6: Tolerance

 

 

As we waited in the lobby of the production company for Sweet Life, I figured it was my turn for an answer. Sitting down next to Gordy, I ignored the fact that he was looking over notes. “Why did you ask if I’d told Baxter about this case?”

Gordy wrote something down in his notebook and scowled at me. “Because I was curious.”

“Liar.”

“Because I didn’t clear it with him first.”

“Excuse me?” I knew about their deal. Baxter asked Gordy to keep an eye on me and volunteer for any cases I got wrapped up in. Acting as my parent was not part of the deal.

Gordy held up a hand. “He cares about you, Eliza.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to decide whether or not I help you with a case. When did that get added to your deal?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Gordy stared at his notebook. “After I talked the Captain into using you during the zombie powder case.”

While that wasn’t surprising, I was still irritated Baxter had stepped in like that. “Have there been other cases?”

He shook his head. “Food related murders aren’t exactly common. I hadn’t actually expected to ever call you in on something like this, so I’d agreed to his demands. The deal was mainly about keeping you out of harm’s way the next time you dragged me into something.”

Scrunching my nose at him, I slumped in my chair. Baxter hadn’t seemed to care that I was helping Gordy. At the time, his thoughts had been occupied by Megan and babies. Earlier that morning he’d been quiet and distant, but if he’d been mad at his friend or me, both of us would have known it. Before I could puzzle it out, a very stylish woman strode out a pair of double doors and offered a plastic smile.

“Detective Gordon, I presume.” She offered her hand and Gordy shook it briefly.

Gesturing at Spencer, who was trying to crowd in front of me, Gordy said, “This is my partner, Detective Spencer.” Once they’d shaken hands he pointed at me. “This is Eliza Carlisle, a consultant of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“She’s not official, but she’s been a big help so far.”

The woman’s lips pursed at that, but she continued on without comment. “I’m Mia Howett, director of Sweet Life. I was told you have some questions about the show.” She waited for Gordy to nod, then gestured toward the doors she’d come through. “Why don’t we take this to my office and I can answer whatever questions you have.”

A thin young woman with a ponytail and earpiece stepped out from behind Ms. Howett where she’d been hiding and pulled open the doors for everyone. We trooped past her like a trail of baby ducks, all but Morales who was caught off guard by her flirty smile and stumbled into the back of Spencer. After recovering from being shoved away by the grumpy detective, Morales managed a small, embarrassed smile in return. I covered a laugh and tried not to humiliate myself by doing something similar.

When we made it to Ms. Howett’s office, there were only two chairs on the visitor side of the desk. Gordy sat in one and Spencer practically leapt over me to make sure he got the other. I rolled my eyes at the back of his head and focused on the director—who was ignoring everyone but Gordy. Somehow she could tell he was the one in charge. I couldn’t imagine how she’d figured that one out. Resisting the urge to kick the back of Spencer’s chair, I waited for someone to get things started.

“I was informed of the deaths of two of our contestants’ staff members only shortly before you called this morning,” she said. “It’s tragic, but I know next to nothing about what happened to them.”

“What happened to them isn’t what I need to ask you about. It’s the show. The contest, more specifically.”

Ms. Howett cocked her head to one side. “Why?” Her blunt, sharp question made everyone pay attention a little more. She caught the interest and tried to downplay her irritation. “The contest is a major source of publicity for the show. We’ve put millions of dollars into making this happen. Revealing proprietary information could be devastating to our success.”

Gordy stared at her, clearly not impressed. “Dead contestants would be even more devastating.”

Her lips thinned and it took her a solid ten seconds to reply. “What makes you so sure these two deaths are related to the contest?”

I watched her expression as Gordy gave her the highlights of what we’d learned so far. Her skepticism quickly morphed into fear. Not so much fear for people’s lives, but fear for her career and the show’s popularity. Amazing baked goods would be much harder to sell if customers thought they might be murdered simply for holding a box.

“The boxes being delivered this week,” Ms. Howett began, “they’re just promotional, not actually part of the contest. It makes no sense that someone would steal them.”

“What do you mean by just promotional,” Spencer asked.

“Our marketing department wanted a signature cupcake from each of the contestants. Most were sent by a delivery service since the majority of the contestants don’t live in the city. The cupcakes are only going to be used for pictures, to create promotional graphics, then they’re going in the trash,” she said. “There’s no reason to kill someone for them.”

Gordy noted down her response. “We don’t think they’re after the cupcakes so much as the box. Any idea why that might be?”

Ms. Howett shook her head. “The boxes aren’t special, aside from the color, but Sweet Life has always used purple boxes for special occasions.”

“How many people have access to the purple boxes?” Gordy asked.

She frowned, uncertain of the answer. “I’ll have my assistant check into that.”

“Any idea who might want to ruin the contest so badly they’re killing people?” Spencer asked.

Again, she didn’t have an answer. Not one she wanted to say, anyway. There was something in her eyes that said otherwise.

Gordy took her lack of answers in stride and didn’t push her at that moment. His was more patient than I was, because I had to bite my tongue to keep from reminding her about the two dead bakery assistants who’d been kabobbed. Thankfully, Gordy had a bit more self-control than I did.

“I’m going to need a detailed timeline of everything associated with the show and contest, cast and crew lists, contact information for all the contestants, any threats directed at the show or cast, and access to the Sweet Life bakery for Eliza and Morales as well as myself and Detective Spencer.”

I was a little surprised by the addition of my name. Morales was trying to suppress an excited grin and was failing to the point Ms. Howett cringed when she glanced in his direction. Her expression was quite the opposite. “Why them?” she demanded. “He looks like he’s barely out of high school and she…I don’t know what she has to do with anything.”

Spencer smirked at her assessment of me. Gordy simply said, “Eliza will be an official police consultant by the time she gets to the bakery tomorrow morning. Officer Morales is young, but is also familiar with the show and is fully capable of protecting those involved.” Morales beamed, until Gordy continued. “Plus, we can spare him to act as a guard while Detective Spencer and I run down leads.”

Ms. Howett was not happy, but nodded sharply. “I’ll have badges waiting for them in the morning. They will be expected to stay out of the way, though.”

Somehow Gordy managed to keep a straight face when he said, “They’ll be no trouble at all.”

We filed out of her office a short while later and reconvened next to Gordy’s car. “Eliza, coordinate with Morales to observe the bakery. I want you there as much as possible until this case is solved. Spencer and I will handle any questioning or investigating. You two are only to observe and report.”

“Yes, sir,” Morales said. His professional face was almost too much to take seriously.

I took a different approach, “But, I already have two jobs and Puck’s family is visiting from out of town this weekend.” The whine in my voice was not subtle.

Gordy had zero compassion for my situation. “Get over to Sweet Life as soon as you’re done at Mina’s.”

For a moment, I considered threatening him with Baxter, but this was one time I doubted he’d come to my rescue. I had the chance to help catch a killer by doing what I loved…hanging out in a bakery all day. “Fine,” I said, “but I’m not bringing breakfast this time.”

He waved us off when his phone rang. Morales and I headed for his patrol car, but I barely made it two steps before Gordy grabbed my arm. When I looked back, he had his phone pressed to his chest and was glaring at me. “You told Baxter?”

“I didn’t know it was a secret at the time,” I snapped. I pulled out of his grip and motioned for Morales to get moving. My tolerance for demanding detectives had reached its limit for the day.