Chapter 19

Time refused to budge. Seconds became minutes, and minutes seemed like hours, sitting in the darkened truck, 911 already keyed into my phone, thumb hovering over the send button. After ten minutes, I dialed. Liv, that is.

I explained what Nick had done and that I was supposed to call emergency if he wasn’t out in the next . . . four minutes and thirty-nine seconds. How could it have taken only twenty-one seconds to tell the whole story?

“Calm down,” Liv said. “You’re talking a mile a minute. Nick’s a big boy, and I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“How can you be so sure? Something’s going on in there, and he’s right in the middle of it, and it’s all my fault.” My brain painted images of illegal activity ranging from political conspiracy to cockfighting to unlicensed puppy mills. At that point, two couples exited the front door, talking and laughing. I scrunched down again, wishing I had binoculars. Maybe I could spot one of those designer pooches stashed in the designer bag of one of those ladies leaving. Or a stray chicken feather on a lapel.

“You didn’t make him go in there,” Liv said.

“No, but I dragged him all the way out here in the first place for no good reason.”

“Because you were curious. And you’re trying to help Jenny and figure out what happened to Derek. Those are good things. And it sounds like Nick just wants to help you do that. And how could you say it was for no good reason if you discovered something going on in a deserted building? I’d just go with it.”

I stared down at the phone. This from the woman who has a conniption every time we spot a mouse in the back of the shop?

I checked the time again. Four minutes and ten seconds.

“Besides,” Liv said as I put the phone back up to my ear, “would you hurt anyone who brought you cake?”

“Probably not, I—”

A knock on the truck door caused me to juggle the phone. Through the window I could only see the torso of a large man dressed in black. He stood just outside the door. I crammed the phone, call still active, into my pocket and rolled down the window, just a crack. “Yes?” I said, my voice trembling.

“You need to grab the other cake and come with me.”

“The other . . . ?”

“Cake,” he said. “They ran short. The boss sent me to get you. Said something about there being an extra one out here.”

I glanced at the keys dangling in the ignition and considered booking it out of there. But I couldn’t leave Nick alone to face any danger I’d put him in.

“All right.” I pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to the back, trying to look out of the corner of my eyes to see if he held a blunt weapon—or a not-so-blunt weapon—not that he’d need it. This guy was built like Lurch. I tugged open the hatch, flipped on the lights, and found the remaining cake. I couldn’t take the writing off like I’d seen Nick do. “It says Happy Anniversary, I’m afraid.”

He shrugged. “They already saw the other one. Real pretty. The boss just wanted more to cut so everybody gets some. Good thing you had extra, huh?” He smiled at me, showing a mouthful of crooked, yellowed teeth, and I could see him eye me up and down. Was he trying to figure out if I looked like a baker? Or did he have something else on his mind? The thought made me shudder.

I found another paper hat, flicked it open on two tries, and shoved it on my head, then wrapped a spare apron around me. Might as well look the part.

The hulk held the cake while I jumped down from the truck. I wished he’d done the genteel thing and carried it to the building. That sheet cake was heavy. Kind of like a large urn full of water, except flat and more awkward to carry, especially if I didn’t want to end up wearing it. No wonder Nick preferred cupcakes.

Liv had grown quiet. I hoped that she’d stay that way and that the call hadn’t disconnected when I shoved the phone into my pocket. There would be a witness, at least, if anything happened to me.

Lurch held open the back door. After a blind hallway, we passed through a small room. Diners sat at elaborately set, candlelit tables. A secret five-star restaurant? What in the world? I couldn’t think of any reason why someone would run a clandestine restaurant, unless they were serving food the health inspectors wouldn’t approve of—like puffer fish. I tried to focus on a nearby plate, but it held only a familiar-looking piece of cake.

Unless illegal spirits was their game. A bartender poured drinks behind a gleaming wood counter set up in the corner. Operating without a liquor license? Avoiding the taxes involved? Music played, and couples on a small dance floor swayed to Rat Pack music.

Lurch sped ahead to a door and opened it, ushering me into a more well-lit area filled with stainless steel. Welcome to the kitchen. Plates of food sat under warmers. White-clad kitchen staff hustled over grills, pans, and pots, cooking and plating food. Scrumptious odors wafted around—garlic, steak, the yeasty smell of warm bread—making me hungry, despite the fear and the recent barbecue meal. What can I say? I’m a stress eater.

Lurch stopped at a blind corner and ushered me on. “The boss is around here.”

I prayed every prayer I knew, then headed around the corner, wondering whether “the boss” would resemble Al Capone. Only to see the back of Nick Maxwell. “You?” I managed.

He was the boss? I was in deep trouble.

He turned around, seemingly in slow motion, a knife in his hand gleaming against the harsh fluorescent lights.

• • •

The room started to spin. Nick and Lurch came at me at once. I tried to jump back but found myself up against a cold, bare, and unfortunately solid wall.

“What is wrong with you?” Lurch said. “You almost dropped the cake.”

It took a moment to realize that no knife pressed up against my flesh; rather, both men had an arm on me, an arm on the cake, and concerned expressions on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Nick said. “You’re awfully pale.”

I caught my balance. “I’m fine.” The wall helped hold me up. Maybe solid was not such a bad characteristic after all.

Nick took the cake in both hands. “I got it,” he said. He slid it onto the stainless steel counter behind him, next to the ravaged remains of the other cake and a stack of empty plates.

Lurch grabbed a tray of cut cake and rounded the corner.

“What in the world?” I watched as Nick plunged the knife into the new cake.

“Just trying to buy more time,” he said. “This is why I like cupcakes. So much easier to serve. But I wanted to stop you before you called 911. I still haven’t figured out all that’s going on here.”

“It looks like a restaurant. A nice one, at that.”

“It looks the same as it did when it was open years ago. Except for the blacked-over windows and the guard at the front door.” He slid a piece of cake onto a plate. “And the early bird special was to die for.”

“Not a good choice of words,” I said.

“Sorry,” he whispered, then he paused as a server came and whisked away another tray of cake. “Once the cake is cut, we might be able to get a better look around the place.”

“I hope you saw more than I did,” I said.

“After they let me in, I was escorted to a couple of dining areas until they found someone with a birthday.” He smirked. “Some woman threw her arms around her husband, and I knew I was golden. Everyone likes to think someone is sending them a cake. After that fuss, the guy didn’t even try to deny he’d sent it. I should get his name and bill him.”

He fell silent when Lurch returned with an empty tray and grabbed a full one.

I started setting clean plates on the new tray.

“Thanks.” Nick shoveled cake onto the first plate. Then he lowered his voice again. “All I saw on this floor was people eating and drinking. Illegal to do without the proper licenses, and not lucrative unless you’re advertising. This place looks deserted, yet it’s filled with customers, so something is drawing them here. There’s another floor they used for wedding receptions and such. I saw people on the stairs, but I haven’t been able to get up there.” He paused while the other server dropped off a tray and whisked away a full one.

“So whatever they’re trying to hide is going on up there,” I said. “What’s the plan?”

“Can’t say I’ve had time to come up with one,” he said. “Maybe you could finish up cutting while I try to sneak up there. There’s another staircase at the back of the kitchen. If they come back you can cover for me. Tell them I went looking for the men’s room or something.”

I grabbed his wrist. “I don’t like it. For one thing, I don’t like the way Lurch has been eyeing me. And what if they catch you sneaking around?”

“You have another plan?”

“How about we finish cutting this cake and sneak up together? Maybe they’ll assume we just left.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Then we think of something.”

Lurch came back for another tray. He eyed the remaining cake. “I think we’re going to come out about even, maybe a little left over.”

“Make sure the staff all get a piece,” Nick said.

Lurch gave him a yellow-toothed smile. “Sure will. Thanks!” I’d have sworn he skipped off. But the floor didn’t shake, so it must have been my imagination.

“See, what did I tell you?” He slid the last piece onto a plate. “Here’s our chance. Ready?”

He pulled off his gloves and led me around the blind corner. Two members of the kitchen staff looked up. “There’s extra cake here. I hope there’s enough to go around. Help yourself,” he said.

The two cooks scurried to claim their cake. Nick grabbed my hand and led me to a staircase, probably the way they’d once carried food up to the wedding receptions upstairs. Now the staircase didn’t seem like it got much use, as I surmised based upon the dust and spiderwebs. Shoddy way to do business. Then again, this place didn’t get regular health inspections, either.

The staircase opened up to a dim area with stainless steel shelves lining the wall. I imagined waiters once used them to queue the plates to carry them to reception guests.

Doors were closed to the room beyond, but the windows leading into it weren’t blacked out like those leading to the outside. Nick and I crept to the doors, each of us claiming a window to peek into, when a loud alarm sounded and the lights began to flash.