Eskie in the kitchen, where she continued to bark in earnest at the window. “What is it, Gracie-girl?” Pulling aside the thin curtains, I searched the darkness, but didn’t see anything. “Well, whatever it was, you scared them away. Good girl.” I patted her on the head and gave her a dog biscuit, then returned to the others.

  After everyone had their fill of cake—Tavish and Brady both had two pieces, while Mom had a sliver—Tavish followed me into the kitchen with the empty cake plates. Sharon, Char, and Mom all tried to stop him, protesting that Tavish was the birthday boy and should not do cleanup, but he insisted.

  “Leave him be,” Brady said, waving his hand. “Can’t you see the guy wants a few minutes alone with Ted?”

  “That was the most scrumptious cake I’ve ever had,” Tavish said. “I especially loved the decorations. However did you make those tiny books along the base?”

  “I piped them on with three different pastry bags to get the multiple colors and then just staggered the heights so it looked like a bookshelf of books.” I rinsed the plates and began loading the dishwasher.

  “That’s amazing,” Tavish said. “You’re amazing.” He stepped closer to me. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, you talented, marvelous girl.” He tilted my chin up and gave me a long, lingering kiss. I forgot all about the dishes and everything else until a voice intruded.

  “All right, you two, break it up,” Brady said. “Otherwise I might have to arrest you for excessive PDA.” He grinned as we reluctantly broke apart. “Tavish, there’s something called port in the dining room. The guy at the Milwaukee Trader Joe’s told me it’s an English after-dinner drink, so I got you a bottle. Shall we try it? How about you, Ted?”

  Gracie flop-botted to the back door and sent me a distressed look.

  “Oh my goodness, I totally forgot.” I grabbed Gracie’s leash from the hook. “I’m sorry, baby,” I said to my anxious dog. “Mommy will take you for a walk right now.”

  “Can’t you just let her into the backyard?” Brady asked.

  “Not in the dark. She’s been skunked too many times.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Tavish offered.

  “No way, birthday boy,” I said. “Go start on your present from Brady. We’ll be right back.” I flashed him a smile, my heart full.

  He smiled back. A smile full of yearning and promise.

  Gracie yanked on the leash. Hurry up, Mom! As I opened the back door, she bounded down the steps, almost yanking the leash from my hand. Two doors down, she did her business on Joanne’s lawn. Once I disposed of the evidence, Gracie scampered down the sidewalk. She glanced back at me, a Mel Gibson look on her face that yelled Freedom!

  “Okay, girl, you deserve a proper walk, but we can’t go too far. We have guests waiting.”

  Her canines gleamed in a happy grin as she trotted down the street. As we neared the Corner Bookstore, I stopped. “Okay, time to go home.” A strange noise sounded in the alley. Gracie growled. Probably a rat. I sh
ivered. Char had seen one when she took out the garbage recently. “No, Gracie.” I tightened my grip. “We’re not going there. Mommy hates rats.”

  Then I heard the noise again. An odd choking sound. Could something be hurt?

  Gracie uttered a loud growl and barked, tugging on the leash and racing toward the alley, barking furiously all the way, as I followed at a fast clip. Entering the alley, I saw a dark shape on the ground. A dark shape in a skirt. A woman? We raced over to her. The woman was lying on her side, her dark hair obscuring her face. Dropping to my knees, I gently brushed her hair from her face.

  “Oh. My. God. Melanie?” When had she returned? My heart caught in my throat at the sight of the familiar features, the Harry Potter glasses askew. A creamy silk scarf wrapped around her neck gleamed in the moonlight against the ubiquitous black clothing. My scarf.

  “No!” I screamed. “No!” I cradled the young woman in my arms, rocking back and forth. Dimly, sounds penetrated my anguish. I heard Gracie barking and the sounds of running feet.

  Melanie shuddered and coughed, her eyes fluttering open briefly.

  “Oh my God, you’re alive!” Tears streamed down my face. “Thank God you’re alive.” I lifted my head and yelled, “Help, somebody, we need help over here!”

  A shocked voice behind me burst out, “What the hell—Melanie?”

  Relief coursed through me. Tavish. He must have decided to join us on our walk. He dropped down beside me and touched Melanie’s shoulder. Her eyes had closed again. I shifted her gently into his arms, knowing his presence would be of more comfort.

  “You’re going to be okay, Melanie,” Tavish said soothingly as a siren blared nearby. “Help is on the way.”

  Melanie coughed. Her eyes fluttered open again, wide and frightened, and she started to thrash.

  “You’re okay, sweetheart,” Tavish soothed, “you’re okay. It’s Tavish. I’m right here.”

  Running feet pounded behind me. I touched Melanie’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. Don’t worry.”

  She flinched and burrowed her head into Tavish’s shoulder. “She did it,” Melanie said in a muffled voice. “It was Teddie. She strangled me.” Then she passed out in her boss’s arms.

  Tavish stared at me dumbstruck.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Late the next morning, Mom and my fellow Musketeers paid me a visit at the jail, bearing gifts—cherry-cheese kringle, a thermos of freshly brewed coffee, and my dog. Gracie released a joyful bark when she spotted me, racing over, wagging her tail madly, and pressing her nose through the iron bars of my cell.

  “Gracie-girl!” I crouched down and slid my hands through the bars to pet her, touching my forehead against hers—which she’d managed to squeeze through the bars—as I did.

  My mother stared trembling and went white-faced at seeing me in the tan jail uniform. “Brady Wells,” she yelled in the direction of the sheriff’s office, “get in here!”

  A wretched-looking Brady, sporting dark circles under his eyes, appeared in the doorway.

  “Unlock this cell so my daughter can hug her dog properly,” Mom demanded, two angry spots of color staining her cheeks.

  “I can’t let the prisoner out of the cell, Mrs. St. John,” Brady said miserably.

  “No, but you can let us in,” Char said, gently placing her hand on her boyfriend’s arm.

  “It’s against the rules.”

  “What, you think maybe we’ve hidden a file in the kringle so Teddie can break out of jail or something?” Sharon snarked. She extended the flat kringle package to the ganged-up-on sheriff. “Feel free to search it.”

  “Honey, I promise there will be no jail break,” Char said, “and we won’t tell a soul that you bent the rules. We just need to have a little girl talk with Teddie. You can stay here the whole time and keep an eye on us.”

  Brady rubbed his forehead. Then he sighed, unlocked my cell, and opened the door to admit my visitors. Gracie immediately jumped into my arms and covered my face with wet kisses. “Okay, but keep it brief. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “Of course, sweetie,” Char said, dragging the lone visitor chair into the cell as Gracie and I continued our happy reunion. “We won’t be long.”

  Brady returned to his office.

  Mom encircled me—and Gracie—with her arms, giving me a tight hug. When she released me, her eyes were bright. Our three Musketeers then shared a group hug.

  “I thought you could use a picker-upper,” my mother said. She cut four large slices of kringle with a plastic knife and passed them around on paper plates she extracted from her purse.

  “No kale smoothie today?” I teased.

  “Nope,” she said. “Some days only kringle will do.”

  “Welcome to the dark side.”

  “Speaking of the dark side,” Char said, “sorry we got here so late. We had an important stop to make first.”

  “Oh?” I sipped my French roast gratefully—a marked improvement on the jail’s coffee.

  “We went to the hospital,” Sharon announced, “to see Melanie.”

  “How is she?” I asked. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Char said. “Just a little bruised. They’ll probably release her later today. Her boyfriend and parents are on their way from New York and will be arriving anytime.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “After such a traumatic experience, she needs her family.”

  “Yep,” Sharon said from her seat beside me on my jail bunk. “Family’s important.” She slid a glance to my mother, who was sliding the kringle back into its package. “You should have seen your family in action. Your mom rocked.”

  “She did?”

  “Oh yeah,” Char said, high-fiving my mother, whose cheeks had pinked. “Your mom brought Melanie this huge bouquet of flowers and was kind and solicitous—asking her how she was doing after such a terrifying ordeal. Melanie mumbled that she was fine, but she couldn’t look your mom in the eye. Me or Sharon, either. Right, Blondie?”

  “Right,” Sharon said. “She just kept staring down at the bed and plucking nervously at the sheets.”

  “Did she say what she was doing back in Lake Potawatomi?” I asked.

  Sharon and Char exchanged a glance. “She wanted to surprise her boss on his birthday,” Sharon said. “She had a special present she wanted to give him in person. She flew into Milwaukee early last night and rented a car. When she got to the Lake House, she learned Tavish was at your house celebrating his birthday, so she decided to walk over and surprise him. That’s when she was attacked.”

  Char picked up the story thread. “And that’s when your mother fixed Melanie with a penetrating gaze and told her to come clean.” Char adopted Mom’s no-nonsense tone of voice from childhood when she caught me in a lie, repeating my mother’s words from the hospital: “‘Melanie, I want you to look me straight in the eye and tell me that you saw my daughter strangle you with her scarf. Can you do that?’”

  “Really?” I stole a glance at Mom, who was busy applying hand sanitizer to her French manicure.

  “Oh yeah,” Sharon interjected. “Your mom’s eyes never left Melanie’s face. She said to her calmly and deliberately, ‘Isn’t it true that someone came up behind you, in the dark, someone you never saw, who slipped Teddie’s scarf over your head and began choking you, and then Teddie and Gracie stumbled on the scene and scared the strangler away?’”

  Char continued the chronicle of events, “Your mom then laid her hand on Melanie’s and told her fear can make people do crazy things. She said she knew what it was like to be fearful of someone new coming in and changing things. ‘It’s easy to view that new person as a threat when they have your boss’s ear. Especially after they figured out you told your boss’s stalker where to find him, even though it was for PR reasons. What if this new person—Teddie—decides at some point to tell your boss to fire you or to stop being friends with you? Then what?’”

  Sharon inter
jected. “Then your mom said, ‘Accusing my daughter isn’t going to make her go away, Melanie. Teddie’s no threat to your job or your friendship with Tavish, but you need to understand and accept that your boss likes Teddie and vice versa. Teddie and Tavish are going to be in each other’s lives, so you’d better get used to it.’”

  “You said that, Mom?”

  She nodded, her eyes bright.

  “Melanie began to cry then,” Char said, “and”—her voice rose in triumph—“she admitted that she lied.”

  “She did?”

  “She certainly did,” Mom said, wrapping up the play-by-play. “Her exact words were, ‘I never saw the person strangling me. They ran off when they heard Teddie’s dog bark. If it wasn’t for Teddie and her dog, I would probably be dead.’”

  I snuggled Gracie close to me. “You hear that, Gracie-girl? You saved a life.”

  A phone shrilled in the sheriff’s office.

  “That will be Melanie,” Char said. “She wanted to call and confess to Brady while we were at the hospital, but the nurse came in and shooed us out, said they had to do some final tests and paperwork, but Melanie promised to call and officially confess as soon as they were finished.”

  Moments later we heard Brady slam down the phone and bark at Augie to go to the hospital to take down Melanie’s official statement.

  My childhood friend appeared in the doorway, a look of anguish mixed with relief on his face. “Ted, I’m so sorry,” Brady said as he let me out of my cell. He hung his head. “I knew you didn’t do it, but—”

  “It’s okay, Brady. I know. You had to arrest me. It’s your job. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Although”—I paused—“you really need to get some current magazines in your cells. That People was from last December.”

  * * *

  Red geraniums nestled beside delicate columbines and black-eyed Susans while slender stalks of lavender swayed in the breeze as Gracie and I strolled to the park. A fine summer rain began to fall, causing some we passed to duck back inside, but not me. I’ve always loved walking in the rain, especially when I need to think, and I definitely needed to think after all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.