Ten

“Affair?” Oz asked.

Kasey slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Do tell,” Mel said. She rested her chin on her fist and stared at Kasey.

Kasey snapped her fingers and pointed at them. Her pointy fingernail looked like a dagger. “That’s none of your business.”

Mel shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m certain the police will want to know all of the juicy details.” She rolled up to her feet. “Come on, Oz, I think we’re done here.”

“It was over a long time ago, and I prefer my men much younger these days. Besides, Miles was a drunk. That’s why he missed the television spot the other day. He was passed out drunk and missed it. Simon was ready to murder him,” Kasey said. She gave them a pointed look that Mel ignored.

“Says you,” Mel said. She paused, enjoying the moment of getting the last word more than she probably should have as Kasey glared up at them, her well-oiled body vibrating with rage and resentment. “But we’ve already established that you’re a liar.”

With that, Mel left Kasey to wave down her cocktail waiter. With the day she was going to have when Mel told Uncle Stan what she’d learned, Kasey was going to need all of the liquid help she could get.

Oz fell in behind Mel and they slipped out the same gate they’d used to access the pool. Feeling as if they were making a getaway, they picked up their pace. It wasn’t until they were in Mel’s car and driving out of the lot that they spoke.

“About what Kasey said,” Mel began but Oz cut her off.

“We’re not talking about that.”

“We’re not?”

“No.”

That was it. Mel glanced over at Oz, squished into the passenger seat of her admittedly petite car. His chin was tipped down and she suspected that if he could turn back time, he’d never have cut off his bangs and he’d be shielding his face with them at that very moment.

“Okay,” she said. They drove back to the bakery in silence. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

She felt as if she were sixteen and taking her driver’s license test all over again. She’d had a horrible woman, Margie, take her around the first time. Yes, the first time. Mel had failed her test, quite spectacularly, by going through a red light. It didn’t help that the woman had shrieked as if Mel had stalled her car on train tracks with a train bearing down on them, instead of going through a light that regulated the traffic flow of the local National Guard base.

There had been no cars in the area at all. Still, Margie had vowed that Mel would never ever get her license so long as Margie drew breath.

Well, Margie was still alive and kicking in south Scottsdale, and Mel liked to wave at her from the driver’s seat of her car whenever their paths happened to cross. It was the little things. Still, Mel was quite certain she had never sat in a car with so much tension since the day she failed her test and had to drive Margie back to the motor vehicle office with Margie huffing into a paper bag and then quite dramatically falling to her knees on the pavement as soon as Mel had parked in her designated spot.

She gave Oz a few minutes to decompress then she casually said, “Because, you know, nothing she said was true. She’s just a big fat liar.”

Oz turned to look at her. His face was the picture of misery. Mel felt her heart squeeze tight. She hated seeing her friend suffer.

“And look on the bright side, we got her to admit to an affair with Miles,” Mel said. “That totally makes her a suspect. Not only her but Clay Perry as well. I mean, his executive chef was carrying on with his trophy wife—that had to hurt. Maybe enough for Clay to murder him.”

Oz heaved a sigh and glanced up at the ceiling of the car. He looked like he was being tortured.

“Oz, speak to me,” Mel said. “What is wrong?”

They were stopped at an intersection and Mel glanced at him. He reached under his shirt and ripped the mic off, wincing when the adhesive pulled the fine hairs on his skin. He opened the glove box and tossed it inside.

“Better now?” Mel asked. “No more itch?”

“I didn’t do that because of the adhesive,” he said. He rubbed his chest where the mic had been.

“No?” Mel wanted to look at him but they were moving with the traffic now and she couldn’t take her eyes off the road.

“Kasey was right,” Oz said.

“About what?” Mel asked.

“I have feelings for you,” he said.

Mel jerked her head in his direction. If he’d told her he’d actually had an affair with Kasey, she couldn’t have been more shocked.

“But—” she protested.

“I know,” he said. “You’re my boss, former boss, landlord, or whatever, you’re about to marry Joe, who I consider my friend, and you’re a little bit older than me.”

“Little bit?” Mel asked. “More than ten years, Oz.”

He shrugged as if this was no big deal.

Mel put her signal on and made a quick turn into the public parking garage attached to the Scottsdale Public Library. Mel needed air. Fortunately, there was a nice park, called the Civic Center Mall, full of sculptures and fountains, and a man-made pond.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re going to talk where I don’t have to drive, too.”

Oz didn’t argue but climbed out of his seat and followed her along the path to the pond, where a pair of swans and some mallards swam, looking for handouts from visitors, even though a sign very clearly said not to feed the ducks.

Mel found an empty bench in the shade and sat down. Oz sat down beside her. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but this announcement of his felt like it was coming out of left field and she knew that no matter how much she didn’t want it to change the way things were between them, it probably would.

They watched a mother chase two toddlers on the grass. The belly laughs coming out of the kids were contagious, and Mel felt herself smile. The air was sweet, the day was still cool, the sky was the purest blue, and some birds were having a lively conversation. It all felt completely normal in a world that had suddenly veered sideways—hard.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Mel said.

“There’s nothing to say,” Oz said. He spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “I never wanted you to know but when Mrs. Perry was so nasty to you, well, I couldn’t help but defend you, and it got away from me and she figured it out.”

Mel nodded. It was clear he was mortified. She tried to think about what she would want someone to say to her if the situation was reversed. She’d had plenty of crushes over the years. What would happen if one of them had found out how she felt? She remembered her French cooking professor during her time in Paris. He had been handsome and charming and every girl in the class was madly in love with him, including Mel. Unlike the other women who could flirt and laugh with him, however, Mel had been so tongue-tied around him that she was positive he thought she was mute.

How would she have wanted him to handle finding out about her feelings? With kindness and understanding.

“Oz—” she began.

“I can’t go back to the bakery,” he said. “Everyone who listens to that audio will know when Kasey accuses me of being in love with you that I am.”

“Okay, stop saying that,” Mel said.

He looked at her. He was the picture of misery. “But it’s true.”

“No,” Mel said gently. “It isn’t. What about Lupe?”

Oz stared out across the pond, watching the two swans glide across the surface together. “We broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mel said. “When?”

He shrugged. “A few months ago.”

“Months?” she cried. “And you never said anything?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m so sorry, Oz,” she said. Before, she would have hugged him but now it felt inappropriate. She settled for patting his forearm. “That’s a tough one.”

“I’m fine,” he said. Which clearly meant he wasn’t.

“I think maybe your feelings are all jumbled up,” Mel said. “That happens sometimes after a breakup.”

“I know how I feel,” he protested.

They sat quietly for a while.

“Oz, do you remember when we first met?” she asked.

“Yeah, I came to the shop to be your high school intern,” he said.

“You were also dealing with being bullied and we gave you a sanctuary,” Mel said.

He nodded. “I remember.”

“Feeling safe for the first time can make for some powerful emotions.”

“Maybe,” Oz sighed. “You were the first person who ever believed I could be a chef.”

Mel smiled. “It wasn’t hard. You’re talented, and I know you’re going to have an amazing career.”

He shrugged. “If I don’t die of embarrassment.”

Mel laughed, relieved to see a glimpse of the old Oz.

“I don’t think it’s a fatal condition,” she said. “As for the recording, anyone who hears it is going to hear a predatory woman, trying to use her position of power to manipulate a person in her husband’s employ. Your defense of me was just loyalty in action. Her accusation that you’re in love with me was just her ego trying to deal with the rejection.”

“You think?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Oz, don’t you think your sudden feelings for me have more to do with your breakup with Lupe? First heartbreaks are a doozy.”

Oz put a hand on the back of his neck. He looked even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. “Actually, you were one of the reasons we broke up.”

“Oh.” Mel had no idea what to say to that.

“Lupe asked me to move to California and get an apartment with her, and I said no. She accused me of being too attached to my life here instead of her. I denied it, but then she said she got tired of our conversations being ‘Mel this’ and ‘Mel that.’ I didn’t even realize it until she called me out.” He looked rueful.

“Here’s the thing about those feelings you’re having,” Mel said. “They’re going to pass.”

He looked like he’d deny it, but Mel shook her head.

“They will. What you’re feeling isn’t being ‘in love’—that’s a feeling that has to be reciprocated fully to survive. But a crush or an infatuation, it feels so much like being in love that people get it confused with the real thing. But it isn’t real, because love can’t be a one-way street. When you find the real thing with a person who feels the same way about you, then you’ll really be in love.”

“And that’s what you have with Joe?” he asked. Mel nodded. Oz sighed. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She laughed at his beleaguered expression. She put her hand on his arm. “I do love you, you know, but—”

“As a little brother,” Oz finished her sentence, looking resigned.

“Yes,” she said. She leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. “You’re very special to me and I’d never want to cause you any pain. If it would be easier for you to not bake the cupcakes for the wedding and to skip the day entirely, I’ll understand.”

He reared back and looked at her as if she’d just cursed a shocking blue streak. “No! Absolutely not. I might be carrying a torch for you, but I am a professional and those cupcakes are going to be the most amazing thing anyone has ever seen. Besides, if I can’t get you to consider a younger man—” He paused to grin at her and she was relieved to see his eyes twinkle with humor. Still, she shook her head no. “Then I’m really happy you’re marrying Joe. He’s a great guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” Mel agreed. It hit her then that her wedding was coming up fast. While it was an intentionally low-key affair, she felt like it should be occupying more of her brain than it was. She felt a sudden need to go over the details with her wedding planner. She would never hear the end of it from her mother if she forgot something major. Heaven forbid.

“Come on,” she said. She rose to her feet. “We need to rendezvous with Uncle Stan at the bakery and turn your mic in.”

Oz reluctantly stood. “I have a feeling this is not going to go well for me.”

“Better to face it down than to try and duck,” Mel said. “Besides, I really don’t think anyone is going to think anything of it. I mean, I was there and I didn’t catch on.”

Oz smiled at her. “That might be because you’re thick, no offense.”

Mel laughed. “None taken.” She couldn’t really argue the point. She’d really had no idea how Oz felt about her. She wondered if the others suspected, but she couldn’t imagine that Angie and Tate wouldn’t have said anything.

Mel and Oz arrived at the bakery to find Uncle Stan standing beside the surveillance van. James, the IT guy who ran the van, collected the mic from Oz and said, “Good work. Given the noise of the pool area around you, you managed to get her loud and clear.” He turned back to Uncle Stan. “I’ll get started on a transcript. See you back at the station.”

“Right behind you.” Uncle Stan nodded. He turned to them. “Nice work, Oz.”

He clapped Oz on the shoulder when he said it, which Mel suspected was to make Oz feel better about what the recording revealed.

Mercifully, the only people who had heard the conversation were Uncle Stan and James, who had been in the unmarked police van during their confrontation with Kasey. Mel knew that Uncle Stan wouldn’t say anything and that he’d make sure James didn’t either, so at least they’d dodged that bullet.

“So, now you can scratch Oz off your suspect list?” Mel asked.

“Not entirely,” Uncle Stan said.

“What? Why?” Mel cried.

“Because while you got Kasey to admit that she lied about being with Oz—nice work there—it doesn’t change the fact that Miles was found dead in Oz’s kitchen with Oz hovering over him after they’d had a fight, and Oz’s alibi is shaky at best,” he said.

“But the Beast!” Oz protested.

“Not really an eyewitness,” Uncle Stan said. Oz sighed and Uncle Stan added, “Sorry.”

“But she also confessed to having an affair with Miles,” Mel said. “That must count for something. Maybe Kasey murdered him, or possibly Clay. Isn’t jealousy one of the main motives for murder?”

“Except we already know about the affair,” Uncle Stan said. “Clay clearly wanted to get ahead of it, and told us about Kasey’s affair during our first interview. He also let us know he was out on the golf course at the time of Miles’s death while Kasey was poolside, and both had loads of witnesses.”

“So, that clears Clay, but it doesn’t mean Kasey didn’t kill Miles,” Mel said. “It wouldn’t be that hard to leave the pool to go to the kitchen.”

Uncle Stan raised his hands in a calm-down gesture. Historically, this never worked for Mel. There was nothing she resented more than being told to “calm down” when she was legitimately upset.

The front door to the bakery opened and Angie and Tate came outside to join them. Angie stood in front of Tate and leaned back against him. Tate gazed down at his pregnant wife with a look of such tenderness that Mel was warmed just from being in their glow.

“Are we having a meeting?” Angie asked. “Because there was nothing on my calendar.”

“Not a meeting so much as a protest,” Mel said. Uncle Stan sighed.

“What are we protesting?” Tate asked. “Do I need to make signs? You know I love a good cause.”

“I’m your cause,” Oz said. Both Tate and Angie looked at him and then at Uncle Stan.

“Protesting isn’t necessary,” he said. “Just give us a few days and I’m sure we’ll have Oz free and clear.”

“I’m getting married in a few days,” Mel said. “And he’s baking my cupcakes. You can’t arrest my pastry chef right before my wedding for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Arrest—” Tate began but Uncle Stan interrupted.

“No one is getting arrested.”

“Pity,” Tate said.

“Hey!” Oz said.

“Sorry, I was already mentally surveying my protest-sign supplies,” Tate said.

“I’m leaving,” Uncle Stan said. He glanced at them all and then lingered on Oz. “I know I don’t have to say this, but don’t leave town.”

Oz blinked at him then looked at Mel. “I’m going to hide in my apartment like there’s a horde of murder hornets swarming. Call me if you need me in the bakery.”

“Madison is here today,” Mel said.

“Then don’t call me, unless she leaves,” Oz said.

“Will do.” She watched him lope across the patio and through the front door. Then she turned to Uncle Stan, “He’s just a kid.”

“He’s legally an adult,” Uncle Stan argued. “And if this goes badly, he’s going to be tried as one, too.”

Mel felt her stomach cramp. Uncle Stan gave her a quick hug and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch.”

With a wave, he left Mel standing with Tate and Angie, feeling as if her entire world was about to implode right before her wedding.

“Hey, does anyone else work here or is it just me and the new kid now?” Marty’s head popped out of the front door and he glared at them.

Duly chastened, the three of them hurried into the bakery to help out. Madison was working the front counter with Marty while Tate and Angie boxed up orders and Mel restocked the front case from the supplies in back. The line of customers was long enough to keep them all busy, and Mel didn’t get a chance to get the others up to speed until there was a lull.

“See you tomorrow,” Madison called from the door as she headed out.

“I told you she would work out,” Angie said through her smile as she waved at the young woman.

When the door shut behind Madison, Mel said, “So far. We haven’t gotten her in the kitchen yet.”

“Speaking of . . .” Angie paused and looked at the clock. “Break time!”

The bakery crew took advantage of the daily lull and met up in the kitchen for their usual late-afternoon break. Mel took the opportunity to tell them about Kasey’s affair, and it was agreed that she was definitely a prime suspect. Mel did not mention Oz’s confessed feelings for her, because she would never intentionally do anything that would embarrass him. Instead, they debated who at the resort besides Kasey would have wanted to kill Miles.

“Sex or money,” Tate said. “Those are the usual motives.”

“What about revenge or a secret?” Angie asked.

“Both of those are usually about sex or money,” Tate said.

Mel had plated a variety of cupcakes and they noshed while enjoying a cup of coffee, except for Angie, who went with milk. Mel debated her options, finally choosing a caramel cupcake with salted caramel buttercream frosting. When she took her first bite, it was the first time all afternoon that she felt her stress level drop. A decadent cupcake was always the right answer no matter the question.

“It seems to me,” Marty said, “given that the chef was bludgeoned, that whoever did it was angry with him.”

“Angry or desperate?” Mel asked.

“Both?” Angie suggested.

“What else did you find out from Clay Perry when you were golfing?” Mel asked. “Did he mention anyone at the resort that he was having trouble with?”

“No,” Marty said. “Stan already grilled me and Ray about this. Clay got on Simon’s case about picking a chef from the resort to host a show on the network, but Simon balked. There was definitely some tension there. Apparently, Miles was fired for being inappropriate, but he really wanted back on the show. Then there’s some other chef, Ashley, who is desperate to be on the show but Simon didn’t think she was talented enough. He really wanted Oz to be the pick, but with the murder and all . . .”

“I’m not going to be on television.” Oz came into the kitchen through the back door. He knew the late-day bakery schedule and, sure enough, helped himself to coffee and a cupcake. “I told them that.”

Tate studied him while chewing on his traditional chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting. “You’d be great, though. You were amazing on the morning show.”

Oz shrugged him off. He met Mel’s gaze and shook his head and she was relieved that it felt like old times. There was no residual weirdness between them. Thank goodness, she would have hated that.

“What about this Ashley person?” Angie asked Oz. “Do you think they’ll pick her?”

“Simon might not have a choice,” Oz said. “Sarah Lincoln—the chef you saw Miles yelling at—told me that Simon has a gambling problem and he is in the hole in a big way to Clay. That’s why he’s at the resort, looking to film a show there. Clay owns him.”

“Would he have killed Miles to get out of it?” Marty asked.

“I would think it would make more sense to kill Clay,” Angie said.

“Except”—Marty held up a finger—“Clay owns the resort, kind of a high-profile guy. Miles is persona non grata with the public and, from what I could see, a bit of a liability for Clay, plus he slept with his wife. Could Simon have done Clay a favor and killed Miles in exchange for forgiving his gambling debt?”

“Ooh, you went on a deeply twisted turn there,” Tate said.

Marty looked quite pleased with himself.

“The only problem with that theory is that Simon is still here,” Oz said. “If he murdered Miles to even things with Clay, wouldn’t Clay let him out of the television deal and he’d be gone?”

“Maybe he can’t,” Mel said. “It could be Uncle Stan told him the same thing he told you—not to leave town.”

“How do we find out?” Angie said.

“Poker game!” Marty cried. They all turned to look at him. “What? It’s perfect. I’ve already established myself as a high roller. I’m sure I can get Ray and some of the brothers to help me.”

“Definitely,” Angie said with growing enthusiasm. “But keep an eye on Tony. We call him Sticky Fingers for a reason.”

“Looks like we have a plan,” Tate said.

“Only one problem,” Angie said. “Who’s going to tell Joe?”

They all turned to look at Mel. She sighed. “Me, I’ll tell him.”

This, she was not looking forward to.