Morning comes too early again. I tossed and turned all night with strange dreams about cupcakes and corpses. I wake up feeling guilty that I didn’t write the letter of recommendation for Damien and Tom to become foster parents. What a lousy way to start the day.
I help the boys into the Prius and drive to the cafe all bleary-eyed and grumbly. Damien is already there with the coffee made. “I figured you would need this,” he tells me, handing me a steaming cup of joe the moment I walk in the door.
“Bless you, my child,” I tell him, grasping the warm mug in my hands, which already makes me feel a bit better. “I feel horrible. I didn’t write your letter of recommendation yesterday.”
“That’s okay. I assume you’ll do it today, right?”
“Absolutely, 100%, I will do it today and deliver it. I swear,” I hold my hand up like I’m swearing an oath to my dear friend. In a way, I guess I am.
“I should apologize too,” Damien starts.
“For what?”
“For giving you such a hard time yesterday about looking into Morley Haynes’ murder. You were right when you said I didn’t discourage you when you were trying to exonerate my cousin last summer, and now you’re just trying to help your friend. I just genuinely worry about you. Next to Tom and Bubbles, you and Miranda are my best friends, and I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. You’ve been held at gunpoint twice, and then the last killer threatened to hex you. What you’re doing isn’t exactly risk free.”
“I’m genuinely glad I rank as high as your dog,” I respond, laughing.
“You know that’s a big deal,” Damien laughs along with me.
“I’m not trying to be some kind of private investigator or a cop or anything. It’s just that when my friends are accused of a crime, and I feel like I can do something about it, I think I should. And obviously, when I was wrongly accused of murder, I had to step up and protect myself and this cafe.”
“I get that. I swear I do,” Damien says, putting his hands up in surrender. “Please, just promise me you’ll be safe and not put yourself in dangerous situations, okay? At least not until you finish my letter of recommendation, anyway.”
“Ha ha, and you’re a comedian.”
When we hear a knock on the front door, we both turn our heads to look at the old Felix the Cat clock that’s hung on the wall since I was a kid. It’s 6:30, which means it’s Gladys, and she must be chomping at the bit out there.
“It’s 6:30!” I exclaim.
“Go! Go! Open the door!” Damiens shouts. “Hurry before she kicks it in!”
Before I can even get out of the kitchen, I concentrate on the lock using my powers to unlock it, so Gladys doesn’t need to stand outside in the snow, burrito-less for even one second longer. That makes two days in a row. We’re going to hear about it now.
“Sakes alive!” she exclaims as she rushes into the cafe, scraping her boots on the thick doormat and shaking the snow from her coat. “It’s cold out there! I was worried you’d found another body or something and weren’t opening today. Where would I get my breakfast burrito if that happened?”
Good old Gladys, I don’t know what we’d do without her.
“Here you go, Gladys, just for you, one vegan breakfast burrito and a cup of coffee,” Damien says as he bursts through the kitchen door out of breath from rushing so fast.
Gladys removes her oversized puffy coat and hat and hangs them on the coat rack. “Did you know Chloe was released on bail last night?” she asks, taking her customary seat in front of the window lest she miss something exciting happening outside.
“I had no idea! I’m glad for that, at least.”
“Detective Bailey didn’t tell you?”
“No, he stopped by briefly yesterday after Chloe was arrested, but wouldn’t tell us anything new. Unfortunately, he just lectured me about keeping out of it.”
“I’m sure he’s busy with the case,” Gladys reassures me.
When Drew is working on a big case, he’s laser-focused. I swear, sometimes I even have to remind him to eat.
Once Aranya arrives for her shift, I retire to my office to work on Damien and Tom’s recommendation letter. It’s an enjoyable break from worrying about what will happen to Chloe if they don’t find the real killer.
And even though it looks like whoever really killed Morley did it because they had a personal beef with him, what if that isn’t the case? What if a killer is running free in Crested Peaks, and anyone could be next?
Even one of us? I shiver at the thought and get goosebumps on my arms. Once I finish the letter, I print it out and put it in an envelope for safekeeping. I’ll drop it off in person this afternoon, just to be sure.
“It’s done!” I proclaim, waving the envelope in the air.
“Thanks, boss!” Damien says. “I can’t believe this is actually happening! We could have a kid in our home by Thanksgiving.” At that, he turns pale. “We could have a kid in our home by Thanksgiving! We’re not ready! I have to baby proof the house! Oh man, what were we thinking?” Damien buries his face in his hands.
I grasp his shoulders. “We will help you! Right, Aranya?”
“Of course!”
“And Miranda too, obviously.”
“Okay, you’re right,” he sighs. “I just have to stay calm. Everything will be fine.”
“I’m guessing this is the easy part,” I assure him. “The hard part will be when she gets chickenpox, or falls down and skins her knee, or wrecks her bike and needs stitches—”
“—what?” Damien shouts. “Those kinds of things don’t actually happen, do they? I’ll completely freak out if they do.”
Oh boy, me and my big mouth. “I’m sure you guys will figure it out as you go along. Why don’t you sit down and take a break. Just a few deep breaths, that’s it. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea,” I tell him as I guide him to a chair so he can stop for a moment and calm down. I think he gets nervous when Miranda and I are off on one of our adventures. A kid will send him right over the edge.
“Anybody home?”
“What’s Drew doing here?” I ask Damien.
“He’s your boyfriend, maybe?” Damien responds.
“I don’t mean that. I’m worried he has bad news. I wasn’t expecting him.”
“Well, go see!” Damien insists, pushing me out the door.
“This is a nice surprise!” I tell him. “At least I hope so…” I trail off.
“I have come to take you to lunch if you’re free!”
I turn to Damien and Aranya. “Go! Go!” Aranya urges, making sweeping motions with her hands.
“Okay,” I respond, taking off my apron and hanging it from its hook. “Oh! Wait!” I hold up a finger to Drew before I dash into the back and grab the recommendation letter. “I have to drop this off!” I tell him.
“At the post office?” he asks. Obviously confused by the lack of address or stamp on the front.
“It’s a surprise, and I’ll tell you on the way there,” I grin and glance back at Damien, who’s grinning back.
“Uh oh, what now?” Drew asks.
“It’s not an uh oh, you curmudgeon. It’s good news, I swear.”
“Okayyyy,” he responds, looking extremely skeptical.
“She’s serious this time. It’s good news,” Damien assures him.
“Okay, I believe you, Damien.”
Like I’ve ever misled him about something! Okay, so maybe a few things, but not that many.
“Can we run over to the Health and Human Services department before lunch? It will only take a moment.”
Now Drew looks alarmed. “What do you need at DHHS? Tell me what’s going on right now. You’re worrying me.”
“Damien and Tom are applying to become foster parents.”
“No way! Are you serious? That’s fantastic!”
“I know! He asked me to write a letter of recommendation for them, and that’s what I need to drop off now.”
“I know the Director over there. CPPD works with them whenever we encounter a child at risk. I’ll call her this afternoon and tell her what outstanding parents Tom and Damien will be. Have they told them if they already have someone in mind for them?”
“Yes! It’s a three-year-old girl named Poppy and that would be so great of you to talk to them. I know Damien will be thrilled to hear it.”
“I’m happy to do it. And I’m so excited for them.”
“The little girl’s mother died, and they’re trying to find a family member, but so far no luck. Sounds like Damien and Tom are willing to adopt her if that becomes an option.”
“So it’s a celebratory lunch!” Drew declares.
Unfortunately, the DHHS offices are deserted when we arrive. Turns out they’re eating lunch at the same time we are. But I put my letter in the middle of the receptionist’s desk where she’s sure to see it when she gets back. Drew says when he talks to the Director today, he’ll make sure she sees it.
We stop at Sam’s Sandwich Shop, which is crowded but luckily, we snatch a table just as someone else is leaving. Drew orders the sandwich of the day, a Ricotta, Marmalade, and Salami sandwich which I’ve never even heard of. It’s rosemary focaccia with orange marmalade spread on one side and ricotta on the other, then layered with thin-sliced fennel salami.
I pick the Spinach-Artichoke with Havarti Cheese sandwich. Two slices of thick, multigrain bread, spread with cream cheese and then topped with thinly sliced marinated artichoke hearts, spinach, and dill pickles, finished off with havarti cheese.
Sam’s has the best sandwiches in town. We split a basket of their special kettle potato chips that are made fresh every morning while I top it all off with an Isolation Ale, a locally brewed seasonal beer. I’m the boss, so I can have a beer with lunch if I want. Drew can’t drink because he’s still on duty.
”Is there anything new about Chloe’s case that you can tell me?” I plead. “Gladys said she made bail, but I haven’t seen her yet.”
“You won’t like this because I know she’s your friend—”
“—and she’s innocent!”
Drew sighs. I know he thinks I’m always tilting at windmills with these cases. I understand he looks strictly at the facts and evidence in front of him. Still, I always remember what it was like to be falsely accused of murder. I just know some people who are innocent, no matter what the evidence shows.
“What I’m about to tell you isn’t public knowledge. When we searched Chloe’s truck, we found an empty syringe. The lab tested it, and it had traces of cyanide in it. The same poison that killed Morley. That, combined with her history with him, was enough to arrest her.”
Suddenly my sandwich doesn’t taste as good as it did a few seconds ago. “Cyanide?” I whisper as I feel the blood drain from my face. “That’s just not possible. I swear to you, there’s no way Chloe did it. How would she even have access to something like cyanide?”
Drew tries to take my hand, but I pull it back. Can’t he see? I know Chloe, and she would never hurt someone, much less poison them with cyanide in one of her own cupcakes.
“Charlotte, this is the evidence we have in front of us. Of course, we’re still investigating because we have to build a solid case, but all signs point to Chloe. There’s even some speculation that she used her enhanced decorations on the cupcake, and a special recipe, to hide the poison.”
“Enhanced?” I hiss. “You mean because she uses witchcraft to decorate the cupcakes that automatically makes her suspicious.”
“I didn’t say I was the one pushing that theory. In fact, I’ve emphasized that her magic has nothing to do with it. If she poisoned him, we need to look strictly at the facts and not speculate on her ability to use witchcraft.”
“But why would a murderer poison someone and then leave the evidence behind in their own food truck?” my voice cracks with emotion.
“We’ve had this discussion before Char, criminals don’t always act logically.”
“She’s not a criminal!” I insist, and now I’m even more upset because people are staring at us.
“She may have kept it intending to destroy it later, and we caught her before she could do it. I don’t know. I do know that the syringe was in her cupcake truck and had her fingerprints all over it.”
“What about Shauna?” I blurt out. “And all the others?”
“Well, that came out of left field. What do you mean, what about Shauna and all the others?”
“When we talked to her yesterday, she said after she told Morley, at the Halloween Festival, that she wished he was dead, she went back to work. How do we know that’s even true?” I know I’m grasping at straws at this point and that I’m about to get in trouble for admitting that I’ve questioned potential suspects, but I don’t care. I’m desperate.
“Shauna told us, the proper authorities, the same thing. And she turned over her computer logs to the CPPD proving that she was working, as she said she was, at the time of Morley’s death.”
“Oh,” is the only thing I can think of to say.
“Have you questioned others?” he asks.
“No!”
“Are you planning to question others?”
My silence is a dead giveaway.
“How many times do we need to have this discussion, Char? You can’t keep doing this.”
“I need to know that the CPPD is looking at every possible suspect and not just Chloe. A lot of people hated Morley. Like, really, really, hated the guy. Not just Chloe.”
“I promise you I’m doing my job. And we’re examining all the evidence we have, so you don’t need to worry.”
Drew won’t like this, but I have to step up my investigation double time. I know Chloe didn’t do this, and I don’t care what they found in her truck. But if the CPPD likes her for this, then I’ll need to talk to the other suspects on my own. My friend’s freedom relies on it.