2: Still Young

 

 

After dropping my motorcycle off behind Saul’s Diner, I climbed into the unmarked police car. The backseat—which made me feel like a criminal instead of a person there to help. I swear Gordy’s partner, Spencer, smirked at me when the door shut and he knew I was locked in. He was not one of the people who liked me despite my knack for winding up smack dab in the middle of criminal investigations…or his friends’ love lives.

Not that Baxter’s feud with his hopefully-someday-soon ex-wife could really be considered a love life.

Shoving away thoughts of Baxter, his horrendous wife Megan, and Detective Spencer’s dislike for me, I tried to get a few more details about this cupcake murder. “So, how exactly am I expected to help with this case?”

“You’re not helping with the case,” Gordy said. “You’re coming along to answer a few questions about the cupcake. That’s it.”

Spencer turned to glare at me. “Don’t touch anything, talk to anyone, or help in any other way. Got it?”

I bit back a snarky response about them asking me for help. “Whatever. Just make sure I’m returned to Saul’s by five-thirty. I hate being late for my actual job, especially for the reason of doing someone else’s job for them.” That last part kind of slipped past my control. My ability to put up with arrogance had reached its limit within five minutes of Chef Harper starting the skills exam.

“Enough,” Gordy grumbled, giving his older partner a warning glance.

I’d yet to discover exactly why Baxter’s father was so revered by his former department, and why the current members all felt they needed to look out for Baxter even when it wasn’t needed or appreciated. There had been many times I’d almost given in and gone to the internet for a few clues. Only respect for Baxter had kept me from doing it. It was his place to tell me more about his family. Spencer accusing me of trying to ruin Baxter’s life and being a jerk to me every time we had the misfortune of speaking made it awfully hard to remember how much Baxter valued people not sticking their noses into his personal life.

The car lurched to a stop and I glanced up at the police station in confusion. “I thought we were going to a crime scene.”

“No,” Gordy said, “I just need you to look at some evidence.”

“Then why did Spencer tell me not to touch anything or talk to anyone like I was a two-year-old?”

Gordy sighed. “Just come on. Spencer will behave. We don’t have a lot of time if you want to make it to work on time tonight.”

Glaring at Spencer as he took his time opening my door, I ignored him once I was released and scurried up next to Gordy. I followed him through the station, glad that for once it wasn’t as either a witness, a victim, or because I was in trouble for getting in the way. Realizing that actually improved my mood somewhat. At least until we reached an interrogation room. It wasn’t my favorite kind of place.

Gordy gestured me into the room after unlocking the door, but I stopped at the sight of a white cloth draped over what appeared to be a small, square box of some sort. “Why’s it covered up like that?”

“To make sure nobody accidentally ate it,” Gordy said.

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Snacks disappear fast around here.”

Glad to know I wasn’t about to look at a cupcake covered in blood and gore, I sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Gordy to take the lead. I wasn’t supposed to touch anything, after all. As soon as Gordy lifted the white cloth, my eyes widened and I sat back in my chair. “Well, that explains a lot.”

Both detectives stared at the light purple box in confusion, then turned their gazes on me. “It does?” Gordy asked.

Gesturing at the elaborate logo on the side facing me, I nodded, surprised they didn’t know the importance of the box. “This is from the Sweet Life bakery.”

They stared at me, not understanding the significance.

“Sweet Life,” I said again, pausing for it to sink in. When it didn’t, I shook my head. “Do neither of you watch TV?”

“If you’re referring to cooking shows…no,” Gordy said.

Yes, my go-to channel was Food Network, but this was way bigger than that. “You both need to get away from work more often. How do neither of you know about Sweet Life? They’ve got ads on all the time, not just TV but taxis and buses too. Especially with the contest going on. How could you both miss all of that?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t like sugar.”

That wasn’t surprising. His general expression was that of someone who’d never had a sweet in his life and was pissed off about it. I looked at Gordy for his excuse.

“I rarely watch TV and I have a car, so I don’t pay attention to transit ads.”

Before I could expound on my disbelief, someone knocked on the door then pushed in without waiting for a response. “Detective Gordon, I was sent to find you by…” Officer Morales, my biggest fanboy, was distracted when he saw me. “Hey, Eliza!” He gestured at the cupcake box. “Did you enter the Sweet Life contest without telling anyone? I keep seeing the ads and think about you every time. Is that a sample?”

He stepped forward, but Spencer snapped a hand down on the kid’s shoulder in a vice grip. The poor greenie winced, but didn’t try to get away. Spencer glowered at him. “It’s evidence. Do not touch it.”

Morales’s eyes widened. “Eliza, what happened now?”

Holding up my hands, I pled my innocence. “I’m just consulting. Promise.”

Relieved, he seemed to forget about Spencer trying to crush his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No!” Gordy and Spencer said at the same time. Morales frowned, a little dejected at being shut down so quickly. Gordy rubbed at his temples. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, yeah. The Sergeant was looking for you.”

“Why?”

Morales shrugged, well one shoulder anyway. The other one was still stuck under Spencer’s grip. “She didn’t say. Just saw me walking by and yelled at me to go find you.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He made a shooing motion at the young cop and turned back to me. “What contest?”

“One of the pastry chefs left the bakery, and the show. She got offered her own show and jumped ship. The network decided to hold a contest to replace her. Only the six people selected for the contest were given these boxes. They’re supposed to make their best cupcake on the show…next Tuesday. The judging is going to be a live show, a big special right before Christmas. Winner gets to join the bakery and the show in January.”

Honestly, this wasn’t anything they needed me to figure out. Morales was nodding along with everything I’d said, so they could have just asked him or done a quick Google search to figure out more about Sweet Life and the contest. I wasn’t sure why they’d bothered to pull me in, but something suddenly occurred to me.

“It was one of the contestants, wasn’t it? No one else would have one of these boxes. Their regular boxes are pink.”

“Possibly. We didn’t know about the contest until now, but we’ll find out.”

I frowned at his response, despite the fact that I suspected I was right about this. There were other things I was significantly less certain about. Standing and carefully leaning forward, I looked into the box. I stared at the well-crafted treat, even more confused. It was gorgeous, and looked equally delicious. It was clearly basic carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, though. Nothing a high end pastry chef vying for a lucrative TV spot would hand over to world class judges. Something wasn’t adding up.

“I thought you said someone was murdered over a cupcake.”

“Yes, that seems to be the case,” Gordy said.

“But, this one is perfect, which implies there wasn’t any sort of struggle for it.” I glanced between the two detectives. “How exactly was the victim murdered?”

Spencer had finally let go of Morales’s shoulder and now crossed his arms. “We’re not sure. Still waiting on an autopsy and toxicology report.”

“Then how do you know the murder had anything to do with the cupcake?”

Gordy and Spencer shared a glance that seemed to debate how much to tell me. After the silent battle of wills was over, Spencer’s frown deepened while Gordy faced me resolutely. “The victim was found on a bus stop bench. Multiple witnesses on an approaching bus saw someone hurrying away from the bench with an identical box.”

Somehow, Morales had managed to work his way past Spencer while Gordy was talking and was now standing directly behind me. He leaned forward, squinting at the logo. The detectives noticed him about the same time I did, and looked as if they were about to order him out of the room, but he spoke before they could.

“There’s something wrong with this box.”

Moving my face a little closer, I squinted at the area where he’d pointed. Embossed on the purple box was the usual silver logo of the bakery, different only due to the addition of the contest label. At first, I didn’t see anything, but then I noticed the fleck of silver peeling off the box where the words describing the contest had been added. Doubting a show as popular as Sweet Life had gone so chintzy on such a high status promotional box, I had to agree with Morales.

“This box is a fake. The murderer has the real one. And the real cupcake.”

Gordy’s expression seemed pained. “Why would someone want the box or the cupcake?”

“The cupcake might be used to reverse engineer a recipe,” I said with a shrug. “Though I doubt anyone who was accepted as a contestant would need to do that.”

“That leaves the box, but just having a box won’t get the killer on the show,” Spencer argued, “so why take it?”

He was right about that. I tried to think of some logical explanation for why the killer would want the box, but came up empty. It was one of many questions swimming around in my mind, including the fact that the live show was supposed to air the following week. Why would someone be delivering a cupcake at all, let alone so early? It would be stale by the time a judge tasted it.

“I think you guys need to talk to someone at the show. None of this is making sense, but I’m almost positive the Sweet Life contest is at the center of this…somehow.”

Gordy nodded slowly. When he looked back up at me, I could tell he was hatching something I most definitely wouldn’t like. “You’re done with classes until after the new year, right?”

“Yes…”

Spencer grunted, not happy either.

“Good,” Gordy said. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t really need to. Facing Morales, he said, “Drive Eliza back to work.”

“What about the cupcake?” Morales asked.

Gordy glared at him. “No, you can’t eat it.”

Rolling his eyes, Morales actually got a little snippy with his superior. “No kidding, but don’t you think maybe we should have it tested? Make sure there’s nothing dangerous in it? Eliza might be right that the killer wanted the cupcake recipe or the box, but what if the goal was to have it delivered to Sweet Life and something went wrong?”

For once, neither detective brushed off the newbie’s suggestion. After a moment of consideration, Gordy pointed at the young cop. “Take Eliza to work. We’ll deal with the cupcake.”

Though no actual thanks or appreciation had been offered, Morales beamed that his suggestion had been taken seriously. He happily ushered me out of the interrogation room and to his squad car. He even let me sit up front, which I thought might be against the rules, but I didn’t complain. I thought maybe my day was looking up until we pulled up to the diner and I spotted Baxter’s car in the parking lot. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing by itself. Megan and her pregnant belly following him into the diner with a sneer on her face made me wish Gordy had arrested me instead of only wanting my help. The night was still young. Dealing with Megan was enough to make anyone want to commit murder.