Meet Your Baker (5 page)

“I’m okay,” I protested. “I’m just not used to being on land yet.”

“Ah yes.” He studied me.

“I’m not really home.”

“Yes. A ‘sea change’ as the bard would say.” The Professor took the glass of water that the EMS worker brought to the table and handed it to me. “Sip this slowly.”

He watched me carefully as I took a sip of the water.

“That’s better.” He patted my hand.

“Sorry we have to meet like this,” I said, gulping the water. The spinning started to slow.

“As am I.” The Professor leaned back in the chair and stroked his ginger-colored beard that was starting to streak with gray. “Tell me what happened here.”

I relayed the morning’s events to the Professor, including my strange run-in with Mia in the park.

He listened intently, taking notes on a Moleskin notebook, asking for clarification and retracing my steps from leaving my apartment to arriving at the bakeshop.

Finally, he stood and said, “You probably want to get cleaned up.”

I looked down at my hands. I hadn’t even noticed they were covered in jam, or worse—maybe blood. My jeans were also coated in sticky red ooze.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I guess I’m kind of out of it.”

“It’s to be expected, Juliet. Remember what Shakespeare says, ‘All that lives must die.’” His kind eyes glinted. I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now five-thirty. Customers would be arriving soon. Where was Mom? She must actually be sleeping in.

“What should we do about the shop?” I asked the Professor. “We’re due to open in half an hour.”

He looked out the front window. “I’m surprised there isn’t a crowd out there already, what with that light show. Thomas is on his way. I’ll make sure he keeps everything orderly out there. In the meantime we can post a note on the window that you’ll be closed. We’ll work as quickly as we can.”

I stood slowly, not wanting a repeat of a light show in my eyes. “How long do you think we’ll have to stay closed?”

“Hopefully not long.” He pulled a notebook, glasses, and pencil from his breast pocket. “You look much better. Are you okay to hang tight here while I take a look at the crime scene?”

I grimaced at the words “crime scene” but nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t believe a dead body was here inside Torte. “Um, Professor?” I asked as he stood. “What are you going to do with Nancy’s body?”

He cleaned his glasses on the corner of his sleeve. “Not to worry. The coroner is on his way. Once he assesses the body and we finish collecting evidence we’ll remove the body.”

I nodded, feeling sick.

“After you get cleaned up, I’ll have more questions. I’m also going to need to talk to all your employees and your mother. When do you expect staff to arrive?”

“Andy’s coming in late since he was here with the Midnight Club last night, and Mom and Stephanie should be here any minute.”

The Professor removed his tweed jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. He stuck a pencil behind his ear. “Might I beg you for a cup of coffee after you’ve cleaned up?”

“Of course. I could use another jolt myself.” I made my way to the bathroom and used my elbows to open the door.

No wonder the Professor had forced me to sit; I almost didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. My skin matched my pale hair, and my high cheekbones, which are usually an asset, seemed to jut out on my colorless face.

I spent a good ten minutes scrubbing jam (let’s assume it was only jam) from my hands. I splashed cold water on my cheeks and repositioned my ponytail. The red stains on my jeans were a lost cause.

It was probably due to being in the Professor’s presence, but I couldn’t help but think of the famous Lady Macbeth quote, “Out, damned spot! Out, I say.”

Then my mind flashed to my run-in with Mia. Her fingers had been covered in jam. Call me cynical, but what were the odds that she happened to have spilled jam on herself at the same time Nancy was murdered?

Chapter Six

I emerged from the bathroom to find Mom sobbing on the Professors’ shoulder. When she saw me she raced over and threw her arms around me.

“Oh, honey. You’re okay!” The words flew out of her. “I—I pulled up and I saw the lights. My mind went crazy.”

She released me and frantically scanned my body. “You’re okay? What’s on your jeans?”

“It’s nothing, Mom. Jam. I’m okay.” I squeezed her hands. “I promise.”

“Whew.” She blew out a deep breath. “I thought maybe you’d had an accident. When I saw Doug here—I, well, I’m just so glad you’re okay. What happened?”

Her eyes flew to the kitchen. “Andy? Stephanie?”

She started to move toward the back.

“Wait, Mom.” I stopped her. “It’s not pretty back there.”

“What’s going on? You have to tell me.” Her hands trembled.

“Come on, let’s sit down.” I pulled her to the table I’d been sitting at with the Professor.

“Juliet.” She hardened her eyes. “Stop stalling. What is going on?”

“I’m not stalling, Mom. There’s no good way to say this … Nancy Hudson is dead.”

“What?” She raised her shoulders and craned her neck. “Here? How? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” I tightened my ponytail. “I got here early and found her dead in the kitchen.”

Mom gasped loudly. “
You
found her? Oh, Juliet, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

I grabbed my hair and twisted it around my finger. “It wasn’t great.”

“When Doug told me he needed to tell me something, I started sobbing before he could get a word out. I was so sure something had happened to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here early. The one morning I sleep in…” She trailed off and pinched a wilted leaf from the flower arrangement.

A cool breeze hit us as the door jingled and Thomas stepped inside. He looked very official in his blue uniform and a gun holstered on his hip.

I smiled to myself. Back when we were fifteen he talked about becoming a police officer. It was nice to see that he had fulfilled his dream.

He was followed by a man carrying a black bag and iPad. This must be the coroner.

The Professor huddled them together where they spoke in hushed voices by the pastry case.

I turned my attention back to Mom. “Before it gets crazy in here, I’m going to make a pot of coffee. You want anything?”

Mom kicked on her clogs. “No, no. You sit. I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay. I need to do something, you know what I mean?” I stood. This time no spots danced in front of my eyes.

“I do. That’s a very normal response. You make the coffee.” She centered the vase in the middle of the table. “I’ll wait here. Doug is giving me the eye like he wants to talk to me.”

Fortunately the coffee carafes are located next to the espresso bar at the front counter. That meant if I was careful to keep my eyes to the front of the bakeshop I wouldn’t be able to see Nancy’s body.

I bent over and grabbed a ten-pound bag of coffee beans from the cupboard below the espresso machine. Grinding the beans and rinsing out the carafes made me feel slightly more normal. However, I’m sure I looked like a robot unable to swivel its trunk as I deliberately moved to avoid the scene behind me.

As the coffee percolated, Thomas strode over.

“That smells good. You always could make a mean cup of Joe. How’s it going?”

“I can’t believe you drank the coffee I used to make when we were kids. Seriously, that stuff was sludge.”

“Exactly how I like it.” Thomas leaned an elbow on the counter.

He had a way of keeping things light. Maybe that’s why he and the Professor got along so well. I’d forgotten how much I appreciated this quality about him. I tend to take things way too seriously. At least that’s what Carlos said. Carlos could blow it off when a guest complained about his cooking or when there was drama with the line cooks. Not me. I tend to overthink everything. I wish I could lighten up, but maybe it’s not in my nature.

I’d never thought of Carlos and Thomas being alike, but maybe in this one small and profound way they were.

The smell of chocolaty coffee made me inhale deeply.

“Hey, I’m serious, Jules, how you doin’?”

I fiddled with the espresso machine, checking the damper and milk traps. “I’m okay.”

“Come on, I’ve known you since you were twelve. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this is probably the first time you’ve seen a dead body.”

“Yeah.” I removed two coffee cups from a neat, clean stack sitting on the counter. Andy must have done that last night. I’d have to thank him later.

“This is ready, you want a cup?” I held a mug in the air.

“You think?” He tapped the gold badge pinned to his chest. “That’s why I wear this baby.”

I poured two cups, trying not to notice that Thomas’s dark eyes were piercing into my scalp.

“Listen, I’m fine.” I handed him a steaming cup. “Between you and Mom—sheesh. You’d think I was still twelve. It wasn’t great finding Nancy like that, but I can handle it.”

“That’s the problem with you, Jules, you can
handle
anything. Doesn’t leave a lot of space for anyone else though, does it?” Thomas blew on his coffee.

Right, I’d forgotten that Thomas also had a serious side. I wasn’t in any mood to hash out an argument from a decade ago.

He looked slightly injured by my lack of response. “I’d better check in with the Professor. Thanks for the coffee.”

This day was off to a banner start. I poured another cup of coffee and delivered one to Mom.

“What did the Professor say?” I asked, plopping into the empty chair across from her. The bulletin board still had yesterday’s quote. I’d have to remind Stephanie to change that later.

“He went to the office to file his initial report.” Mom leaned over. “Listen, honey, this is serious. Doug said Nancy died from blunt force trauma to the head. This definitely was not an accident. Someone killed her.”

I loosened my ponytail tie and let my hair fall free.

What a welcome home. A murder. At Torte. I couldn’t believe it.

Mom tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Her hands were freckled with age marks. She still wore her wedding ring. “I know what you’re thinking, I can’t believe it either. I don’t know what to do.”

This was unfamiliar territory. Mom always knows what to do.

I grabbed her hand. It felt like ice despite the heat. “You’re freezing.”

“Stress response, I guess.” She looked toward the bustle of activity in the kitchen and dropped her voice. “Doug thinks whoever killed Nancy went into some kind of rage. That’s why all the jam is broken. One of the jars might have even been the murder weapon.”

She shuddered. “Juliet, I’m worried. He asked a lot of questions about Andy.”

“Andy?” I shook my head. “No way. He’s just a kid. He can’t be involved in this.”

“Doug thinks otherwise. He was the last one here. He had to lock up. How else would Nancy have been in here?”

I slugged down more coffee. “Maybe he forgot to lock up, or maybe she was in the bathroom and he didn’t notice when he left.”

“But there aren’t any broken windows and the front door was unlocked.” Mom scanned the front windows glowing with emergency lights.

A crowd had begun to gather outside. Not a surprise. Things like this don’t happen in Ashland.

She turned her attention to me. “We’re the only other people who have keys, Juliet.”

Chapter Seven

“Mom, stop. You know that neither of us killed Nancy and there’s no way Andy’s involved, although…” I paused.

“What?”

“Do you know his girlfriend, Mia?”

“You mean Hermia?”

“Yeah. I had a weird run-in with her this morning in Lithia Park.”

I explained how Mia had bumped into me, the jam on her hands and her flustered demeanor.

Mom wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and listened intently.

When I finished, she remained quiet for a moment. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Playing with my hair is a nervous habit I’ve yet to break.

“Hmm.” She took a sip of coffee. “As far as I know Andy and Hermia aren’t dating. In fact, I’ve seen the way Andy looks at the girl who runs Fairy Paradise. I’m pretty sure that’s who he has a crush on. However, Hermia’s been in here almost every day. She told me she’s working on a writing project with Nancy.”

The bell on the front door jingled. Stephanie, unfazed by the crowd of people behind her trying to eye inside, shuffled in.

Mom jumped up, raced over to her, and quickly shut the front door. She put an arm around Stephanie and steered her to our table.

“You sit,” Mom directed. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh dear, it’s after six. I need to go ask Doug if I can say something to our customers. I’ll be right back. You want to fill her in, Jules?” Mom asked as she fluffed her bob and smoothed her linen shirt before moving toward the Professor.

I appraised Stephanie. She didn’t appear to be overly concerned, or for that matter, even seem to notice that our sweet bakeshop was swarming with emergency workers and the police.

“You need some coffee?” I asked.

She twirled the purple ends of her hair. “Nah.”

I wanted to shake her. What was her deal? I mean, I guess I should appreciate that she wasn’t in hysterics, but her lackadaisical attitude was unsettling.

“Aren’t you wondering what’s going on here?”

She made eye contact. That was a step in the right direction. I hadn’t noticed yesterday that her eyes were flecked with violet. I wondered if she’d intentionally dyed her hair to match her eyes.

“I guess.”

“Nancy Hudson is dead. I found her here this morning.” I waited for a reaction, anything that might jolt her from her apathetic attitude.

Stephanie’s eyes doubled in size. Then, she quickly shook off the look and returned to her sullen stare.

“Someone finally knocked her off, huh?” She kept her tone indifferent.

I’m sure my eyes betrayed me. Not that Nancy had made a great first impression on me either, but Stephanie’s response surprised me. Plus, how did she know that Nancy had been murdered?

“Do I need to stick around?” Stephanie asked. “If not, I’m going back to bed.”