Authors: Leigh Selfman
Éclair Case of Murder: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Rosie Kale Culinary Cozy Mystery Book 2) (12 page)
For the next several days, I felt raw and miserable and found myself bursting into tears at the most inopportune moments. I continually went over in my head what I could have done differently, and came up with one answer:
everything
.
I constantly cursed Casey in my mind. Then I told him how much I loved him.
I vowed never to call him and then five minutes later I dialed his number—though I hung up before it went to voicemail.
I vowed to lose ten pounds so that I could be svelte and gorgeous for that dreaded time that I ran into him. Then I scarfed down an entire cheesecake.
All of which is to say, it was your run of the mill breakup.
On the plus side I didn’t think all that much about Helen Wright or her murder. And I completely got over my anger at Detective Sanders for his refusal to look at the truth. Pretty much all of my psychic energy was taken up in feeling sorry for myself and I didn’t have anything left for anyone else.
Not that I was proud of the fact that my heartbreak had supplanted something as important as the quest for justice. But the heart wants what it wants. And my heart really really, really wanted Casey.
***
I awoke to an earthquake, my heart pounding furiously, my brain struggling to make sense of what was going on. But it was just Laila and Cupcake jumping around my bed. Well, Laila was jumping around my bed. Cupcake was walking right on top of me.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Laila repeated in a singsong voice before plopping down at the foot of my bed.
I reached for Cupcake but she slunk out of my arms and over to Laila’s lap.
“Et tu, Cupcake?” I mumbled as Laila gathered her up, beaming a hundred watt smile at me from the bottom of my bed.
“I’m so excited! Did you see? There was an article on the play in the local newspaper! Maybe you could write about it too, Rosie! On that little website you write for! What do you think, Cuz?”
I was about to tell her that 1) I couldn’t have seen anything because I’d been sound asleep until she’d awakened me. And 2) That ‘little’ website I wrote for wasn’t so little anymore, in fact our readership had practically doubled in the last few months. (There was even talk of being bought out by one of the bigger news sites.)
But I didn’t bother to say any of that out loud because I knew that:
1) To Laila, whatever I was doing would always be unimportant in comparison to what she was doing.
And
2) It would only make her want me to review her play all the more. Which was not going to happen.
“Laila, I can’t go to your play unfortunately," I said. “Remember? The cops want me to stay away from the Wrights. And of course Dr. Wright will be at the play, probably with his son and with Purple Streak.
“But you already committed to catering it! You can’t just back out. You have to be there—for charity! And to give me a great review!"
“Laila,” I said. “ I’m sorry. Of course I’m helping with all the baking. But Nana and Birdie can handle the cater...."
“But Rosie, Diane said that Casey will be there. Since he donated something for the silent auction.”
“He will?” I looked at her, shocked.
Then I looked off into space as I considered all of the pro and cons in my head.
On the one hand, I’d love to see Casey.
On the other, I’d hate to see him—especially if he was going to be there with his beautiful new girlfriend.
On the other hand…Casey.
On the other hand, I really didn’t want to get arrested.
“Fine. I’ll go,” I said. “But I’m staying backstage, far away from the Wrights and from Purple Streak.
This elicited an even bigger smile from Laila followed by an earsplitting, “Yay!”
The evening of the play, Nana, Birdie and I got to the auditorium early to help set out the desserts. We were in the huge marble lobby where the cocktail party/silent auction was to be held. Not only was
Cozy Cat
providing cakes and cookies and éclairs for the event itself, but we had also donated a gift certificate to be auctioned off: Dessert Catering by The Cozy Cat Bakery for a party of fifty.
While we made sure the dessert tables were overflowing with our beautiful, colorful cakes, cake balls, cream puffs and cookies, Diane’s assistants were busy setting out the various donated items. Each ‘lot’ had a little placard description next to it, as well a sheet of paper where the bids were to be written in.
I looked at some of the auction lots which ranged in price from the barely affordable to the never-in-a-million years expensive and considered bidding on a hot air balloon ride for Nana for her birthday. But I’d have to see how high the bidding went—though it was for charity, I still had my limits—or my bank account did anyway.
My plan for the night was to help out as much as possible and then scram before the people started arriving, so as to avoid running into any of the Wrights or Purple Streak.
As I worked, I kept glancing around, wondering if Casey would show up. I was dressed to the nines, my hair and makeup done perfectly, just in case. And I’d decided that if I did see him, I would be the picture of cool, calm elegance. I would act like I was as nonchalant about our breakup as he was.
But so far, there was no sight of him. Which was a good thing because the very thought of him made my heart do Cirque de Soleil-worthy acrobatics.
In the meantime I forced myself to focus.
“That’s a beautiful vase,” I said, looking at a tall, lily-shaped glass vase that was being placed on a table by one of Diane’s assistants. I was sure it was
tres
expensive, possibly even a Tiffany, with swirls of Iridescent pink and gold and green. “I feel like I’ve seen that before."
“Oh no, this is one of a kind," the assistant said. “It was donated by Mrs. Wright before she died. It’s going to go into the five figures. Look, see what the starting bid is?”
I looked at the starting bid and my jaw dropped. Never would I let Cupcake (or myself) near a piece like that—even if I could afford it.
“It’s stunning," I said.
“Yes, Helen Wright donated it just before she died,” Diane said, walking up behind me. “She was always one of our biggest benefactors. Rosie, I’m so glad you made it after all. Laila told me you’d been considering not coming."
“Yes well, I didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble. I’ll just help set up and then leave early."
“Nonsense. You have to stay and see your cousin in the play. She's quite good, believe it or not. I think she might have some real talent."
Great.
Just what Laila needs. More accolades.
“Listen, if you’re uncomfortable, you can watch from the wings,” Diane suggested. “That way no one will even know you’re here.”
“Really? That’d be great. Thank you.”
Diane nodded. “Well, Laila explained what happened with Sanders—that he didn’t want you to go near the Wrights. That they claimed you were stalking them.”
“It’s so frustrating,” I said. “If only he’d listen, I think I could prove that Helen didn’t even make that suicide call. But at this point I don’t think I can risk it.”
“Diane looked at me in surprise. “She didn’t make the suicide call? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yeah, no one knows about it but me. And Nana and Birdie. Because Sanders won’t listen to a thing I have to say.”
“But who made the call then?” Diane asked, obviously taken aback by the idea.
“I think Violet did it,” I said. “But to be honest, I’ve been so overwhelmed lately with my own relationship stuff, that I haven’t pursued it the way I should. What with Sanders threatening to arrest me and all...”
Diane looked at my sympathetically. “It happens,” she smiled. “I mean the relationship stuff.” She frowned, deep in thought. “If only they taped the calls at the suicide hotline. That would prove for certain whether Helen made that call or not. Wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” I nodded. “But unfortunately, they don’t. It’s one of their selling points.”
Diane looked off, her brow furrowed. She appeared to be debating whether or not to tell me something.
“What is it, Diane?”
“Well, I…just remembered something…” she said, tapping a manicured fingernail on the auction table. She exhaled loudly. “But then again, it might not be worth mentioning.”
“Diane. Seriously, what is it?” My skin was tingling the way it did when I knew I was just about to discover something important on a story. “If you know something…”
“Well, the thing is, I’m not sure if I’m remembering this right. But…” she began.
But unfortunately that was the last thing I heard, because just then, Casey walked into the room.
And everything else disappeared.
I sucked in my breath involuntarily. Casey’s face was tanned and handsome, his gaze intense and focused as he scanned the room.
Our eyes met and stayed focused on each other as he walked towards me…and I couldn’t see anything but him. I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of my own heart in my ears.
Diane must have noticed that I was distracted, because I heard her mumble something about catching up with me later and then she walked off.
Casey walked towards me, our eyes still locked on one another. My heart was pounding furiously as he approached.
“Rosie,” he said softly, standing right in front of me.
“Hi,” I whispered, not even sure if my voice made it all the way to his ears. I felt ready to cry, but instead I smiled. Or tried to anyway.
“You got my message?” he asked, looking at me sadly.
I nodded, blinking back tears. “Yes. I got it,” I said quietly.
“I’m so sorry about everything that happened.” His brow was furrowed, his eyes looked sad.
I nodded. He was looking at me as if expecting some response. “So am I,” I said. “Sorry.” My voice caught in my throat.
I appreciated that he’d come over to talk to me. That he hadn’t just ignored me and tried to pretend that we never had anything special together—the way my last boyfriend did.
It was considerate and thoughtful and much more Casey-like than that awful breakup phone call. But still, I knew this was a bad idea—I just wasn’t ready to see him.
I swallowed and forced myself to breathe but my eyes were too blurred with tears to see anything. All I could see clearly was how much I still wanted him back.
“And I’m sorry…,” I whispered. “I’m sorry that I left you at that party that night. I wouldn’t have if I’d had a choice. But Sanders was ready to arrest me.”
Casey looked at me, blankly. “He was? I had no idea. I never would have left had I known that.” He took my hands in his. “Rosie, Laila told me only that you went to talk to Sanders. I had no idea it was so serious.”
“I asked her to tell you that,” I nodded. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your father. But I guess I did anyway. He must’ve been so offended.”
“No…no at all…”
“Is that what made you so angry?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Angry? No. In fact my father left shortly after you did. Rosie, why on earth would you ever think I was angry?”
“Because…of your message. Telling me that you were breaking up with me. And that it was over and you couldn’t see me anymore and that it couldn’t work out for us.” Tears were now spilling out of my eyes and it was impossible for me to stop them. “And then you went out of town with that beautiful woman…”
“Rosie,” Casey said, gripping my hand hard, without seeming to realize it. “I don’t know what you thought you heard. But I didn’t break up with you.”
His green eyes sparkled as he looked at me, puzzled. He looked off, frowning in thought then shook his head.
“I never said it was over. I…I might have said something about being ‘over’ your house…in the plane. And that I ‘couldn’t see you anymore’…after we’d flown far away from your house. And I might have mentioned that our phone connection was ‘breaking up’. But…” He looked at me, more puzzled than ever. “How could you think I would ever break up with you? And over the phone of all things? Just for leaving me at a party?”
“But I didn’t hear from you for days,” I said more loudly than I’d intended. “I called you like twenty times but you never called me back.”
“I was at a meditation retreat – no phones, no computers no nothing. It was grueling, believe me,” he said, making a face. “But I explained all this to Laila before I left. I waited for you as long as I could, then I asked her to tell you that I had to leave on short notice. I explained that my father had planned to go but he had to get back to England ASAP so he asked me to fill in for him. Rosie, that woman that I was talking to, Emily Konno, was a possible client. We spent the last four days discussing business.”
I stared at him, I just couldn’t believe it.
“Besides,” he added. “You didn’t leave me twenty messages. You left me one message.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, red-faced. “I might have…hung up the other times. I didn’t want to seem obsessed."
He encircled me in his arms and smiled tenderly. “Oh, Rosie, I have missed you,” he said, giving me a tight squeeze. “And I’m sorry I told Laila to give you my message. I never should have entrusted it to her. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“So am I,” I said, looking up at him. “I hate you for that.”
“I know. I hate you too,” he said looking deeply into my eyes. Then he leaned down to kiss me.
Then as if on cue…music started playing in the background. It swelled into a crescendo—just like romantic music in a romantic movie. Though in reality I knew it just the music that signaled that the show was about to start.
“I suppose we should go watch this?” Casey said with a sigh, as though he would rather stay just where we were.
I bit my lip. “Actually you should go. I have to stay backstage and watch from there since I’m not really allowed in the vicinity of the Wright family.”
He gave me a puzzled look.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it after. Anyway, I’m not really interested in some play about dead peasants and E. coli, so it’s fine.”
Casey’s brow furrowed. “Dead peasants? I thought it was
Guys and Dolls
.” He looked off towards the auditorium.
“Oh…well that’s how Diane described it once. Maybe it’s an updated version or something,” I shrugged.
“Hmn. Oh well. I guess I’d better go. I’ll see you after though? We’ll have dinner?”
I nodded giddily, then I watched him walk out. I just couldn’t believe how something could go from so awful to so wonderful in the span of one second. It almost felt like a miracle.
Maybe this night wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.
I forced myself out of my love-struck stupor—now I had to find Diane and see what she was going to tell me about Helen. After all, who knew? Maybe it would be something useful and all my problems could be solved in one fell swoop.
I walked off, still smiling.