A Batter of Life and Death (13 page)

Sterling stared directly at me. Stephanie kept her gaze focused on a row of quiche. “I think it’s whack.”

“Whack? Is that a technical term?” Mom joked.

“I don’t get why a show on a big network like the Pastry Channel wouldn’t have their stuff more organized.” He turned his gaze to Stephanie. She didn’t look up, but I knew she had to feel the intensity of his stare. “And your boy Hollywood is sketchy.”

Stephanie finally tore her gaze away from the uncooked quiche and shot him a glare. “He’s not sketch.”

Sterling flared his nose. “How would you know? ‘Cause you hung with him for one night.” He ran his finger along the tattoo on his forearm.

“Stay out of my personal business.” She picked up the tray of quiche with such force that egg batter sloshed all over it. “Thanks. Now look what you made me do.”

“I didn’t make you do anything. You’re making a fool of yourself with that cheesy Hollywood kid. I thought you weren’t into that whole scene.”

Mom looked at me and frowned. I mouthed, “Tell you later.”

“I’m not into any scene, and not that I care, but Elliot’s pretty chill, actually.”

Sterling made a snorting sound under his breath.

“Hey, Sterling, would you mind taking those muffins up front? I see a couple theater people heading our way.” I pointed across the street.

“Gladly.” He hoisted the tray on the palm of his hand and shook his head as he returned to the front.

Stephanie pursed her lips and gave him a death stare. “I don’t know what his deal is.” She wiped her hands on her apron with force.

“Why don’t you go wash up in the bathroom?” Mom suggested to Stephanie. “We can salvage the quiche, can’t we, Jules?”

“Of course.” I walked over to the tray of quiches. “Not a problem.”

With Stephanie gone, I quickly filled Mom in on their love spat.

“I haven’t met Elliot,” Mom said. “What’s he like?”

“He’s pretty much exactly like Sterling’s description. He looks like he’s already had work done and he’s only in his mid-twenties. He seems nice enough, but I’m with Sterling. There’s something off-putting about him. He kind of went after Marco last night.” I paused. He had. If Elliot was consumed with his
sexy
baking and Marco threatened the show, could that be a motive for murder?

“Plus, I wonder why he had such a sudden interest in Stephanie. That’s always a red flag for me.”

“I don’t know, sometimes love at first sight can be magnetic.” Mom coated her sweet bread with a jar of our apricot jam.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I knew from the second that I first saw Carlos that I was destined to be with him. I’d never had that feeling before. I’d heard people talk of falling in love at first sight and liked the romantic idea behind it. But until I met Carlos I’d never experienced a visceral draw to another person. It was as if there was a string of energy attaching us—pulling us toward one another. Look where that got me, though. I hoped Stephanie didn’t jump in too fast with Elliot. I didn’t want to see her make the same mistakes.

Chapter Sixteen

I popped the quiche into the oven and ripped a piece of paper out of the spiral notebook we keep by the whiteboard, to map out a schedule for Linda, Nina, and myself. If I allotted each of us a three- to four-hour window of time with a little overlap, I thought that should be enough to complete one dessert, and maintain sanity at Torte.

The bakeshop rose to life just like the bread baking in the oven as locals streamed in for a latte on their way to work or to talk shop over a chocolate croissant. I removed my cake from the refrigerator and finished it off with some shaved chocolate curls.

“Is that your cake?” Mom asked. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. You’re totally going to win. Don’t you think so, Andy?”

Andy brought the sugar canister from the coffee bar to refill. “What’s that, Mrs. C?”

“Juliet’s cake. Isn’t it beautiful?”

He scooped sugar in the raw into the canister. “Yeah, good job, boss. If you win does that mean we all get raises?”

“Only if I get one first.” I laughed. “Are you guys set for the morning? I’ve got to head up to the Black Swan. I have no idea if the show is going to take an hour or all morning.”

“We’ve got this.” Andy looked at Mom. “Right, Mrs. C?”

Mom nodded emphatically and waved me toward the door. “Go. Go.”

I placed my cake in a flat cardboard box and gave the kitchen one last inspection before heading out. Nina’s organic vegan ingredients and supplies took up one corner of the island, and Linda’s pastel cupcake liners and hot pink custom spatulas and cookware took up the opposite side. Their workstations couldn’t be more different. Linda’s supplies were neatly stacked in colorful Tupperware with laminated labels. Nina’s idea of organization was more free-flowing, or in other words, it looked like she opened a tub and threw it all over the counter.

I’ll tackle the mess later, I thought as I positioned the box between my arms and left Torte in Mom’s very capable hands.

As I turned off Main Street, I heard the sound of men shouting. The voices were coming from the Merry Windsor. One of them sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The other was Elliot Cool, who came storming out of the Merry Windsor’s back entrance and nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Sorry.” He helped steady my cake box. “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay.” I checked to make sure the cake hadn’t touched the sides of the box. It hadn’t. “No damage done,” I said to Elliot, shifting the box in my arms.

“You on your way to the theater?” he asked, walking in step with me.

“Yep. You?”

“Looks that way.” His chest muscles flared underneath his skintight T-shirt that read
BAKING IS SEXY
.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

He glanced behind. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason. I thought I heard the sound of someone fighting back there.”

“You did?” He looked behind us again. “I didn’t hear anything.”

That was impossible, but I played along. “Hmm. Must have been Richard Lord. He’s always yelling at someone.”

Elliot gave one final glance behind us. Was he checking to see if someone was coming after him? “So what’s the deal with your pastry apprentice, Steph?”

“Steph?” I raised my eyebrow. Stephanie hates being called “Steph.”

He nodded. “She’s single, right?”

“I try to stay out of my employees’ private lives.”

“Come on. You must know if she’s hanging with anyone. In a town this small.” Elliot flashed me his most bedazzling smile. I’m sure that worked for his fans, but I was not buying his slick act, and I felt protective of Stephanie.

“My lips are sealed. You’re right, in a town this small, whatever you dish out in terms of gossip finds its way back. I’ve learned it’s best to stay out of that loop.”

Elliot frowned. “Whatever.”

I had the sense that Elliot’s level of self-confidence led him to believe that most of the women he met were easily charmed.

He changed the subject. “So word on the street is that you’re the one to beat.”

“Really?”

“Duh. Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Philip thinks the camera loves you. I hear he wants to make you a star.” His tone shifted. He sounded bitter. “A word of advice: be careful what you wish for. This gig isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Are all productions this chaotic?”

“No. I’d run away as fast as you can. That’s what I’m thinking of doing.”

This news surprised me, but I didn’t have a chance to probe him further. We arrived at the Black Swan. Elliot held the door open for me and then headed to the stage, where he began practicing his opening statement.

“Jules. You’re here, great.” Philip motioned from the set.

My stomach felt jittery as I walked through the theater. At this time yesterday I’d discovered Marco’s body right here. I knew that Thomas and the Professor must have completed their initial investigation since we were filming. That meant that any evidence of a crime here had been scrubbed clean, but still I couldn’t shake my unease as I moved toward the set.

I took a deep breath. You can do this, Jules, I said as I stepped into the kitchen. The overhead lights glared on the shiny countertop where I set my cake.

“Now that is a work of art.” Philip admired my cake.

Lance stood behind him. He smiled broadly as I stopped in mid-stride at the sight of him. “I told you she was good, Philip. Now if you could do something about this atrocious lighting. You’re wasting that absolutely perfect complexion under these god-awful things.”

Philip turned his attention to Lance. “How many times do I have to tell you that the stage and set are two totally unique beasts?”

“Set? Please.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Juliet, did you know that my dear friend Philip had quite an impressive career on the stage before he decided to slum it in television.”

“Slum it? Let’s talk salaries, Lance. What do you say?”

Lance tightened his tie and gave Philip a dismissive wave.

“Exactly!” Philip smirked. “Jules, what do you say? You can stick here with Lance and live the small-town life, or come to Hollywood with me, where the real money is.”

The banter between them seemed friendly enough, but I wasn’t about to get in the middle of their argument.

“Keep me out of this.”

“But do put her on television.” Lance walked to me and tilted my head toward the lights. “I mean, can you believe this bone structure? It’s to die for.”

“Believe me, I have big plans for her,” Philip said. “She’s star material.”

Elliot shot Philip a nasty look, and cleared his throat on the stage. “Uh, I’m trying to work here, guys. Can you keep it down?”

Philip pulled out his cell phone. “You’re due for makeup anyway, Jules. We’ll talk later. They’re in the back.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay to keep filming?” I asked.

“Fine. Fine. It’s all been cleared. I came back up here and worked it all out with that detective late last night. What do you call him, the maestro?”

“Professor.”

“Right. Right. The Professor gave me the green light. We’re wasting green money every minute we’re not shooting, so do me a favor and get back into the makeup chair so we can get this baby rolling.”

Lance held out his arm. “Let me escort you to makeup, darling. Philip, fix those lights.”

On our way backstage, Lance whispered, “What else have you learned? Any new delightful suspects in our little investigation?”

“Not really. I know for sure that Linda lied about being at the theater last night. She called
Othello charming
.”

Lance threw his hand to his heart. “Say it isn’t so. If I produced a charming
Othello
I should be banned from the company for life.”

“I know. She’s obviously lying.”

“What else?”

“That’s all I’ve got so far.”

“Keep your ears open, darling. And remember, you promised to keep me in the loop.” He blew me a kiss as he deposited me behind the stage where the hair and makeup team had set up a temporary workstation.

Nina sat in one of the chairs simultaneously having her curls teased and her lips glossed. One of the makeup artists called me over to her station and immediately set to work. She dusted my entire face with a translucent powder and enhanced my cheekbones with blush. “Let’s dust gold on your lids,” she said, holding a small tub of gold powder for me to see.

“You’re the expert.”

“It’s going to look amazing.”

I shrugged and let her finish. She offered me a handheld mirror. “What do you think?”

Maybe I should rethink my feelings on gold. My eyes looked like the top of Linda’s sparkly cake. The gold shadow brought out the green and yellow flecks in my eyes, but wasn’t so overdone that I didn’t look like myself.

I handed the mirror back. “It’s great. Thank you.”

A wardrobe assistant helped us all tie our aprons at the same level so that the
Take the Cake
logo was displayed prominently on our chests.

Philip bellowed into a megaphone. It seemed unnecessary since there were only five of us, plus a handful of workers from the production crew. “Gather round, chefs.”

Linda, Nina, Sebastian, and I all crowded into the kitchen, where Elliot stood talking into his mic and directing the lighting crew to reposition the overhead lights for the best angle.

“Elliot. Knock it off. That’s my job. You look fine.” Philip rolled his eyes and handed each of us a sheet of paper with our stage directions and a minute-by-minute schedule. “I want to get this as tight as we can. We’ll start with a quick little backstory to get to know each of you. I’ll be sending out a crew to film on location as well, so try to keep it short.” He checked his phone. “We’re just waiting for one more contestant.”

Nina raised her hand. “What contestant?”

“I found someone to fill in for Marco. We need five chefs in order to make this thing work.” There was something about Philip’s intensity about the show, and total lack of acknowledgment that a man had just been killed, that made me feel like I was living in some sort of alternate reality.

Maybe he read my mind. He continued on. “We’ll be doing a special segment before the first episode, paying our respects to Chef Marco. I have it all planned out. I’m sending a crew to New York to get some shots of Marco’s restaurants. They’ll interview some of his customers. I haven’t had confirmation from our publicist yet, but it sounds like we might even get a couple celebrity interviews.”

Okay, maybe the guy had a heart after all.

Philip continued. “It’s going to be real a tearjerker. We’re going to run a whole ad campaign leading up to the tribute episode telling people to grab tissues. I have a feeling that ratings are going to be through the roof for this one.”

Or maybe not.

He pointed at Nina. “You go first. We’ll start these interviews. Then I’ll get a group shot of you all together for the intro.” He tugged her toward an
X
on the floor. “Here’s your mark. Stand here. Look at that camera and act natural.”

The intense overhead lighting shone on Nina’s face as she stood with her hands at her sides staring at the camera aimed at her face.