Bun for Your Life (23 page)

I wouldn't want to wake you up.

Don't worry about it. Beau doing okay?

Yes. He loves Pepper and Pepper loves him. My parents think he's adorable.

Good. Please tell them I said thanks for letting Beau be there. Talk soon?

Yes. Thanks for listening. Texting, I mean.

No problem. Anytime.

I stared at my phone for a few minutes. What just happened? How could we be attracted to each other? Was I attracted to him? On a physical level, yes. A woman would have to be dead not to be, and I'm not positive being dead was enough. But we barely knew each other. I turned my phone off.

I was overanalyzing. Dinner is no big deal. I didn't have to pick my bridesmaids out yet. He'd want to serve our guests meat at our wedding, I'm thinking. I guessed that would be okay, as long as I didn't have to eat any. I realized I was smiling again.

It struck me that Sean was probably a lonely man. Friends were great, but he had no one special to share his life with. Neither did I. I hadn't lost anyone in the horrible way he had, but I still had a void in my life.

I thought of Dottie's story about her and her husband being so opposite, yet being so in love. I wondered if maybe my four-hundred-dollar investment would turn into something after all.

I got up early the following morning. I felt a little embarrassed hiding out at my parents'. Did you ever notice things always seem less scary in the daylight? I was a grown woman and part owner of a bakery, for heaven's sake. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I had Beau to protect me in case the person behind the notes decided to appear in person. Although I wasn't sure I could depend on him to defend me; he was more lover than fighter.

My father had already left for work and my mother was reading the paper in the kitchen when I got downstairs. Beau and Pepper both greeted me like a long-lost friend they hadn't seen in a decade, as dogs are inclined to do.

My mother put the paper aside and laughed. “Beau is a delightful dog. I bet you're going to miss him when you have to return him.”

I reached down to pet both dogs. “I am.”

“Maybe you should think about getting one.” My mother got up. “Pancakes and bacon? It's vegetarian bacon.”

“I've been thinking of getting a dog ever since Beau has been with me. I'll see.” I considered the pancakes. I'd add syrup, of course. I was still a size six. Barely, but barely counted, right? I said yes to the pancakes and bacon.

“Do you have to be at the bakery today?”

I nodded. “I'm going in at one. I have to go to the library again.”

My mother put a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me. I inhaled the aroma, and my stomach grumbled. On the other hand, there are advantages of being at home. “Thanks. You don't have to wait on me.”

She waved away my comment. “I don't mind. You're spending a lot of time at the library lately.”

“I need to look something else up. I'm still curious about what Jane said about Enid being Beatrice Travis. I can't let it go. I'm taking Jane to Enid's program at the library. Maybe Jane will recall something else about her. Unfortunately, I was interrupted yesterday by Chase Middlebrook while I was researching. He's Enid's son. He was doing research for his latest novel.”

I didn't bother boring my mother with my visit to Ed McCray's apartment. I didn't want her thinking I was wasting my time on something that would turn out to be nothing. I thought that enough myself.

“I hope you find what you're looking for. I may not see you there. I'm meeting with the architect this morning to go over the plans for the expansion. Speaking of that, I need to get ready for work in a few minutes.” She turned toward the sink.

“I'll get the dishes,” I told her. “That's exciting, the library expanding. I bet you're happy. When is the construction starting?”

“In the spring, fingers crossed. See you tonight?”

“I don't think so. I've decided to go home.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you wanted to stay until Dottie and the detective returned. We like having you home.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I realized this morning that I'm a grown woman; I don't need to hide in my childhood bedroom. I feel ridiculous. But thanks for letting me do that for one night.”

“You're always welcome.”

After breakfast, I cleaned up the dishes, took a shower, dressed, packed up, and got Beau's things together, and we returned home. I gave him a nice long walk to make up for shuttling him back and forth, promised he could go to the bakery with me later, then made my way to the library.

I'd have to give some serious thought to getting a dog. Unless Sean wanted to share Beau, but I doubted he'd agree to it. Beau definitely added something positive to Bread and Batter, and the customers loved him. I was afraid it had gone to his head. I had recently come up with the thought that Olivia and I might sell gourmet doggie biscuits. I was sure they would be a huge hit. Lots of people in Destiny had dogs.

The library parking lot was pretty much empty, and when I entered I was relieved to see that no one was sitting at the computer I needed. I dropped my purse on the floor and began looking up Max Danforth. Within minutes I had found what Ed had mentioned.

The first was an old
New York Times
bestseller list showing
Broken Delilah
by Maximillian Danforth at number one. Next, I wanted to find anything mentioning Max Danforth stealing
Broken Delilah
from Peter Travis. Or any mention of Peter's family. Specifically, a Beatrice. After almost half an hour, I found an article dated March 22, 1949, in
The City Examiner
, a New York City newspaper that had long since gone out of business from what I could tell.

It was a victorious day for
New York Times
bestselling author and upstate New York apple orchard owner, Maximillian Danforth. An Albany court ruled that there was insufficient evidence to support that Mr. Danforth stole
Broken Delilah
from fellow author and best friend, Peter Travis. The novel was found to be fully and totally owned and authored by Mr. Danforth

“Stealing is just not something I would do,” Mr. Danforth said as he was interviewed on the court steps about the charges. “Peter was my best friend. But I worked on
Broken Delilah
for two years. It's mine and I'm very pleased with the judge's ruling.”

When asked if his friendship with Mr. Travis was beyond repair, Mr. Danforth looked down for a long moment, and then replied emotionally, “I'm afraid so. It has been since he accused me of this atrocious crime, of which I have been vindicated. Thank the good Lord.”

When the reporter asked how Peter Travis knew intimate details about
Broken Delilah
and all the characters in it, he replied tersely, “Come on! You don't share everything with your best friend? He read it for me, suggested things. I hope he gets the help he needs. He's a good writer, but I'm afraid he's become delusional. I wish him and his family the best. It's sad that they all believe the ugly lie that Peter has hatched, but understandable, as family sticks together.”

Peter Travis exited the back of the courthouse quickly, deigning to talk to only one reporter. “Maximillian Danforth is
a sham. A con artist. A charlatan. A liar. Good breeding forbids me to utter more foul descriptions. God help me, my wish is that he burns in hell, along with his family of vipers for generations to come. They're all crooked, they all steal. Every last one of them.

“I thought Max was different. Was I ever wrong! I trusted him as my best friend. He took
Brooklyn at Dark
out of my study, finished it, then changed the name to
Broken Delilah
. I can tell right where he began writing. He'd been to my house numerous times. He knew exactly where it was. I talked to him about it as I was writing. He expressed great admiration for my work, as I did for his, even though he didn't have the talent I did. Mark my words, you will not hear any other works come out of him. He stole my life dream. He should pay.”

Mr. Travis added that he didn't notice his manuscript was missing for two weeks. He continues to allege that Mr. Danforth stole it the night before they left for Africa together on a hunting trip. He left one final comment: “Now, I want to put this behind me. My wife, daughter, and I would like to be left alone.”

Three months later he was dead. I felt a sharp pang of sorrow for him and his small family. What a depressing story. I didn't know of any Travis families in town. Maybe his wife and daughter had moved after his death. Too many memories to stay here, which was totally understandable. They could have gone anywhere.

I couldn't find anything else on the matter of Peter or Maximillian. No mention of what Peter's wife or daughter's names were. I stretched and turned the computer off.

Maybe Trey was right. I was starting to wonder if the Calista Sugar Pink may very well have been on his property and he had a right to his anger. Calista's family seems to have a history of being accused of stealing. What proof did he have, though? It would mean a lot to his orchard, that's for sure. Of course, it didn't mean he didn't kill Calista. I gathered up my purse and headed out. I didn't bother passing on my latest information to Detective Corsino.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Beau was his usual hit at the bakery, we had a steady stream of customers, no one left a note on my car, and Olivia and I discussed what kind of person we needed to help at the bakery and finding a techie who could build a nice website for us. It was the calm before the storm, as they say. Actually, it was the calm before two very big storms.

*  *  *

Christmas was around the corner, and Dottie was back. Sean would be back in a couple more days, too. I had mixed feelings about his return. I was looking forward to seeing him, and I still couldn't believe he had asked me out; if I didn't have his texts as proof, I'd be convinced I'd dreamed the whole thing. On the other hand, I couldn't stand the thought of not having Beau around. I don't know how he managed to claim such a large portion of my heart so soon—he wasn't that big, after all—but he had.

He slept on the floor beside me every night. We'd developed a mutually satisfying routine, and I hated that Sean was coming home to disrupt that.

It was four days before Christmas when the first storm hit. Beau was a little put out by having to rise so early to go outside to do his business and take a walk, but I gave him a doggy treat and he forgave me. I wasn't crazy about going out in the early cold myself, but bagels won't make themselves. I put on his leash, and we headed out. As soon as I rounded the corner of the porch I came to a dead stop. My heart began racing, and waves of fear and dizziness washed over me. Beau lay down and growled, a ridge of hair rising down the middle of his back. I'd never heard him growl before.

I rushed over to my car. Dottie was lying beside it, semiconscious and moaning. Blood seeped from an ugly gash in her head. I forced myself to get it together and quickly ran into her house. I had to be strong for her. First I called 911, then I raced back outside with a blanket I'd grabbed from the back of her couch.

“Hang on, Dottie, hang on,” I told her as I covered her. “I've called 911. They'll send the police and an ambulance.” I held her hand. It was ice-cold.

Beau stopped growling and slowly lay down beside her, nuzzling her hand with his nose.

“Glad to . . . see . . . you here. A man,” she whispered, her eyelids fluttered open. “He . . . was by . . . your car a few minutes ago. I don't know why I . . . came out . . . should've stayed inside . . . called 911, too. . . I called to him. I think . . . he . . . hit me with something. I pretended . . . pretended to be dead.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Don't know. Mask on . . . Sorr . . .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes closed.

I wanted to call Sergeant Jacoby, but I didn't want to leave Dottie alone. I heard the faint wail of a siren in the distance. Thank God!

As soon as the paramedics arrived, they scooped Dottie into the ambulance and began working on her. A Rigby police car came sliding to a stop a few seconds later. Two officers jumped out. I told them what had happened and asked one of them to please contact Sergeant Jacoby and have him come, too.

While one of the officers secured the area, or at least that's what I assumed he was doing, the other interviewed me. I couldn't tell you what he asked me, or what I said. For Dottie's sake I tried staying focused, but I couldn't get the picture out of my head of her lying on the ground, bleeding. It would be traumatic for anyone to go through what she did, and she wasn't a young woman.

I hoped they let me go into her house to see if I could find her sister's information, or other family members' information. I felt sick. This was all my fault. I was ecstatic when, a few minutes later, Sergeant Jacoby exited an SUV. I had been asked by the police officers to stand away from the area they were securing, so Beau and I were pacing in the front yard. The houses around us remained dark, oblivious to the activity here. After conferring with the two officers, Jacoby came over to me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself. “It's my neighbor, Dottie Brand. I mean, she's my landlord. She lives here. We're friends, too.” It was difficult speaking coherently. If she died, I'd never forgive myself. “She told me she thought a man was doing something to my car, and he hit her on the head when she came outside. “I bet it was Trey, putting a note on
my car again, and she saw him. This is my fault. If I hadn't moved here, if I hadn't said anything in the bookstore that Trey heard.”

“Calm down, Ms. Tyler. You can't blame yourself. Mrs. Brand should have stayed inside. It's never smart to confront an intruder. We don't know that it was Trey. Does she have family you can call?”

“She recently visited her sister in Texas, that's all I know. I'm going to go in her house and see if I can find any other family members' contact information. I'm sure it was Trey. I wish she'd stayed inside.”

“You'll have to leave your car here for a while. It's part of the crime scene.”

Crime scene. That sounded so ominous and bleak. “How long will you be? I hate thinking of Dottie alone in the hospital.”

“As long as it takes. Dottie will be well taken care of, I'm sure. Why don't you go back into your apartment? I'll come get you if I need anything. I'll let you know when we're done. I'm going to send an officer soon to see if he can talk to Dottie.” I looked down. I was wearing purple fleece pajama bottoms with yellow stars and moons on them and a pink Hello Kitty pajama top under my coat. I had planned on getting dressed after Beau and I returned from our walk. I hadn't expected to run into anyone, never mind Sergeant Jacoby and his crew.

“Are you guys going to be here awhile?”

“Long enough to look around a bit more. Do you have anything to add that you haven't told Officer Broderick?”