About fifteen minutes later, my GPS directed me to turn off the mostly clear highway onto the first of many less-than-stellar roads. My Prius wasn’t built for off-roading, so I was very grateful for Rusty’s SUV. Still, even with all-wheel drive, I slowed to a crawl. I’d had enough fatal accidents today to last a lifetime.
By the time I pulled into the unpaved lot of a small mountain resort, the sun was setting, and I was starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. The sign assured me that I’d reached Frazinetti Lodges. It also informed me the place was closed for a private event, so hopefully I could find Tony and convince him to go back to town with me before bedtime. Otherwise, I’d be sleeping in Rusty’s back seat.
The path from the parking area led up a slight incline to what appeared to be the main rental office and a meeting area or down the hill a bit toward a stable. Through the large windows of the main office, I spotted people mingling around, drinking and eating appetizers. It must be cocktail hour. I absolutely wasn’t dressed for it, and bluffing my way in would be hard enough even if the bride and groom weren’t there to realize neither of them invited me. But I was almost hungry enough to try.
To get out of the cold, I headed inside the building. It was small, with six stalls, two of them empty. There was an attached pasture, but I hadn’t seen any animals roaming around. A black horse stuck his face over the stall and nickered at me. After he sniffed my hand and lowered his head in consent, I stroked his nose.
“Hey, there. You don’t happen to know where I can find Tony, do you?”
Not surprisingly, the horse didn’t answer.
“Listen, I’m working on it!” I jumped, but the voice wasn’t coming from the horse. It carried through a small window in the stall. A shadow passed as someone walked by the outdoor light, and I dropped to the floor before they spotted me. “You’ll get your money!”
Money? Still in a crouch, I moved as quietly as possible to the empty stall beside the black horse and slunk my way inside. Hardly daring to breathe, I flattened myself under the window and prepared to listen.
A second man answered the first. This one had a higher voice, somewhat nasally. “You keep saying that, but it’s been months. How do you plan to get the money before the end of the month?”
“I’ve got things in motion. They’re just taking some time to pay off.”
“Oh, yeah? Is this like your ‘make a reality show set at the resort’ plan? Because we both remember how that worked out for you.”
“No! This is good! A sure thing. My brother-in-law, he runs this bakery. He’s got some amazing stuff. He made the wedding cake, plus he’s catering lunch tomorrow. Making these meat pies my girl loves. Come have a drink with me, and I’ll show you how talented he is.”
“No, thanks.” The second man sounded remarkably unimpressed. “Is your talented future brother-in-law planning to pay off your mortgage?”
“He may not know it yet, but yes, he is. I’ve got a friend who owns a grocery store chain. He wants to add some fresh baked goods.”
“How does that help you?”
“My bride, Donna, that’s how. She works in the bakery. Once we’re married, she’s going to sign the deal and start cooking. We’ll make money hand over fist. The store owner has already promised a very generous signing bonus. Everything is under control.”
“Okay, then.” Guy #2 spoke slowly, as if not entirely convinced. “Show me the contract when it’s signed, and maybe I’ll consider giving you more time. There’s going to be interest, though. And you know I always collect my interest.”
Terror filled the deeper voice when he replied. “Y-yes. I know. You’ll get paid. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“Oh, it’s not going to be your mother’s grave,” the other person responded. “If you catch my meaning.”
A chill went down my spine. For the first time, it occurred to me that eavesdropping may not be a good idea. Whoever was threatening Donna’s fiancé probably wouldn’t appreciate having a witness.
“I get you,” the guy who must be Alan Frazinetti said. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”
“Wait here. I’ll leave first.”
A moment later, a car door slammed. An engine roared to life. Tires crackled on the gravel driveway, and then the car moved away.
I stayed in place, not wanting either of the men to find me. Then the second man moved in front of the window, and I held my breath while studying his profile.
Please, please don’t look inside the stall.
Luck must’ve been on my side. Not only did he not glance through the stable window, but now I knew Donna’s fiancé was medium height with dark hair and a long, thin scar down the left side of his face. Also, he owed someone a lot of money and was hoping to get it from Tony.
People had killed for less.
After a moment, a second set of footsteps trailed away from me. Finally, I could breathe again—but I couldn’t move on yet. The path between here and the main lodge was long and open. Even in the waning light, I’d be seen if I went out before Alan made it up the hill and inside.
After reciting every element of the periodic table, I felt safe enough to leave my hiding spot. With a deep breath, I crawled back toward the stall door. Then I realized how silly I must look and moved to stand upright. After wiping my dirty palms on my yoga pants, I stepped back into the main hallway. The friendly horse returned to nuzzle my neck.
I patted his nose a second time. “Thanks for not giving me away. Sorry I don’t have any carrots.”
Bracing myself against the cold, I left the relative safety of the stable. This conversation had given me a very important piece of information. Alan needed money. If she sold her home, Donna would have money. To me, that seemed to suggest she wouldn’t have killed her realtor. Not that I thought she did, but she was one of a few people with access to that basement.
Skirting around the windows, I examined the area. A wooden sign with arrows pointed out the cabins, the stable, and the main lodge. Tony presumably had rented a cabin somewhere in the woods, but wandering around aimlessly made no sense.
A smaller building was attached to the largest cabin by a brick tunnel. Smoke rose from a chimney attached to the side of that building. It must be the kitchen. If Tony was providing food for the wedding, that would be the logical place to find him. Assuming Thelma had been right, and he was still alive.
Crunching my way through the snow, I found the rear door. With my hand on the handle, I hesitated.
Now what?
Did I just march in? “Hey, man! I know you weren’t expecting to see me here since we’re essentially strangers, but are you by any chance dead?”
I shook my head. Step one: verify that Tony is alive. Step two: convince the Shady Grove Sheriff’s Department. That should break the time loop and get me to tomorrow. Step three: stop Mary from ever doing something like this again.
The back door swung open easily at my touch. When no one appeared to ask what I was doing there, I took a tentative step inside. The kitchen was empty. No chef walking around barking orders. No food waiting to be served. No waitstaff wandering in and out.
Either the cocktail hour had been catered, or the food had been finished quite a while ago. Only a couple of dishes in the sink and a row of mixing bowls on the counter against the far wall gave any proof of life.
I moved toward a swinging door in the same direction as the main lodge and put my eye to the window. Nothing but the tunnel I’d seen from outside. It must’ve been added to allow servers to take food to and from the larger building in the snow.
Glancing down at my yoga pants—which now had straw sticking to them in two places—I opted not to crash the fancy party. I didn't have any other clothes in my trunk.
Note to self: keep clothes in your trunk, just in case. And in Rusty’s trunk.
The walk-in fridge and freezer were stocked, but empty of people. No wedding cake, either. Huh.
Curious, I approached the counter. If the chef had been in the middle of something before getting called away, maybe he’d be back soon. White powder covered the stainless steel surface. Each bowl contained a couple of balls of dough. Reaching out a hand, I touched the metal. Still cool from the fridge. A bag of flour sat near the wall next to a rolling pin. After my conversation with Tiffaneigh, I felt silly for not realizing what it was in my vision.
Leaning forward, I picked up the pin, savoring the feel of the cool wood in my palms. I wasn’t much of a baker, but when I was a kid, I loved rolling out sugar cookies with my mom. Lost in the memory, I closed my eyes and moved the pin across the countertop.
All of a sudden, an image swam before my eyes. Not a memory of making sugar cookies with my mom, but a vision.
Empty baking sheets lined one wall. The dough in front of me was no longer in bowls but rolled out in two large rectangles. From what little I could see, this appeared to be the same kitchen. Behind me, someone was talking in a low, gravelly voice.
“Come on, Tony, this is a great deal!”
I grunted and didn’t respond.
“Don’t you want your sister to be happy?”
“My sister was perfectly happy working with me in the bakery and living under the same roof. She doesn’t need you to take her away.”
“I’m not taking her away. I’m expanding her horizons. And if you would stop being such a grouch for three seconds, you’d be happy for us.”
“I’m not gonna be happy for some smooth-talking greaseball coming in and filling my sister’s head with lies.”
Tony must be talking to Donna’s fiancé, Alan. This conversation mirrored the one I’d overheard in the stable.
Earlier, Alan had made it sound like Tony was helping him with his plan to sell the cupcakes. What if—
Someone grabbed me from behind. I gasped. A meaty hand clamped over my mouth.
Tony! He’d killed his realtor, and now he planned to kill me!
Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, I employed the self-defense moves Maria had taught me. Stomp on the instep.
He grunted.
I slammed my elbow back into his solar plexus. He loosened his grip. Grabbing the rolling pin from the counter, I swung to my side, trying to get my assailant to back off.
It worked!
I spin around, still brandishing the rolling pin.
In the dim light, a man stood doubled over, still wheezing.
“Oh. No. You don’t.” He gasped out. “You’re not getting my recipes.”
The man looked at me, and I nearly screamed. Tony.
Then he charged. I lifted the rolling pin.
All of a sudden, I understood the vision from the baker’s hat.