Death by the Dozen (23 page)

The final buzzer sounded, and Mel and Oz stepped away from their plates. There were a few whimpers and moans from the other chefs, and Mel was glad to see a sweat-soaked, red-faced Olivia, panting on the other side of the stage. Mel squinted to see her entry. It looked like some sort of cakelette. Mel hoped her banana burrito kicked its mini-cake butt.

The servers came and gathered their plates, and Mel saw Ray’s head pop up again. He was reaching for the remainders off the plate he had mangled. Oz saw him, too, and without saying a word, Oz launched himself off the stage, tackling Ray to the ground.

“You almost blew that for us, you big dummy,” Oz said. He was sitting on top of Ray, glaring down at him, looking decidedly menacing with his shaggy hair over his eyes and his multiple piercings.

“Well, I’m hungry,” Ray said. “You can’t expect a guy to stand there watching all that good food get made and not eat something, can you?”

“If it’s the contest entry, yeah, I can,” Oz argued.

The other three brothers ambled over.

“This was my bad,” Sal said. “I should have taken into account Ray’s sweet tooth when I assigned our designated areas. It won’t happen again.”

Paulie lifted Oz off Ray.

“You’re right it won’t happen again,” Mel said. “Because as of right now, the DeLaura brothers are banned from coming into the festival.”

“What?” Paulie balked. “You can’t do that.”

“Can and will,” Mel said. “What do you think Angie would say if she saw this fiasco today?”

The brothers were silent.

“Exactly,” Mel said. “You know how much she wants to win this. I can’t have you all hovering while I cook or helping yourselves to the entry before the contest is finished.”

“It won’t happen again,” Ray said. “I promise.”

“Too late,” Mel said. “You’re fired—all of you.”

“Sorry, Mel, but it’s not up to you,” Al said.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Yeah, Joe is the one who sent us here,” Sal said. “Unless he pulls the plug, we’re staying.”

“Oh, he’ll pull the plug,” Mel said. “Just wait.”

She took out her cell phone and dialed while the brothers shuffled their feet, looking decidedly nervous.

As they should, Mel thought.

She did not need the four of them making this competition any more difficult that it already was.

“Joe DeLaura’s office,” a female voice answered on the third ring.

It didn’t sound like his secretary, but Mel forged on, too intent in her purpose to be dissuaded by a little thing like an unknown sexy voice answering her boyfriend’s work phone.

“Hi, this is Mel,” she said. “May I speak to Joe, please?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” the voice said.

“Excuse me?” Mel asked. “Is Joe not there?”

“Oh, no,” the voice said. “He’s here, but he’s busy doing real work and can’t be fielding calls from his little baker girlfriend.”

Then it clicked. Mel had heard this voice before. It was the female colleague Joe had been working a case with about the same time Mel and Joe reconnected. If Mel remembered right, she was a knockout.

“Susan Ross, right?” Mel asked.

The woman didn’t answer her.

“I’m sorry, do we have a problem?” Mel asked

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m just making sure Joe gets his priorities straight.”

“And how do you think Joe will feel when he finds out you didn’t let him know I called?” Mel asked. Her voice was crisp with annoyance.

“You can’t prove anything,” the voice said, and with a click the line went dead.

Mel closed her phone. “Well, it looks like a stay of execution for you four.”

The brothers all perked up while Mel frowned at the phone in her hand. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this new situation. She needed to find out from Joe what the deal was with Susan. What if she had been calling about an emergency with Angie? Would the woman not have put her through? And if not, why not? Did Joe have unfinished business with her? Mel so didn’t need this right now.

“Come on, Oz,” she said. “Let’s get back to the bakery. We need to sell some cupcakes.”

Mel tried to ignore the DeLaura brother, Sal, who tagged along behind them. She knew they had worked out a schedule, and there was nothing she could do about it until she convinced Joe to call them off.

Tony was manning the front counter when they stepped inside. As soon as she took in her precious pink and chrome bakery and heard Elvis’s voice crooning form the jukebox, Mel felt all of her tension slip away.

It seemed as if she’d been away for weeks instead of just a day and a half. The sights and smells of all things familiar comforted her in a way nothing else could, and for the first time since Angie had been poisoned, she felt her shoulders sink down from around her ears.

“How’s business been, Tony?” she asked.

“Steady,” he said. “How did the competition go?”

Mel and Oz exchanged a look. “We don’t know for sure, but I think we pulled it out.”

“I’m going to call Angie,” she said. “Oz, will you and Tony restock the front display case and make a list of what we’re low on?”

Oz bobbed his shaggy head.

Mel went into her office and shut the door. She dialed Angie’s room number at the hospital and waited. Angie picked up on the third ring.

“Speak to me,” Angie said.

“It went well today,” Mel said. “Oz has skills.”

“I know. Ray already called me. He said your dessert was irresistible.”

“Apparently.”

“He also said you were unhappy with them and tried to have Joe call them off. What happened?”

“He didn’t tell you he mangled a dessert?”

“No, he told me,” Angie said. “I get that. I’d have kicked his butt myself, but he said you looked weird after you called Joe’s office. He said he got the impression someone wouldn’t put your call through.”

“My god, that man has big ears,” Mel said.

“You have no idea,” Angie agreed. “So what happened?”

“It was no big deal,” Mel said. “I’ll talk to Joe about it later. How are you feeling?”

“Good enough that Dr. Patel is letting me out today. They’re doing the paperwork as we speak,” she said. “And I’ll be assisting you at the contest tomorrow.”

“Ange, do you really think you should?”

“It’s one hour, and it’s really important to me to compete, okay, more accurately, to win.”

“All right, if the doctor says it’s okay,” Mel said. “Do you need me to drive you home?”

“Nah, Tate’s got it,” she said. Her voice sounded tight, and Mel knew it was none of her business but she asked anyway, “Has he moved into the hospital officially, then?”

“Pretty close,” Angie said. Her voice sounded embarrassed, and she hastily added, “You know he’d do the same for you.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Mel disagreed.

“Well, that’s because you have Joe, but if Joe was out of town, he would,” Angie said.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Mel said. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Absolutely,” Angie said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Mel hung up, feeling more grateful than she could express that Angie was okay and being released from the hospital. She never wanted to be that terrified ever again.

In the quiet of her office, she took a moment to go over the details of the past few days. Someone had murdered Vic. Although there were obviously several people with plenty of motive, she still had no idea who had the most to gain by his death.

She would have pinned it on Jordan just because she didn’t like her, but Angie had been right—without Vic, Jordan probably would fade into obscurity. So that left Bertie, who had just gotten Vic’s job, but then why did he need to kill Vic? He already had the job. Then there was Dutch. He hated Vic and blamed him for his failed career. But if he was working out a new situation with Bertie, then why risk it all by committing murder?

Mel felt her pupils contract. She was so tired of thinking about all of this. Every time she felt like she had a lead or an inkling of an idea, it slipped through her fingers like a puff of smoke, refusing to take any solid shape.

The only thing she did know was that Angie had been poisoned, and as much as Mel had balked about it, it did seem that it had been directed at keeping them out of the competition. Still, it seemed just crazy for a competitor to go that far to win. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had almost lost her best friend, and that made her angry, angry enough to take on a killer.

Mel spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, baking. It was the most therapeutic thing she could think of to do. She took a break about midafternoon and ran up to check on Captain Jack.

She opened the door to her apartment, half expecting to be attacked like he’d done to Joe, but no. No white little fur ball launched himself at her when she stepped inside.

In fact, he was nowhere to be found. She searched the bathroom, the kitchenette, and under all of the furniture. There was no sign of his little snow white body. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Had he gotten out? He was so little. What if he went back to the Dumpster? What if the garbage trucks came, and he got hauled away like so much trash? No, this was not trash pickup day. She checked the cupboards, thinking that maybe he had gotten trapped inside one.

She was on her hands and knees checking the cabinet under the sink when she felt someone watching her. It was a peculiar feeling. Slowly she turned around. There sat Captain Jack, studiously licking one paw, while he glanced at her with his pale green eyes.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

He stretched his body in a long arc and ambled over to her. He purred as he rubbed his little face against her arm, and she had a feeling he was angling for more food. Joe had been good enough to pick up proper cat food and kitty litter and drop it off earlier that day, for which she was grateful.

Mel scooped up Captain Jack and held him until they were nose to nose.

“I’m feeling very fragile lately, so don’t scare me like that again,” she said.

He batted her nose with a paw.

“Fine, cuteness will get you a little snicky-snack,” she said. She gave him a small portion of canned cat food and some dry as well and watched while he attacked his dish. When he was finished, they played an intense game of chase the yarn ball until Captain Jack started to look droopy and he began to knead her lap.

She put him on his preferred pillow and headed back downstairs. She had a special order for tomorrow that she needed to get done, and she wanted to help Oz lock up.

She really needed to do something about Oz. He had undeniable talent. He was still in high school, but he would be graduating soon. With his skills, she’d love to see him go on to the Scottsdale Culinary Institute. If only Vic were still alive. She could have asked him to use his influence to help get Oz in.

A wave of anger hit Mel low and deep. It was this sort of moment that brought the loss of Vic back to her like a punch in the chest. Yes, he had been the sort of person that sucked all of the oxygen out of the room, but he had also had an eye for talent and he nurtured it in those he deemed worthy. Mel had been one of the lucky ones. She couldn’t help thinking what he would have done with Oz and how sad it was that Oz wouldn’t get that opportunity.

The bakery was hopping when Mel returned. Oz and Tony were dashing between the counter orders and the tables. Elvis was keeping a moving beat, and the sound of laughter sprinkled the air with a mix of guffaws and giggles.

“Oz!” Mel called to him while she yanked on her apron. “Why didn’t you call me for backup?”

“I figured you could use the break,” he said. “Besides, it didn’t get crazy busy until about ten minutes ago.”

“I’ll take the counter if you two can handle the tables,” she said.

Oz and Tony nodded, and they split up to man their separate stations. Mel didn’t have a chance to talk with them again for another hour and a half. By the time she kicked Tony out and they flipped the sign to Closed, it was eight o’clock, and the display case was all but empty. The walk-in cooler was looking pretty bare as well.

“It’s official, Oz,” she said as they both sank onto booth benches and put their feet up on empty chairs. “I am going to have to start paying you, and you’re already due for a raise.”

He gave a low laugh. “I think that’s against the internship rules.”

“So is skipping school to work here,” Mel said.

Silence greeted her words.

“Oz?” she prompted.

“I hate school,” he said. “It’s a stupid waste of time. I’ve learned more since I’ve been here than I have in a whole semester there.”

Mel was silent. Oz was huge for his age. Six foot three with a burly build, more piercings than she cared to count, and the few times she’d seen his eyes, he was wearing thick black eye liner.