The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery (8 page)

Screw it,
I thought. I had to turn the lights on, had to risk it. Otherwise, there was no way of possibly making out who the man actually was.

I flipped the headlights on before I could second-guess myself. The figure jumped and stared at me, blinking furiously as he held up his arm to defend his eyes against the bright lights.

I gasped.

It was Braxton Madison.

"
P
ippa
!" I said, shaking her awake. "You're never ever going to believe what I just saw."

She yawned and stretched and I noticed the bucket back beside the sofa. Geez, that brownie really hadn't agreed with her, had it?

I quickly explained everything to her and she sat up excitedly when I got to the end of my story.

"Returning to the scene of the crime," Pippa said sagely. "You're right. He definitely did it."

I shook my head. "But he's saying he wasn't even at the bakery, and the others are confirming his fake alibi for some reason," I said, frustrated. "We need to find out more about him, Pippa. Can you help me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean take my job back from Chloe?" she asked. "Yeah, I can do that."

I shook my head and laughed gently. At least pitching her against Chloe was a good way of raising her spirits, and getting her back on my side.

Pippa was already back in detective mode. "We need to get close to Braxton Madison...need to find out what he's trying to hide. Besides the obvious."

"And I have an idea for just how to do that," I mused. "But we might have to do a little snooping. We might have to create some fake aliases. Are you up that?" I asked her.

"Hey, if Chloe can do it, I can too," Pippa said firmly. "Just tell me the plan, Rach, and I'll be there."

* * *

"
I
t's just
good to be out of the house, interacting with people," Pippa said with a grin as she grabbed another bite of hor d’oeuvres from the tray she was holding. "And it's good to be eating again. Even better when the food is free."

"All right, all right," I said, shooting a grin back at her. "Just remember why we're here. It's not just for the free food. Which we shouldn't be eating, remember? We're supposed to be handing it out." And it wasn't just for the socializing. It was to find something on Braxton Madison so we could tie him to Olive's murder.

"So, this is how the other half of Belldale lives," I said. The mansion that the fundraiser was taking place in was Braxton's own, apparently. It wasn't as tall as Olive Styles’ was, only three stories, but it was wider and the inside was so full of polished marble that it was almost blinding.

"I don't know why he even needs this political fundraiser, seeing as he's got no real competition now," Pippa whispered as a guest grabbed some food from her tray and she struggled to keep it balanced on her palm. He shot her a strange look and shook his head, muttering, "Where did they find these people?" Pippa and I had, for a while, expanded the business to include catering on the weekend, but we were a little out of practice. And this was not an official job. This was just us turning up and walking into the kitchen pretending we'd been hired as waitresses.

"I suppose he can always do with more money, even if the campaign is pretty much in the bag now," I commented, searching the room desperately for Braxton Madison. Wasn't much point sneaking in and getting this far if we didn't actually get to see him. "There he is!" I whispered, grabbing Pippa's arm and sending her tray toppling over.

"Shoot," she said, scrambling to clean up the mess. When she finally stood up, she was red-faced and flustered. I knew the feeling. I tried to stay calm and turned my back as Braxton moved towards us, in case he recognized me. I wondered if he was going to tell us off for our subpar catering skills. Maybe he was even going to fire us and send us home. Too bad we weren't actually being paid or he might have actually been able to.

"He's stopped," Pippa whispered. "Someone else has grabbed his attention."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. But one of us still needs to talk to him."

"I should go," Pippa said. "He might recognize you."

"Good plan," I said, having never actually intended to speak to Braxton myself. I wasn't one hundred percent sure he would recognize me from that brief meeting in the bakery the day Olive had died, but I didn't want to risk it.

"Okay," Pippa said. "So what should I..."

My phone started ringing loudly and I made a face, frantically trying to fetch it out of the pockets of my black pants while the guests shot us dirty looks. Great. What a good way to avoid attention as well as charm the Belldale elite.

I saw Chloe's name and photo pop up onto the screen and quickly ended the call. I placed the phone on silent.

I was about to put the phone back in my pocket when it started ringing again. I tried to hide it from Pippa, but she was leaning forward and being nosy.

"What is it?" Pippa demanded to know. I felt like I was cheating on her with an ex as I tried to hide my phone screen from her.

"It's nothing...it's no one," I said quickly.

"Is this nothing and no one named Chloe?" she asked with her eyebrows raised.

I could feel the phone buzzing in my hand. I had to look at it. There were now seven missed calls from her.

"I'm sorry, Pippa. I'll be right back," I said. "It might be important."

Pippa just shook her head. "It's Chloe, isn't it?" she asked.

I didn't answer, just tried to find a quiet corner in which to call Chloe back. But that proved difficult when a jazz band started up and the music seemed to bounce off every inch of marble.

"Chloe?" I asked, pressing the phone right up to my ear while I tried to block the other one.

"Rachael, I have something to tell you."

I could barely hear her over the party and the loud music. "You'll have to speak up, Chloe," I shouted. "I'm having trouble hearing you."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I'm at..." I stopped, wondering if I should tell her the truth. Shoot, she'd probably find out anyway. Better to not lie. "I'm at Braxton Madison's fundraiser," I said. "At his mansion up in Belldale Heights."

She didn't answer for thirty seconds and I thought she hadn't heard me. I was about to check if she was still there when she finally spoke up.

"You didn't invite me?" Her voice was full of hurt. "Who are you there with? Are you there alone?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. Again, I just had to go with the truth. "Pippa is helping me out."

"I see," she said. Her tone was short and clipped, and I could tell she wanted to say a lot more than that.

"Chloe, it's just... Pippa has been feeling really unwell, and she's finally better, so I thought it would be a treat for her." I felt like a dirty politician trying to juggle a wife and a mistress, desperate to keep them both happy so that my affair wouldn't blow up in my face.

"I totally get it," Chloe said, in a way that suggested that she didn't get it at all. "Enjoy yourself then."

She hung up without even telling me what she had called me for.
Well, goodbye to you as well then,
I thought. It was proving impossible to keep everyone happy. How did cheating politicians do it?

Still a little shaken up from the phone call, I went back to find Pippa, hoping that she wasn't going to give me the cold shoulder as well. I was grateful to find her waiting by the spiral staircase with a friendly grin on her face. "How'd it go?" she asked, referring to the phone call I'd just suffered through.

"I think she's a little offended that she wasn't invited," I said.

"Oh well, let her be offended," Pippa said, without the slightest sympathy towards Chloe. "We shouldn't let that stop us from enjoying ourselves."

"We're enjoying ourselves?" I asked.

"Well, I am," Pippa said, still grinning. "I had a quick chat with Braxton while I was serving him hor d’oeuvres," she said. "And he mentioned that soon the party will be moving outside so us catering girls should get prepared."

"Oh," I said, looking down at my uniform. "Well then, what are you doing standing at the staircase? We should be moving outside."

She just stared at me like I was an idiot. "We're not actually caterers, Rachael."

"Right," I said, shaking my head. "Whoops."

"But," she said, lowering her voice, "the party moving outside will give us the perfect opportunity." She tapped her hand on the staircase. "The perfect opportunity to snoop around." She nodded upstairs. "See what he's hiding up there. All we’ve got to do is wait until they all spill outside, then take our chance."

We both kept our heads down and tried to remain inconspicuous while the partygoers gradually drifted outside. We didn't follow them though, even though someone called out at Pippa asking her to grab another tray of champagne. "I'll be right on it!" she lied. I laughed a little at the thought of Pippa carrying a tray of flutes. They'd be smashed on the floor before she even left the kitchen.

Finally, they were gone.

We waited a few minutes, just to make sure that the coast really was clear. I was more cautious than Pippa was. After all, she wasn't the one currently up on trespassing charges.

"So we need evidence that he killed Olive, right?" Pippa asked as she looked up the staircase.

I checked around to make sure that no one was watching us. "Well, yes and no. We already know he's guilty. We need evidence that proves he was at the scene of the crime..."

"And how are we going to find that then?" Pippa asked. "You think he's keeping surveillance camera footage of the day stashed in his bedroom?"

She had a good point. "No," I had to concede. "But we've got to try and look for SOMETHING. We're here for a reason, Pippa, and it's not just the free food, I'm afraid."

There was a rope at the bottom of the staircase, cordoning it off from the rest of the house with a sign asking guests and staff to please not go upstairs.

Well, we weren't guests. And we certainly weren't staff, in spite of our tight black uniforms.

We waited until the last guest had gone out to the back garden before we each stepped over the rope and dashed upstairs. I heard footsteps coming back into the house and ran so fast I almost tripped, almost taking down Pippa as I grabbed her for support.

By the time we got to the top, my heart was beating out of my chest.

"I thought we were going to get caught," I said, holding my hand up against my thudding heart.

"Don't worry," Pippa said with a wink as she stood up. I didn't know where we were going, but Pippa seemed confident that she knew where Braxton's master bedroom was, so I followed her. "When I'm around, you never get caught," Pippa said with supreme confidence. "Getting you caught is Chloe's game, not mine. I'm your good luck charm, remember?"

"You are?" I asked, a little surprised. I had to laugh as I followed her into the bedroom. Pippa immediately began pulling open drawers, much to my alarm. "Pippa, are you sure you should be doing that?"

"This is what we're here for, remember?" she said. "What's the point if we're not going to take a risk?" Easy for her to say. She would be in a lot less trouble than me if we got caught. "Besides, remember, Rach—I am your good luck charm."

I still wasn't convinced of that. "As I recall, a lot of things have happened while you've been around."

Pippa put a hand up to let me know to shut up. "Rachael, look what I've found."

She pulled out a long piece of jewelry from the dresser and held it up to me.

I shrugged. "A silver necklace? So what?" I asked. "It's probably his wife's."

Pippa shook her head. "Look around," she said. "Do you see any other sign that a woman lives in this room?"

I glanced around. It was distinctively male decor. I blinked. There was only one pair of slippers on the floor by the bed. Men's slippers. I spun back to face Pippa. "What are you saying then, Pippa?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I found out a couple more things while you were off talking to your precious Chloe."

I ignored her comment. "And are you going to share these insights with me at any point?"

She nodded. "I was chatting to another caterer—a real one, I mean—who’s been at the house regularly, who told me that Braxton and his wife sleep in different bedrooms. And he told me where Braxton's was. I wanted to check it out for myself, though. Looks like it's true, doesn't it?"

I nodded and started to walk over to her. The silver necklace was still dangling from her fingers.

"So what the heck is this?" I asked, taking the necklace in my own hands.

"Turn it over," Pippa whispered.

I did as she said and turned it over. There was an inscription on the back of one of the silver plates. Initials.

O.S.

It belonged to Olive Styles.

I looked at Pippa. "We shouldn't be looking at this," I said, throwing the necklace back into the drawer.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, far too loudly. She reached into the drawer and pulled the necklace out again. "Rachael, we need that as evidence."

I could hear footsteps hurrying up the staircase. We each stared at each other. "That's what you get for yelling!" I hissed at Pippa.

We both searched around desperately for a place to hide. "Quick, get under the bed," Pippa yelled, pushing me down on the ground. But it was too late. The footsteps reached the door and it opened.

Braxton Madison, red and out of breath, just stared at us in disbelief. The necklace was still hanging off Pippa's hand.