Barely remembering to shut off the oven, Kate dashed out the front door of the shop with Oliver on her heels.
When she walked into Flowers Maximus, there was no sign of Maxi. Then she realized the form hunched over on the small settee was Maxi.
“Maxi? Honey, what happened?” she said, sitting down next to her friend as she tried to quell the panic in her own head. As she reached out to touch Maxi’s trembling shoulder, she noticed her own hands were shaking.
“Sam,” the florist mumbled. “He’s never getting out. They charged him with another murder. They charged him with killing Muriel Hopkins.”
“No!” Kate’s hand flew to her mouth.
Maxi nodded mutely as tears poured down her face.
Kate got up and snatched a box of tissues from the florist’s desk, along with the top sheet from the message pad by the phone. With a fresh phone message, now forgotten. Maxi might need it later.
Kate placed the tissue box gently in front of Maxi on the small sofa and sat down again.
“Are you sure?” Kate knew it was a stupid question, but she had to ask. It just didn’t seem possible.
Maxi nodded, grasping a handful of tissues and taking a deep breath. Trying to speak.
“Peter called me. I think he knew it was coming. For days. But he hoped,” she said haltingly. “That the evidence. The autopsy. That it would explain. That it would point to someone else.”
“Why do they think Sam killed Muriel? He didn’t even know her.”
Maxi shook her head. “It makes no sense. Nada. But what killed her—it was the same drug that killed Stewart Lord. They’re saying Sam was trying to kill Lord and got her by mistake.”
“Could it have been suicide? Muriel, I mean?”
Maxi shook her head again. “They think the drug was in some chocolates. Hidden. She ate them, and she died. Like Lord with the sweet rolls. The state attorney is calling it murder. Premeditated. He says if Sam confesses and tells why, they’ll give him life in prison.”
Maxi doubled over, sobbing silently.
Kate was numb. She felt like she’d been gutted. She studied the phone message. Doodled hearts. With Peter’s name. Then, at the very bottom, a long phrase that made no sense. A chemical name. She stuffed it into her pocket.
“And he can’t confess … because he … didn’t do it,” Maxi squeaked between sobs.
This couldn’t be happening, Kate thought. That sweet old baker wasn’t some Machiavellian murderer, scheming and plotting and targeting victims. He just wanted to be left alone to bake bread and do a little beachcombing. And half the time he forgot to eat.
“What did Peter say?” Kate asked as Maxi sat up and wiped her face with another wad of tissues.
“It’s bad. The assistant state attorney wants to move Sam. Out of the Coral Cay jail to the mainland. He thinks they’re being too soft. Too kind.”
“Oh jeez,” Kate said. She remembered what Sam looked like when he’d first landed in the local jail. Before his friends and neighbors started visiting. Like a hurt, confused child.
“Was Peter able to tell you anything? Can we fight this?”
Maxi shook her head. “Not much. He’s working behind the scenes. To try and keep Sam here. But it’s not his case. And the other attorney’s so angry. And he knows Sam’s a friend of ours.”
Oliver, who had crawled onto the sofa next to Maxi, put his head in her lap. Absentmindedly, she stroked the soft cream-colored hair.
Suddenly Kate remembered her odd encounter with Carl in the backyard. His attitude had changed right after she’d mentioned Sam. When she’d remarked how much the baker would love the new paint job when he finally got to see it with his own eyes.
Carl knew. The ex-cop had already heard about the second set of charges. And he didn’t believe Sam Hepplewhite would ever see the Cookie House again.