Football is Murder (Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries) (7 page)

BOOK: Football is Murder (Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries)
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“I bet there is,” Jessie said, switching on the stove. “Compared to mine.”

Melanie shrugged. “It’s nice,” she said with a satisfied sigh. “I can see you’re happy here, no matter how much you joke about being boring.”

Jessie nodded. It was true. She was more content than she could ever remember feeling.

“Want to hang out this morning?”

Jessie felt torn. She’d been looking forward to spending time with Melanie, but she had already made an appointment based on the assumption that her cousin wouldn’t wake for several more hours.

“I can’t right now. I’ve got to go see somebody.”

“Your boyfriend? I still haven’t met him.”

“That’s because you’ve been asleep the whole time since you got here. But you can meet him later. How about I come and pick you up as soon as I get back?”

Melanie nodded happily.

“You want some oatmeal?”

“Um, no,” Melanie said, digging around in the refrigerator. “Because I’m not ninety.”

Jessie rolled her eyes and wondered how it was that the people she loved the most gave her the most hassle. About everything.

* * *

The Rockfield Reporter building was nothing like the Springdale Chronicle’s ramshackle offices. Right in downtown Rockfield, they were located in an old terraced house just yards from Rockfield police department. A brass plate affixed to the wall beside the door announced that she was entering the domain of Marvin Scott, Chairman of Rockfield News Group. For a moment she wondered if she’d misunderstood Ken. Hadn’t he said that the guy was friendly and wouldn’t mind her dropping in to ask some questions? This place gave off a formal air she hadn’t expected.

She cleared her throat and pressed the buzzer.

A sharp voice answered. “Scott.”

“Hi, it’s Jessie Henderson. I know Ken Dobbs.”

“Ah yes of course. This is Marvin. I’ll buzz you in. Come on up to the top floor.”

A buzzer sounded nearby and the door clicked open. Jessie pushed it and stepped inside, finding herself in a grand lobby with a chandelier hanging from the double-high ceiling. There was a sweeping staircase opposite. It looked like something out of a period movie—not a newspaper office. Weren’t newspapers struggling these days? It didn’t look like this one was.

“Up here,” said the voice that she’d heard over the intercom. He sounded warmer now, she was pleased to note.

Jessie rushed up the steps. He was waiting for her at the top—a slight man with floppy gray hair and a dapper tweed suit that must have been far too warm in the summer heat.

“Jessie,” he smiled. “Come on into my office.”

She shook his hand and followed him along the hallway, noticing the luxurious wood paneling that covered the walls and ceiling.

His office was the same—underneath the rows and rows of framed photographs and pictures. There was no consistency in their contents: abstract prints sat beside old masters, which cozied up to images of Marvin Scott with various suited men. Among them were Chief Carston of the Rockfield PD and Coach Williams from the Ravens.

“You know Coach Williams well?” she asked, pointing at the photograph that showed them standing in front of an ancient-looking crest.

Marvin shook his head. “I know a lot of people,” he said, before breaking out into a wide smile.

Sure enough, right above it there was a larger picture of Marvin with the governor, both in white tie. And beside a Van Gogh print, she saw a black-framed photo of Marvin with Freddie Lindemann.

“There’s a face you might recognize,” Marvin murmured, leaving his desk and coming to stand beside her.

Jessie followed his gaze and her eyes widened. She was about to remark on the photograph of him with Mike Stevens, but she stopped herself. Jessie shook her head.

“Springdale’s mayor,” she said neutrally.

Marvin turned to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, I believe he’s a lot more than that.”

Jessie just stared at him.

“You seem surprised,” he said, twirling around and returning to the comfortable chair behind his desk. “But it’s my job to know things about people.”

Jessie tried to shake off the sense of unease that had washed over her. Sure, Mike was a public figure. But why was it public knowledge in a town thirty miles away? She reminded herself that there was a reason for her visit—and that Marvin had given her the perfect lead-in.

“Speaking of your knowledge of people: what’s your take on the Cooper murder?” she asked, settling into her chair.

He smiled. “Much the same as your own, I imagine.” Seeing her confused expression, he waved his hand and grinned in a way that warmed her to him. “Sorry. I spend most of my time sounding as enigmatic as possible. You wouldn’t believe how much it helps to sell papers. See? There I go again. What I mean is, it’s an open and shut case.”

“It is?” Jessie asked, looking around again. For her it seemed like the opposite—there wasn’t exactly a swathe of evidence pointing them in the right direction. Was there something he knew that she didn’t?

He nodded. “Of course. Things like these are always the same. It’ll be the greedy wife or a deranged acquaintance who couldn’t understand why the victim wouldn’t give him more cash. I’m willing to put money on it.”

Jessie laughed.

Marvin’s eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ve seen it time and time again in my career. Are you willing to bet me?”

“Um… I’m not much of a gambler,” Jessie said, shaking her head. Plus, she thought but didn’t say, the idea of gambling on the cause of somebody’s death creeped her out so much that she actually fidgeted in her seat. She sighed. “I thought you might have some insight into the team.”

He stared at her. “Insight?”

“You know,” Jessie said, shrugging. “Is there a rivalry there that the cops haven’t seen? Or a reason the victim might have become a target for his teammates? Like did he screw up some games for them or not make the plays he should have?”

Jessie and the chief had spent hours trying to figure out the game by reading newspaper articles and game stats. But it was impossible to find any subtleties when they were approaching it as outsiders.

Marvin’s eyes widened and for a moment Jessie thought she might have hit on something significant. But then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know what you’re getting at, but I’ve been following this team for years, even before they relocated to Rockfield. They’re a good bunch of guys and there’s been no change in Johnny Cooper’s performance—certainly not one that’s extreme enough for somebody to want to kill him.”

* * *

“Here she is!”

Jessie clasped her hands to her chest. “Wow. I’m not used to such a warm welcome.”

“Don’t listen to her. Of course she is,” Aunt Bee said from behind the counter.

Melanie was wandering around the café floor with a cloth in her hand, wiping down the tables.

“I see she’s put you to work.”

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. “Of course—wouldn’t have it any other way. Remember how excited we used to be to come work here?”

Jessie walked over and pulled out one of the stools at the counter. “Do I? It was an ongoing fantasy of mine for years. Whenever I had a bad day at work I used to dream of dropping everything and moving here and working in the Bakehouse.”

Melanie smiled almost wistfully. “And that’s what you did.”

“Why don’t you two sit and have something to eat,” Aunt Bee barked.

Jessie looked at her cousin in surprise. “Sure. I’ll just drop my purse in the back. It’ll be good to have a proper chat.”

* * *

“Talk to her,” Bee hissed.

Jessie turned around, surprised. She didn’t realize her aunt had followed her into the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re going to do.”

Bee shook her head and paused. “There’s something up with her, Jessie. That’s what I mean. Talk to her. Find out what’s on her mind.”

Jessie’s breath caught in her throat. It was one thing to be mildly concerned and not say anything. It was another matter entirely if Aunt Bee had the same worries.

“What do you think it is? I have to admit, I’ve been a bit worried about her since she arrived.”

Bee wrung her hands. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to pry.”

“But it’s okay if I do?”

Bee shrugged. “Sure. You’re the same age. You have a different relationship. I don’t want her to think I’m nagging.”

Jessie patted her aunt’s arm affectionately. “I’ll try. Aunt Bee?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re looking out for us.”

It was true. Jessie might have been a grown woman for longer than she hadn’t been; she might have been independent and able to stand on her own two feet. But it was nice to have somebody in her corner. Bee may have been concerned about Melanie, but she knew the same would be true if it was Jessie who was acting strangely.

* * *

“This is so nice,” Melanie gushed, hugging her arms around herself.

She looked more rested than she had when she arrived, Jessie thought, trying to scrutinize her cousin without her noticing.

“I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“We do,” Melanie said. “Like you buying a stake in the Bakehouse.”

Jessie took a bite of her cheesecake. “I know, right? It was something I’d been thinking of for a long time. I guess I had this idea that I’d come here and look after Aunt Bee—pay her back for how good she was to me when I was a kid. Then I arrived and realized that Bee of all people doesn’t need to be taken care of.”

“But you stayed anyway.”

Jessie nodded. “Sure. It still felt right. And investing some of my redundancy payout in the café felt right. It allows Aunt Bee a bit more financial freedom. And I’m part owner of something amazing.”

“I might have to do the same.”

Confusion washed over Jessie. “Yeah… I was in a different place—don’t forget that. I’d lost my job and my marriage had fallen apart.”

Melanie swallowed. “Funny how our lives seem to mirror each other.”

“How do you mean?” Jessie asked warily.

Her cousin shrugged and looked around the café. She must have felt it was safe to talk because she went on after she’d checked that the place was practically empty.

“I lost my job. Can you believe it? After telling me I was on track to make partner, they laid me off.”

“What?” Jessie gasped. As much as she’d been dedicated to her own career, Melanie had been on another level. Jessie was surprised that Melanie hadn’t made partner yet, let alone that they’d gotten rid of her.

Melanie shrugged. “I know. It’s really a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The funny thing is, if they’d made me a partner before then I would have been safe. I should have pushed harder.”

“Why would they cut you when you did such a great job?”

“Costs.” She laughed but there was no humor in it. “Jessie it’s funny. I spend my days—well, I used to—going around to different clients and advising them on how to restructure their businesses. Because of that, I can see the sense in what they did. I was effectively a middle manager—a lead consultant sandwiched between the cheaper associates and the equity partners. They could cut me and hire two people to do my work. And it’d still be cheaper.”

Jessie shook her head. “I don’t see how. You’re a workhorse. Two people couldn’t do your job.”

The corners of Melanie’s mouth turned down but Jessie could see her fighting her emotions back. “That’s obviously not how my bosses saw it.”

Jessie shook her head. “I really can’t believe it. When did this happen?” She reached over and squeezed her cousin’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Probably the same reason as you didn’t tell me initially.” Melanie smiled. “Pride. I was walked out last week. It’s all still very new.”

“Walked out? Sounds like prison, not work.”

Melanie took another forkful of carrot cake. “That’s truer than you know.”

“So what’s your plan? Are you going to stay in your apartment?”

Jessie was surprised when Melanie seemed genuinely confused. She had always thought her cousin thrived in the city—it was one of the few areas in life where they weren’t alike. She said as much.

Melanie sighed. “It’s started to grate,” she said at last. “I don’t know if that’s because I was working most of the time and spending most of my life traveling, but I’d get back and think ‘I wish I was somewhere tranquil and beautiful.”

“Wow. Are you thinking of…”

To her surprise, Melanie didn’t shoot down her unspoken question as Jessie might have expected. She just shook her head.

“I have no idea. But that’s… well, once I get over the shock of no longer having a job, it might be nice not to have my time planned out months in advance. You know?”

Jessie knew it all too well. But she didn’t push. Melanie needed time to adjust, she knew. And Jessie herself was under pressure with the murder case. Sure, she wasn’t going to lose her job if they didn’t find the suspect soon. But it was more than that now. She needed to figure this thing out for her own peace of mind.

 

Chapter 9

Jessie’s eyes flickered open at the sound of a loud scraping noise. In his doggy bed by her door, Toby was growling. That was all the confirmation Jessie needed that something was up.

She leaped out of bed, heading straight for the living room. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could and crept to the window. She saw it before she even got there: bright light flooded through the cheap drapes, just like it had several days before.

She pulled back the drapes. Sure enough, there was her neighbor. From the noise and the way he was now standing in the beam of the truck’s headlights, she guessed he had hit the pillars at the top of his driveway.

“Now why would he do a thing like that?” she wondered aloud.

She might have understood it if he’d just moved in, but he’d been there as long as she’d lived in her new house. And the driveway had been plenty wide for the moving trucks. His SUV should have been able to get in and out no problem.

She shook her head. The only other explanation she could think of was that he was drunk. She watched him move back around the vehicle.
That makes sense
, she thought.

BOOK: Football is Murder (Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mysteries Book 4) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries)
4.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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