A Crusty Murder (9 page)

Aidan Sinclair watched my every move as I left the counter and exited the pizzeria. I glanced over my shoulder and found him standing in the window, his eyes fixed on me as I walked the few doors down to The Hole in the Wall.

When I reached the front door, Detective Graham awaited me. His car idled quietly at the curb. I heaved a resigned sigh. My day had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Geesh.

While I opened the bakery door, I heard Graham’s car door slam with a
thunk
. I entered the store with him on my heels.

“We need to talk, Melina,” Graham said.

The warmth of his breath touched the nape of my neck. Chills skittered along my skin and goose bumps formed. He was so close to me, I could almost feel his body heat. Cripes, was I horny or just scared? Probably a mixture of both.

With a sigh of defeat, I turned, closed the door, and said, “Fine, I have to get the dough started for tomorrow. Come into the kitchen and don’t get in the way.”

Detective Graham took a folding chair, propped it open, and turned it backwards. He sat spread-legged with his elbows balanced on the top edge of the chair back. He watched me assemble ingredients. I wrapped a huge white apron around my clothes and tied it at the waist.

While I dumped flour and other bread making elements into the enormous floor mixer, I listened to his theories concerning Sondra Greenfield. I set the mixer to the speed necessary and joined Graham while the machine did its share of the work.

“You’re saying that a person or persons unknown killed both Mrs. Peterson and Sondra for the same reason? What would that be?” I could readily believe he had come to a sound conclusion, since he didn’t strike me as one who’d do so without the evidence to back him up.

“Not for the exact same reason,” he admitted. “I think Sondra knew more about Mrs. Peterson’s murder than she should have. Mrs. Peterson’s murder was premeditated, while Sondra’s was undoubtedly by chance. Sondra may have said something to her killer that led her killer to believe she knew who’d murdered Mrs. Peterson. Unwilling to allow Sondra to share her information with the police, she was strangled, and you were implicated. Why incriminate you? I haven’t figured that out yet.” He left the chair, walked to the rear door, and stared out the window toward the back lot. “It feels personal and has earmarks of that.”

“Have you had vandals or break-ins at all?” Graham asked abruptly.

He’d know if there were. There’d be a record of it at the police department. Nonetheless, I answered him, anyway.

“Not to my knowledge. I haven’t had any issues of that sort, and I haven’t heard of any of my fellow renters having them, either. Why do you ask?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Someone’s hiding in the shadows in the parking lot. I caught a quick movement out there before the person stepped further into the shadow.”

My pulse rate hiked, my heart thrummed against my ribcage, and panic welled up into my throat. I rushed to the window just as the mixer shut off. With a swift turn, I went back to the job at hand. I refused to waste ingredients to gawk out the window at someone I couldn’t see. Aidan Sinclair came to mind.

I worked the dough while the mixer worked the next round of ingredients. Graham resumed his chair and watched me in action. “You’ve got this bread thing down to a science,” he remarked. “Were you aware of someone stalking the shopkeepers in this building?”

I flung the dough on the table with such force that flour puffed into the air and settled over me and the floor. Shit.

“Look,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron while the dough rested. “I’ve seen someone out there. Same as you have. I don’t know who it is, and I’m not inclined to introduce myself to them. Somebody’s been creeping about for a couple nights now.” I shook my head. “I refuse to get involved with that. I have enough to think about, Detective. Why don’t you check it out and let me know what happens?”

“They’re gone now. I guess I scared him away,” Graham said with a smirk. “I’ll keep watch in the future, though.”

“It’s a man? You saw a man?” My voice raised an octave. Even I could hear the alarm in it.

“It’s a manner of speaking. It could have been a woman, hard to tell from here. Alarm isn’t healthy and becoming paranoid won’t be good for you or the others, either,” Graham advised. “Let me do my job and you’ll be fine. I promise.”

I nodded and returned to bread making. When the dough was ready for the next phase, I worked through it while asking Graham if he’d come up with a list of suspects other than me and BettyJo.

He pulled the notepad from his pocket and flipped a few pages. Once he’d read them over, he said, “I have four people who don’t have alibis and you two ladies aren’t on my list. You both have steadfast alibis for the killings.” He glanced at the sheet again and asked, “What can you tell me about George Carly?”

I stopped kneading the dough and turned to Graham. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

“He’s a good tenant and neighbor. He seems friendly enough. We’re not close. We have a strictly shop owner relationship. The only person I’m friendly with is BettyJo. George has a good business, and I think he and Mrs. Peterson were more than friends. He made a slip when we were talking, and nearly used her first name.”

“That’s bad?” Graham said with a smirk.

“Mrs. Peterson was one of those entitled people who thought she was the
grand dame
so to speak. You’d have thought we were living in the 1800s rather than the present, by the way she treated us. She wasn’t above contriving to increase the rents here.” I waved a hand around encompassing the room. “As a matter of fact, I’m sure you know we argued the day she was killed. She’d tried to insinuate she could break my lease and toss me out. I challenged her and said I’d take her to court.”

“Well played, Melina. How did she respond?” Graham tucked his notes away. I knew he’d remember this conversation. Hopefully, he’d never use my admissions against me later.

“She agreed to it. I was nervous, because she has, had, more money than me. Still, I wouldn’t back down. She left, and later, I found her dead. End of story.” I shrugged. “Have you spoken to Cindy Peterson? She’s supposedly the new landlady.”

Graham shook his head. “I’ve been unable to reach her. She wouldn’t take my calls or an interview while she was burying her mother. Now it seems she’s in New York on business.”

“Was Mrs. Peterson married? I mean, married now?” I asked him.

“She was divorced. Her husband resides in Barrington. Cindy lived with him for a while before she rented her own place here in Providence at the Weston.”

I could feel my eyes widen at the news. “The Weston? Cindy must earn big bucks to live there.” I chuckled. “Why are you sharing all this with me, anyway?”

His stare was long, the silence heavy, and then Graham said, “I trust you and think you can be helpful to me in this investigation. I also know you’ve been poking around in things you shouldn’t. I’m willing to include you, if for nothing but to keep you safe from harm. Whoever this killer is, he means business. Stay alert and don’t take chances.”

I met his words with a snappy retort. “You’re willing to use me to get to the killer, isn’t that what it boils down to?”

He gave me a wide smile and a knowing look of appreciation. “I guess that about covers it. You’ve been incriminated twice now, Melina. You could be the next target, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen on my watch.”

I glanced at the clock, saw the hour, and told Graham he had to leave. His brows hiked as did his curiosity. I could see the suspicion on his face as he folded the chair and stacked it against the wall. “If you insist. I won’t be far away, so call if you need me for anything. Anything, understand?” He waggled his brows. I snickered and took the card he proffered.

When I’d locked the door behind him, I watched him swagger toward the driver’s side of the sedan. He looked at me and smiled as he entered his car and drove off.

I’d been hit on by the very man who was investigating two murders I’d become involved in by way of my baking ability. Hells bells, what would happen next?

I scooted along the back deck to the rear entrance of Mack & Mutt’s and knocked on the door. Carl swung the door wide and ushered me inside. He scanned the grounds and peered at the dark spaces before he closed the door with a thump.

“What’s going on?” I asked both men.

“Someone’s been loitering out there.” Carl pointed toward the shadows. “I saw them three nights in a row when I took the trash out after closing. I made like I didn’t notice, but I’m not the only one who’s seen him, am I?” Carl asked.

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen somebody lurking about for two nights now.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “At first, I thought I imagined it. I feel better knowing you’ve seen this creep, too. Who do you think it is?” I asked Bill and then glanced at Carl.

They both shook their heads and said they hadn’t a clue. Another knock sounded on the door. Carl glanced out the window and let BettyJo inside.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, knowing her answer without her giving it.

“You know I wouldn’t let you do this alone.” BettyJo turned to the men. “You know more about Sondra’s murder than we do, don’t you?”

Carl grimaced, Bill shook his head, and the doorknob rattled. Someone else wanted in. The four of us stared at the face looking in. Helena Bentwood stood waiting.

“Open the damned door,” she said, and forcibly jiggled the door handle.

“Okay, okay, don’t get mad.” Bill flipped the lock and ushered her into the room. The kitchen was smaller than mine. On the verge of creating a crowd, another person or two would be splitting the seams of square footage.

“What’s going on here? I saw both of you pass my kitchen windows,” Helena queried me and BettyJo. “It’s about Sondra, isn’t it?”

“That and other things,” I answered. “Have you noticed a prowler lately?”

Helena shook her head, her hand fluttering at her throat. She visibly paled before my eyes. “There’s been a prowler? Why wasn’t I told? Who is it? Doesn’t anybody share anything? We’re all in this together, for goodness’ sake.” The words tumbled from her mouth so quickly. I couldn’t get in a word of assurance.

Carl put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze while Bill muttered that we had to band together for safety.

A knock on the door produced George Carly and Kristina Papien. We did indeed have a full house, now. Charlie Franklin stumbled through the door and stood with his back to it, taking in the crowd. The only person missing was Sondra and she was dead, so that took care of that.

“Is there a party going on here or are you all conspiring something?” Charlie wanted to know. He smiled all around to allay fear that he was angry.

“We’re discussing what’s happened and how we should watch out for one another. Two deaths in the span of a week are more than coincidental, wouldn’t you say?” Carl asked.

Heads bobbed up and down in agreement round the room. I watched each face, as did BettyJo. We were tuned to the same mental channel and wanted to see if anyone among us had something to hide, other than romance. From the way Kristina looked at Bill, BettyJo was right in her assumption that they had a thing going on. Other than that, it was impossible to tell if any of the others had hidden secrets.

George handed out business cards. “Take these, if you’re in trouble, call me, and I’ll come running.”

Good luck with that, I thought with a wink at BettyJo. She hid her smile and turned to Helena.

“There’s been somebody hanging about at night,” BettyJo remarked. “Whoever it is stays in the shadows, so we can’t identify him. By God, if I catch him, I’ll kick his butt for sure. We need to be vigilant, all of us,” BettyJo warned, her gaze encompassing the entire group. “Detective Graham’s been asking more questions. He’s not fooling around when it comes to these murders. If we can help him, we should. You won’t be added to his suspicious characters list if you step forward, so don’t hesitate to call him.”

A murmur of consensus went round. Again, I watched to see who agreed and what their facial expression said, but unfortunately, I found nothing out of the ordinary, other than a touch of fear. We all knew we could be the next to die, but we didn’t know why. Or did we?

“Why do you think the two killings took place? Does anyone have a clue as to who wanted these two women dead?” I wondered aloud.

When BettyJo would have spoken, I shook my head slightly. She closed her mouth and waited.

“George,” Charlie turned to the man, “weren’t you and Mrs. Peterson close? I saw you having dinner together at Henderson’s Pub two weeks ago.”

Unabashed, George looked round the room. “I admit it, we were becoming more than friends.” He shook his head and waved his hands. “We weren’t sleeping together, but we were involved in a romantic tryst of sorts. She wasn’t a bad woman, not really. There was a side to her that people rarely saw.”

Indeed. If she’d shown that side of her personality to the rest of us, maybe we’d have liked her better, and not dreaded having to go round and round with her over rent or anything else she came up with. Disgusted, I said, “You’re the only one who knew her that way. Personally, I have a hard time believing she was warm and fuzzy in any way, shape, or manner.”

George held his hands out in a plea and said, “I know she could be difficult. She wasn’t always like that, at least not to me.”

“Right, then let’s move on,” Bill commented with a roll of his eyes. “Was Mrs. Peterson aware she had enemies or an enemy? Did she talk about her life other than as a landlady?”

“If she was aware of it, she never said. We talked of other things.” George’s eyebrows hiked up and down and I felt my stomach roll. I had difficulty with a visual of hot and heavy romance at their ages. I was young, and as such, I had a biased view of anyone over the age of forty.

Kristina glanced at me and then asked, “Has Cindy contacted any of you?”

Charlie answered ahead of the others. “She called me before she left for New York and said she’d be by next week. That’s all.”