Baking is Murder (A Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mystery) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 1) (7 page)

“Chief Daly, I need to speak to you,” Jessie said, rushing past his secretary and into his office.

She stopped and blinked. Mike was sitting in the guest chair in front of the chief’s desk and both men now stared at her in astonishment.

“Jessie,” the chief started to say, rising up from his chair.

“There’s been a huge mistake,” she said breathlessly.

She’d run all the way there from Clarice’s cottage. Luckily she’d been wearing sneakers so her feet probably wouldn’t blister like last time.
If I keep up like this, I won’t need to do any other exercise,
she’d thought as she ran. She’d run more in the past couple days than she had in her entire life up to that point.

“What is?” he asked incredulously. “And what happened to your hand?”

Jessie looked down numbly. She had forgotten about her wrist, but seeing it dangling swollen and limp reminded her of the fall. She winced in pain. “I sprained it I think. But that’s not important now.”

Both men were standing now; staring at her like she’d lost her mind.

She shook her head, her breath still labored and uneven. “I’m not going crazy,” she said. “Look. Look at these books. I found them in Clarice’s house. You thought she was lying to me about her condition. But she wasn’t.”

The chief took the two books from her and passed one to Mike. He opened the one he was holding and flipped through the pages.

The chief sighed and closed the book.

“This tells us nothing. It’s not proof.”

Jessie shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Don’t you see? How on earth could she have planned this? Those books were hidden behind her professional breeder manuals. The only reason I even found them was because I accidently dropped a bottle of dog medicine and it splattered everywhere. This isn’t some clever alibi—there was no guarantee those books would be found.”

He frowned. “The murder weapon was found in her home. Explain that.”

“What if someone tried to set her up? They could easily have gotten in there. She’s got a state-of-the-art security system for the kennels but her own home is protected by a flimsy lock. There’s no deadbolt; no locks on the windows.”

Mike smiled. “Because this is Springdale, not New York City.”

“Exactly,” Jessie said fiercely. “Which means whoever did this
knew
they’d be able to pin it on her without much effort.”

Mike turned to the chief with a grave look on his face. “We’d better cancel the press conference.”

The chief groaned. “It makes no sense. And what am I supposed to tell people? Folk will be terrified. It’s not like I can tell them we found the real killer.”

Mike shrugged helplessly. “We’ll think of something. But we can’t have an innocent woman locked up for something she didn’t do.”

“You could have her checked over by a doctor,” Jessie said quietly. “If they diagnose Limak Syndrome, then that’s pretty conclusive proof. You told me yourself; a lot of strength was needed to carry out a murder with a weapon like that.”

“That’s true. But don’t jump to conclusions just yet. There’s still the matter of why she didn’t just admit her illness to us. How do you explain that? Wouldn’t it have been the first thing she told us?”

Jessie shrugged. “Remember I told you she only mentioned it when I asked? Even then she only told me after I had nagged her to speak to somebody about what I thought was her anxiety. She had to lose her temper in order to reveal her secret to me.”

“Lose her temper,” the chief said thoughtfully. “See that’s what I think happened here. Just because you saw her sweet side doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a darker side that’s capable of terrible things. I’ve seen it time and time again in my career.”

Jessie shook her head. She wondered for the thousandth time if she should just stop all of this. After all, the chief had several decades of experience. She knew nothing about human psychology and she’d only known Clarice a matter of days. She sighed and pushed herself out of the chair.

But then something stopped her and she sat back down. “I’m sorry, Chief. I know I’m being
really
annoying, but I can’t shake the feeling that she didn’t do it. At least get a doctor to test her. Think about it. She hid those books. Those books that she purchased in Dukefield. She’s obviously a proud woman; someone who doesn’t want anyone to know she’s unwell.”

“That extends to not seeking medical treatment?”

“Some folk prefer traditional medicine over pharmaceuticals,” the mayor said thoughtfully.

Jessie silently thanked him for weighing in. She couldn’t say why, but persuading the chief to run tests on Clarice was the most important thing she could think of right then.

“Please, Chief. I mean, if the tests come back negative then it’s proof that she set up a very clever alibi. And that would—”

Chief Daly held up his hands in submission. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “I’ll call off the press conference and speak to her attorney about running those tests. But there’s gonna be panic after this. Folks will be out there protesting until someone is jailed for this.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. The chief’s words had set off a connection in her mind; one that had never occurred to her before.

“Wait, Chief,” she said, rummaging in her purse. “I think there’s something you need to see.”

Chief Daly stared at the crumpled orange page on his desk.

“You want me to investigate this?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Jessie shook her head. “No. Well, yes but not in the way you might think.”

He steepled his hands and stared up at the ceiling as if he was at the end of his tether. “Can’t anything be simple with you, Jessie Henderson?”

Jessie blushed. Her mind raced to put into words the idea that had just struck her. “This kid came into the café. I asked him what he wanted to order but he wrinkled his nose; said he wasn’t interested in our food. No, he wanted to put up one of these flyers.”

The chief shrugged. “I can’t imagine anybody turning down a chance to eat Bee’s cooking, but each to their own.”

“No, that’s not why I think it’s significant. Think about it. It’s a protest against animal cruelty. His hostility was so clear—don’t you think it’s possible that he might have been involved in this? It’s easy to see how somebody who objects to keeping animals for food could also object to having them as pets.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” the chief scoffed.

Jessie smiled to herself. Chief Daly turned up to Chevy’s Steakhouse on Spring Street with almost clockwork regularity. Jessie wasn’t surprised by his disbelief. She imagined he didn’t have very many vegetarian friends.

“I know. But some people feel very strongly that way. We both know that the Sweets treat their animals with love and care, yet there’s a protest happening tomorrow. By the same note, maybe somebody felt that Lydia Mackenzie was treating her animals badly.”

Mayor Stevens shook his head. “They can’t have known her very well in that case. You’ve seen Clarice’s kennels?”

Jessie nodded.

“Well, Lydia’s dogs were even more pampered, let me tell you.”

Jessie’s eyes began to water despite her best efforts to stop them. She coughed and looked away. She’d been so busy focusing on Clarice that Lydia’s property hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Who’s looking after her dogs?” she whispered. “I never even thought…”

Chief Daly rolled his eyes but Jessie saw there was a smile threatening to poke through his stern expression. “Now look here, Jessie. You’re not proposing to look after another brood of puppies, are you? You’ve got enough on your hands as it is.”

Mayor Stevens cleared his throat. “Actually, Jessie, it’s fine. I’ve been looking in on them. There’s a breeder over in Stanleyton who’s going to take the bitches once all the puppies have gone to their allocated owners.”

Jessie beamed. “Thank you, Mike. I mean, Mayor Stevens. That’s so good of you.”

He shook his head, brushing off the compliment. “It’s the least I could do after you took on Clarice’s dogs.”

Chief Daly held up the crumpled sheet and looked from Mike to Jessie. “Are you two finished cheerleading each other?”

Jessie tried her best not to grin. “Yes,” she said, feeling strangely like a naughty high schooler.

“Okay, then. What is it exactly that you want me to do with this? Because I’m busy, you know. I have other matters to attend to.”

“I’m sorry, Chief,” Jessie said, smiling sheepishly. The truth was, she had forgotten everything else because she’d been enjoying their friendly banter so thoroughly. “I was hoping you could speak to the kid? He has a motive. You should have seen the anger in his eyes.”

The chief stared at her from underneath his craggy eyebrows. “Will it get you off my back?”

Jessie grinned. “Yes. Please. I’ll owe you. Coffee and cake on me for the whole of next week.”

He pretended to consider this. “Okay, fine. But you’re coming with me.”

“Where? On a ride-along? Really?” she asked, eyes widening at the possibility.

“No. To the protest. I’ll meet you at the entrance to the Sweet’s place at midday tomorrow. You might want to wear your rain boots.”

Jessie sloshed along the side of the highway feeling very self-conscious in the rain boots she had borrowed from Mayor Stevens. It didn’t help that the boots were four sizes too large for her, either.

But she’d had no other choice—the only other option she could think of was to borrow a pair from Clarice’s home, but she hadn’t felt comfortable doing that. Now she wished she’d had the foresight to ask Clarice’s permission—her heels were beginning to blister and she still had several hundred yards to go before she reached the Sweet Home Farm. The metal sign that announced the farm and its organic, homemade produce was in view but still tantalizingly out of reach.

Jessie was just about to remove the boots and walk in her socks when she heard the whirr of sirens behind her. She turned around in a panic.

“I told you to bring boots, not walk over here in them. Are you out of your mind?” the chief boomed over the loudspeaker.

Mortified, Jessie looked around in all directions. Thankfully there was nobody else in sight to witness the chief’s teasing. She turned and walked back to the cruiser.

“You know that’s just like something Aunt Bee would do,” she grumbled. Her aunt was always trying to think up new ways to embarrass her. She hoped she’d never see the day when Bee and Chief Daly decided to team up against her.

Chief Daly beamed back. “Hope in. I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

Jessie climbed in and stared ahead as the made their way to the gate. She frowned and glanced at her watch. According to the flyer, the protest was due to start in a couple minutes. But there were no cars or vans parked along the road, and she couldn’t see any banners or signs in the distance either.

She glanced at the chief. “These protesters have a habit of turning up late, huh?”

He shrugged.

Jessie settled back into the seat. She didn’t mind having to wait a while. She’d been hearing a lot about the soft cheeses the Sweets sold in their farm store. If they had ten or fifteen minutes to kill before the hoards arrived, then Jessie didn’t mind at all if it meant she’d have time to try out delicious cheeses.

Jessie was daydreaming about how she could put their homemade feta to use in the café when the cruiser rolled up to the farmhouse. She stared out the window and her eyes widened in surprise.

“This is it?”

The chief killed the engine and looked in the direction she was pointing. “I guess so.”

Jessie had been expecting hundreds of people with placards and banners and loudspeakers. She’d imagined them marching through the muddy grass shouting horrible slogans. She would never have imagined this.

The kid with the flyers stood outside the Sweet’s house with four other college-age kids, only one of whom was holding a sign. It was more a sheet of paper than a sign. It read “End Animal Cruelty NOW”.

Jessie glanced at the house where there were no signs of life. The farm shop, which was back along the driveway a short distance, was also closed. Jessie wondered if the protesters were the cause.

“Are they allowed to come onto private property? I would have thought they’d have to protest on the street outside.”

The chief shrugged. “I can’t imagine they’re causing the Sweets much bother. But I’ll check in with them, of course.”

They got out of the car and walked to the protesters. Chief Daly shot Jessie a look that she had no trouble interpreting. His eyes said: leave the talking to me.

She nodded. She was more than happy to comply. They bypassed the group and made their way to the Sweet’s front door. Chief Daly rapped loudly.

Within seconds, the door swung open. Jessie smiled at the sight of Maddie Sweet, whom she’d seen in the café a couple times when Maddie was delivering butter for Aunt Bee.

“Hi Chief,” she smiled, looking as calm and good-humored as ever.

The chief cleared his throat. “Are these people bothering you? You know it’s well within your rights to have them removed—they are trespassing after all.”

Maddie laughed heartily and Jessie found herself liking the woman even more. “Heavens, no. They’re just kids. I’m not about to land us in the middle of a media story about bad farmers versus noble kids.” She shook her head with a smile. “No, I imagine they’ll grow bored when there’s no drama or if they care to look around and see that our animals are well cared for.”

Chief Daly nodded. “Okay, Mrs. Sweet. You call me if you change your mind.”

She closed the door and Jessie followed the chief across the yard to where the protesters stood. He cleared his throat and they looked up at him. She saw the fear flash across their eyes and she was suddenly gripped with doubt. Because to Jessie, that just didn’t seem like the response of a hardened criminal.

Perhaps it was an accident and they never meant to go so far,
she thought.

The chief cleared his throat. “Which one of you is in charge?” he said gruffly.

The others quickly stepped backward, leaving the kid Jessie recognized standing in front. He turned and glared at them. “Cowards,” he muttered.

“Oh I wouldn’t call them cowardly,” the chief growled. “I’d say they were sensible.” He took a step closer to the kid. “What’s your name?”

He stared up at the chief with wide hazel eyes. “Kyle.”

“Kyle who?”

“Kyle Weathers. Look we’re just exercising our democratic right to protest. You can’t stop us.”

The chief raised an eyebrow. “You realize you’re on private property, Kyle Weathers? Mrs. Sweet there called me; said there was a disturbance on her land.”

Kyle didn’t answer.

“You’re trespassing, Mr. Weathers. There’s no freedom to trespass in our constitution.”

Kyle looked like he was about to pass out.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“No, sir. No, they don’t.”

“And how would they feel if I called them up to let them know I’d arrested you for trespassing, son?”

“Please don’t arrest me, sir. Please. My dad would kill me,” he said, face falling.

The chief’s face broke into a predatory grin. “Well, maybe it won’t come to that. That’s if you help me with some questions I’ve got.”

Kyle nodded eagerly. “Sure. Sure. Anything you want.”