Death by Scones (15 page)

"Sshh," I whispered into the carpet as I landed on it. I lay there and tried to calm my breath and listened for sounds of Aunt Bernie running back here to discover the burglars who broke in.

Luckily, there was nothing but loud suspenseful music and a girl screaming from her movie.

I looked up to Aaron, who was leaning in the window. The smile on his face told me my spiral had looked as embarrassing as it felt. I got to my feet with what little dignity I had left and stepped out of his way.

The study was a small room off the kitchen. It had dark-beige walls, a large oak desk, the black file cabinet, and an old, pink corduroy armchair. It didn't match the room at all, but it looked soft and comfy. The walls were covered in framed photos of Uncle Doug holding up fish he'd just caught. His smiles were huge and proud.

Aaron sat on the windowsill and swung one leg in, making it look so simple. While he finished quietly unfolding his long body inside, I ran a couple of fingers along the laptop's touch pad and woke it up. I clicked on her browser and hoped I could find her e-mail easily. Thankfully it was just like Amber said. Aunt Bernie's account was logged on. I only had to click in her bookmarks, and her inbox filled the screen.

I pulled out the black fabric chair, sat down, and scrolled down the list. She spoke with her sister in Oregon a lot, and she received daily e-mails from a horoscope site, which surprised me. Aunt Bernie was a Cancer. I wasn't overly familiar with Cancer's traits, but I would've bet they had something to do with why she clashed with Amber's Aries. When I reached the last of her messages, I started to panic.

"It's not here," I whispered.

Aaron leaned on the back of the chair and said, "Look in the Trash."

Right. I clicked the Trash folder and scrolled down. She had a ton of e-mails in there, but I found it on the bottom of the second page. I was so excited I started giggling.

Aaron awkwardly reached over me to do his thing, so I got up and let him have the chair.

I went to the door and pressed my ear against it. The music and screaming had stopped, but I couldn't tell what else was going on. Amber and Aunt Bernie weren't speaking. It felt so weird standing in here knowing Aunt Bernie didn't know I was here. Sneaking into their house was wrong. I should've found a way to convince Amber to come clean.

Aaron took out a pad of paper and a pen from his messenger bag and jotted something down.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the time. It was getting dangerously close to our witching hour. "Are you almost done?" I whispered.

"I am now," he said and clicked his pen. He dropped it and the pad into his bag and stood up.

He pushed the chair back in, and I heard Amber say, "Bernie, where are you going?"

Footsteps sounded closer and closer. I froze. Crap.

Aaron must've heard them too, because he hurried to the window and slipped out into the night.

"Bernie!" Amber shouted.

"What?" Aunt Bernie said. "I need to check my e-mail. I'm waiting to hear from a client."

"But the movie isn't over yet." Amber's voice strained and sounded like she was in physical pain.

"I'll be back in a second. It won't take long." Aunt Bernie's voice was closer than before.

Aaron stuck his head back in the window. "Come on."

Right. What was I doing just standing here? I ran to the window, and Aaron pointed to the laptop. Shoot. Her e-mails were still up. I clicked the giant X in the upper right corner and then stared at him. "How do I make it go back to sleep?"

"Just close it."

I did as told and saw the doorknob turn.

My stomach had taken up permanent residence in my throat.

A scream echoed from the other side of the door, hopefully Amber just alerting us to her stepmother entering, and there wasn't a real problem.

"What's wrong?" Aunt Bernie yelled.

If I'd been in the hall, this might have been funny, but I was practically drenched in nervous sweat. I didn't bother taking time to carefully get through the window. I dove out of it like a dancer. Much to my surprise, Aaron caught me in his capable arms. Barely. We fell to the ground, me on top of him, and stifled our laughter.

"But are you sure?" Amber's shrill voice was even closer. They must've been in the study by now.

Aaron and I just lay there, afraid that if we got up, Aunt Bernie would see us. Of course, if she looked out the window, there was no way I could explain why I was lying in her grass with a strange boy.

"That's funny. I thought I had this open," Aunt Bernie said.

I pressed my lips firmly together.

"Well, let's go finish watching. I'm glad you came home early, Amber."

The desk lamp turned off. The door clicked shut. Aaron and I giggled.

*   *   *

The next day, I woke up with my own clandestine mission in mind, although it wasn't very secretive. I called Amber, told her to dress casually and to get ready for a trip to Seattle. I didn't like driving, but Amber loved a good road trip, and since Seattle wasn't that far away, we could be there and back before dark. I needed to make sure Grams was okay. Once I knew she wasn't secretly in the hospital having triple bypass surgery or hadn't joined a cult, I'd force her to give me advice. Wasn't that part of a grandparent's role anyway? Bake cookies, nurse boo-boos, and give unsolicited advice. Well, now it wasn't unsolicited.

I packed homemade dried cherry and milk chocolate chip granola bars, which I'd whipped together while waiting for Amber to wake up, and the rest of the banana muffins from the other day, and waited for Amber on the front steps. I had changed my outfit three times. I don't know why I felt so nervous. It was like dressing for a date.

I finally settled on a light-pink sleeveless shift dress, with two lines of pearls stitched in—one below the bustline and the other just above the waist. It was a darling little dress that made me feel like a giant Easter egg, but it was so pretty. Plus, it had been Grams' and then Mom's dress, passed down. It meant everything to me that it was still in mint condition. And instead of doing the traditional beehive, I opted for my hair down. When I didn't manipulate it, it naturally fell in loose waves.

Last night, Aaron and I had sat in Amber's car until the Lifetime movie had ended. I'd been glad she hadn't dumped Aunt Bernie after realizing we'd completed the mission. Aaron had said he'd trace the IP address and let us know what he found.

After filling up her gas tank, Amber cranked the radio, and we munched on goodies and sang at the top of our tuneless lungs.

We pulled up to a four-story building, and Amber parked in a small back parking lot. I'd found the address to a Jules in Grams' address book, on her dresser. It was the only Jules in the whole book.

We climbed three flights of stairs, wondered how Grams had done the same, and knocked on the door marked 3H.

A short, dark-haired, bare-chested man wearing only a dark-green towel answered. He was probably in his mid to late forties and had a muscled body some twenty-year-olds would kill for.

I glanced to Amber. Clearly we had the wrong apartment. "I'm sorry," I said. "I was looking for my grandmother. This must be the wrong place. Any chance you know a Cinnamon Templeton?"

He smiled, and his face became animated. "Cinna?
Si
, she's here. Come in. Come in." His accent was heavy Mexican. He stepped back and allowed us entrance.

He knew Grams? What was going on?

The room was part living room, part dining, and part art studio. The walls were beige, standard apartment-color paint, but the furnishings were lush. Deep-purple velvet sofa, a couple of gold-and-black lace scarves over side tables. Art canvases were propped up against one far wall, and an easel sat facing the large double windows that looked out onto the city. A small kitchenette was toward the back wall, with a couple of doors that I assumed led to the bath and bedroom.

Nice digs.

"I'm Julius. Please, have a seat." He pointed to the sofa and a lemon-colored upholstered, ultramodern curved armchair. Then he turned to the back of the apartment and shouted, "Cinna, company."

Julius. Jules. I thought she'd been staying with a female friend, and Grams had been shacking up with a younger man.

Amber sat on the sofa. I walked to a cluster of canvases. I turned several over and gasped. They were all oil-painted portraits of Grams. In various stages of undress.

Oh my God.

If I ignored the naked bits, they were quite captivating. He was very talented with a flair for getting Grams' feistiness on the canvas.

Just then a door opened, and the sound of a toilet flushing was loud. I turned and watched Grams exit in a white fluffy robe. It wasn't tied at the waist, and I saw more of her in the thirty seconds it took her to tie the sash than I had in the total fourteen years I'd lived with her. Gross, Grams.

"Riley? Amber? What's wrong?"

Well, at least she was in one piece. "Still just the murdered man at the bakery, but I was worried about you too. You've been so distant." I glanced to Julius. At least I understood why now. Sorta. I hadn't known Grams was a cougar though. She'd always had a healthy appetite for men. She'd been married three times before I'd started grade school. Then she'd given up on the matrimony part and dated a lot. But I'd never seen her with anyone so much younger than herself.

"What do you mean murdered?"

Julius mumbled something about coffee and walked into the kitchenette.

Grams led us to the table across from the couch. "Sit and explain."

We joined her and told every single detail. Except the stuff about Mom and Nathan. I wanted to talk to her about that in private. I was afraid she'd confirm that I hadn't known my mother as well as I thought. When I was done, Grams just sat there thinking. She looked good. There was a rosiness to her complexion. Her blue eyes sparkled. Her thick, salt-and-pepper hair hung just below her shoulders. She'd kept it shorter most of my life. She looked healthy and happy.

Grams blinked and looked at me. "Nathan's house is an eyesore. Hopefully his nephew will do something about that."

"Grams, that's it?" I asked. That couldn't have been her only concern.

She glanced down to her hands and then into my eyes. "I worked hard at making the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery into what it's become. Everyone in Danger Cove knows what they can rely on as well as what to expect when they walk through those doors."

My chest tightened, and tears sprung into the corners of my eyes. Oh my God, I'd disappointed her. I ruined all her hard work. I was the worst granddaughter and business owner in the—

"So there's no way anyone is going to believe you decided to add peanut oil on a whim. Besides, anyone who can Google knows you don't make scones with oil. They must've been dense."

I blinked away the tears. "You mean you're not mad at me?"

She grabbed my hands and pulled them toward her, ramming my boobs into the table edge. She kissed each of my hands. "Riley, dear, you've done nothing wrong. Someone went to a lot of trouble killing Nathan, and that's not on you."

"Then why has business slowed down?" Amber asked.

Grams kindly let my hands go. I pulled my arms back and rotated my shoulders. Wow, she had a strong grip.

"Who knows," she said. "Maybe it's a fluke. Maybe everyone is gassy. It's not because of our…your bakery."

I smiled, and I already felt lighter. "It's our bakery, Grams. Always will be."

After Julius served the coffee, he walked to the sofa, sat down, and turned on the television, giving us time to visit. He didn't strike me as a television guy. He looked more like a wine and cheese, a Gondola ride, and a salsa-dancing kinda man.

I leaned forward and whispered, "Is he the reason you gave up the bakery?"

She frowned. "Of course not. I am sixty-nine years old. I should've retired four years ago. I gave up the bakery because I want to be free of the hours, free to spend my last years doing whatever the heck I want."

I grimaced at the thought of her "last years." She'd better stick around for at least another twenty. "But he's the reason you haven't returned and have been stingy with your texts and calls?"

"Yes. I am sorry about that, but have you seen him?"

Amber giggled, and I pursed my lips. Grams was right. He was very nice to look at. But eww, not if he and Grams were doing the horizontal mambo.

"So when are you coming home?" I asked. "You are coming home, right?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Yes, but I'm not sure when yet. I'm not done here."

An hour later, Amber and I were back in her car. As she turned the key in the ignition, she asked, "What are you going to do next?"

I closed my eyes. "I have no idea."

*   *   *

As I entered my house, my cell rang. It was Will. "Hi," I said and plopped onto the sofa. Even though I wasn't closer to answers, the trip back had done a lot to calm my nerves. But I was also drained. I made a mental note to never take over a business the same day as a murder again.

"Hey," he said. "I wanted to invite you to dinner."

"Oh?" I didn't feel like moving.

"Grandmother and I are going to The Lobster Pot. I know how much you love their stuffed shrimp, and it's their special today. I called."

He was sweet. "Thanks, but I'm wiped. Amber and I just got back from Seattle. We went to see Grams. I just want to curl up on the sofa, watch TV, and go to bed early."

If I hadn't been so exhausted though, I'd totally try a new recipe. On the ride home I'd envisioned mini plum-swirled cheesecakes. It sounded like a tasty combination.

"I see."

I'd hurt his feelings. Again. Darn.

"Will you be alone?" he asked. He was referring to Jared.

My annoyance reared its ugly head. "Yes. How long are you going to second-guess every time I don't want to go out? You never seemed to care that one of my best friends is a guy until recently."

"He lived in New York and only visited a couple of times a year. And just because I didn't show it didn't mean I didn't mind."