Breach of Crust: A Charmed Pie Shoppe Mystery (14 page)

Unfortunately, Ella Mae’s efforts to secure an audience with Hardy were fruitless. Savannah made it clear that she wasn’t welcome in the café and that she should go home without delay.

“I guess you’ve been lumped in with your fellow chefs,” Reba said as they headed to the kitchen to retrieve their handbags and cell phones. “Whatever special treatment you got because you dragged Bea out of Lake Havenwood is over.”

“Fine by me. I don’t care how much charity work those women do. Theirs is one club I wouldn’t be caught dead joining,” Ella Mae grumbled.

As they approached the kitchen, they heard the clink of metal on metal. Reba stiffened and put a hand on Ella Mae’s arm.

“Who’s bangin’ pots and pans at this hour?” she whispered. “Unless someone decided this might be a good time to search through the chefs’ things.”

Ella Mae’s eyes widened. “Like the weapons you hid in that special box?”

Grinning, Reba reached under her T-shirt. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty more where those came from. If somebody’s lookin’ for those, they’re about to see one real close up. Come on.”

They tiptoed to the doorway and peered into the room, where they saw Caroline James tinkering with a row of chocolate fountains.

“Trouble sleeping?” Ella Mae entered the kitchen wearing a friendly smile.

Startled, Caroline put her hand over her heart. “There wasn’t much chance of that once I heard the sirens and watched the cop cars pull up out front. Do you know what’s going on?”

“A woman threatened one of the Camellias,” Ella Mae said. “But it turned out to be more of a prank than a threat.”

Caroline was stunned. “And someone felt the need to call in the cavalry?”

Ella Mae shrugged. “I guess so. The whole thing’s been diffused by this point. The cops are just taking statements.” She pointed at Reba. “We missed all the action because we were hiding in the reading room, but we’re ready to leave now. It’s way past our bedtimes.”

“Yeah, maybe you should try to get some shut-eye instead of messin’ with, what, seven chocolate fountains,” Reba told Caroline. “What are you doin’ with so many? Manufacturin’ chocolate body peels for the spa?”

Caroline laughed. “Actually, the Camellias requested this activity. They host tons of parties and asked me to help them create desserts to accompany a chocolate fountain. Apparently, every member owns her own fountain. Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” Ella Mae and Reba answered in unison.

“Not this size, however,” Caroline added, touching the commercial fountain on the floor. “This thing’s so heavy that my assistants will have to help me lift it in the morning. It weighs ninety pounds and is nearly five feet tall. It’s the biggest fountain you can buy. It’s not mine either.” She eyed the apparatus with longing. “The resort was kind enough to let me borrow it for the day.”

Ella Mae scooped a bottle of oil-based food coloring off the counter. “Are you using this blue in your lesson?”

Caroline nodded. “We’ll be dyeing the white chocolate. I have purple, pink, blue, yellow, orange, and red. I thought it would be fun to show the ladies how to dye the chocolate while it’s running through the fountains. It creates an incredible showpiece for holiday parties and baby showers. The big fountain will be the exception. That’ll be regular milk chocolate. I’ve set it up for a test run because I’ve never used one this big before. The head chef told me that this beast goes through twenty-five pounds of chocolate at a time.”

“Must be a female fountain,” Reba quipped, and the three women shared a companionable chuckle.

Caroline held up an extension cord. “Anyway, all I have to do before tomorrow’s class is go online and double-check the ingredients of the chocolate melting wafers. The lettering
on the bag is smeared and I can’t make it out, but two of the Camellias have nut allergies and I need to be sure that it wasn’t packaged in a facility that processes nuts.”

“That’s right,” Ella Mae said. “Alisha Kerns has a mild tree nut allergy, and Cora Edgeworth has a serious peanut allergy. She carries an EpiPen with her at all times. Because of that, I’m not using any peanuts in my recipes this weekend.”

“Neither are Maxine and I. We both compared notes and we only have a few recipes containing nuts. Mine include a chocolate hazelnut recipe with Nutella frosting and a banana walnut cupcake with a honey vanilla buttercream. I’ve modified both recipes for Alisha and Cora. They can bake nut-free versions from their own workspaces. No sense taking chances.”

“Exactly,” Ella Mae agreed. “I’m doing a pecan pie and a lemon tart in a pine nut crust, but that second pie can be made using a traditional or even a graham cracker crust.”

Reba smirked. “But you can hardly find a substitute for the pecans in your pecan pie.”

Ella Mae grinned. “You can, actually. Pretzels mimic the color and crunch of a pecan and are the perfect ingredient for a faux pecan pie.”

“That’s brilliant!” Caroline clapped. “May I steal that idea for my caramel pecan brittle cupcakes? If I offered a nut-free version, I bet they’d fly out of the display case.”

“Sure, but I can’t take the credit,” Ella Mae confessed. “A mom whose son had a nut allergy came up with the idea.”

Caroline smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me. There’s no stopping a mother determined to make her child happy. Believe me, as the owner of a cupcake shop, I’ve seen it all. From sweet, caring parents to over-the-top, lost-their-marbles parents.”

She scooped her room key off the counter and took a
final glance at the chocolate fountains. “I guess I’m feeding into the over-the-top theme with tomorrow’s activity, but it’s what these ladies want.” She saluted Ella Mae and Reba. “I’m going to bed. I hope this is the only time I look out my window and see a bunch of cop cars parked out front.”

“Me too,” Ella Mae said, collecting her own things. “Good night.”

After Caroline was gone, Reba examined her box of weapons. Satisfied that nothing had been touched, she replaced it on the shelf.

“I have to put in a final word on Liz’s behalf before we leave,” Ella Mae told Reba as they turned off the lights.

“Do you?” Reba asked. “She might be safer at the station. You saw how mad the Camellias were. It might not be a luxury suite, but no one can touch her in that holdin’ cell. By tomorrow, she’ll be free to go.”

Ella Mae chewed her lip. “She could stay at Partridge Hill.”

“You’d have to sit around waitin’ for hours before she was released.” Reba tapped her temple. “That’s not a good idea considerin’ you need to be back here at the crack of dawn to get Loralyn and Opal together. How sharp will you be if you’ve spent half the night sittin’ in one of those plastic chairs in the police station?”

Though Ella Mae knew Reba was right, she still tried to speak with Hardy. However, Savannah once again refused her access to Café Soleil.

“I’ll tell Officer Hardy that you asked for him,” Savannah said before firmly shutting the door in Ella Mae’s face.

“That’s that,” Reba declared. “Time for bed.” Seeing Ella Mae’s hesitation, she added, “You aren’t responsible for Liz’s actions. It wasn’t smart, but she can’t be in too much trouble, no matter how much power these women have. In the mornin’,
Liz will go back to her family and we can focus on the Gaynor reunion, solvin’ Bea’s murder, and findin’ those mysterious golden apples.” Reba put an arm around Ella Mae’s shoulders. “Like Scarlett said, tomorrow is another day.”

“And another chance to make things right,” Ella Mae whispered. “But we’re running out of time. If Opal fails to soften Loralyn’s heart, then we’ll have to use force to get Loralyn to tell us everything she knows about the Camellias. Things could get ugly, Reba.”

“I hope they do,” Reba said, her eyes shining with a wicked gleam.

*   *   *

The next morning, well before the August sun had risen above the hills surrounding Lake Havenwood, Ella Mae pulled into the resort’s parking lot. With the letter she’d typed using the stationery pilfered from Julia Eudailey safely tucked away in her handbag, she took the stairs to Loralyn’s room, pushed the letter under the door, and then hurried back down to the lobby.

After stopping by the front desk and placing an order for a coffee tray to be delivered to Loralyn’s room, Ella Mae waited for Reba to show up.

“I need two things before we head over to the guest cottage,” Reba informed her upon her arrival. “An IV drip of the strongest coffee in this hotel.” She yawned loudly. “Or several Red Bulls. And I also want to get a few choice items from my box in the kitchen.”

“We can get weapons and coffee in the same place,” Ella Mae said in a low voice. “But we should hurry. I want to be with Opal and my mother long before Loralyn arrives.”

Reba snorted derisively. “Oh, please. She’ll have to shower, dress, and put on twelve layers of makeup. We have tons of
time.” Despite her words, Reba walked to the kitchen at a brisk pace. “I’ll just brew us half a pot of coffee, grab a Taser and a Beretta, and consider us prepared for our showdown.”

At the kitchen doorway, she came to an abrupt halt.

When Ella Mae stepped around Reba to see what the problem was, she had to choke back a scream.

There was a woman on the floor. Her face was completely submerged in the bowl of the largest chocolate fountain. Her dark brown hair, which hung over one shoulder, had merged with the pool of milk chocolate congealing around her inert form. Her body was prone, her arms and legs splayed, while the fountain sputtered and gasped, as though in the final throes of asphyxiation.

In contrast to the noisy machine, the woman was eerily still. And when Ella Mae and Reba rushed forward to pull her face out of the fountain, they both quickly realized that she was beyond saving. Her lips and tongue were so swollen that they gave her an alien appearance, and it was clear that it had been some time since she’d last drawn a breath. Her body was stiff to the touch and her skin was cool and rubbery.

“She was obviously murdered. People don’t drown themselves in chocolate fountains,” Reba whispered. “Do you know who she is?”

“Cora Edgeworth,” Ella Mae said. “And you’re right. This was no accident. There are only two presidential candidates now. Savannah and Loralyn. I hate to do this, Reba, but we’ll have to leave Cora as we found her. We need to meet with Opal and my mother as planned because Loralyn is no longer just Opal’s estranged daughter or an eyewitness to activities inside Atalanta House. She’s now a murder suspect.”

Reba frowned. “For which murder? Bea’s or Cora’s?”

“Maybe both.” Sickened by what she was doing, Ella Mae
gently placed Cora’s chocolate-crusted face back into the fountain’s bowl. Anger coursed through her in searing waves and she sprang to her feet, eager to find an outlet for her rage. “Remember when I said that things might get ugly?” When Reba nodded, Ella Mae pointed at Cora’s body. “This is as ugly as it gets. This wasn’t done by a lady. This is the work of a monster.”

Ella Mae and Reba took the exit at the far end of the western corridor and headed for the trail leading to the bungalows.

“I hate leaving Cora like that,” Ella Mae muttered angrily. “But if we’d stayed a second longer, even to get weapons, someone might have seen us. Then, we would have been tied up with the police, leaving Loralyn free to continue doing as she pleases.” Ella Mae let loose a growl of frustration. “I should have listened to you, Reba. I should have been more assertive with her. We should have driven back to Sweet Briar weeks ago and forced her to talk to us. It would have been simple enough. All we had to do was threaten to expose her as an imposter to the Camellias.”

“We waited because she asked you to trust her. Loralyn came as close as a Gaynor comes to beggin’,” Reba said. “I was there, remember? She almost had
me
convinced that it was best to let her finish with her business. Lookin’ back, I
wish I’d knocked her over the head and thrown her in the bushes. We could have trussed her up like a turkey and brought her home to her mama. Instead, you gave her the benefit of the doubt. We won’t make that mistake again.”

Ella Mae glanced over her shoulder at the main building. “It won’t be long before the other chefs show up in the kitchen to prep for their classes. I feel terrible that Caroline or Maxine will discover Cora’s body.”

“There’s no avoidin’ it,” Reba said. “And once they raise the hue and cry, all hell is gonna break loose.”

The women approached a stone and clapboard cabin. The cabin, which was nestled in a copse of pine trees, allowed for the upmost in privacy while still being within a short walk of the resort. Ella Mae’s mother had been granted temporary access to the cabin because the resort manager owed her a favor. Adelaide had delivered a large supply of cut flowers for an important society wedding after the original florist had the misfortune of being involved in a car accident en route from Atlanta. Adelaide’s fee had not only been more modest compared to the florist’s, but her arrangements were also the loveliest and most fragrant the guests had ever seen. The bride’s father, who owned several magazines, was so pleased that he published an article on the stellar service provided by Lake Havenwood Resort.

Since then, the manager had been looking for a chance to repay Adelaide’s kindness. Therefore, he didn’t hesitate when Adelaide asked for permission to use one of the woodland cabins for an hour or two that Saturday morning. The manager wasn’t concerned about breaking the clause in his contract with the Camellia Club—the one stating they’d be the only guests at the resort—because Adelaide wasn’t checking in. She was only borrowing a vacant space for a short time.

Now, as Ella Mae raised her hand to knock on the cabin
door, she realized that her initial reason for securing the cabin was no longer paramount. A reconciliation between Opal and Loralyn was far less important than discovering whether or not Loralyn was a murderer.

Rapping once, Ella Mae called out, “It’s me!” and listened to the sound of the deadbolt being withdrawn.

Ella Mae and Reba entered the cozy cabin and were greeted by Adelaide, Opal, and Henry. If Ella Mae was surprised to see Henry sipping tea in a wing chair by the window, she was even more stunned to find Ruiping, Dr. Kang’s taciturn assistant, standing like a statue in the far corner of the sitting room.

“Isn’t this a bit overcrowded for a meeting between estranged family members?” Ella Mae asked, still too upset over finding Cora to be tactful.

Opal, who sat in the chair opposite Henry, shook her head. “Professor Matthews knows more about the golden apples than any of us. If Loralyn is seeking the enchanted objects Atalanta collected during that famous footrace centuries ago, then he’s the best person to speak with her about their benefits and dangers. I know what my daughter desires. She’s hungry for power. She’ll do anything and everything to get her hands on a magical object with the potential to transform her into something above and beyond humankind. Or our kind. Her pain has driven her to this point. She has been deeply wounded. By her father first. Next, by me.”

Reba opened her mouth to protest but Opal lifted a finger to silence her. “It doesn’t matter how anyone else views my actions.
Loralyn
saw my choice to join with the LeFayes as a betrayal of our family name. It confused her. Her confusion turned to anger. That anger has festered into a cold and calculated fury. But I have to believe that I can still reach her—that I can stop her from taking this too far.”

Ella Mae crossed the room until she stood before Opal’s chair. “I don’t think anyone can stop her now,” she said gently. “Reba and I just found the dead body of a woman named Cora Edgeworth. Cora, who was obviously murdered, was one of two candidates running against Loralyn in the race to become the next Camellia Club president. Loralyn’s only remaining opponent is Savannah McGovern.”

Opal, who was already pale, grew ever paler. There was a gray cast to her skin, and the signs of vitality Dr. Kang had helped her gain seemed to be eking away. “And you believe Loralyn is responsible for this woman’s death?”

“I can’t say for certain, but yes. The apples and the election are somehow linked. Whoever is elected will come in contact with the object of power,” Ella Mae said. “Last night, when all the Camellias were gathered on the dock, Cora said that she hoped the next president would be worthy of the apples. She clearly forgot that Reba and I were present and was immediately shushed by another club member. The apples may actually be in Havenwood. I don’t know any details about the ritual, however. This is the kind of information I wanted to elicit from Loralyn.”

Opal inclined her head. “I also think the object of power is here. If not, Loralyn would never have bothered with this charade. She wouldn’t have created a false persona, sought membership to this club, or run for president. She is too impatient for such things. If there were any other way for her to have obtained the apples, she would have done so. She
had
to attend this retreat. She
had
to become a candidate.” Opal’s gaze landed on Reba. “You can protect us from my daughter should she turn violent, but Ruiping has a role to play as well. Not only is she highly skilled in multiple martial arts disciplines, but she can also read deceit in someone’s body language the same way Verena can detect a lie
in a person’s speech. Verena wanted to come too, but your mother and I decided that she lacked the subtlety needed for today’s venture.”

Instead of replying, Reba cocked her head as though listening to a distant sound. She then ran to the door and looked through the peephole. “You’d better decide how you want this to play out because Loralyn’s hustlin’ down the path,” she said to Ella Mae. “Should I grab her when she knocks? She’s expectin’ Julia to prep her on some club ritual, so she won’t be ready for me to jump her.”

Ella Mae shook her head. “You and Ruiping wait in the bedroom. Stay out of sight. Mom, go with Reba and Ruiping. Henry can open the door. Having grown up with a large household staff, Loralyn will assume he’s an employee of the resort. She’ll be inside before she realizes that his jacket and bow tie don’t match the uniform.” Ella Mae turned to Opal. “At that point, the floor is yours. I hope . . .” She trailed off. She hoped for an outcome that wouldn’t bring Opal any more grief, but that seemed so unlikely that she was unable to complete her thought.

“Thank you for trying,” Opal whispered quietly.

Ruiping moved into the bedroom while Henry took up his position by the door. Ella Mae’s mother murmured something into Opal’s ear, told Ella Mae to be careful, and then joined Ruiping in the bedroom. Reba looked at Ella Mae and hesitated.

“I don’t like leaving you,” she said. “What if Loralyn has the apples?”

“If she had them, she wouldn’t have gotten out of bed this early. She would have reduced the hotel to rubble right after the wake-up call.” Ella Mae smiled at Reba. “I’ll be all right. I’ll stand behind Opal’s chair. That’s as close as I can get to you.”

Mollified, Reba made herself scarce just as the sound of Loralyn’s impatient knock reverberated through the sitting room.

“Good morning, Ms. Croly,” Henry said, performing a deferential bow. “Won’t you come in? There’s coffee on the table.”

Henry used both his body and the door to block Loralyn’s view of the room’s occupants, so she was halfway across the sitting room before she noticed her mother and Ella Mae.

“What the hell is going on?” She directed her question at Henry, who’d smoothly closed the door and fastened the dead bolt.

“Won’t you sit down?” He gestured at the chair facing Opal’s. “Your mother would like to have a conversation with you. May I offer you some coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”

Loralyn glowered at him. “I’d prefer to watch you thrown out of an airplane without a parachute, but since that’s not going to happen, I’ll just leave. And if you try to stop me—”

“You may go when your mother is finished,” Henry said, an edge of steel creeping into his voice. “I am one of your kind, Ms. Gaynor. For the sake of your overall health, I suggest you not provoke me into using my ability. The few who have survived the experience are usually too traumatized to speak of it.”

Ella Mae worried that Loralyn might take one look at Henry’s spectacles, bow tie, and silver hair and call his bluff, but she didn’t. Having found his speech convincing, she opted to sit in the vacant chair. With an irritated sigh, she turned to her mother and said, “I don’t have time for this. You have no idea what’s at stake.”

“My dear, I know exactly what you’re after. The three golden apples Hippomenes used to win Atalanta’s hand. You
want this object of power for yourself. You’re tired of being a pawn on other people’s gameboards. You’re ready to cut all ties. You want to start afresh in a new place as a new person. You don’t ever want to grow old. Or weak. Or sick. You want to be strong. Stronger than I ever was. Stronger than your father ever was. You want to show us how wrong we were about you.” Opal’s words were soft. A gentle caress. “And we
were
wrong. About
so
many things. Your father and I were so blinded by pride that we didn’t take care of our family. We spent our energy increasing our profits and our reputation when we should have been focusing on being good parents. I failed you as a mother, Loralyn. For that, I am truly sorry.”

The lengthy speech had clearly drained her, but Opal took a shallow breath and went on. Her eyes never leaving Loralyn’s, she spoke as though they were the only people in the room. “I’m sorry that I didn’t hug you. That I didn’t read you stories or put notes in your lunchbox. I’m sorry that I never once brushed your hair or baked you cookies. I’m sorry that I didn’t stop your father from selling Romeo. I barely listened when you talked about your school day, and the advice I doled out wasn’t helpful. If I’d spent half as much effort on being a good mother as I did on being a successful businesswoman, then you would have had a better childhood. For letting you down all those years, I am truly sorry.”

Opal reached for Loralyn’s hand, but Loralyn pulled back. She was obviously shaken by her mother’s confession. The Gaynors didn’t speak to one another with such openness, with such earnest emotion, and Loralyn didn’t know how to deal with it. Sitting there, with the early morning light washing over her, she suddenly looked like a frightened and vulnerable young girl.

“It’s not too late for us to get this right,” Opal continued
quietly. “Even though my time is limited, we can spend what’s left of it together. I want to leave you in charge of the business. I’d be happy knowing you were caring for the horses. You could change things, Loralyn. Make everything better.”

Something in Loralyn’s face was loosening. She was reacting to the idea of running Gaynor Farms. Ella Mae held her breath. Was Opal getting through to Loralyn?

But then, in a flash, her eyes turned hard again. “No,” she hissed.

“Why not?” Opal’s question came out as a plea.

“Because I want more.” Loralyn’s words cut through Opal’s hopes like a sickle. “You said it yourself. You don’t have much time left. So if you really care about me, then let me get what I want without standing in my way.”

Opal stared at Loralyn for a long moment. Most people would have flinched or squirmed in the face of such a penetrating gaze, but not Loralyn. Returning the stare, she asked, “Are we done now?”

“Did you kill that woman?”

Loralyn’s lips twitched. “Which woman?”

“Cora.”

At the sound of Cora’s name, Loralyn’s brows shot upward. “Cora’s dead? Since when? And how do
you
know about it?”

Ella Mae knew that Loralyn was capable of deceit, so she didn’t buy her act for a second. “Her death leaves only you and Savannah in the presidential race,” she said, joining the discussion. “You must believe the apples are tied to the presidency. Did Bea tell you about them? Did you use her to get in with the Camellias and then murder her so could you take her position?”

Loralyn snorted derisively. “I have no interest in being their president. Growing up Gaynor, I’ve had my fill of politics and photo ops. And I didn’t kill Bea. I liked her. She
chose
me to be her daughter.” Loralyn cast an accusatory glance at her mother. “She thought I had admirable qualities.”

Seeing the hurt on Opal’s face, Ella Mae recalled what she’d been told about surrogates. “You’ve been a Camellia for months, but I’ve learned a few things about them too. For example, to become a member without having been born the daughter of a Camellia, you have to offer them something truly special. A great deal of money, fame, or political clout. Of those three, the most likely in your case is money.” Ella Mae watched Loralyn closely, but her old nemesis revealed nothing. “You left Havenwood in a hurry,” Ella Mae continued. “You didn’t have time to get your affairs in order, so my guess is that you invented Lyn Croly—a rich, young widow searching for a worthy cause in which to invest her fortune.”

“Oh,
puh-lease
.” Turning to Henry, Loralyn gave a languid wave at the coffeepot, which was no more than a foot away. “If she’s going to indulge in wild fantasies, I might as well keep my hands occupied.”