Two Parts Sugar, One Part Murder

CHAPTER 9

Monday morning, I had every intention of sleeping late. However, one thing about growing up on military bases is that you learn early that sleeping late wasn’t tolerated. The Admiral prided himself that by six in the morning, he would have accomplished more than most men did in an entire day. My dad got up at four every morning, rain or shine. He worked out, showered, ate the same breakfast every day, and by six he was working. I wasn’t as regimented, but I was a light sleeper, and it wasn’t easy to remain asleep with all the activity that took place on a military base.

By now, I was getting accustomed to the snoring coming from the other side of my bed. Baby was fully stretched out with his head on my pillow. The snoring was cute. The drool that soaked the pillow was not.

My cell phone vibrated, and Baby lifted his massive head and looked in my direction.

“I’m so sorry, my liege. I didn’t mean to awake you.” I reached for the phone.

Noting it wasn’t anything of importance, Baby lay back down and returned to sleep.

It was a text from Leroy.

U up?

Be there in 15. U want coffee?

Where? Yes2coffee

There. Cream and sugar?

Y? Yes

We have a lot of Baking 2do

That’s when it all came back to me. The bakery was a burned-out crime scene. So, if we were going to open tomorrow, he’d need a large commercial kitchen in which to bake. I growled but forced myself out of bed.

Baby opened his eyes but didn’t bother to lift his head.

“No need to get up. You continue your nap. Don’t let me disturb your beauty rest.”

Sarcasm was wasted on him. He closed his eyes and was snoring again before I made my way to the shower.

The warm water pelted my skin, and I felt invigorated. By the time I was clean, dry, and dressed, I was almost ready to tackle the day. Baby was now sprawled horizontally across the entire bed. I pulled out my phone and quickly snapped a few pictures and uploaded them, then I gave his rear a smack. #SleepingIn #LoveEnglishMastiffs #BabyCakes

The smack worked wonders, and he was up in no time, looking around as though he had no idea what just bit his bottom.

“Come on, let’s go outside.” I motioned for him to follow, but he needed to do his yoga stretches first. I thought I knew what would get him moving. “Let’s go outside, and then we’ll get breakfast.”

Bingo! That did it. Baby practically leaped to his feet and galloped out of the room. I filed that information away in my brain for future reference and followed him.

By the time Baby finished his business, Leroy’s truck pulled into the driveway. It was packed full and took multiple trips for us to get everything in the kitchen.

Inside, I took care of Baby’s needs first. Mainly because I didn’t want him eating everything Leroy baked.

Leroy handed me the coffee. I held it in my hands, took a big whiff, closed my eyes, and let the nutty aroma of Colombian coffee beans fill my soul before I took a sip. When I opened my eyes, Leroy was staring with a smile on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing . . . I wasn’t judging. We all have our vices.”

I wondered for a split second what his were but didn’t think we knew each other well enough to ask. “Okay, well, I’ll just leave you to it.” I turned to go in the library, intent on reading the Sherlock Holmes book I’d grabbed a few days ago.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I stopped. “To the library to read, although I might just go grab some breakfast first. I’m starving.”

He stared at me as though I’d suddenly sprouted another head. “You’re not leaving me to bake everything by myself.”

It was a statement, not a question, so I didn’t feel a need to answer. Instead, I stared back. “Have you forgotten? I don’t know how to cook. I tried to make eggs yesterday and I couldn’t even figure out how to turn on the stove.”

For close to ten seconds, he stared at me and struggled to keep a straight face. However, the effort was too much, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m glad you’re amused. At least you can understand why I’m not going to be much help with the baking.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting out of this that easily. You’re an intelligent, independent, resourceful woman.”

“Where are you going with all this horse pucky?”

“It’s not horse pucky. It’s the truth. You’re a college-educated woman who is a marketing and social media genius. Plus, you’re now the owner of a highly successful bakery. Are you trying to tell me that you’re not teachable? That you can’t be taught to whip up batter or roll out dough?”

I squinted and frowned. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at manipulation?”

He grinned. “I might have heard that I can be persuasive.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Besides, wasn’t it you who told me that you wanted to have cooking classes?”

“Yes, but I’m not the one who’s going to teach them.”

“Would you like some cheese to go with all of that whine?”

“Now you sound like my dad.” The fact that he was right didn’t help.

“Have you taken a look at that post I uploaded of you covered in flour the other day?” He pulled out his phone and swiped until he found what he was looking for.

“Holy macaroons. I’ve gone viral.” I stood with my mouth open and stared at him.

“You’re hot.” He blushed. “I mean, you’re hot on social media. That’s not to say you aren’t hot . . . I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” I thought for a few moments. “So, you’re thinking we take pictures of you teaching me to cook and that will inspire people to want to give it a try themselves?”

“I was just thinking a few fun pictures of you learning to bake might make people want to come by the bakery and see what you’ve made.” He grinned. “Or the guys will come by to see the hot girl covered in flour.”

I punched his arm and couldn’t help thinking how quickly Leroy and I had gotten comfortable with each other. I’d always wondered what my life would have been like if I had a sibling. Hanging out with Leroy was what I imagined it would be like if I had a brother. I wondered what The Admiral would have thought of Leroy. I gave him a hard, critical glance. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing a Captain America T-shirt and loose jeans. I didn’t think The Admiral would have approved of his easygoing personality, and I doubted that Leroy would have liked the regimented life of the Navy. And I had no doubt that any son of Admiral Jefferson Augustus Montgomery would have been forced to serve in the Navy. No, he wouldn’t have approved of Leroy, but it didn’t matter. I liked him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said. “Do I have something on my face?” He looked at his reflection in the glass of the microwave.

“No. I was just thinking. We could have a special section for people to buy my samples . . . provided they’re edible.” That might actually be a good marketing ploy.

“Good. Plus, I need a sous-chef. Hannah will bake plenty if she’s up to it. But normally there would be three of us baking. I’m going to need help.”

“Good point.” My stomach growled. “But I’m going to need breakfast first.”

“Let’s try those eggs again.” He grinned and moved over to the refrigerator. He took out butter and eggs and put them on the counter.

I watched carefully as he got a bowl and cracked the eggs against the side and allowed the insides to drip into the bowl. When he was finished, he handed me a bowl and two eggs and watched while I tried the same thing.

My efforts weren’t nearly as bad as they had been on Sunday. All of the egg made its way into the bowl. Unfortunately, a bit of the shell did too. However, Leroy simply got a spoon and fished them out, just as I’d done.

Next, he showed me how to turn on a gas burner by turning the knob until I heard the clicking sound, which he told me would ignite the pilot, and then turning the knob to medium-low. He melted butter while I beat my eggs. He put a splash of milk in the bowl and told me to keep beating. Then, he instructed me how to pour the mixture into the skillet. He took a block of cheddar and a grater and quickly grated cheese into the eggs. Then he took a pinch of salt and pepper and sprinkled it over the mixture. Leroy was a patient teacher, and in short time, he was showing me how to plate my eggs. He took parsley and sprinkled it over the top, which gave the simple dish an air of sophistication. I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures. #BabyCakes #MoreThanSweets #BestEggsEver

It might have been my imagination, but those were the best scrambled eggs I’d ever eaten.

“Hmm. These are delicious.”

He grinned.

“What?”

“It’s just eggs. They taste good because you made them yourself.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. I think you sprinkled something on top that made these eggs special, but I’m glad I won’t be forced to eat Baby’s food.”

At hearing his name, the mastiff, who had lain down on the rug and taken another nap, looked up.

Once I was fortified with scrambled eggs, coffee, and toast, it was time to work.

Leroy made various stations around the kitchen. Most of my tasks involved measuring dry ingredients, mixing, rolling out dough, and cleanup. Periodically, Leroy or I would stop to take pictures and upload them. #BabyCakesBakery #BakedWithLoveAndButter #MeltInYourMouth #TurnoversCookies-AndCroissantsOhMy

By the time we finished, we had six dozen croissants, twelve dozen thumbprint cookies with various fillings, two dozen apple turnovers, two dozen Danish, and something twisty that Leroy called cinnamon twists.

I flopped down in a chair. “I’m exhausted. I couldn’t roll another pastry if my life depended on it.”

“You’re out of shape.” He must have noticed the steam coming out of my ears because he quickly added, “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not in good physical shape, but baking uses a lot of different muscles than you use when you’re working out. You’re standing on your feet for long periods of time, and rolling dough is tough.” He held up his arm and showed his bicep, which was rather impressive.

Every flat surface was covered in baked goods. “Do you think we have enough?”

“Who knows? If Miss Hannah is feeling up to it, she’ll bring some things, too. Miss Octavia used to say, when we run out, it’s time to close the doors.”

“We should get a lot more traffic tomorrow. People are nosy. They’ll swing by just to see what happened and maybe pick up a bit of gossip.” I sighed. “We just need to make it work for our benefit.”

He didn’t look as though he believed me. “We’ll need to keep up with the inventory and do this again tomorrow.”

“Ugh.”

He chuckled. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done the buy-two-get-one-free promo. If you’re right, we’ll sell out faster.”

“Now you tell me.”

Hours earlier, Baby had given up on waiting for us to drop something and lain down and gone to sleep. Now he sat up, and his ears perked like antennae. After a moment, he gave a bark, stretched, and then moved to the back door. By the way his tail was wagging, I knew that whoever he heard wasn’t a threat.

After a few seconds, there was a brief knock on the door.

“Come in,” I yelled.

Alma Hurston got two steps inside before Baby launched himself at her, got on his hind legs, wrapped his paws around her waist, and licked her face.

I forced myself up and hurried to prevent him from knocking her over with his exuberance. “Baby, off.”

I need not have worried. Despite his size and enthusiasm, Baby was gentle and careful not to overpower the smaller woman.

“Thank you, Baby. I never get a greeting like that from my husband.” She chuckled. “That’s why I brought you a special treat.”

She spoke the magic word—treat.

Baby got down on all fours, spun around in a circle two times, and then, using all his willpower, forced his butt down and waited while his tail swept the floor like a metronome.

Alma reached in her pocket and pulled out a large bone. I didn’t think Baby’s tail could wag faster, but I was wrong. Not only did his tail speed increase, but his drool went into overdrive, and the effort to stay grounded proved overwhelming. His butt inched up, then down. Staying seated was a battle, and he was losing. Thankfully, Alma didn’t keep him waiting long. After a few seconds, she handed him the bone. Baby snatched it and trotted over to his favorite spot, lay down, and proceeded to gnaw on it.

Alma took a look around. “It looks like you two have been busy. If I’m interrupting—”

“We’re done for the day. Please, come in and have a seat. We were just taking a break.”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I read about the fire.” She turned to Leroy. “Are you okay? That was very brave of you. Everyone’s saying you were heroic to go into a burning building to save Garrett Kelley.”

Leroy blushed and mumbled, “I’m no hero. I just did what anyone would do. I didn’t even think.”

“Well, I can tell you that everyone at church thinks you are—especially the women.” Alma grinned.

Leroy turned away, but not before I saw his flush deepen.

“Would you like a cup of tea and one of Leroy’s buttery, ultra-flaky croissants?” I said. “I’m pretty sure we can spare a few.”

“That sounds lovely, and your kitchen smells delicious. Can I help?”

“Let me get things ready,” Leroy said. “You two sit down.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a teakettle. Obviously, he knew where everything was, although I was sure he volunteered more to have something to do.

I picked up a tray of croissants and put three teacups and plates on the table.

It didn’t take long for the tea, and within a few moments, we were all seated at the dining room table. Like a hawk, Leroy and I watched Alma take her first bite. When she closed her eyes and smiled, we knew they were a success.

“Oh, my word,” Alma said. “Those are scrumptious.” She used her wet finger to pick up bits of the flaky pastry that had fallen onto her plate.

“I planned to come by later and give my condolences,” I said between bites of croissant.

Alma stopped chewing and looked at me. “Condolences?”

“On your son-in-law’s death,” I said softly. “I thought someone told me that your daughter was married to Mayor Rivers, but I must have gotten it wrong.”

Alma rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. They’ve been separated for months, and the divorce was almost final. I don’t think Candace is shedding a tear.”

What do you say to that? I had no idea, and an awkward silence fell over the table. Leroy sipped his tea, and I tried to figure out what to say.

Alma must have sensed the awkwardness. “I’m sorry. I know you’re new here, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Marrying Paul Rivers was the biggest mistake of Candy’s life. She was over twenty years younger than him and flattered by the attention he paid her. We tried to tell her that she was making a mistake, but when girls are at that age, they won’t listen.” Alma stared at me, and even though I had never met her daughter, I knew by the embarrassed expression that raced across her face that Candy and I were close in age. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense . . . I didn’t intend . . .”

“No need to worry,” I said. “No offense taken.”

She released a long breath. “It’s wrong to talk bad about the dead, but Paul Rivers was a smooth-talking snake in the grass. He painted a picture of a life filled with mansions, luxury yachts, and trips to the governor’s mansion and even the White House.” She shook her head. “They weren’t married six months before she started to see what he was really after.”

I waited a beat, but when no explanation came, I asked, “What was he after?”

“He wanted her to try to get me and Octavia to sell to that Chicago developer. Octavia was Candy’s godmother. I guess he thought she could influence her. Well, I can tell you Octavia wasn’t having any of it, and he left with a bee in his ear. Now, my property isn’t as big or as nice as Octavia’s, but when he saw he couldn’t smooth-talk me into selling, he tried to get Candy to convince me to sign my house over to her in some shady real estate maneuver he claimed would reduce inheritance taxes . . . later.” She took a sip of tea and gave me a hard stare.

“Why?” I asked.

“I have no doubt that he thought that I’m just a dotty little old lady, and when I kicked the bucket, then he could finagle it away from Candy.”

I frowned. “But why was it so important to him?”

“I’m sure he promised more than he could deliver, and I have no doubt that there was something in it for him. Paul Rivers never did anything if it didn’t benefit him somehow. You mark my words.”

Alma certainly wasn’t shedding a tear over her son-in-law’s untimely death, but that didn’t mean she killed him. I racked my brain trying to think of a subtle way to ask if she and Candy killed him. Leroy came to the rescue.

“I sure hope she wasn’t working at the casino when she found out,” he said. “Even though they were separated, I can’t imagine finding out something like that while I was working.”

I had to admit that was a good lead-in with the appropriate level of concern. His voice rang with sincerity.

Alma must have thought so, too. “That’s very kind. She wasn’t working, thank goodness. She was home in bed when the police came by to tell us he was dead. Martin and I were getting ready for church, but Candy was still asleep. She’d worked a double shift and was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t even take off her uniform. She just fell asleep right where she was.”

Candy had worked a double shift, so there were probably tons of people at the casino who could vouch for her, but that left Alma and her husband, who might have wanted to kill their son-in-law.

Alma stayed long enough to eat three croissants and throw more shade on her deceased son-in-law. Then she bought two dozen thumbprint cookies and four more croissants.

After she was gone, Leroy smiled. “Maybe I’d better make a couple dozen more croissants for tomorrow.”

“I told you they’d sell.”

He stood taller and straighter. Praise works wonders for great posture. “What did you think about what Alma Hurston said? Do you think she or Candy could have killed Rivers?”

“Maybe, but I just can’t see either one of them stabbing the mayor.” He swallowed hard. “That knife was pretty deep. No matter how sharp that eel knife was, I can’t see that Alma Hurston would have the strength or the stomach to do it. She may not have liked Paul Rivers, but killing him is an entirely different matter.”

I wasn’t sure about that. I’d seen a lot of petite women in the Navy who could crawl under barbed wire, scale walls after jogging twenty miles carrying fifty pounds on their backpacks, and still have the energy to toss a grown man over their shoulders. Alma may not have been in the military, but I’d learned not to underestimate anyone. “What about Martin Hurston? I haven’t met him yet. I suppose the neighborly thing would be for me to take some baked goods next door and introduce myself, right?”

“Actually, I think they’re supposed to bring you the baked goods. You’re the new person. But I’d say absolutely not for Martin Hurston.”

“Why not? And don’t tell me because he’s old. That’s ageism, and it’s wrong. You can’t discriminate against someone just because they’re older. Although, I don’t think this is exactly what the law intended. Nevertheless, you can’t just discount someone as a potential murderer because they’re a woman or because they’re older.”

“I guess you’re right, but I wasn’t discounting him because of his age. It was more because of his profession.”

I hadn’t expected that. “What’s his profession?”

He smiled. “Martin Hurston is a minister. He’s the pastor of New Bison Unitarian Church and a confirmed pacifist.”