Raisin the Dead (6 page)

“Let us know what he says,” said Olivia.

I nodded.

Kendra thought for a second. “Maybe he drank this stuff by accident. Not that that isn't horrible, too.”

“That doesn't make any sense,” retorted Olivia. “How would that happen?”

Kendra shrugged. “I don't know. I'm thinking of possible scenarios.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, Kendra.” Olivia turned back to me. “Molly, don't forget to talk to Sean.”

“I won't,” I promised. “Lola, are you still in the mood to talk about wedding cakes?”

“Sure, if you are. Anything to take my mind off another possible murder in our town.”

I agreed. I linked my arm with hers, something I'd never thought I'd do in a million years, but when a murderer could be lurking about, it's natural to want to connect with others, right?

Lola seemed a little uncomfortable around me at first as we began discussing cakes, but I assured her I only want her and Brian's happiness. I was completely over him, and vice versa. She apologized for her previous attitude towards me; I apologized for harboring not-so-charitable thoughts towards her. As my mother likes to say, all was hunky-dory between us.

An hour later, we had the details—carrot cake frosted with buttercream, and decorated with marzipan leaves and pumpkins—all set. Her wedding is scheduled for mid-October, so this will be the perfect autumn cake.

I had been doing a lot with marzipan lately, including my mother's lemon marzipan birthday cake. I also made Sean a St. Patrick's Day princess torte with light green marzipan icing. He loved it. Of course, I left the “princess” part out. Men can be a little particular about those things. Lola picked out the groom cake as well, a tribute to Brian's favorite team, the Buffalo Bills. I promised I'd do a football helmet sitting on a field of green.

I couldn't wait to create both of these cakes. I was happy; our little bakery's repertoire was expanding along with our reputation, I loved nurturing my creative side, and my romantic life wasn't too shabby, either.

We were busy with customers the rest of the day, which was a blessing, so Kendra, Olivia, and I had no chance to further discuss the development with Philip Baldelli. It turns out, though, that I'll have more to worry about in the not-too-distant future.

Can you meet me for an early breakfast at Bubby's Diner before I have to be at the bakery at 11:00? Need to chat with you. Hope your day is going well so far! xoxo.

I gave Noelle her bowl of food after lavishing her with attention and kisses, then headed for the bedroom. If Sean was out on police business, my text may go unanswered for a few hours. As I promised the girls, I wanted to see how much I could get out of him about Philip's death, which, any sane person would have to admit, looked like a murder. I'd reserve judgment, however, until I had more information.

I didn't specify that in my text, of course. I wasn't an idiot. That would ensure I might not hear from Sean for weeks. I also had no idea if Jordan was still in town. I wanted to find out how that went.

By the time I had my hair up and lip gloss on, my phone pinged.
Love to, but have a situation at the library. You okay?

I went over his text again to make sure I'd read correctly.
It can wait. What kind of situation?

Protestors. Got to go, babe. Talk later.

Protestors? I scrolled until I found my mother's work number under Favorites then waited while it rang.

“Hi, sweetheart. What's up? You cannot believe the day I'm having already.”

“I just texted Sean. He said he's at the library because of protesters, so I can imagine what kind of day you're having. What's going on?”

“They were lining up when I arrived. I called the police, in case it got ugly. You never know with protestors. I'm glad he's here, despite his previous questioning of me about Philip's death.”

“What are they protesting? Banned books, or books they want banned?”

She exhaled her frustration in my ear. “I wish. I could deal with that. I'm looking out the window now. They're people supporting the Oleandra County Preservation Society and the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation in their efforts to stop the library expansion.”

“How many people are there?”

“Maybe fifteen or twenty. They're holding their signs high, marching back and forth. It's ridiculous. We had a few people voicing their displeasure at the town meetings we had about the expansion, but I didn't think it was going to turn into Occupy Destiny–Oleandra County Library. At least Sean told them to stop obstructing the front door. They better not scare the patrons, or I'll chase them off myself.”

“Wow. I hope they leave soon. At least Sean's there, it was a good idea to call the police.”

“Thank you. I didn't expect him to come, being a detective and all, but he said so many of the men are still out sick that there was no one else to send.”

“Not to change the subject, but did you see the story about Philip's death?”‘

“Yes. I have no idea what to make of that. Right now, I can't think about it. I'd better get outside. I see Bobby Crandall out there interviewing some of the protestors. I want to make sure he talks to me, too. People need to hear both sides. I can't believe the expansion has turned into such a ruckus.”

“Before you go, how's Jill?”

“The poor woman is absolutely devastated. I encouraged her to take a two-week leave, and she refused. Not that I'm surprised. Before Philip, the library was her whole life. I guess it will be again, until she finds someone else. No reason why she can't.” She lowered her voice. “This is between you and me. She said Philip was depressed and that he may have killed himself.”

“Killed himself?” I repeated. “When I talked to her that day in front of the bakery she said he was in perfect health. Why would he kill himself?”

“I don't know. He didn't seem depressed to me, either, but then again, I'm no expert. He was always jovial and, except for our argument, easygoing and friendly. Don't repeat that to anyone. I mean what Jill said.”

“Promise. I definitely think you need to tell Sean. It could mean something in his investigation. I'll let you go. I think I'll take a walk down there in a few. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I need it. I'm running to the bank, so I probably won't be here. We'll talk later.”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I made myself a strawberry banana smoothie since there would be no breakfast at Bubby's. Noelle was more than willing to go back outside, she's an outdoorsy kind of girl. It was a gorgeous, sunny day and I didn't want to spend it indoors, either, since I'd be at Bread and Batter for the afternoon.

Our walk to the library took twenty minutes. I could have made it in ten, but Noelle's little legs demanded a slower pace, and she had smells to investigate as well. As we approached the library, I saw the protestors were still there, with, as my mother said, signs in the air.
Frogs Over Books and Parking Lots!
One read.
Save Our Land!
read another.
Save Our History, Don't Touch the Westley House!
I noticed the librarian my mother had previously mentioned, Daniel Bixby, in deep conversation with one of the
Save the Westley House!
sign holders.

Seriously? Who thought of those slogans? Never mind that most of the protestors looked as if they were collecting social security. Maybe they were reliving their college protesting days from way back in the sixties. I watched a few patrons go in the front door of the library, seemingly undisturbed by the geriatric chanting and sign waving.

Sean, atop of one of the police department's new horses, waved as soon as he noticed Noelle and me. “What's so funny?” he asked when we got to him. “Trying to look like you don't want to burst out laughing isn't working.”

“
This
is your situation?”

He dismounted, then knelt on one knee to pet Noelle. He looked up at me. “Your mom's concerned, so I promised I'd make sure they weren't going to get too crazy.”

“Crazy for this crowd looks like it would be missing
Jeopardy
and
Wheel of Fortune
.” I rubbed the horse's nose. “What's this guy's name?”

“Dusty.”

“He's gorgeous. How is it working so far?”

“Great. I'll be taking a six-week training course in the near future with a couple of the other guys, but since I'm an experienced rider, the chief is letting me take Dusty out now, so he gets used to the town and the people.”

We both watched as cars drove by and honked at the protestors. Some of them rolled down the windows and gave them the thumbs-down sign; some drivers gave other gestures better left unmentioned. It didn't look like the protestors had a lot of public support.

“You said you wanted to chat,” said Sean. “I need to talk to you, too. Is now good?”

“Sure.”

“I think I can safely walk away for a few. I don't think these people want to injure anyone physically.”

He led me to the small garden at the side of the library where the woods began a few feet away from the main building. In the middle was a small fountain surrounded by benches. He tied Dusty's reins to one of the benches and we sat.

“How long are you going to stay here?” I asked.

“I'll probably tell the protestors to move on once you and I are finished. I want to head out to the stables. So, what's up? Everything okay?”

“Philip's death. Was it murder? The paper said his death was suspicious.”

“That's what you wanted to talk about? My investigation is still ongoing. That's all I can say, which I think you may already know. I thought maybe you missed me, we haven't seen a lot of each other.”

“Well of course I miss you.” I lowered my voice and pressed on. “Do you have any idea who would've killed him? Mom said his fiancée, Jill McGinley, thought he might have killed himself. She's a librarian.” I was sure my mother would be okay with me repeating that to an officer of the law. In case she forgot to. It could be a clue, after all. “He was depressed, apparently. Have you spoken to Jill? Or Daniel Bixby? He may have been making threatening phone calls to Philip, according to my mother.”

Sean was staring out into the distance. I'd expected an admonition to mind my own business, or at least a sarcastic quip. “Did you hear me?”

He came out of his reverie and focused back on our conversation. “Yeah. Sorry, just thinking.”

“Are you all right? You seem a little distracted. Is it because another murderer is running loose?”

He rewarded me with a sexy half smile. “You're a stubborn woman, you know that?”

I gave him my sweetest smile. “I've been told. So basically, I've got nothing to report.”

He looked mystified. “Who are you reporting to?”

“Olivia, Kendra, and Lola. We were discussing yesterday whether Philip was murdered. Kendra's cousin Rochelle told her you talked to Serafina. You think she killed him?” I pulled away from him. “Mary Sue heard her say she'd get the formula before anyone at Alessi did. She didn't care who she had to kill. Mary Sue thinks she was talking about Baldelli since she's his great-niece. “

His face registered surprise. “Lola? You're friends with Lola?”

“Not exactly friends, but why not? I'm not interested in Brian anymore. I wish them all the best. I'm making their wedding cake and his groom cake.”

“Sweet of you.”

“I love baking, as you know, and a profit's a profit.”

His eyes caught mine and he reached for my hand. I shivered even though it wasn't shivering weather. “I hope I'm the reason you're not interested in Brian.”

My heart did a flip-flop. For one thing, he was on duty. He never, ever, displays any affection while on duty. I could meet him at my own front door dressed from head to toe—make that head to upper thigh—in an outfit from Victoria's Secret, but if he was on duty, he'd address me as he would any other Destiny citizen; seriously and succinctly.

For another thing, his eyes had darkened, and his voice had deepened. That only happens in an intimate setting, which this wasn't; I couldn't picture him dragging me into the woods for a little afternoon delight. Well, actually, I
could
picture it, but no way was it going to happen. “You know you are,” I answered.

“I'm glad.” He stood up. “There's something I want to tell you.”

“You didn't comment on Serafina. Is it likely she killed Philip for a formula? If so, what formula? She came into the bakery, by the way. She reminded me of Calista. So much it was scary.”

“And I'm not going to comment.”

I got up, too. Getting any information out of him was futile. And he calls me stubborn! “Before you start, I forgot to ask you about Felicia. How did your talk with her go? Did she leave?”

He frowned. “I'm not sure. I told her I was fine, that you and I were in a serious relationship, and there was no reason for her to stay here.”

I loved that he called our relationship serious. I tucked the thought away, so I could ponder upon it later. “How did she take it?”

“She seemed fine, ‘seemed' being the operative word. I don't trust her.”

“Why not?” I sensed an interesting story coming.

He sighed. “She's had some mental issues in the past, from what Jordan told me. I don't like that she told me that while she was here she might as well tour some of the wine country and lakes. She's not the type to want to hang around small towns, so I'm thinking she'll make another appearance. I wish I knew what she wanted.”

I took in Sean's solid broad chest, muscled arms, sculpted cheekbones, and gorgeous expressive eyes. Hel-lo! Did the man ever look in the mirror? I was reasonably sure what she wanted. What sane woman wouldn't? I smelled a skinny, platinum blonde rat. “I guess there isn't anything you can do about that.”

“Just as long as she leaves me alone, she can do what she wants,” Sean answered.

“I guess that makes sense. Sorry. I interrupted you before. You were starting to say something.”

“No problem. This goes against every rule in the book, as well as my own code of ethics, but I want you to hear it from me, first.”

“Okay.” I hoped he wasn't about to announce he was leaving Destiny to return to New York City. I couldn't think of anything worse.

He looked around, then continued in a soft voice I had to strain to hear. “I'm going to be questioning your mother again regarding Philip Baldelli's death.”

That was certainly right up there with him leaving Destiny. “What? Why?”

He looked around again before brushing the back of his knuckles against my cheek. My spine tingled, but not in a good way. “I can't say anything more. I shouldn't have said anything, but I thought you deserved to know. I trust you not to say anything. To anyone, Molly. Seriously.”

I sank down on the stone bench and scooped up Noelle. “I won't, but my mother did not kill anyone. That's absurd. Why would you have to question her again?”

“Something relating to Baldelli's death popped up. That's all.”

“That's all? It involves my mother?”

“Yes.” He paused. “It's not personal, you know that.”

Yes, my brain knew that, but not my heart. “You honestly think my mother is a person of interest in a murder investigation? Isn't the person of interest always the guilty party?”

He took my hand and looked into my eyes. “No. Not everyone who's called a person of interest even becomes a suspect. Person of interest means someone who may have information we need, or someone we need to question further.

“Personally, I don't think Anne had anything to do with it, but I have a job to do. I have to be impartial, and investigate everything and everyone, even if they have only a sliver of information. In case.”

In case my mother's a murderer, I finished for him inside my head. Then, I had one of those “Aha!” moments that you're sure will clear everything up. “If you're talking about the antifreeze in my parents' garage, my father always keeps it there. For emergencies. Are you going to question him, too? If you're going to question everyone in Destiny with antifreeze in their garages, then the murderer could be anyone.”