The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery (5 page)

She must have seen the look my face because hers dropped as well. "What happened?"

I glanced up at the station. "Let's just get away from this place. I'll tell you in the car."

Once we were driving, I reluctantly told her the whole story. Reluctant because I felt completely stupid now. "Is it possible we were actually mistaken?” I asked her, glancing at her sitting in the passenger seat as we cruised down the main street of Belldale.

She shook her head. "No way. That was Braxton Madison."

"But are we REALLY sure?" I asked firmly. "I guess old guys can kind of look the same."

She shot me a look. "I waited on the guy. I know who it was."

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the road. At least I knew I wasn't going crazy, but I was beyond frustrated at the whole situation.

"This is unbelievable," I muttered. "And to think I thought this was going to be open and shut, that this would all be the end of it."

Chloe didn't seem so upset. "At least we've still got a case to work on, right?" she said, a little excited. "Now we've got to prove that Braxton Madison really was in the store that day and that he killed Olive Styles."

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator. "And we've got to figure out why the other people that were there that day are covering it up."

P
ippa was still unwell
when I returned home late that evening, but she was well enough to sit at the kitchen table and sip on some soup that I had brought home for both of us.

"So what's happening with the case then?" Pippa asked, taking a sip of the chicken soup. "I am dying to know."

Usually I told Pippa everything. Well, actually, I didn't have to tell her everything because she was usually already there besides me, experiencing it. But today it had been Chloe there with me, and for some reason, the thought of trying to explain it all to her made me feel a bit exhausted.

I took a sip of my own soup. "Not that much to report. A few leads."

Pippa frowned. "Come on, Rach, there must be more to it than that."

I shook my head. "No, it's coming along slowly but surely, I guess."

I think one of the reasons I didn't want to tell her about what had happened at the station was that I still felt too embarrassed about it. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, and telling Pippa would only make it all seem too real. Plus, she was kind of a realist, and she always called me out on stuff. I was worried that she would react the same way Jackson had and say that I was crazy. Or just making up stories to try and make myself look less guilty.

And I still wasn't sure I wasn't crazy.

Pippa pouted a little. "I wish you would tell me what is going on, Rach."

I shook my head and placed my half-finished soup bowl on the table. "Nothing's going on, Pips. Anyway, you aren’t well. I don't want to trouble you with any of this. It's all fine, I promise."

Pippa picked up the remote control and flicked on the TV. It came blaring out at some insane volume on a music channel playing heavy metal. She shrieked a little and quickly tried to get the volume down, changing the channel until she fell on a local news station.

"Local news?" I said with a raised brow. We both felt the same way about local news—
boring.
She laughed a little and was just about to change it again when she stopped.

"Hey, isn't that the woman that was found dead in your shop?" Pippa asked, leaning forward.

"Ugh, please, turn it," I said, bringing my face to my hands. But still I could make out Olive Styles’ glossy grey bobbed hair through my fingers. "Seriously, Pippa, I don’t want to see this." I thought we were seconds away from seeing myself named as the prime suspect, or maybe pictures of me being burned in the street, the Mud Pie Murderess who had killed Belldale's most beloved female politician.

"I think you should watch this," Pippa said, turning the volume up.

"Seriously, Pippa, turn it off."

But the volume continued to rise and even though my face was covered with my hands, I could still hear the audio. "Witnesses say the politician was seen having a serious fight with her daughter the day before her alleged poisoning."

I lifted my head up sharply. "Daughter? Fight? What was that?"

Pippa shot me a little
I told you so
grin. "You should have been watching, Rachael."

"Yeah, well, I've kind of been avoiding the news for obvious reasons."

"Shh," Pippa said. "Listen."

Unfortunately, we were almost at the end of the segment, but the blonde-haired anchor, standing in the front of the same campaign office we'd been at earlier that day, looked at the camera and added, "With Olive Styles’ murderer still at large, are any of us safe? And will Belldale still be electing a new mayor next Saturday?"

The two big questions, I supposed.

I blinked and sat back against the sofa. It looked like I'd missed most of the juicy details about the daughter.

Pippa turned the volume down again and stared at me. "So," she said. "That was interesting!"

The news of the investigation seemed to have cheered her up quite a bit. It even seemed to have calmed her stomach as she started heartily digging into her soup again. After taking a few spoonfuls, she looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "See, you needed my presence, my good luck to give you a break in this case. Did you know anything about this daughter, or the argument?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't." None of that had been in Chloe's kit. I didn't even know that Olive had a daughter, though it wasn't that surprising. She could have had eight of them for all I knew. But an argument with her daughter. Now, that was interesting.

And it was obviously important enough for the local news to be talking about. They hadn't mentioned my name at all. It seemed like the daughter, whoever she was, was now the prime suspect as far as the media was concerned. After that humiliating experience with Jackson earlier, I was starting to feel my own face return to its normal color.

Pippa was deep in thought. "But if Olive's daughter did it," she murmured, tapping her spoon against the bowl, making tiny little clanging noises. "How did she manage to get the poison into her food at the bakery?" She brought the spoon up to her chin and narrowed her eyes, deep in concentration as she tried to solve this puzzle.

"That's a very good question," I said. We were both silent for a moment. "But I'm sure if she wanted to, she could have."

For the dozenth time, I kicked myself for taking that break in the back that day. If only I'd been there, had seen what had happened with my own two eyes. Olive's daughter could have dropped by to see her mother while they were still getting settled, looking at the menu and asking if the water was bottled or tapped.

"Was Olive's daughter there that day?" Pippa asked. "I mean, could she have been?"

"No, I mean, I don't think so. All of Olive's dining companions were her age, or older. None of them were young enough to be her daughter. But the daughter could have dropped by while Chloe had her back turned. There were these two minutes or so, you see, where Chloe wasn't watching what was going on..."

I stopped when I saw that Pippa had her eyebrows raised. "What?" I asked.

"Just seems like you know more details of this case than you were letting on. It sounds like Chloe is heavily involved as well."

"She isn't. I just questioned her about a few things, that's all."

"Okay then," Pippa said, trying to sound breezy, but I could see the color leaving her face and she pushed her soup bowl away.

I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket and I just knew it was Chloe. I took the phone call outside again and by the time I got back inside, Pippa was asleep.

* * *

C
hloe was immaculately dressed
, even at close to midnight. This time, we were taking her car, and I just hoped that the engine pulling up in front of the apartment wouldn't wake up Pippa. And if it did, that she wouldn't look out the window and see what I was up to. I was dressed head to toe in black, like a cat burglar, just to be on the safe side. Chloe was also dressed slickly in black and we looked like a real pair.

She turned the key and I cringed at how loud the engine was.

"Sorry, old car, it's all I can afford."

She pulled away from he curb and drove slowly into the night.

"So, where does Olive's daughter live then?" I asked. I'd gotten a little ahead of myself when I'd assumed Chloe knew nothing about the daughter. She might have known nothing until that evening, but since the news broadcast, Chloe had quickly done her research. The daughter's name was Angel, and she'd definitely been seen having a huge blow-up with her mom the night before the murder.

Chloe just stared at me even though she was driving. "She's a teenager. She still lives at home with her mom." Chloe's face turned red. "Well, I mean, she used to, before..."

"It's okay," I said. "I know what you meant. I took a deep breath. Poor girl. Angel must be feeling pretty devastated right about now. Having a fight with your mom the night before she dies, that can't be an easy thing to live with." Unless, of course, she had something to do with Olive's death. Then maybe it was a very easy thing to live with.

"And I assume that you have Olive Styles' address there in that kit of yours?" I asked.

"Well, yes," Chloe said, a little nervously. "Why?"

"Well, we're going to need it if we're going to stake the house out."

Chloe put her foot down on the brake and came to a sudden stop. Lucky the street was completely clear at that time of night. "You can't be serious, Rachael. Tell me that's not what we are doing."

"What did you think we were doing at this time of night?" I waved my hands over my outfit. "Especially dressed like this."

"I thought we were just going to go over the details of the case," Chloe said, her face as white as a ghost. "I don't know, sit and have a coffee and talk about the evidence."

"Chloe, sweetheart," I said patiently as I shot her a little look. "Real detective work isn't sitting around talking about evidence. Sometimes you've got to get your hands dirty. You do want to work on this case with me, don't you?"

Chloe gripped the steering wheel and after a few moments of hesitation, nodded. "Yes, of course I do." She pulled out her notes with shaky hands and handed me a sheet. "Here, that's the address. You'd better look it up on your phone and give me the directions, while I drive."

"Good girl."

* * *

I
t was
no surprise to either of us that Olive Styles lived in what was known as the "rich" area of Belldale. It wasn't technically a gated community, as there was no guard at the gate to keep out the riff raff, but it was pretty close to it. There was still a gate the separated the estate from the rest of town, and every house past it was a minimum of two levels high and all of them immaculately landscaped. Compared to the one-bedroom apartment that Pippa and I shared, these places were palaces. It made me feel a little insecure as we drove down the wide roads, wondering if I would ever be in a financial position to afford a home like one of these.

I had to remind myself that I invested my money in other things. That I had poured all my money into my bakery, hence the one-bedroom apartment for two (and sometimes three) people. But that only made me feel better for a split second before my heart froze and my stomach clenched. I
had
put all my money into my bakery. It had been a brutally fought war, trying to open that place and keep it open. And now I was about to lose it. If I couldn't prove that someone else had killed Olive Styles, it was all over.

"You alright, Rach?" Chloe asked, a little concerned. "Do you need me to pull over? You're not going to barf, are you?"

Maybe I was catching Pippa's bug, but I didn't think so. I think it was pure fear that was making my stomach clench. "Come on, let's just find Olive's house."

The Styles’ estate was located right on top of the hill, the castle overlooking the rest of the land. It was also the biggest house, four stories tall, in the entire community.

"You need to stop a few houses down," I hissed at Chloe as she started driving too far past the mark. "Not right in front of it." For the first time since this investigation had started, I felt like I was the lead again.

"Right, sorry," Chloe said nervously as she shut the ignition off. "I haven't done this before."

"It's okay," I reassured her. "You're doing a great job."

There weren't many trees on this part of the estate. It was newer than the rest and the trees that had been planted on the street were still new and not large enough to provide much coverage. Bad for a stakeout. I was glad that Chloe's old banged-up car was black, but worried that the age and model of it would give us away as not belonging to the area. I doubted anyone else around here drove a twenty-year-old car unless it was a classic.

"Just stay still," I told her. "Don't turn on the car lights or the interior lights. Not even your phone light. We need to stay entirely inconspicuous as we sit and watch. I know it's late, but maybe we will see Angel doing something."

"I'm not sure we should be here," Chloe said. She was tapping her hand nervously on the steering wheel and although there was no way the action could have been heard in any of the houses, inside the silent car it was a loud thud and it made me nervous. The more nervous Chloe was, the more nervous I became.