Nine

They drove Mel’s Mini Cooper to the resort and Mel parked in her usual spot. She watched Oz closely to see if he showed any signs of distress. She didn’t want him to suffer some horrible posttraumatic episode, which was way out of her wheelhouse when it came to employee wellness. Although Oz wasn’t an employee anymore, he was still family.

“I think I’m allergic to the adhesive on the tape they used to attach the mic to my chest,” he said. He pulled the front of his Hawaiian shirt away from his body and stared down at his chest while they walked towards the resort. “Yup, hives.”

“Maybe you’re allergic to the shirt,” Mel said.

Oz had borrowed it from Ray. Since they were trying to fit in with the guests at the resort, they’d decided it was best to be wearing resort attire. Oz was in navy blue drip-dry shorts, the sort that could be shorts or a bathing suit, with his loaner Hawaiian shirt, which featured enormous leaves in eye-searing shades of orange, blue, and green. While Mel was in a conservative one-piece bathing suit, with a white crocheted beach cover-up that reached down to her knees. They were both wearing large hats and sunglasses, completing their disguises.

“It’s not the shirt,” Oz said. He scratched his chest, trying not to disturb the mic.

“Have you been allergic to adhesive before?” Mel asked. “Do you break out from bandages and such?”

“Not that I remember,” he said.

“Then it’s probably nerves,” Mel said. “Try some deep-breathing exercises.”

Oz paused and took a deep breath. “I can’t do this.” He turned and started walking back to the car.

“Yes, you can!” Mel protested. She ran around him so that she was in front of him, blocking his path. “Oz, stop. Listen, I know this is lousy but Uncle Stan is right. This is your best chance at proving your innocence by calling Mrs. Perry out on her lies. Otherwise, she’s going to make it sound like you did it, and then the police will have to treat you like suspect number one.”

“But I’m not,” Oz protested. “I would never, especially in a kitchen, that’s my sacred space.”

Mel smiled. She understood that completely. “I know, but it doesn’t look good. Let’s review what’s stacking up against you.”

“Can we not?”

“Gallway was found in your kitchen, potentially murdered; and willingly or not, you were in competition for a television career against him. You have no alibi other than feeding your sourdough. You had a very public spat with Miles a few days before he was killed, and now the resort owner’s wife is claiming that you plotted the whole thing to try and earn her love. It’s reads like a really bad true crime story.”

“This is a nightmare,” Oz said. “I can’t believe this is my life. I feel as if it’s falling apart.”

“I know it seems that way,” Mel said. “But concentrate on the good things. The murderer will get caught. You’ll get your job back. You have all of us, your family, your girlfriend, Lupe. It’s going to be all right.”

He looked pained. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

“What is it, Oz?” Mel asked. “What are you thinking?”

“What if it’s not all right?” he asked. He clapped a hand over his chest as if he could block sound to the supersensitive microphone taped to his chest. “What if I’m arrested for a murder I didn’t commit, get found guilty and sent to prison, and my entire life is ruined? What then?”

“Well, we’re getting married in the DeLaura family church,” Mel said. “We’ll be sure to offer up a prayer for you in the middle of the ceremony.”

“That’s it?” Oz’s eyes went wide with horror, and Mel realized this was no time to be joking around with him.

“Sorry, I’m kidding,” she said. She looped her arm through his and tried to pull him along. It was like trying to move a vehicle in park. “Come on, Lupe coming to town should be more motivation for you to get this cleared up.”

“Yeah, well,” Oz said. If anything, his expression became even more grim. Mel wondered what that was about.

“Listen,” Mel cajoled him. “If nothing else, this awful woman has besmirched the character of one of my former employees, who is also a fine pastry chef, and I can’t let that stand. Besides, we’re not looking for a confrontation but rather we are going for information.”

“It sounds so much better when you put it like that,” Oz said. He began to move and Mel was relieved. She’d started to build up a sweat.

“Any idea where we can find Mrs. Perry at this hour of the day?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s always in the same place. Poolside with her flag up and beverages coming in a steady parade.”

“Oh, goody.”

She remembered the woman she’d seen standing beside her husband in the resort dining area after Miles Gallway’s body had been found. Mel suspected that she was the sort of woman who evaluated people on their looks, rating them as worthy or not at a glance. Mel had met her type before and the encounters always made her feel less than. This was not something she needed to be dealing with right before her wedding.

Mel didn’t want to revisit her own body insecurity but there was no way that woman’s manufactured dips and curves weren’t going to give Mel a twinge or four.

The parking valet nodded to Oz when they walked by, so it was clear Oz hadn’t been banned from the premises. Mel was relieved that even though Simon had blabbed the gossip to Marty and Ray, he hadn’t said anything to Mr. Perry, apparently.

Still, Mel didn’t want to have any unpleasant scenes during their visit, so they needed to avoid Clay like a pandemic. They walked through the lobby and Mel scanned the area, looking for potential threats. She saw an officer whom she recognized from the Scottsdale police department, a detective named John Gonzalez, who worked with Uncle Stan. He was standing at the bar and his eyes met Mel’s for just the briefest moment, letting her know that he was there to make certain nothing bad happened to her or Oz. Good old Uncle Stan always had her back.

“This way,” Oz said. He went in the opposite direction of the kitchens. He led Mel past the main entrance to the pool and around to a side gate. He used his staff badge to unlock it. The lock clicked open and they slipped inside, walking as if they belonged. Oz paused to visually sweep the area.

“Is she here?” Mel asked. She looked but with the array of sunscreened bodies lounging around the pool she couldn’t pick out the one that might belong to Mrs. Perry.

“There she is. In the blue lounge chair to the right,” Oz said.

Mel took in the sight of a well-oiled woman, covered by the barest scraps of orange fabric that could still be called a bathing suit. Much like the last time Mel had seen her, Kasey Perry wore her hair in a tight ball on the top of her head, sported overly large dark sunglasses, and her wrists, throat, and ankles dripped gold, diamond-encrusted jewelry. Wow, just wow.

Sure enough, as they watched, a male waiter in shorts and a polo shirt approached with a frosty margarita on his tray. Mrs. Perry handed him her empty glass and took the new one. When he held out the bill for her to sign, she waved him off.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m all oily.” She gestured to her body, which was deeply tanned and covered in body oil. The waiter nodded and she gave him a flirtatious finger wave, checking out his backside as he departed. Ew.

Kasey up close in the flesh was a bit more than Mel had been expecting. She was clearly the queen bee of the poolside as she waved to other guests and took selfies on her phone, drinking her beverage by puckering her vibrant pink lips around her straw. Mel would bet she had quite the lively online presence, which could prove to be very informative. Still, she was a lot to take in.

“‘Surely, you can’t be serious,’” Mel said.

“‘I am serious . . . and don’t call me Shirley,’” Oz retorted.

“Airplane!” Mel identified the movie. They exchanged a look of amusement.

Mel glanced back at Kasey. She squinted, taking in all of the skin and hair and jewelry. It was like watching something in a nature documentary. She listened, half expecting to hear Morgan Freeman narrate how the female of the indigenous poolside species selected a male to mate with but then ripped his head off if he wasn’t fast enough with the drinks.

“All right, let’s do this,” Oz said.

He strode forward, leaving Mel to hurry in his wake. With her yellow flip-flops with big plastic daisies on them, and her overly large pool covering, she felt as sexy as someone’s grandma, but that was fine. She wasn’t here to compete in a swimsuit competition. This was an information-gathering mission.

Oz stood beside Kasey’s chair, effectively blocking the sun. Kasey had put down her drink and was in full recline.

Without opening her eyes, she said, “Do you mind? You’re blocking my sun.”

Oz said nothing. He just stood there, arms crossed over his chest as if to keep himself from strangling her. Mel stood beside him, wondering if she should say something. She waited.

With a huff, Kasey sat up in her chair and snapped, “I said, could you move out of my sun?”

“Sure.” Oz sat sideways on the chair beside hers. “I just have a few questions.”

Kasey shielded her eyes against the sun and glanced at Oz. When the recognition hit, she sent him a small smile and in a low voice said, “Hi there, Tiger.”

What?! Mel was relieved that she didn’t say it out loud.

“Don’t call me that,” Oz said. He glared.

Kasey pouted. “But I always call you that.”

“You’ve never called me that,” he said. “In fact, you’ve never called me anything but Chef.”

“Well, I thought it,” she said. She leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage. Oz glanced away.

“Spoilsport,” she said. Her gazed shifted to Mel, who sat down beside Oz, and Kasey’s eyebrows looked like they wanted to shift into a frown but were incapable of moving. “Who’s that?” She pointed a very long, bright pink fingernail at Mel and picked up her drink.

“A friend,” Oz said. “Mrs. Perry—”

“Call me Kasey,” she said.

“No.” Oz shifted in his seat. “Mrs. Perry, why did you—”

“Nuh uh uh.” Kasey wagged a finger at him. “I’m not talking to you until you call me Kasey.”

She shifted so that her posterior was turned in Oz’s direction, and she looked at him over her shoulder in a come-hither pose.

Mel had a sudden memory of being at the Phoenix Zoo as a kid and seeing one of the female baboons present itself to the male. Kindergarten had gotten a whole lot more interesting that day. She could still remember Mrs. Diaz clapping her hand over Mel’s eyes and hauling her away from the exhibit. When she got home and told her dad, he’d laughed so hard he popped a button on his shirt. She glanced at Oz and realized he’d probably prefer the baboons right now.

His face had turned a hot shade of red and he was sweating. While it was warm outside, he was a native Arizonan and as such usually didn’t break a sweat until the temperature was over one hundred.

Mel leaned close and whispered, “Need backup?”

“Yes, please,” he answered. His voice sounded strangled.

Mel nudged him aside and moved so that she was in front of Kasey. “You stay like that and you’re going to throw your back out.”

“Who are you?” Kasey flopped onto her back and repositioned her seat back to support her as she sat upright. “And why are you here?”

“I’m here because you’re a big, fat liar,” Mel said. She didn’t feel the need to sugarcoat the truth. “And I want to know why.”

“What did you say to me?” Kasey snapped. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, you’re married to the resort owner, Clay Perry, blah blah,” Mel said.

“I’ll have you thrown out,” Kasey said. She lifted her hand as if she’d make it happen with a snap of her fingers. Mel was not intimidated. She’d had her share of irate customers in the bakery. Like, just try dealing with two customers who arrived at the same time and both wanted the last red velvet. It got ugly.

“I doubt that, given that my husband-to-be is the county district attorney and he’d love to have the police drag you and your husband in for questioning in the murder of Miles Gallway,” she said. Of course, Joe had no intention of doing any such thing, but she felt that was on a need-to-know basis. She studied her bare fingernails as if she’d had a fabulous manicure.

Dang it! That was one more thing on her to-do list for the wedding, which she’d forgotten about.

Kasey shook her head. “If you’re to be married to an attorney, what are you doing with him?” She waved her hand dismissively at Oz.

“He’s my friend,” Mel said. She glanced at Oz and smiled. It was true. He’d become one of her best friends and when she thought about the garbage this woman was saying about him, she wanted to slap the drink right out of her hands or, even better, pour it over her head.

“Friend?” Kasey asked. She lowered her sunglasses and studied the two of them. “Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mel asked.

“We’re getting off topic here,” Oz said. “Mrs. Perry, why did you tell the police that I was . . . that we were . . . when I’d never . . .”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kasey sipped her drink. Mel couldn’t be sure but she thought that Kasey was amused.

“You told the police that I . . . that I . . .” Oz stuttered to a halt. He couldn’t even make himself say what Kasey had said. Mel could see the weight of his embarrassment crushing him and she felt another spurt of anger for what this woman was doing to a guy easily half her age, if not younger.

“You told the police that you and Oz shacked up in an empty room at the resort where he told you he was going to kill Gallway so that he could take his spot as executive chef in order to provide for you in the way you’re accustomed,” Mel said. “Does that lie ring a bell?”

“What makes you so sure it’s a lie?” Kasey asked. She looked so shrewd and self-satisfied that Mel was compelled to take her down.

Without thinking it through she said, “Because at the time you said he was with you, he was actually with me.”

Oz’s head snapped in Mel’s direction and his eyes went wide as if she’d just confessed to murdering Gallway herself. She had, of course, meant that Oz was in the bakery with her but that wasn’t how it sounded and it wasn’t how Kasey took it, because of course she didn’t.

Kasey reared up in her chair, snatched the sunglasses from her face, and studied Mel like she was trying to figure out what anyone could possibly see in her. It made Mel feel as awkward as an adolescent and she had to force herself to stay still and meet Kasey’s contemptuous look head-on.

“What can you possibly see in her?” Kasey snapped at Oz.

“Excuse me?” Oz blinked. He was clearly struggling to keep up.

Kasey leaned forward. The tiny triangles covering her privates strained to the breaking point and Mel wondered if she should offer the woman her cover-up, lest there be a wardrobe malfunction that would leave both her and Oz mortified for life.

“You heard me,” Kasey hissed. She waved a dismissive hand at Mel. “Look at her with her butch haircut, lack of makeup, and doughy skin. She’s about as sexy as vanilla pudding.”

“Hey!” Mel protested. She knew she was in the unremarkable range when it came to looks, but it didn’t need to be pointed out so bluntly.

“What?” Oz glanced between the two women as if he couldn’t understand a word Kasey was saying. “Are you kidding me? There is nothing plain about Melanie Cooper.”

Aw. What a nice guy. He was defending her. Mel was touched.

“She’s kind—” Oz began but Kasey interrupted with a pffth, leaving them in no doubt about how much she valued kindness.

“Which matters,” Oz said. “She’s also funny, smart, and beautiful.”

Kasey rolled her eyes, which made it quite clear what she thought of Mel’s looks. Mel would have been offended but given that she felt the same way about Kasey’s manufactured looks, it felt like it was a fair assessment. Two polar opposites were never going to see the attractiveness of the other.

“Don’t!” Oz said. He sounded angry. “Don’t do that. Mel happens to be the sort of woman who is not only beautiful but she is also completely unaware of how lovely she is. It makes her even more breathtaking.”

“Breathtaking?” Kasey squawked. She looked at Mel as if she were a three-headed troll who’d just popped out from under a bridge. “Are you crazy?” She hopped up from her lounger, wobbling a bit as the effects of the margaritas kicked in. “Look at her!” she cried, and held her hands out to Mel. “And look at me!” She gestured to herself.

Oz glanced from Kasey to Mel and back.

“And?” he asked. His tone was dry as if he was bored.

“How can you compare this?” She did a shimmy-shake that wiggled her assets right in his face. “To that!” She pointed again at Mel.

Despite her acceptance of her own limitations in the looks department, Mel was beginning to be offended.

Oz stood up and loomed over Kasey. He gave her a dismissive look. “She is more beautiful than you will ever be on your best day,” he said. His voice was firm and assured and Mel felt her battered ego pick itself up and dust itself off.

Kasey staggered back as if Oz had delivered a body blow. Mel stood up, fearing that Kasey might fall over her own chair and need assistance.

“Ah,” Kasey gasped. She glanced from Oz to Mel and back. She gaped at him and said, “You’re in love with her!”

Oz’s face went instantly, vibrantly, explosively red. “What?!”

“You are,” Kasey accused. She turned to Mel. “You’re having a fling with him, aren’t you?”

“I . . .” Mel was caught off guard, unable to speak in the face of Oz’s obvious hot embarrassment. She felt as if something was happening between them, some rift or shift in the relationship, mentor to student, boss to employee, friend to friend, that she couldn’t quite grasp. She tried to shake it off. “No!”

“Liar,” Kasey accused. She turned to Oz. “Don’t you know that the first rule of shagging an older woman is not to become attached? She’s never going to give up her stability for you, and she’s going to break your heart.”

“No, that’s not—” Mel and Oz said together. Startled, they looked at each other. Oz’s expression was dismay, as if he’d been sucker punched, and Mel got an uncomfortable feeling that things were being said that would forever change the relationship between them, and she didn’t want that to happen.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mel snapped. “Oz is like a little brother to me.”

“Well, that’s just perverted,” Kasey said. She sounded disgusted.

Mel closed her eyes, seeking patience. She needed to stay on task here. She needed to get Kasey to admit that she’d lied. If she was going to make that happen, she’d have to embrace the horrifically awkward things Kasey was saying about them.

“Okay, fine,” Mel said. She couldn’t look at Oz for fear she’d crack. She used her thumb to gesture between them. “He and I are having a fling.” She felt him stiffen beside her but he didn’t deny it.

“I knew it!” Kasey grabbed her margarita, tucked the straw into the side of her mouth, and sucked down the drink until it made the distinctive gurgle of a glass on empty. Mel marveled that Kasey hadn’t gotten a vicious brain freeze.

“Which is why I’m here,” Mel said. “Why did you lie about having an affair with him? If he gets arrested and sent to jail, you’ll have cost me my boy toy.” To her credit, Mel thought, she didn’t choke on the words. At this point, she figured the only way they’d get a confession out of Kasey was to speak her own seedy gross language where everyone had a price. It worked.

“First of all, I didn’t know he already had a sugar mama,” Kasey said. She plopped back into her chair and began to arrange her limbs for optimum sun. “Second, how could I ever have expected him to be with someone like you?” She glanced at Oz and asked, “Is she quite rich?”

Oz looked as if he’d been turned to stone. Mel nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes, quite . . . very . . . superrich,” he muttered, obviously catching on that they needed to get Kasey to think that they were as morally bankrupt as she was. He looked at the ground at his feet as if hoping for an escape hatch to appear in the pool decking.

“Well, well, well.” Kasey seemed mollified by this. “I can’t fault you for going for the money. I mean, that’s why I married Clay. My return on investment there really paid out.”

Mel felt slightly nauseous at Kasey’s callous assessment of her own marriage. Given that her own wedding was just a week away, it made the mere idea of marriage feel tainted. Mel shook it off.

“Whatever,” Mel said. She sat back down, pulling Oz with her. “I still want to know why you lied.”

“None of your business,” Kasey said. She flipped the flag on her chair to up and waved at the waiter, who was circling the loungers.

“Maybe not, but since I’m going to have to come forward and admit that Oz was with me,” Mel said, “it’s going to come out that you lied.” Mel leaned back on one hand and feigned an ease she most definitely did not feel. “Your call, but I thought you might want to get ahead of it.”

“What do I care if you admit to your own bad behavior?” Kasey asked.

“Um, because when it comes out that you lied, who do you think they’re going to look at for the murder of Miles Gallway?” Mel asked. She waited while Kasey mentally caught up to the implications of lying to the police. Kasey blinked in confusion, so Mel spelled it out for her. “They’re going to look at the person who lied, which would be you.”

“But I didn’t kill Miles,” Kasey protested. “I mean, why would I kill him when our affair ended months ago?”