No Scone Unturned (3 page)

L
exy spent
the rest of the day at
the Cup and Cake
. Her bakery was on Brook Ridge Falls’ Main Street overlooking the waterfall the town was named for. She was happiest when she was in the kitchen baking…except maybe when she could be looking into a mysterious murder.

But she had a business to run, so she experimented with the scone recipe, adding a little more sugar to the tops, more orange zest to the cranberry-orange recipe, and she even came up with a chocolate scone to add to her offerings.

It was a slow afternoon and not many customers came, so when five o’clock rolled around, she already had the café tables by the windows cleaned, the self-serve coffee station emptied and ready for tomorrow’s brew, and the glass cases that displayed her pastries scrubbed free of fingerprints.

She drove home, wondering if Jack had received any calls about Olive Pendleton. Maybe Olive’s husband had needed time to stage the body to incriminate someone else before calling the police. If he had, would Jack have texted her?

Jack was already there when she got to the old Craftsman-style bungalow she’d bought when Nans had moved into the retirement community. The home held a lot of warm memories from her childhood, and now she and Jack were making even more memories there.

“
Woof!
”

A ball of white fur hurled itself across the living room into Lexy’s arms. A warm tongue lapped at her face.

“Okay, Sprinkles, okay.” Lexy put the dog down and stroked her silky fur. She was rewarded with a happy gaze of adoration from the dog’s brown eyes that warmed her heart. “I guess someone’s happy to see me.”

“That makes two of us.” Jack had come in from the kitchen and was standing next to her. Lexy gazed up into his brown eyes, and her stomach fluttered as he opened his arms. They’d been married for a couple of years now, but her heart still beat a little faster when she was near him. She eagerly slipped into his embrace and accepted his kiss. She’d been half worried he might be mad about her visit to the police station, but his kiss told her he wasn’t holding any grudges.

“I put some steaks on the grill and was just making a salad.” Jack gestured toward the kitchen. Lexy tossed her purse onto the couch and followed Jack into the kitchen with Sprinkles trotting at her heels.

Lexy had kept the kitchen pretty much the same as it had been when Nans owned the house. Black and white linoleum floor and crisp, white-painted cabinets. A pile of grape tomatoes sat on a cutting board on the counter. Lexy pushed Jack toward the back door. She appreciated that he started supper when he got home first but didn’t think he needed to do all the work. “I’ll finish the salad. You check the steaks.”

The mouthwatering smell of grilled meat wafted in through the back door as Jack opened it. Lexy focused on slicing the small tomatoes in half, popping a few of them into her mouth. They were no substitute for Jack’s perfectly seared steaks.

He came back in, slipped an arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck. “They’re almost done. How’s the salad coming?”

“Pretty much done.” She nestled into his embrace just as Sprinkles trotted in with a stuffed penguin in her mouth. She pushed in between Lexy and Jack, oblivious to the fact that she was intruding on their moment. When Lexy didn’t respond, the dog jumped on her leg.

“Do you have a new toy?” Lexy looked up at Jack, who nodded.

“I had some extra time after work, and her old one was falling apart,” he said.

Lexy crouched and tugged on one end of the toy. Sprinkles tugged back and let out a friendly growl. Lexy tugged harder. Sprinkles let go, and Lexy tossed the toy across the kitchen.

Sprinkles scrambled across the linoleum, her claws sliding on the slick surface as she skidded over to retrieve the toy and bring it back to Lexy. Lexy tossed it again, and Sprinkles went through the same routine, except this time, instead of bringing the toy back, she trotted off to the living room with it in her mouth.

“Looks like she won’t even bring a new toy back more than once.” No matter how many times Lexy had tried, she could not get Sprinkles to fetch more than once. Instead, she’d run off and hide the toy. Lexy thought about the Pendletons’ Peekapoos. Did they run off and hide their toys, even if one of them was a drone? Lexy peered out into the living room to see Sprinkles shoving the toy under the couch—one of her favorite hiding spots.

Lexy turned her attention back to Jack, who was gathering a handful of plates, utensils, and condiments so they could eat outside.

“You never got a call about Olive Pendleton?” Lexy asked as she covered the salad bowl and followed him out to the patio.

“Nope. Weird, huh?”

“Very.” Lexy chewed her bottom lip, wondering if Jack would say any more about it. Should she ask? Usually it was best to wait him out.

The steaks let out one last sizzle as Jack speared them with a large fork and moved them from the grill to a platter. He set the platter on the table, and they got busy loading up their plates and eating.

After a few bites, Jack finally said, “I did do a little bit of research, though.”

Lexy’s brows shot up. “Oh really? So you do believe us.”

“Of course I believe you. I waited all day for a call to come in, but nothing ever came. I’m limited as to what I can do officially.” Jack swallowed a piece of steak and washed it down with some red wine. “I assume you guys did some investigating after you left my office.”

“You know how Nans is. But we didn’t do anything bad. We just went over to the Pendletons’. Naturally the body was no longer there, and when we knocked on the door, the husband said Olive was napping.”

“Maybe the fall wasn’t as bad as you thought?” Jack suggested. “Helen said the video was a little hard to see. Maybe she did fall but didn’t need medical attention.”

“No way. She fell four stories, and there was blood. Lots of it.” Lexy shivered and pushed her food away, remembering the sight of Olive Pendleton smashed on the cement slab. “What I don’t get is why. I mean, I could see him clubbing her on the head so she’d fall, and then he could say it was an accident. The part I don’t get is the husband pretending she’s still alive.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe he’s not the killer. Maybe whoever the killer is lives in that house or has access to it and told the husband Olive was sleeping.”

“And he didn’t notice? Why would the killer want to hide the body, and what did they do with it?”

Jack leaned back and sipped his wine. “Good questions. I don’t know the answers. I can see something fishy is going on, but I can’t investigate officially. However, I did manage to dig up something that might help
you
.”

Lexy felt a surge of excitement. “Really? What?”

“Well, I don’t know if I should tell you. Maybe we could barter for it,” Jack said suggestively.

Lexy’s lips curled in a smile. She leaned across, accepting the hand he held out to her. “I’m up for a little bartering.”

“Okay. This may not be anything, but I had Wendy do a little research in her downtime. We didn’t have anything in the police database, but she did run across a strange court case in which Olive tried to sue her parents about changes in their will.”

Lexy’s brows drew together. “Can you do that?”

“No. It was thrown out, but the record is still there.”

“So what happened?”

“It seems her family—her maiden name was McMurty—was wealthy, but they didn’t approve of Olive’s career choice or of her husband, Rupert,” Jack said.

Picturing Rupert with his stained pants and scowl, Lexy could see why. “They didn’t like that she was an author?”

“Nope. They were afraid she’d die a starving artist, and they said Rupert would spend the money like it was burning a hole in his pocket.”

“But she’s successful and has a big house…” Lexy’s voice drifted off as she pictured the peeling paint and unkempt lawn. Was Olive broke or just eccentric?

“They died about ten years ago, probably before her books became famous. Anyway, they had a codicil in the will that prohibited Rupert from getting any of the McMurty money. Olive made quite a ruckus about it when her mom told her. There was a domestic call about that, and Olive had to be taken into custody. Sounds like she had a bit of a temper.”

“So if Olive died, Rupert wouldn’t get anything she’d inherited from her parents…” That wasn’t a very good reason to kill her, but it was a good reason to pretend she was still alive…
except
Olive was a famous author, so she probably had plenty of her own money that Rupert would inherit. It didn’t make sense for him to take such a big chance on killing her and then pretend she was alive just to get her parents’ money. “How much did she inherit?”

“I don’t know. I know she has a sister and they split the money, but it was almost a decade ago. For all I know, she already spent it. Ruth might be able to work her magic online and find out.”

“Still doesn’t make much sense. If she inherited a decade ago, why would Rupert wait until now to kill her? And if she had money, why was their house in such disrepair?”

“I don’t know about the money, but according to what Wendy said, Olive had all her books in a literary trust, and her parents made a big stink about that, too.”

“Stink?”

“Yep. They must have really hated Rupert, because they put a codicil in their will that would make her sister sole trustee of the McMurty family trust if Olive named Rupert as beneficiary to her literary trust. That means her sister would control all the McMurty family money.”

“Huh. So what did she do?”

“She listed her dogs as the beneficiaries of her trust.”

“Her dogs? So that means if Olive died, Rupert wouldn’t get any of the money from her books?”

Jack nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well, that sounds like a motive to kill her and pretend she was still alive to me.”

L
exy couldn’t wait
to tell Nans what Jack had found out about the McMurty will the next day. Not to mention that Jack had practically given them the green light to investigate. She suffered through the morning rush at
the Cup and Cake,
handing out doughnuts and her famous cupcake tops. She even made a batch of chocolate scones, which were a big hit with the morning crowd. Apparently Helen wasn’t the only one with a hankering for chocolate scones.

When her assistant, Cassie, arrived to relieve her, Lexy eagerly hung up her vintage cherry-pattern apron, shoved some chocolate and cranberry-orange scones into a white bakery box, and ran out the door.

Nans and the others were already seated around the dining room table in Nans' apartment, their iPads out in front of them and the scones from the day before in the center of the table. Lexy noticed the pastry server was half empty. The ladies had been busy.

They didn’t waste time on formalities, either. As soon as Nans opened the door, she pulled Lexy into the apartment and shoved her into a chair. Ida relieved her of the bakery box, lifting the lid an inch to peek inside then nodding her approval before transferring the scones to the serving tray.

“Chocolate!” Helen squealed as she helped herself.

“Coffee?” Nans asked Lexy.

“Please.” The
bub-bub-bub
of the old-fashioned percolator in the kitchen and the enticing aroma of the earthy blend of Nans' coffee had Lexy’s palms itching to curl around a steaming mug.

Ida leaned across the table toward Lexy. “Okay, enough of the small talk. Spill it. What did you get out of Jack last night?”

The others snickered around mouthfuls of scones.

“Did he get any calls about the case?” Nans slid a mug in front of Lexy then pointed to her living room. “As you can see, we don’t have much to go on.”

Lexy leaned over to look into the living room. They’d pulled the six-foot-long whiteboard out from the spare room and had already made lines to divide it into sections with headings such as “suspects,” “motive,” and “clues.” Unfortunately, the whiteboard was mostly blank. Apparently they hadn’t made much headway.

“I’m not convinced he actually believed us.” Ruth broke off part of a ham-and-cheese scone and put it on the dainty china dessert plate in front of her.

“Did anyone find my drone and turn it in?” Ida asked.

“Sorry, Ida, no one found the drone. And Jack
did
believe us, but no calls came in about Olive Pendleton, so there’s nothing for him to investigate.” Lexy paused, relishing the fact that she had more information than Nans and the ladies did. It was rare that she knew something they didn’t. “I did manage to get a little tidbit of information out of him, though.”

She took a sip of coffee, knowing the ladies were probably wetting their pants in anticipation. They watched her patiently with tilted heads and inquisitive faces.

“Well, out with it, Lexy!” Nans demanded finally.

“Yeah, we don’t have all day,” Ida said impatiently. Then added, “This cranberry-orange is much better. New recipe?”

“I tweaked it to add more orange zest.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Can we get a move on? There’s a murderer on the loose, in case you guys have forgotten,” Helen said. “What did Jack tell you?”

Lexy chose an apple-cinnamon scone from the tray and picked away at it while she told the ladies about Olive Pendleton’s parents’ will and her literary trust.

“That gives him a perfect motive to pretend she’s still alive,” Ruth said.

“Right. While she’s still alive, he can collect the royalties. If she’s dead, he gets nothing,” Nans agreed.

“But why
kill
her? Unless he didn’t want her around for some reason,” Helen said.

“Which means he must be having an affair!” Ida’s voice rose with excitement.

Nans jumped up and went to the whiteboard, filling in the new information under the “motive” category. She turned to them with her brows tugged together. “There’s just one thing. If Olive has money, then why don’t they take care of the house better?”

“Plenty of creative people are eccentric. Maybe she’s one of them,” Ruth said. “They are building that new gazebo. Maybe they’re getting the house redone or something and the work just hasn’t started yet.”

“We need to find out more about these trusts and their finances.” Ruth tapped her iPad, and the screen lit up.

“And who he would be having an affair with,” Ida said. “Because if money isn’t the motive, then it’s got to be love.”

“Unless Olive was going to divorce him,” Lexy suggested.

Ida snapped her fingers. “That’s right! Maybe
Olive
was having the affair!”

“Wouldn’t blame her,” Ruth said. “He seemed grouchy.”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t have much going for him in the looks department, either,” Helen added.

The whiteboard marker squeaked as Nans jotted down their ideas and Ruth’s fingers flew over the surface of the iPad. Nans stood back and crossed her arms, tapping the capped end of the marker on her lips.

“But where did he hide the body?” Nans asked.

“And where is the drone?” Ida added.

“What about the pond?” Helen said.

“The pond
was
rather murky. There could be a body right under the surface, and no one would notice it,” Ruth said.

“Or a drone,” Ida added.

“It would be easy to drag the body from that cement patio down to the pond,” Nans added.

“I noticed the cuffs of his pants had mud on them,” Lexy said.

“We need to get in that yard and check out that pond.” Ida slid her eyes over to Lexy. “And what better way than through the neighbors’ yard?”

“The Kingsleys’? I don’t think…” Lexy had a consultation with Caspian Kingsley later that afternoon, but she didn’t want the ladies tagging along. That wouldn’t be good for business. Somehow when Nans and the ladies were around, something always went wrong.

“Wait a minute.” Ruth spoke up before Ida could make the request. Ruth tapped her fingernail on the surface of the iPad. “Olive Pendleton’s books are on Amazon. Amazon is the biggest bookseller in the business, you know.”

“It stands to reason her books would be on there, then, right?” Nans asked.

“Sure. But here’s the thing. Look at her rankings.” Ruth turned the iPad around so they could see the screen. “She’s ranked way down around five hundred thousand. Her books aren’t selling well at all.”

They all craned their necks to look.

“Huh. Maybe that explains why their house is in disrepair,” Nans said.

“But it wouldn’t explain why Rupert would hide her body and pretend she was alive,” Ida added.

“Wait a minute.” Helen paused with a scone midway to her mouth. “I seem to recall hearing she had a new book coming out. That would spur interest in her other works, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh yes, a new release always brings in new interest,” Ruth said. “Now let me Google… oh yes, here it is. She does have a new book.” Ruth looked at them over the rims of her bright-red reading glasses. “And it’s coming out next week.”

Nans clapped her hands. “Well, that explains it. If the book is coming out next week, then she’s already written it. It’s probably in the publishing process right now. Rupert is probably just pretending she’s alive so that the checks will keep rolling in and not be channeled elsewhere due to the terms of her trust.”

“Maybe he’s even going to manufacture some kind of mystery around it. You know, like what happened when Agatha Christie disappeared.” Ida’s blue eyes sparkled. “That would increase sales, wouldn’t it?”

“He could milk this for months, and I bet he’d make more money than ever on those books,” Ruth said.

“And with no body and no murder investigation, the police won’t be poking around, and he could still continue his affair while collecting all the royalties,” Ida said.

“Well, we don’t know for sure that he’s having an affair,” Nans pointed out. “This could all just be about the money.”

“Right,” Helen said. “We need to check into that.”

“How do we do that?” Lexy asked.

“Easy. Every neighborhood has a busybody, right?” Helen looked at Ida. “I bet
you
were the busybody in your neighborhood, Ida. Tell us how we would figure out who the busybody is in the Pendletons’ neighborhood.”

Ida straightened in her seat and shot Helen a nasty look. Nans and Ruth tried not to laugh.

“Well, I’m not sure exactly, but I think that if you want to find the neighborhood busybody, you have to go check out the neighborhood. They’re usually looking out the windows to see what is going on. So all we have to do is go back there and see who’s watching.” Ida picked up another scone and chomped down on it so hard that Lexy was afraid her dentures would fall out.

Nans clicked the cap on the whiteboard marker. “Luckily, we have a perfect excuse to go back to the neighborhood.” Nans turned her gaze on Lexy, and Lexy’s stomach dropped. “Lexy, you’re meeting with Caspian Kingsley this afternoon to finalize details on your catering job, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I usually go alone, and I don’t really think I need—”

“Excellent.” Nans cut her off. “What time are you going to pick us up?”