Bun for Your Life (13 page)

“Soon, dear, soon,” Kate assured her.

Lola flushed, and I hurried to finish washing and drying my hands. I didn't want to face her again. I went back to my table and joined Sean. I remembered to pull out my aspirin and take a couple.

Sean almost smiled at me as he watched. “Is my company that bad?”

I shook my head and gave him a smile. “It's all the noise.” I didn't bother telling him the noise was my ex-husband's party in celebration of his engagement.

We finished our dinner in relative silence. The waitress came and took our plates and asked about desert. We both
declined, but Sean ordered coffee. I ordered hot tea.

When our hot drinks arrived, I pulled my notes, notebook, and pen out of my purse and cleared my throat. “I've done some research on Trey Hamilton and Blake Ellsworth. I haven't seen anything in the news about the investigation moving along, or suspects being named. How many suspects do you have?”

Sean leaned back in his chair and again smiled a little. “Now I see why you bid on me.” He eyed at my notes (with considerable suspicion) spread across the table and didn't reply to my question regarding the number of suspects. “So you could force me listen to your theories on Calista's murderer.”

“I didn't bid on you. Olivia did. I told you that, remember?”

“Right. Now I see why you had Olivia bid on me. Believe me, I've got everything under control. I don't need any help.”

“I didn't have her bid on you. I was in the bathroom. I had no idea she was bidding on you for me. I had no control over who she chose.”

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples before reopening them. “I suppose we aren't leaving until I hear what you have to say?”

I smiled at him. “Exactly.”

“I could just leave you here. Make you fend for yourself.”

“You won't.”

“How do you know that?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. A move I found rather sexy.

“You helped me get in and out of your truck, you held the restaurant door open for me, and you stood when I went to the ladies' room. That means you're a gentleman, and a gentleman wouldn't strand a woman at a restaurant.”

He tried for a glare, but it fell short of being convincing. “Of all the women who could have bid on me, it had to be a delusional Nancy Drew.”

“Delusional Nancy Drew? I've taken very thorough notes, I'll have you know. How can you be sure they won't help?”

“Ms. Tyler, I'm sure you're an excellent baker and businesswoman. Just as I'm equally sure you're not a detective. I'm not about to show up at Bread and Batter with a bowl, a bag of flour, and eggs, then proceed to try and convince you I can make a batch of cupcakes that are halfway edible. I don't expect you to show up at my job with notes, printouts, and God knows what else and try to convince me you can solve a murder.”

“I didn't say I was going to solve it, first of all. I'm only trying to help. Fill in the blanks, if you will. Second of all, I'm not at your job; we're at a restaurant. And I have several good reasons for wanting Calista's murder solved. Someone in Destiny is a killer.”

“Not necessarily,” he quickly interjected. “Could've been someone from anywhere.”

“Let's say it is someone from Destiny. What if they strike again? What if they have a list of victims?” Not to mention that I wanted him to stop suspecting I did it because of my argument with Calista in the bakery, or because of what she did to my great-grandmother. “I know the people in this town, you don't. I can hook you up with connections.”

“Hook me up?” He looked amused.

“Yes. And finally, I don't want Bread and Batter becoming a mecca for people fascinated with murder, or looking for Calista's ghost.”

He sighed. “I'm sure I'll regret this, but okay, I'll bite. What does that mean?”

I repeated the stories of the kids looking for Calista's ghost and the honeymooning couple. And what Emily said about customers in her bookstore sounding jealous because Destiny had a murder mystery going on.

“Based on just two incidents you're afraid your bakery is turning into the center of the Islamic world? I don't get the connection.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha ha! Very funny. Mecca also means a place people yearn to visit. May I continue?”

“No.”

“Give me ten minutes,” I pleaded. “I paid a lot of money for you. The least you can do is give me ten minutes.”

As he was about to answer, my heart almost skidded to a stop—I saw Brian striding toward us. He stopped beside our table. “Hey, you guys. Mom said you were here, Molly. Thought I'd say hi. Sean, how's it going?”

“Brian! What's up?”

“I'm looking forward to taking you out on
My Escape
Saturday. I think it's going to be the last decent day for a boat ride. Temps are supposed to plunge next week. Can't believe this great weather at this time of the year.”

“Yeah, I heard the weather's getting colder soon. Can't wait to get out on the water.”

“I'll let you guys get back to”—Brian eyed the papers spread that I had spread out—“your dinner. Enjoy your evening.”

“You too,” Sean and I replied in tandem.

I shuffled my papers, and I felt Sean's eyes on me.

“Small world. You okay with seeing him?”

I twirled my hair around a finger. An annoying habit I had when I was feeling stressed. “Yes,” I retorted a little more defensively than I needed to, “why wouldn't I be?”

He held his hands up with the palms facing me. “No reason.” Then he looked at his watch. A thin, very classy, gold one. “Ten minutes. Go.”

I dove right in. “I don't know who's on your list of suspects since you won't tell me; I hope I've been erased from it. That aside, I've concluded that the two most obvious are Blake Ellsworth and Trey Hamilton. I know they're probably first on your list, too.

“Take Blake,” I hurried on, before he could comment, which he looked like he was dying to do. “He denies having anything to do with her death, but why was he dating her? ‘He loves classic cars' is the obvious reason. What do you need lots of if you're a collector? Money. You already know through his ex-wife that he wanted to add to his collection and asked Calista for money. She turned him down.”

Sean finished his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “If that doesn't make him a killer, I don't know what does. Maybe we should arrest him on the way home. I'll have you sit in the truck bed with him so he doesn't try to jump out.”

I ignored his snark. “He's angry and broke. Boom! Calista's dead. Does she really look like his type? Why else would he date her?”

“I didn't know Calista. The only time I saw her alive was when she was confronting you at the bakery. I admit he looks like he'd go more for the waitress at . . . What's the name of that diner on the highway?”

“Bubby's?” I asked.

“Yeah, that one.”

“So we agree. I have no idea what Calista saw in him, but let's concentrate on Blake's reason for dating Calista and why he could be her killer.” I pushed a printout toward Sean.

He reached for it, and after shooting me a skeptical look, read. “I already know about the fire that killed his first wife,” he said after a few seconds.

“It wasn't just a fire. It was a suspicious fire. People think he set the fire himself to get rid of her. He collected a ton of money from her insurance policy. Enough to pay off his mortgage and buy the 1958 Chevy he drove in the Apple Harvest Fair parade, an ancient Packard, and a 1966 Mustang. He has a couple more cars, but I forget what they are. The rest he spent in bars. He's broke.”

“You're a veritable wealth of information, Ms. Tyler. While I appreciate your efforts, if Blake killed his first wife for insurance money, why didn't he take out a policy on his second wife and kill her, too while they were married? She's still alive. Apparently not crazy about him, but she's alive.”

I thought on it for a second. “I don't know. I'm trying to tell you he has a temper. Everyone in town knows that. You don't cross Blake. He's gotten in more bar fights than I can count. He could have killed Calista in a fit of rage. Maybe you should lean on him a little harder.”

“Anyone could have. So why was she dating him? What was in it for her?”

“I don't have an answer, but it hardly matters now. The woman's dead.” I tucked my notes on Blake back in my purse.

“Is that it?” he asked, looking at the rest of my notes with a dubious expression.

The waitress came and refilled both our mugs and asked about dessert again. This time, I selected a cannoli on the tray she held with that evening's choices on it. “No. Now we move to Trey. I admit he comes in with a higher score as a suspect.”

“Murder isn't an Olympic event,” he informed me.

“I know that.” I paused to take a bite of my cannoli. “Want some?” I offered. I began to relax with Sean a little. I wasn't totally comfortable, but it didn't look as if my arrest was imminent, despite his past questions.

“No thanks. Well, let's get it over with. What about Trey?”

I handed him several pages. “It looks as if Trey had a point when he told the Jandellas that Calista's apple was really on Hamilton land. I went way back to the eighteen hundreds. Their families have scuffled since the very beginning, like I've told you previously. They've always vied for the position of top orchard in the state. You can read about several of their run-ins right there.

“There's a copy of a newspaper article there about one of Calista's ancestors being accused of paying off the town surveyor enough money to take a trip to Europe and then retire to map two acres of Hamilton land as Danforth land. Wouldn't that be enough to push Trey to murder? That means the Calista Sugar Pink really could belong to him.”

Sean looked down and read. I hoped he was going to take me seriously. “How does this prove he's the killer?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Maybe he was talking about this very article when he told the Jandellas he could prove the Calista Sugar Pink was found on his land. I'm sure that's why he wanted to marry Calista and merge their lands. To get back land that was his to begin with—or at least it appears it might have been. When Calista turned him down, it pushed him over the edge. Maybe he blackmailed her with this article and she laughed at him.

“Not only that,” I said, pointing to the pile of papers, “I also have an article about one of Calista's ancestral cousins. She got pregnant by one of Trey's ancestral cousins, and her family forced him to marry her. Only he left her at the altar. They found her dead in a ravine in what's now Erie Falls State Park. Trey's ancestor was convicted of murder, even though he insisted it was one of her own family who killed her because she brought shame to the Danforth name. Guess who the judge was? One of Calista's great-great-great-uncles.”

Sean put the papers he'd been reading down. “I commend you on your diligent research. However, I have a few questions. Why wouldn't Trey have known all this way before now and taken action? Why didn't his ancestors take action? Why haven't he and his brothers taken action against the Danforths through the legal system if the Calista Sugar Pink was truly
found on his land? Why didn't Calista feel threatened by him if he had this knowledge?”

His barrage of questions was like a series of bullets being fired at me. My headache threatened to return. “I—”

“Sorry,” he cut in, “but it's farfetched. Even for Nancy Drew. Too many holes in your theory, and the key word is ‘accused.'”

I pretended not to hear his Nancy Drew dig as I squinted at him. “What?”

“Calista's ancestors were accused of paying off a surveyor. Do you have proof any of them were convicted? Are there any subsequent articles showing any of Calista's relatives behind bars? Any stories of a trial?”

“No, but—”

“I rest my case,” he interrupted again. Accompanying his words was a satisfied, arrogant smirk on his face.

I managed not to throw the rest of my cannoli at him; that could only end badly for me, but oh, did I want to wipe that smug look off his face.

“Stick to cupcakes, Molly.”

I opened mouth, then closed it. I'd just had a brilliant idea. I wasn't going to share it with him. He'd either steal it or laugh at me. I had every intention of finding out what real proof Trey had that the Calista Sugar Pink was on his land, and Bobby Crandall was going to help me. He just didn't know it yet.

Although I had to agree with Detective Corsino. If Trey had had ironclad proof, why hadn't he hired a lawyer and sued Calista? Why hadn't he brought it to her attention in some way?

I grudgingly admitted to myself that the detective had a point about the holes in my research, but did he have to take such joy at pointing them out? Nancy Drew and her friends never had this problem. She waltzed in, solved the mystery, got the bad guys, and left the River Heights Police Department in awe. Sean certainly didn't look as if he was in awe of me.

I'd do a better job next time. But I wasn't done with the detective just yet. “Maybe Trey thought marrying her would give him a better advantage than proving her ancestors stole his land. It could still be a motive for murder. Maybe he killed her out of jealousy, or anger that she turned down his marriage proposal. He wanted the whole orchard, not just the Calista Sugar Pink. When she turned him down, he had to go another route. Prove the land on which the apple was found belonged to him. At least he'd have the apple, if not the whole orchard.”

Sean's eyes narrowed, and he pinned me with a dark stare. “How do you know he proposed and she turned him down?”

I fidgeted. “I talked to Jamie, Olivia's cousin. He heard the whole proposal. Which you know, since you talked to Jamie yourself. Marrying Calista and merging their orchards would mean fame, wealth, and media attention on Trey.”

He leaned back in his chair and glowered at me. “I don't need you interfering in my investigation. There is no solid proof that Trey or Blake killed Calista. Doesn't mean one of them didn't, but you can't arrest someone for murder with no concrete evidence.”

“What's your game plan?”

“None of your business. It certainly doesn't involve you.”

I'd decided Sean's bark was worse than his bite, so I ignored the warning tone along with the accompanying dark look that I was sure was meant to intimidate. “What's the next step?”

The waitress came up to our table and left the bill. Sean grabbed it before I could. He let out a long sigh while swiping a hand through his hair. “Molly, you make it sound like we're a team. We aren't. So the next step is you let me do my job and you go back to your own job.”

“Don't be so condescending. I can't believe you're not listening to what I'm saying. Okay, maybe there are a few problems with my research, but you could still listen.”

He leaned across the table. “I'm not being condescending. I gave you ten minutes, and for that ten minutes I got a headache. I listened. Now I'm done. I'm not going to discuss the case with you. Give it up.” He pulled out his wallet.

“No,” I protested. “You're not supposed to pay. I bought you. Through Olivia, yes, but nonetheless. Do you want some aspirin?”

He shook his head. “No, but thanks. It'll be gone soon. Listen, you paid four hundred dollars for me. The least I can do is pay for dinner.”

“No, really. I'm supposed to pay.”

“Too late. Stop arguing with me.”

This was going nowhere. “Fine. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Best time I've had in a while. I'll leave it at that.” He gazed into my eyes, and for a moment neither of us looked away. “But it was a one-time thing. I'm not looking for a relationship.”

I blushed. Did he think I wanted to ask him out again? I actually didn't. Yes, he was great-looking, and I wouldn't fight him off if he gave me a good-night kiss, but we just had nothing in common. “I understand. I'm not, either,” I lied. “I appreciate, as I'm sure my mom does, your doing your part for the library.”