The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery (9 page)

"What the heck are you two doing in my bedroom?" he growled.

Uh oh.

I
t was
a long evening of questioning down at the police station before Pippa and I were finally allowed to speak to each other. Six hours must have passed before we finally spilled out onto the cold parking lot at the back of the station.

I was lucky they were even letting me go, and I hadn't been charged with trespassing AGAIN. Technically, I'd only been snooping, not trespassing. Braxton's event might have been invite only, but I'd still been welcomed through the door—I hadn't broken in.

Pippa looked exhausted but she brightened when she saw me.

"So, he was having an affair with Olive Styles."

"We don't know that for certain," I pointed out cautiously.

Pippa shot me a look. "Come on. How else do you explain the necklace being in his drawer?"

I nodded a little. "It also explains why he was out with her the day she was killed. And why he is so desperate to keep it a secret."

A politician trying to keep both his wife and his mistress happy. For a second, I almost sympathized with him. Then I reminded myself of what he had done.

"So... What are we thinking?" Pippa mused. "He killed her to keep his marriage intact? Or because she was his biggest threat politically?"

I shrugged. "Or both," I pointed out. "A double motive." No wonder he'd had such a vested interest in not being seen at the bakery that day. He'd probably paid off each of his dining companions, knowing that if any of them said he was there at the scene of the crime, he would look as guilty as sin.

"This is good news for you though, Rachael," Pippa said.

"Is it?" I asked.

"Of course."

I shook my head. "I know that Braxton Madison has a double motive. And I know he most likely killed Olive Styles. But there is no proof. He fled the scene. Paid off the witnesses. He's making me look crazy by even suggesting that he was there. It's hopeless," I said. If anything, finding this out about Braxton had just made me feel even more hopeless. I'd been hoping to find evidence that proved he was in the bakery. Instead, I'd found proof that he was guilty, and that he was going to get away with it. Nothing seemed clear to me. Everything just seemed foggy.

"Anyway, let's get out of here," I said, giving her a little look. "Good luck charm," I added sarcastically.

"Okay, okay," Pippa had to admit. "Maybe I'm not the good luck charm I thought I was, after all. Sorry, Rach," she said with a little pout. "Maybe I am your bad luck charm."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I pointed out. "If you were my bad luck charm, you would have been there the day Olive was actually killed. But you were sick in bed. Chloe was there."

* * *

I
woke
up early the next morning and snuck out quietly so that I didn't wake Pippa. I ignored all the calls and texts from Chloe as well. Most of them were just her apologizing and wanting to know if I wanted to catch up and hang out.

Huh. Hang out. Like I had time for that.

But actually, the idea of just forgetting everything for a few hours, or just grabbing a coffee and chatting with a friend, seemed really appealing. I wished I could have dropped everything and hung out with Chloe for a while.

But I had an appointment I had to keep. And even though it was one I really, really didn't want to keep, I had to.

The bank loomed in front of me. It seemed even greyer than usual, even though some of the signage was in red.

I walked through the doors and headed straight for the "Loans" section where I had an appointment with my loan manager. He was late. Which only gave me more time to stew over my predicament.

The last time I'd been here had been to take out a loan to expand my bakery. That's how well business was going. Now I was there to discuss whether I could even keep the bakery running.

Finally, Mr. Brooks, a youngish man in his late twenties with thinning ginger hair that seemed like it was hair sprayed to his head, walked in through the doors. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved to see him or not, but better to get the whole thing over with.

He settled on the other side of the desk and gave me a stern look. "You missed your latest loan payment, Miss Robinson."

I nodded. I'd been prepared for this, and I had a plan. "I just need another small loan, Mr. Brooks, just to tide me over until business turns around. Within no time at all, I'll be back on track."

His red helmet hair didn't move as he stared at me. "Aren't you known as the Mud Pie Murderess?" he asked me. Great. So he'd heard about that. "How do you believe business is ever going to turn around, Rachael?" He shook his head. "Given your current...predicament, we can't give you any more loans. And we are going to have to demand immediate payment on the current overdue balance."

"But...but," I said, stumbling over my words. "But, Mr. Brooks, I don't have the money to pay the overdue amount. The bakery has been closed for a week." I suddenly got my courage back up and was able to speak plainly and confidently. "Closed due to a police investigation. Which has nothing to do with me," I added firmly. "I should not be punished for allowing the police to do their job."

He just stared at me, unmoved. "But you should be punished for killing someone."

My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. So this was how it was, was it? Everyone in Belldale thought I was guilty. Thought I was a murderer. And they weren't even afraid to say it to my face. Not even my loan manager was afraid to sit there and accuse me. Even though it must have been the most unprofessional thing he could have done.

I stood up. My face was flushed and I needed to get out of there. I needed fresh air. My head was thumping and the blood was coursing through my veins.

"You've got one week to make payment," Mr. Brooks said to me coldly. "But I won't hold my breath waiting for that bakery of yours to ever open again."

I walked out with my head hanging so low I was practically dragging it against the pavement.

That was it then. It was all over.

Was there even any point hanging on to any sort of hope?

* * *

I
t's
a strange thing about hitting rock bottom. It's kind of a relief, and a sense of ease comes over you even while you are in the pits of despair.

Things couldn't get any worse.

I took a deep breath and walked down the street. I couldn't even remember where I'd parked my car and I didn't particularly care. I didn't want to be boxed in. My head was light and at the same time so heavy with conflicting emotions that I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to burst out laughing. The other half wanted to load up my iPod with sad songs, put my earphones on, turn the volume up as loud as it would go, and find a place to sit and cry my eyes out.

I found a hill nearby, off the street, out of eye distance in case anyone was watching me. The grass was still a little damp but the sun was shining through enough that I was able to sit on it without making my backside soaking wet. I didn't care much at that moment anyway.

My phone started buzzing and I knew it would be either Pippa or Chloe.

Chloe.

I rejected the call and called Pippa instead. I had to tell her about the bank meeting. She deserved to know that the bakery she worked in was about to go under. And that she'd no longer have a job when she recovered from her mysterious illness.

"Maybe it's for the best," I said flatly. "Maybe I was never supposed to have all the things I want in life."

"Come home, Rachael," she said firmly. "I've got something to tell you."

* * *

P
ippa seemed
a little nervous when I got there, but I was so concerned with my own problems that I didn't really stop to ask her. And I totally forgot that she'd asked me home to tell me something as I started to go into a pity spiel of my own.

"There's no point even trying now." I was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall.

"Things could still get worse, though," Pippa pointed out. "You could end up in prison."

I shrugged. "What does that matter now?"

She took me by the shoulders and shook me. "You won't be saying that when you are actually behind bars, Rachael Robinson! You need to snap out of this and clear your name."

I refused to look her in the eye. "What good will it do?" I asked dejectedly. "Everyone already thinks I did it, Pippa. They have a nickname for me and everything. I may as well just resign myself to this being my life from now on. Directionless. Pointless. With my name smeared. Prison might actually be a relief."

Pippa looked like she wanted to slap me across the face. "Great. So you'll just give up and abandon me?" she asked, the hurt shining in her eyes. "My husband goes and runs off overseas and now my best friend is gonna go and leave me too. Well, that's just great, Rachael. It really is."

She let go of my shoulders and shook her head, walking away from me. I could tell she wasn't bluffing. She was really upset. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Pippa," I said.

She spun around to look at me. "Just tell me, Rachael. Have you really given up? Because if you have, just let me know. I don't want to be around here if you've really decided to lie down and die. There's too much negative energy around here."

Too much negative energy? It sounded like she had been back in contact with Tegan again. I knew it was a mistake letting her make that appointment for me.

"Pippa, what’s wrong?"

She shook her head. "Maybe if you'd actually taken a second to stop drowning in self pity, I might have had a chance to tell you," she said.

I leaned forward, suddenly worried. "Tell me what?"

She stared at me. "I've been to see the doctor," she said. "I found out what's been wrong with me all these weeks."

"Oh my goodness," I said, bringing my hands up to my mouth. "Are you dying?"

She made an
Are you kidding me?
face. But she shook her head. "No," she said. "Not dying."

"Well, are you going to tell me then?"

"Rachael, I'm pregnant."

I just gasped. It seemed so shocking to me that I couldn't comprehend it for several minutes. I felt like everything in the world was surreal, like I had no reference points to cling onto.

My crazy, wild, scatter-brained friend...pregnant? She could barely even carry a tray of hor d’oeuvres. How was she going to carry a human baby around?

"You've got your mouth bobbing open and shut like a goldfish," Pippa said.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I think I'm in shock." I leaned forward. "Pippa, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said with a little laugh. "That's why I've been so sick, Rachael."

"Maybe it's a virus. Or something you ate."

"Rachael, I am pregnant." She stared at me. "Aren't you happy for me?"

I nodded. "Shoot, of course I am, Pippa!" I jumped up and ran to her, hugging her tightly. "Cripes, am I hurting you?" I asked, pulling away from her. "I'm not crushing the baby, am I?"

She laughed. "No, you're not crushing the baby."

My head was still spinning. "Is it Marcello's?"