Crepes and Crimes Read online

  “Ha ha! Don’t forget to chew before you swallow. I don’t need another dead body in here.” I refilled his coffee cup again and put away the sandwich supplies.

  “You haven’t thought about looking into Warner Abernathy as a suspect, have you?” I said nonchalantly.

  “Why do you ask?” Logan shot me an I’m not joking around here look.

  I hesitated. I was fully aware that he didn’t want me to be involved, but I found the body. If I’m not supposed to be involved in a murder investigation, then these stinking bodies need to stop showing up where I’m going to be the one who finds them.

  “Coco,” Logan warned.

  “So, when Maribelle was having her breakdown, I overheard someone in the crowd say something about Derrick being involved in shady dealings at the hotel. I didn’t think too much about it until Warner came into the bakery a little while ago.”

  I explained to Logan how Scooter and I overheard Warner talking with Celeste about the financial discrepancies in the hotel books. Scooter wandered out to the front of the shop and confirmed to Logan what he and I were thinking.

  “Sounded like Derrick might have been stealing from the hotel,” Scooter added.

  “Warner even said that Derrick’s behavior was unacceptable and deserved consequences. I have a really strong feeling about this. Something isn’t right,” I insisted.

  “I’m always supportive of your gut feelings, Coco, but you aren’t a police officer. I don’t want you involved in this investigation as far as actually tracking down suspects and finding the murderer. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you,” Logan admitted.

  “I think that’s my cue to leave.” Scooter turned and strode back through the kitchen door. I glared at his back as the door closed behind him.

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Coco.”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen,” I maintained.

  “I’m a police officer. I can’t let civilians get involved in a dangerous investigation. As much as I like having you around, I can’t jeopardize my career. Besides, this kind of stuff is better left to the authorities,” he tried to convince me.

  “I’m just as capable as any old officer,” I scoffed.

  “You’re better at baking. Who would make sure I had plenty of coffee and delicious sandwiches and cookies if you were off running around solving crimes? I need you here,” he implored.

  I gave him a look like he was full of it. There was no reason for me not to be involved in the investigation. It appeared I had more information than Logan, anyway.

  “I’ll look into Warner Abernathy. I’ll run what you told me by my superiors and see if we can find anything concrete. If we can prove that Derrick was stealing from the hotel, there’s motive for Warner to want him dead.”

  My lips spread into a cocky grin. “And if there’s motive?”

  “We’ll find out if he has an alibi for the time of the murder and go from there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Logan finished his sandwich, reminded me to stay at the bakery, and headed for the door. It was all I could do not to follow him out. I wanted to go with him so badly. My feet itched to move, but I kept them firmly in place behind the counter.

  A part of me felt like it was my responsibility to find out who the killer was, but I conceded that Logan was right. I did need to stay here at the bakery. There was still too much work to be done.

  Chapter 13

  Masie was in the back with Scooter when I walked through the kitchen door. Their voices were quiet, but I was sure I heard Scooter say something about Logan which elicited a giggle out of Masie.

  “You two better not be starting anything,” I warned, certain Scooter was making Logan’s and my conversation about more than it really was.

  “Oh, Coco. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to get involved with a cute police officer. Besides, if you keep finding dead bodies lying around, you’ll need the law on your side.” Masie’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “I don’t have time for this nonsense,” I scolded her.

  “We would never waste your time with nonsense,” she said in mock innocence.

  “I really am running out of time to prepare for Jordan and Maribelle’s wedding. I can’t believe it’s coming up right around the corner,” I admitted.

  Strolling over to my work space, I continued going through the decorations that Scooter and I got out earlier. I hadn’t even finished getting the design worked out. For some reason I was already behind schedule, and then finding Derrick’s body only made it worse.

  After the whole murder hullabaloo, several people had pulled their orders. Orders I was counting on to not only cover the monthly expenses, but also possibly aid in drumming up new business.

  This wedding had to be perfect. Where I stood, I couldn’t afford to have my attention split. As much as I hated to admit it, this wedding could make or break my reputation as a professional baker and business woman. I needed to stay focused.

  With some suggestions from Masie and Scooter I was able to get a few designs started. Although I had to tone down most of Scooter’s ideas, they were great starting points. No matter how I worked it, though, I couldn’t seem to get it right, so I started changing it up again.

  Masie was in the front of the shop and an hour had passed since Scooter had cleaned up his space and headed home to check on his mom. It was getting near time to close up the bakery to customers, not that I had to worry about a last-minute swarm of people, when Stella and Vivian waltzed in.

  “We’re going on an investigation!” Vivian sang out cheerfully.

  “We’ll probably need some treats to get us through the rest of the day,” Stella added.

  Masie started boxing up a variety of cookies and cupcakes for the ladies. Vivian pointed out several to make sure Masie didn’t forget any of the important ones.

  “Do you have any more dish on the down low?” Vivian asked.

  “You know, the 411,” Stella interjected.

  “Is it time to shut up shop? We need you to come with us,” Vivian said.

  I informed the ladies about the new developments with Jordan and Warner. I also conveyed to them that Logan didn’t want me to get further involved in the investigation. As tempting as it was to drop everything and help, I really needed to stay here and focus on my work.

  “There’s just too much to do to prepare for the wedding. I’m running out of time faster than a fire in a haystack.”

  “You’re giving up,” Vivian accused.

  “You can’t give up. You found the body,” Stella reminded me. It’s not like I could ever forget that tidbit of information.

  “I’m really sorry, ladies. If I bomb this wedding, The Mad Batter won’t survive. This bakery is my dream. I can’t lose it,” I reasoned.

  “Well, I think you’re giving up, and it’s that pretty boy policeman’s fault. He doesn’t approve of you snooping around and you’re just going to agree and leave us to drown on our own,” Vivian scolded.

  “You understand I’m not a strong swimmer,” Stella remarked.

  What in the world does that have to do with anything? I shot a puzzled look Masie’s direction. She just shrugged.

  “You two realize Logan and Coco have feelings for each other. Maybe, Coco doesn’t want to jeopardize their budding relationship by going against his wishes.” Masie smiled wide, as though she’d just solved all the world’s problems in ten seconds of breath.

  “Are you kidding me, right now?” I fumed.

  “A decent man is awfully hard to find, I’ll give you that. It’s always smart not to purposefully push one away when you have him right in front of you,” Vivian surmised.

  “Especially if he’s a good kisser. Is he a good kisser? He seems like he would be a good kisser,” Stella decided confidently.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t have any idea what kind of kisser Logan is,” I scoffed, choking on my own saliva, as I gasped in horror.

  “They’re
taking things slowly, right now. You know what they say about rushing in blind,” Masie joined in.

  “Romance should never be taken slowly. You don’t want some little hussy swooping in and stealing your man,” Vivian insisted.

  “Oh, good grief! He is not my man, and I don’t have time for romance, anyway. You’re all nuts. Watch out for the squirrels when you leave,” I cautioned.

  “Are you kicking us out?” Stella asked.

  “No,” I sighed, nearly defeated.

  “I’ve seen how that boy looks at you. Like you’re the last bit of kibble, and he’s a starving dog.”

  “Oh, no! She’s the last drop of water in the scorching desert heat.”

  “Has he taken you to meet his parents, yet? When they want you to meet their parents, you know it’s serious.” Vivian bobbed her head up and down, like a bobble head on the dash of an out of control car.

  I dropped my face into my hands and groaned loudly.

  “So unladylike. I hope you don’t let him hear you make noises like that. Men don’t want to know about the weird noises their women are capable of.”

  “Of course, sometimes we can’t help it. Human nature and all.”

  Masie broke down in hysterical laughter.

  “You’re not helping.” I glared at her. I was starting to get annoyed that people wouldn’t stop poking around in my private life. Logan’s and my relationship, or better yet, lack thereof, was not going to solve the murder or save my bakery.

  Chapter 14

  I might be drowned. Looking around the table at the sea of papers scattered haphazardly across the table and floor around me, a hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. Yep, definitely drowned.

  For several hours, I’d been sitting here drawing and redrawing, over and over, different designs for the wedding cake. I’d redesigned the layers a dozen times. Mixed up the flower pattern so many times I was certain my eyes had started crossing. Don’t even get me started on the color scheme.

  In my mind, I understood what Maribelle and Jordan had asked for. I envisioned it every time I closed my eyes. For some reason, though, the translation from my mind to the paper was getting lost somewhere. I dreaded what would happen when I tried to transfer it to cake and icing.

  This was depressing. Frustrated, I let my head drop against the top of the table.

  “Ow!” I groaned, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. Perhaps, I should have thought that through first.

  This was ridiculous. How could I possibly stay focused with a murderer still on the loose? I shoved the papers away and grabbed a fresh sheet. After sharpening a new pencil, I wrote the number one along the top.

  What did I already know about the case?

  For starters, Maribelle and Jordan were two of the main suspects as far as the police were concerned. I wasn’t quite sure I agreed with that. At least in Maribelle’s case.

  She seemed entirely too devastated by the whole thing. If she had killed Derrick, why was she so upset? I knew guilt could be a powerful emotion, but Maribelle wasn’t acting guilty.

  I thought back to the scene outside the grocery store. What was it someone in the crowd had mentioned? Something about stealing from defenseless old ladies. Was Derrick swindling from gullible elderly woman?

  If that was true, did someone we hadn’t even considered yet kill him? An image of some tiny frail old lady whacking Derrick upside the head with a heavy champagne bottle sprung to my mind. I started cracking up, but immediately choked the laughter down. This was serious. The stress was getting to me.

  Jordan was still a likely candidate as far as I was concerned. He wasn’t sad enough.

  Warner Abernathy and Sam Porter were still on the list. Betrayal of a trusted colleague or a devastated father’s need for revenge. I wasn’t sure which scenario was more feasible.

  I still felt confronting Warner Abernathy would be akin to digging my own grave. Professionally, at least. Best to leave him to Logan, like I agreed.

  Sam Porter, on the other hand. It would be worth my while to see what else I could find out about him. After all, he appeared rather jumpy when Masie tried to ask him about the fire alarm. He couldn’t scramble out of the bakery fast enough.

  I wondered what kind of dirt I might dig up on him. Grabbing my phone, I looked up the number for the restaurant and pressed send.

  The hostess answered on the second ring.

  “Yes, hello there, little missy. Is Mr. Porter available? I’d like to speak to the old chap, if I may.” I tried to deepen my voice and twist my words into a proper accent. It might have come out sounding more like a choking frog. I’d have to work on it.

  “Mr. Porter isn’t in tonight. Can I take a message?”

  I hung up the phone. That was easy. If Sam wasn’t at the restaurant, I could snoop around and question the staff. Heck! Two of his waiters were at the engagement party. It was possible they saw something. For all I knew, they helped Sam do it.

  Running to my room, I rummaged through the boxes in the bottom of the closet. I started dragging out clothes, throwing them every which way if they didn’t feel right. Sequins and tulle, lace and satin.

  Finally, my hand landed on a piece of stiff white polyester.

  “Aha! Perfect!” I exclaimed.

  I pulled the jacket on over the thin tank I was wearing. Wiggling out of my shorts, I stepped into the matching pants. In the bathroom, I pinned my hair into a tight bun at the top of my head and then tucked the hat over it.

  There was a brown makeup pencil in my drawer and I started scribbling all over my face with it. Thick lines up and down my chin, along my upper lip, and the lower half of my cheeks. When I was done, I fattened up my eyebrows for extra measure.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wasn’t sure if I looked like a man, or a woman pretending to be one. Hopefully, the lights in the restaurant would be dim enough that no one would notice there wasn’t real hair covering my face.

  “I’m the new sous-chef.” I tested out several accents at various octaves, before settling on one that was a cross between Australian and Jamaican. This would have to do.

  Stealth was, unfortunately, not on my side. When I pulled open the back door into the kitchen, the light was so bright my retinas nearly burst.

  “Who do you think you are?” A grumbly voice bellowed.

  “Hello, good man, I’m the new sous-chef,” I croaked.

  “What kind of accent is that supposed to be?” One of the waitresses asked as she entered the kitchen from the dining room.

  “I hail from the small town of Ausjamalia. I was brought here by the wonderful Mr. Porter to be the sous to the chef,”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” said the head chef.

  “Aren’t you that Coco bakery chick?” Asked one of the waiters who’d decided to join our little party.

  “Yeah, yeah! I remember seeing you at the engagement party. You found the dead guy.”

  “No, no. You have me confused with some other person,” I insisted.

  “What’s that stuff smeared all over your face?”

  “Oh, fug nuggets!” I sighed.

  “We don’t do no nuggets here.” The dishwasher chimed in.

  “I think you’d better be on your way now.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

  I hung my head in defeat, and headed out the same way I came in. It always worked for Lucille Ball! I’d get to the bottom of this, dang it, anyway. If it was the last thing I did.

  Chapter 15

  I woke up cranky and frustrated the following morning. Not only had I failed last night at finding out any usable information about Sam, but I still didn’t have the stinking design finished for the wedding cake. Multitasking was turning out to be a serious nemesis.

  To add insult to injury, a giant pimple had erupted on my chin during the night. Stupid greasy makeup pencil!

  Gathering up the sketches that were still strewn all over the kitchen table and floor, I shoved them into my messenger bag while I waite
d for my coffee to brew. I was going to need a heavy dose of caffeine (maybe more than one) if I was going to be expected to accomplish anything this morning.

  The bakery was dark and quiet when I drug my bruised ego through the back door. Masie and Scooter weren’t due to arrive for another couple hours. I set the stack of papers atop my workstation and began to rifle through them.

  There had to be something useful in all this mess. Perhaps, I could combine a couple and come up with something phenomenal.

  If my mind was more focused, I’d probably be sure, but I kept thinking about the murder investigation. Someone at the engagement party had to have seen something, even if they didn’t realize it.

  “Geeminy criminy! What is on your face?” Masie exclaimed as she pranced through the back door.

  I pressed my fingers over the pimple. “I had a run in with a makeup pencil last night. The pencil won.”

  “I can tell. You really should put something on that,” she mused, leaning down for a closer look. “It's like you're growing another head.”

  Waving my hand in her face, I shooed her away. The pimple was the least of my worries today. “I’m thinking about hunting down the staff from the engagement party to see if they know anything,” I informed her.

  “Ooh, a hunting trip! Sounds fun.” She clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes.

  “I’m sure it won’t be that exciting. I’m starting to wonder if it’s actually worth the effort. Information should be free. It shouldn’t be this hard to make people talk to me. I’m a likable person,” I pouted.

  She wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Exceptionally likable. Don’t put your chin too close to my skin, though. I wouldn’t want to get infected or anything. Hey, you could use that to make people open up. Talk or this thing explodes.”

  I made an extremely unladylike sound, as I shoved her away. She laughed, at her own joke.

  “Just for that, you have to stay and watch the shop.”

  “Well, I guess somebody has to do it. I want all the dirty details when you come back.”