Death by Chocolate Page 5

CHAPTER 1

  I clicked on the light inside my small bakery. Donning my apron with the chocolate cake logo on it I set to work on the morning routine of making coffee, setting bread dough to rise and making the special sweet treat of the day. Today’s special was cinnamon rolls so before I made a batch of berry muffins, I made the dough and the drizzle for the rolls.

  No sooner had I finished putting the drizzle on the nearly plate-sized cinnamon rolls that had become a Saturday favorite, but the clock struck 5am, the door opened and my new door bell jingled to announce my first customer of the day.

  “Morning, Green Eyes,” Detective David Bentley said cheerfully.

  “Detective B, what can I get for you this morning?” I said as I wiped my hands on my signature apron with the chocolate cake logo on it.

  As I moved to the counter, he said with his best smile, “coffee and a kiss, please,” and then he leaned in and kissed me. I felt warm all over as I pulled back.

  “Well, good morning to you,” I said as I barely contained the silly grin that always spread across my face when he and I were together. We’ve been officially dating for six months, but I still felt the same “new romance” excitement with David, even now.

  “Smells like Dessert First’s Saturday cinnamon rolls,” he sniffed.

  “French Vanilla with cream and no sugar,” I said delivering the cup to the counter.

  “Right, no sugar since…”

  “You’re sweet enough without it,” I finished his favorite line for him.

  Now it was his turn to smile and he took a sip of his coffee.

  “Late night or early morning?”

  “Both. There’s been another break in. This time Rachel’s clothes shop got hit. They only got a little money, but they made a real mess of things.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible. Was there much damage to the shop?”

  “Mostly clothes pulled off the racks and she had a display table of vases that were broken.”

  “I guess it could’ve been worse. I’ll go over later on and see if I can do anything. Any leads?”

  “This time there was a shoe print, but it looks pretty generic, so it might not be much help.”

  “Is it a man or woman’s shoe?”

  “Man’s but it’s interesting that you asked because it is only a size 8, so we were thinking a teen, but it could be a woman’s smaller foot, too. Thanks Detective Dessert Lady,” he said as his phone beeped.

  “Duty calls, or beeps?”

  “Yeah. Still on for dinner tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great.” He said as he kissed me again. “Hey, you might want to tell Lizzie about the break-in so that it doesn’t come as such a shock to her.”

  “You’re right; Lizzie will be devastated if My Sister’s Closet is closed for any length of time.”

  We both laughed. Lizzie, my best friend since college, loves clothes and could accessorize anything with a flair rivaling the best clothes designers.

  “I’ll wait till she comes in a bit later so that I don’t wake her up with the bad news.”

  “See you tonight,” he waved and the door jingled.

  Alone again, I glanced at the back door to the shop and the feeble lock that it had. Then I noticed that the back door had come open. The bottles of oil seemed like they stuck out a bit from the wall. Sometimes things get moved a bit after mopping. I slid the bottles of oil back against the wall with my foot. Maybe I’d go over to the hardware store and pick up a better lock later today. I’d never worried about being robbed before because Fish Creek Falls, being a small town, had few people and held little interest for thieves. Lately, that seemed to be changing, though. Rachel’s shop had been the third business in town to be robbed in the past two weeks. It had been just petty stuff really because no one leaves much money in their stores, but the thieves took cold pills from the pharmacy in addition to the little money that they got from the register. The Sports Shop had some random equipment taken like chalk for climbing, and some camping stuff.

  David’s working theory had been a person or people who needed some money for drugs. I thought that they must be crazy to stick around a small town because there were slim pickings here to support a drug problem.

  I finished the last tray of cinnamon rolls and popped the day’s bread and rolls into the oven before the next customer arrived.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are open dreadfully early, Myra dahling. Can I have a cup of Earl? A large one, if you please,” Rachel Anderson, owner of My Sister’s Closet, said as she approached the counter.

  “Of course. I’m sorry to hear about your shop. Rough night, huh?”

  She looked a little surprised that I knew and a bit deflated that I had stolen her thunder for her announcement.

  “Yes. What a ghastly mess they made. I don’t care about the money as much as the senseless destruction. Oh Myra, you’d just be sick to see all of the damage.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “That’s very sweet of you dahling, but I can’t even do anything yet because it is a crime scene or some such nonsense. Oh, thank you, ever so.” She said taking a noisy sip of her tea and sighing.

  “Well, I’m sure that they won’t keep it closed off for too long.”

  “They said it will be all day today. That means we will be closed at least today and tomorrow. I’m just sick about it.”

  “There is one good thing about it, Rachel,” I said trying to cheer her up. “Think of the fabulous after break in sale that you can have.”

  “Oh, dahling, you could be on to something with that. Yes, I can see the possibilities…”

  Even though she hadn’t asked, I reached for an orange scone and put it in a small bag. Rachel loved all of my scones, but the orange ones were her most favorite.

  “At least you should keep your strength up,” I said smiling and handing her the bag.

  “You are such an angel.” Rachel reached for her purse to pay.

  I held up my hand and said, “Not today. It’s the least I can do for you right now. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you, Myra dahling. So kind.” She repeated the last part again as she left.

  I glanced at the clock—nearly six. I thought about texting Lizzie, but it was still too early for her.

  The door jingled and in came Willie. He did odd jobs around our town and some of the surrounding areas. Willie often drove a few hours for a job and had become one of the early morning regulars.

  “Morning Willie.”

  “Morning Miss Myra. Can I have a coffee and an apple muffin?”

  “Of course, but today is cinnamon roll day, so are you sure I can’t interest you in one of them?”

  “That’d be fine. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Where are you off to today?”

  “Over to Caraway to do some painting in that lawyer Mr. Cahill’s office.”

  I froze for a second and I could feel the heat from the coffee cup in my hand. It had been about six months since Barbara’s death and Brian Cahill had represented me when I had been accused of her murder. I shuddered slightly at the memory.

  “Be sure to tell him that I said hello,” I said putting a lid on the cup and cutting a cinnamon roll with extra icing on it for him.

  “Can do ma’am.” He said.

  Willie’s face seemed a bit flushed and I realized that he too remembered Barbara. When the police weren’t focused on me as a suspect, they were on him, so we shared that unpleasant experience. I liked Willie. He kept to himself and did really nice work.

  “Have you heard about the latest break in at Rachel’s shop?”

  He shook his head.

  “Yeah, last night. I guess the thieves made quite a mess.” I brought the bag and coffee to the counter. “You might want to swing by today or tomorrow and see if Rachel needs any help with the clean up. I’m sure she’d be grateful for the help.”

  “I will stop over later. Thank you, Miss Myr
a,” he said and put a five on the counter.

  “Anytime.” I gave him his change and he left just as Mark, the owner of the theater, Abe Redmond, the district attorney and his wife Millie all came in at once. Morning rush, I thought.

  “Morning everyone,” I said cheerily and went about taking their orders.

  Mark ordered a dozen cinnamon rolls for something at the theater later today.

  “I’ll have a coffee and a cinnamon roll and my wife will have a cup of tea and a roll, as well,” Abe said. Millie nodded and smiled. Usually, Millie said very few words and rarely came in without her husband.

  As the Redmonds were paying for their breakfast, the door opened and in came Joe Rice, the butcher in town. Joe “The knife” had once been a professional fighter and after he retired came to Fish Creek Falls and opened the butcher shop. I didn’t really know him all that well. He seemed pretty quiet at the Main Street Merchants meetings for the shop owners and because I didn’t buy too much fresh meat, I didn’t go into his shop much. I loved baking, but cooking meals never had been my favorite. Since I’d been making my cinnamon rolls as a Saturday special, he’d been coming in without fail.

  “Morning everyone,” he said as he came to the counter.

  “Morning, Joe. Cinnamon roll? Coffee?”

  “You bet. Two rolls today, please,” he said and held up two beefy fingers to emphasize the point. The Medic Alert bracelet peeked out of his sleeve. Joe had a peanut allergy. He’d asked me when I first opened about how much peanut oil I used and in what items so he could steer clear of potential harm.

  “You got it.”

  As I made his coffee and bagged his cinnamon rolls, he and Abe exchanged pleasantries. I waved as they were leaving, but Millie stopped at the display case where I placed the custom orders of birthday, wedding and other occasional items.

  “So, are you going to the merchants meeting on Monday?” Joe asked as I folded the top of the bag over.

  “I plan to go.”

  “Well,” he said as I brought his order over. “I hope I can count on you for the vote about the revitalization project.”

  Millie and Abe stayed at the display case, but said nothing.

  “Count on me in what way?” I asked as I made change for the twenty that he’d placed on the counter.

  “I think we should slow down on the campaign to get more businesses in town. We need to allow the businesses here to take hold and to grow. We don’t need more congestion in town. People come to a small town to get away from the hustle and bustle and to keep a low profile.”

  “A few more businesses in town could be a good thing so that people can get what they need close by and not have to drive to Caraway or even all the way to North Lake for supplies and services.”

  “So you’re siding with the ‘townies’ then?” Joe said with a sneer that I hadn’t ever seen before.

  “I’m not sure that there are really sides exactly,” I said a bit unsure of what to say or do. It seems a casual question was turning into something a bit more intense.

  “Hmph. I guess I should’ve expected to be Ms. Peacemaker,” he glared, but didn’t elaborate.

  “I think I’ll probably listen to the plans and the pros and cons before I make a final decision,” I said.

  “I am trying to tell you about the cons, Myra. You would see the deterioration of the town with too much new business. Traffic will be a new problem, parking; even unsavory people may begin to move into the town. Mark my words; it is bad for Fish Creek Falls and those of us who enjoy the small town environment.”

  I tried to think of something to say to smooth things over, but it seemed that he wanted to be mad no matter what I said.

  “Well, judging by your attitude, you’ll be siding against me. I guess I have wasted my breath on you.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Joe, I said that I would listen to the plan and the different aspects of it and I meant it. I will do what I think is best and it is not personal in any way.” My voice got a bit higher because I’d gotten upset that he made me sound so closed-minded.

  The door opened and in came Lizzie. “Hi MB! How are you this fine morn...?” she stopped in her tracks at the scene of Abe, Millie and Joe staring at me.

  No one spoke and she stopped near Millie and Abe.

  “Well, it is personal because I asked you for your support, but you refused me.” He lowered his voice, “No one crosses me, you’ll see.” He tossed the bag of cinnamon rolls back at me and stormed out of the shop.

  “Wow, what was that about, MB?” Lizzie said and moved toward the counter.

  “It seems that Ms. Bailey is making friends in town,” Abe said trying to sound jovial. “Don’t worry, he’ll calm down—eventually that is.”

  The Redmonds left and Lizzie came behind the counter with me.

  “So, what happened with Muscles?”

  “I’m not really sure to tell you the truth. He asked me about the merchants meeting and how I planned on voting for the new business initiative and…”

  “He freaked over your answer, huh?” She picked up a cinnamon roll and took a big bite.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. The whole thing is still in the talking phase, we haven’t even decided on any PR stuff or a ad campaign or anything.”

  “So does he want to expand or stay small?” She mumbled through another bite of cinnamon roll.

  “He wants the town to stay as is. Maybe I should bring him his cinnamon rolls this afternoon and make up.”

  “What? He behaved badly and you are going to bring him cinnamon rolls? You’re nuts, MB.”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t want a conflict with him. The town is too small to have a grudge develop—even if it expands at some point,” I handed her a paper towel to wipe the icing off her face.

  “I’ll go just after I close up.”

  “I can come back later to close up for you. Doesn’t Joe close his shop earlier than yours on Saturday?”

  “I’m not sure,” I grabbed my phone and looked up his hours. “You’re right. He closes at two on Saturdays. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Me? Mind—no, anything to get you moving in time so we can get going in time.”

  “In time for what?” I asked totally clueless about what she was talking about.

  “You are so kidding me, right?”

  “Absolutely. So tell me anyway,” I smiled sheepishly.

  “You really have forgotten? Oh MB, you are too much.”

  I shrugged.

  “Fine. Tonight is the regional Elite Fashion Show in North Lake with the designers that have almost made it in New York City.”

  I looked blank.

  “Honestly. I’m not sure why I’m your friend. You will come with me still, right?”

  I just blinked.

  “They’ll be serving a three course dinner,” she said looking at me like she would a dog while holding a treat.

  “Three courses, huh? Well, in that case, I’d love to go,” I smiled.

  She threw the paper towel back at me. The door jingled and three people dressed in white coveralls entered. There were two men and a woman.

  “Good morning. What can I get for you folks this morning?”

  “The fresh cinnamon rolls that are as big as a plate really are totally amazing,” Lizzie added.

  “Well, I’ll have some French Vanilla coffee with cream and sugar and one of those rolls,” said the taller man with dark hair.

  “I’ll have regular coffee with four sugars,” said the other man who wore sunglasses and was a full head shorter than the other.

  “Miss?” I asked the woman with a few blonde wisps of hair peeking out from the cap that she wore. She seemed a bit squirmy or nervous and also really out of place in her uniform. She pushed her hands in her pockets. I wondered if she had just started with the company because she looked pretty right down to her white sneakers. I waited and looked at the hat closer. The name of the company was in the shape of a mop.
“Mop it Up”. It sounded like a cleaning company, but they were dressed more like painters.

  “She’ll have a decaf coffee with cream and sugar,” said the tall man.

  “Sure,” I said and started pouring coffee.

  “Are you passing through?” I asked conversationally.

  “No. We’re working in town. Right now we’re at the Sports Shop to clean up after their robbery.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize they’d contracted with anyone to clean up,” I said bringing the three coffees over to the counter and grabbing the cinnamon rolls.

  “Our business is to clean and restore from water damage, fires and robberies, etc. Here’s a card in case you ever need us.”

  I took the money for the coffee and the card.

  “On second thought, I think I’ll add a cinnamon roll, too,” said Sunglasses.

  “You’ve got it.” I said and put another one in the bag. I was down to my last tray already. I loved making something that became a favorite for people.

  He handed the coffees to the other two and when she pulled her hand out of her pocket, I could’ve sworn I saw something flutter to the ground.

  “Have a nice day,” I said as the three filed out.

  “That’s weird,” I said. “The lady seemed about as quiet as Millie Redmond and as much like a cleanup worker as you do.”

  Lizzie looked at her black boots, stylish skirt and sweater that she had on and then looked at me.

  “Maybe she’s new? She might just need a job and took anything, even if it isn’t her style.” Lizzie said.

  “I guess,” I said and looked at the card. The address was from Wilson, it was a nearly four hour drive from here.

  “Well, as interesting as this morning has been here, I think I’ll head over to Rachel’s and then grocery shopping before coming back to close this afternoon.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Rachel’s is closed today because she got robbed last night.”

  “No way!” she yelled and then tried to compose herself.

  “I’m sorry. I meant to break the news to you gently.”

  “Very funny.”

  “How much was taken, do you know? Does Detective Hunky have any leads?”

  “I guess not too much cash, but they made quite a mess. She should be open in a couple of days.” I started to make a fresh urn of coffee. “David said that they have a footprint this time.”

  “I hope she’ll be able to have her annual spring unveiling for her new spring line. A footprint is good.”

  “Well, it might be, but I’m not sure it will help when there is nothing to compare it to, yet.”

  “I’m sure he’ll save the day. Hey, you didn’t make plans with him for tonight?”

  “Not tonight, so you’re lucky my social calendar is clear for tonight.”

  We laughed. Lizzie stayed just a little while longer while another “rush” of people came in and cleaned me out of the cinnamon rolls. I glanced at the counter where the bag of two rolls were for Joe and was glad that I’d set them aside. I texted David that I had to cancel the dinner plans because I’d forgotten the plans with Lizzie. He texted back: Rain check tomorrow

  The rest of the morning flew by with a steady drip of people coming in to the shop. At the lull at lunchtime I cleaned up and made one final urn of coffee. I washed down the counters and put the last Death by Chocolate cake in the display case. Lizzie would be back in awhile and I could head over to Joe’s. Then I thought about the encounter again. It seemed a bit odd to be that angry at me for potentially voting for something. I’d seen him be upset with others at the merchant’s meeting in the past, but I’d never really been on his radar. I know that expansion in a small town can be a tough thing. A bit more diversity and the ability to draw some new people to the town can keep it alive and without the new influx, the town would age and then close down.

  Fish Creek Falls had charm. Its quaint Main Street had an old-fashioned look, but the shops themselves were up-to-date and offered nice variety. I didn’t want to lose the quaint feel of the town either, but no one planned on bringing in a big chain department store or anything crazy like that. The two vacant buildings in town were renovated and ready for new life. The one between Joe’s Butchery and the Sport Shop had a nice big display window and a pretty roomy front area that could be for an office, a café or a store-front. It held some good possibilities. Lizzie and I had peeked in the window after it had been finished.

  The door jingled and Lizzie came in all dressed for her short shift in the bakery. She had on her Dessert First t-shirt, designer jeans and the whitest sneakers that I had ever seen.

  “MB, I’m ready for work.”

  “How is it that you even look dressed up in jeans?”

  “Because I have a flair for fashion that’s why. I can’t wait for you to see what I’m wearing tonight.” She said and then a look of panic crossed her face. “What are you wearing tonight?”

  “I’m not sure.” I brushed the flour from my jeans and took off my apron. These jeans aren’t too bad.”

  Lizzie looked pale and her mouth opened and closed without a sound.

  “I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  With a sigh of relief she laughed and went right into her thoughts about what I should wear. I handed her the apron and grabbed the bag of cinnamon rolls.

  “Thanks for watching the shop, Lizzie.”

  “No problem. Go mend your fences.”

  I walked across the street and then down a few blocks. The bright sun made it a pretty stroll. Some people walked and milled around, but typically the town seemed quiet on Saturday afternoons and today was such a nice day, I bet most people were at the park or working outside at their houses by this time.

  I took a deep breath before going inside the butchery. I hoped that he’d calmed down and also that he didn’t have a knife handy. I grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. No one was inside.

  “Hello?” I called. “Joe?”

  No answer. I did hear the radio on in the back, so maybe he couldn’t hear me. I went to the counter and saw that there was a note on an index card by the bell to ring for service. “Back in ten,” it said. I plopped the bag of cinnamon rolls on the counter and waited. I looked around. Three chairs stood near the window and they were bathed in sunlight. The block windows next to the counter where I stood let in much less light, but gave the wall character as they were in the shape of a letter “J”.

  “Joe?” I called again. I wondered how far into the ten minutes it was. Then I felt a bit weird being all by myself in the shop. I reached for the notepad near the register and scribbled a note to put with the bag.

  Joe, I hope this will help to smooth things over. Enjoy! Myra

  I left the shop. Outside I noticed a white van in front of the Sport’s Shop. I couldn’t see any markings on the van, but I thought that it might belong to the crew that had come into the bakery this morning. I walked slowly back to the bakery. I took my time since Lizzie had my shop under control and the sunshine felt so warm. It seemed especially quiet in town today, but I actually liked that because it made it seem like the nice weather was all for me. I guess I could see why this type of moment would appeal to Joe. I glanced back at the Butcher shop. I wondered why he hadn’t just closed up since it seemed as though his ten minutes had become a bit longer and it neared the time for him to close anyway.

  “Maybe he lost track of time in the beautiful day,” I said aloud.

  Back in the bakery, I helped Lizzie with closing and we walked to my house to relax until it would be time to get ready for the fashion show.

  We were relaxing on the back porch when my phone rang.

  “Where are you, Green Eyes?”

  “Home. Why?”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Not sure, about fifteen minutes or so. What’s going on?”

  “Look, just stay there. I’ll call you back in a while.”

  The call ended.
>
  “That’s weird. That was David and he wanted to know how long I’d been home.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea. He just said to stay here and he’d call back.”

  “Did he sound upset or excited like he planned a romantic surprise for you?” Lizzie sighed dramatically.

  “Upset and I’m worried, Lizzie.”

  “Well, let’s not worry until we know what is going on.”

  “Right,” I said as I bit the inside of my cheek.

  “Hey, let’s look for an outfit for you to wear tonight. That should be a good distraction.” Lizzie grabbed my hand and dragged me to my feet.

  After three outfit changes, my phone rang again.

  “Green eyes?”

  “What’s going on? You sound upset?”

  “It’s not good. Joe Rice was found dead this afternoon.”

  “What? That’s awful! How? What happened?”

  “I can’t give you much at this point, but it doesn’t look like natural causes.”

  “No way. Murder?”

  “Who? What happened?” Lizzie started and I held up my hand.

  She got quiet, but leaned in to try and hear what David said.

  “Definitely suspicious circumstances because there were no visible signs of foul play, but it had to have happened around one this afternoon.”

  I gasped. “One?” I said weakly.

  “Yeah. The problem is that no one seems to have been around at all until a little while ago. No one seemed to see anything strange or out of the ordinary.”

  “The street was pretty empty this afternoon,” I said as I tried to muster the confidence to tell him that I was in fact there at the time or close to the time of the murder.

  “Hey, Green Eyes, what time did Joe come into the bakery today?”

  “Um, I’m not sure… around six thirty or so. Abe and Millie Redmond and Lizzie were all there when he lost his cool.”

  “Maybe I better come over. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “What happened? Did I get the clues right? What happened to Joe?” Lizzie said as soon as I hung up.

  “Joe died this afternoon.”

  “That’s awful what happened?”

  “I have no idea what happened, but David asked me when Joe came into the shop today.”

  “Do they have any leads?”

  “It doesn’t sound like they have many leads at this point.” I sat on the bed. “He’s on his way over now.”

  “So why were you telling him about the empty streets?”

  “He died around one and he said there seemed to be no witnesses.”

  “Oh no. MB, you were there around one!” She shook my shoulders as if the yelling didn’t emphasize that point enough.

  “I know. I have to tell him when he gets here.”

  “Oh no you don’t. Be smart and wait until we even know if that is important or not.”

  “Lizzie, I trust David. He’ll make sure its okay, but it wouldn’t look good for him if I withheld information and he had to find out that I didn’t confide in him.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Detective Hunky is great, but still he’s a cop that has to do his job and you are putting yourself right in the middle of a Police investigation.”

  “I am in the middle of a Police investigation.” I said with a sudden wave of nausea. “What if I could’ve helped him somehow?”

  “Where was he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then how do you know that you could’ve done anything to help him?”

  “I’m not sure. I just feel awful.”

  “Well, that’s different than feeling responsible; because you are not.”

  “I guess.”

  “I know. Let’s go make some lemonade. Maybe Hunky will be thirsty.”

  I smiled. At least I’d get to see him for a bit. Not the circumstances that I planned, but still a visit.

  By the time David’s car pulled up we had managed to make a pitcher of lemonade and to get seated on the back deck again. David made his way outside and Lizzie poured him a glass and handed it to him before he could even sit down.

  “I could use more than this, right now, but duty calls.” He said.

  “What’s going on?” Lizzie asked.

  “Joe Rice died this afternoon and it appears a bit suspicious in that he may have died from anaphylaxis.”

  “How awful!” Lizzie said. “What did he have an allergy to or do you know?”

  “Peanuts,” I said at the same time David did.

  He looked at me. “How do you know that?”

  “I know because he told me about it not too long ago when he wanted a cinnamon roll one Saturday morning. He wanted to double-check to make sure that I didn’t use it in anything that he might eat.”

  Lizzie looked a bit shocked and worried. When I looked at her expression, I knew that she wanted me to be quiet in case I offered something that made me more involved somehow.”

  “I see. Well, do you use any peanut oil in your cooking—sorry— your baking?” David always called what I did cooking and since I really was a terrible cook, I corrected him because in the bakery I bake and there is a difference. I can whip up a cake or chocolate mousse, but ask me to cook a roast or something and I’m lost.

  “I have a bottle of peanut oil, but I rarely use it for anything.”

  His phone buzzed and he read the text that came through.

  “I may not want to hear anymore.” He said starting to stand up.

  “What? Why? David?”

  “That text gave me more information from the preliminary findings from the coroner. Anaphylaxis is definitely the cause of death.”

  “So, why the exit stage left?” Lizzie asked clunking her lemonade down.

  “Because they found peanut oil in the coffee that he’d been drinking when he died.”

  “So?” Lizzie pressed.

  “So the cup came from Myra’s bakery.”

  “That can’t be. David, he came in this morning. He would have died much earlier in the day if I had done anything to the coffee.” My voice sounded almost squeaky as I tried to contain myself.

  “If he drank it then, right? He may have been busy and put it aside.”

  “Are you saying that MB could’ve put peanut oil into Joe’s coffee? Why on earth would she do something like that?”

  “What I’m telling you is that he died because of an allergic reaction to peanut oil that was found in the cup of coffee that he bought from Dessert First.”

  “You don’t believe that I did anything like that, do you?”

  “Of course not, but I need to protect the integrity of the investigation.” He leaned over to kiss me.

  “Where was Joe found?” I asked, interrupting the kiss.

  “In the back; at his desk near the cooler.”

  “Did he have the cinnamon rolls with him back there?”

  “No, there were no cinnamon rolls at the scene.”

  “That’s weird. I brought a bag of cinnamon rolls over and since the note on the bell said that he’d be back in ten minutes, I wrote a note and left them on the counter near the register and left.”

  “When did you go there?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Lizzie added.

  “I got there a few minutes before one.”

  “Why did you go there? Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Not that I can think of, but I’d only been in there one other time and so I’m not sure that I would know if something had been off.”

  Lizzie and I told him about the scene in the morning and how he had thrown the rolls back at me. He still stood like he was about to leave, but asked more questions about my walk over and back and about the cinnamon rolls and note that seemed to have disappeared from the shop altogether. He thought it might actually be good for me that Abe and Millie were there as witnesses because they could attest to the fact that he got mad at me and not the other way around. Lizzie could be
a witness, but since she was a close friend, her credibility was lessened.

  After he left, Lizzie and I tried to make sense of everything. Things didn’t add up. It couldn’t have been a freak accident because peanut oil just doesn’t get dribbled into a cup of coffee by accident. If it was suicide then where was his note? What about the disappearing cinnamon rolls and note? That made the whole thing really puzzling? Why would anyone take the note that I’d written?

  Finally after hashing over the same questions without getting anywhere with the answers, Lizzie looked at her watch.

  “Hey, we better get a move on or we’ll be late, MB.”

  “Are you serious? You still want to go?”

  “Why not? David said to keep on doing normal stuff for now, so let’s go and be normal by going out on a Saturday night.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Remember that for future reference.”

  Going to the fashion show actually helped with distracting me from thinking about Joe and all of the questions that were raised associated with his death. Lizzie could barely contain her excitement and even an autograph from one of the almost famous designers who milled through the tables after her part of the show.

  After a long shower, I turned off the light and a barrage of thoughts kept me awake for a while. The biggest question had to be motive. There were other questions, but that one seemed the most pressing because how can you line up suspects when no one seemed to be one?

  I looked at the clock at 2:05am for the last time before finally falling asleep. Shortly after three my phone rang and woke me up.

  “Hello?’ I groaned into the phone.

  “Green Eyes? You need to come to your shop. There’s been a break in here.”

  I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Glazed & Confused: Murder, Thieves and Buried Treasure. Click here to continue reading.