Bun for Your Life (8 page)

“Detective Sean Corsino.”

Such a comedian, my best friend. I whipped the brochure my mother had handed me earlier out of my purse. Yep, there he was. On the back page. Sean Patrick Corsino. He didn't look happy in the brochure, either.
He
was my bachelor?

“Say something,” Emily prodded.

I looked up. “Olivia, you do remember he questioned us about Calista's murder.”

She made a little noise of disgust as she shook her head. “I told you, we are not serious suspects, and you know we aren't. Anyway, that's what a detective does. He questions.”

“Now he's my date?”

“I thought you'd be thrilled. Look at him. “

Thrilled didn't quite accurately describe it; I can't really say why. “I found out today he's my neighbor.”

“He's your neighbor?” my two best friends echoed at the same time.

I nodded. “I saw him earlier. We didn't chat or anything, but yes, he's my neighbor.”

Emily laughed. “Well, that could be convenient.”

“So,” I said. “What do we do now?”

“While you were in the bathroom, your mother said that those of us with bachelors need to stay in the auditorium and meet them, get acquainted, talk about our future dates,” explained Olivia.

“Then we better get back in there,” urged Emily.

I reluctantly followed my friends. I still don't know why the fact that Sean Corsino was my date didn't have me jumping up and down with joy. Yes, he was gorgeous and had a job, but he didn't leave me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. He came across as distant and quiet; not someone I'd find easy to talk with, or have fun with. Not that I knew him that well, so maybe that was just his work persona. I understood why a detective had to be serious.

Olivia and Emily went in search of their men. I took a deep breath and looked around. Detective Corsino was walking back and forth in front of the stage. Sean. I couldn't call him Detective Corsino through our date. Date. Where would we go? There were a few good restaurants in Destiny. And one super expensive one right on the lake. I had time to decide. But since I paid four hundred dollars for him through Olivia, I may just hand him a tuna fish sandwich and a bag of chips and call it a night.

He stopped and watched as I made my way to him. I took another deep breath and smiled. “Hi there, Detective. You're my bachelor.”

He gave me a tiny frown, then a look of surprise spread across his face. “You bid on me?”

“I didn't mean to. I needed to use the ladies' room, and there were three bachelors left. I gave my sign to Olivia and
told her to buy me someone. She bid on you.”

His lips moved as if they were fighting not to smile. “I see.”

“If you don't mind my saying so, detective, you don't look too happy to be a bachelor.”

His eyes darkened, and raw pain flashed in them for a second. Unless it was the lighting, as Emily had mentioned, but I thought not. “It was supposed to be Sergeant Olson. Unfortunately, he got sick, so they volunteered me. The library expansion is a worthwhile project, even though I haven't lived here long, so I wasn't going to say no. Are you related to the director? I noticed she has the same last name as you.”

“She's my mother. Anne Tyler. Everyone calls her Annie.”

“So, what happens now?”

“We decide on a time and place for our . . . uh . . . date, and take it from there.” I felt myself blushing and hoped he didn't notice. I have a terrible time with blushing over the most trivial things.

“Do you want to arrange everything since we're both here?”

“We can, but we don't have to. We could do it at home. Anytime.” I blushed again. That made it sound like we were cohabitating.

“Sounds good. How about if we meet back at the house and talk about it? I'd rather have all the details set.”

I agreed, stifling a smile at how serious he looked and sounded, as if we were talking about tailing a suspect, or some other police project. I followed him out, giving a quick wave to both Emily and Olivia, who gave me a big wink. It was very difficult to keep up with Sean; he walked quickly and my feet were killing me. I was going to donate these shoes before they caused me any more grief.

We arrived back at the house at the same time. “Why don't you come in? I need to take these shoes off,” I said.

He nodded, and I led the way. “Sorry about the mess,” I told him as I unlocked my door.

“No problem. It happens when you move. As soon as I find a house to buy, I'm going to have to do it all over again.”

I kicked my shoes off and was pretty sure my feet cheered. “Why don't you have a seat in the living room? It's straight ahead. Do you want some water or soda?”

“No, thanks.”

“Since we're neighbors, and I won you in an auction, do you mind if I call you Sean?”

“Not a problem. Did you see the news earlier?”

“No. I was too busy unpacking, then getting ready for tonight, and the cable guy isn't coming until Monday anyway. Why?” I hoped there hadn't been another murder.

“The results of the autopsy showed that the last thing Calista ate were doughnuts.”

“From the Bread and Batter bag you found, I presume. Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

He gave a half shrug. “It was on the news tonight. Along with Bread and Batter.”

“Really? The bakery was on TV?” I didn't know how to react to that. “Did you see it?”

He nodded. “It could bring some negative attention to your business. Or boost it. There was also peanut butter in Ms. Danforth-Brody's stomach.”

I stared at him as I processed what he'd told me. “Peanut butter? Calista's allergic to peanut butter! She would never eat it. It would kill her. The whole town knows that.” I stared at him. “Is that how she was killed? You said she was strangled. I don't get it. Was she strangled, or was it the peanut butter?”

“She probably died of anaphylactic shock and cardiac arrest first, caused by ingesting peanut butter. Then she was strangled.”

“Oh no.” I sat on the opposite side of the couch. “Someone wanted to make sure she was really dead. Who smears peanut butter on a doughnut? Sounds gross. Why would Calista eat that even if she wasn't allergic? Why would the killer bother to strangle her if she was dead already? Why didn't she use one of her EpiPens? She always has one with her. Unless someone put a gun to her head.” I jumped up. “Did someone put a gun to her head?”

“The peanut butter was probably injected into the doughnut. Other than the argument I heard you have with her the day of the fair over booth space, have you had other incendiary incidents with her? Any issues?”

He was very good at not answering all my questions. “No! I wouldn't even call what you saw at my bakery an ‘incident.' Never mind ‘incendiary.' Just a silly spat. You aren't back to me or Olivia killing her, are you?”

He studied my face for a second. “She threatened to turn you in to the Department of Health for having mice.”

I guessed he had dropped Olivia as a suspect and was only focusing on me. “There are no mice in Bread and Batter. She wasn't going to call the Department of Health. It was an empty threat because she was angry. We may have had our differences, and no, I wasn't crazy about her, but we wouldn't do anything to physically hurt each other.”

“I've seen people kill for a lot less than a spat, as you call it.”

What happened to discussing where we were going for our date? Did I even want to go on a date with someone who thought I was a murderer?

I squared my shoulders, somehow refraining from leaning over and poking my detective/neighbor/future date in the chest with my index finger after each word. “Seriously? I did not drive to Calista's home, Detective Corsino, with a bag of doughnuts injected with peanut butter in one hand and a T-shirt in another, just to poison and strangle her because of a silly disagreement over booth space. The fact you consider me a killer is totally ludicrous. What logical reason would either Olivia or I have to kill Calista? One that makes sense, I mean.”

He rose. Detective Corsino, Sean, didn't seem to have an answer to that. He walked over to my bookshelf and perused my books.

“Why aren't you looking at Trey or Blake more closely?” I continued, talking to his back. “I don't have an issue with Danforth Orchards. Trey does. Although, if he wanted the Calista Sugar Pink, how would killing her get it for him? Unless he did ask her to marry her, like Olivia's cousin Jamie said, and because she laughed at him, he killed her in anger. Did you talk to Jamie?”

“Yes. Thanks for following up.”

I ignored his humor, or sarcasm. I couldn't tell which. I leaned toward sarcasm. “Except if Trey killed her in a rage, he would have just strangled her with his bare hands, or grabbed a knife, right? This looks like it was planned out, doesn't it?”

“Her homicide is still under investigation.”

“If you're going to kill someone by poisoning them, why would you strangle them, too?” I asked again.

“You're asking me to get into the mind of the killer. I can't do that, unfortunately.”

“You have absolutely no clue who did it.”

“There is no such thing as a perfect crime. Criminals always trip up, and leave something of themselves behind. Remember that.”

That was quite a nonanswer. “At one time or another, a lot of us have been in Calista's house. You may very well find my fingerprints on a kitchen chair, or her dining room table. I still didn't kill her.”

“Didn't say you did. Little old for Nancy Drew, are you?” he inquired as he pulled a book off the shelf and looked at it. “I didn't think anyone read these anymore.”

I was thrown off by the change of subject. No one disparages my Nancy Drew books. I don't care what they think about them. “Be careful of that! Those belonged to my grandmother. They're the first thirty-four originals published from nineteen thirty to nineteen fifty-six. I have them all except
The Secret of the Old Clock
. I can't find it available anywhere. Yes, they are still popular among some people. There are websites devoted to everything Nancy Drew.” I'm positive he was riveted by the information I was spewing at him.

He put it back. “So, this date we have to go on. Where do you want to go?”

He may have well substituted “execution” for “date.” It was a little disconcerting to jump from murder to a date. “Can we discuss this tomorrow? Or another time? It doesn't have to happen right away.”

He looked disappointed. “I suppose. Make sure you give me sufficient notice. Except for the chief and myself, most of the police department will be leaving on a team-building exercise down in New York City soon, so I might have to pick up some slack while they're gone. Not sure what that may do to my schedule.”

“They're letting the whole police department go off in the middle of a murder investigation?” Not that we had a huge police department. There was a chief, a sergeant, three full-time officers, and two part-time officers. Detective Corsino had apparently replaced the detective who recently retired.

“The part-time guys will be here. But I'm the lead detective in charge. It's my investigation, which means I call all the shots. I can call in the state police if I need to, or reach out to the detectives at the Rigby Police Department, but I doubt that will be necessary.”

“I see. I'll give you plenty of notice for our date. Don't worry.”

He headed for the door. “Thanks. Good night, then. Enjoy your new home.”

“Thank you. Good night.” I locked the door behind him. I stood there for a moment wondering about my detective
neighbor and his life story. I'd find out when we went on our date.

The idea to talk to Jamie myself came to me Saturday night, as I was contemplating Sean's life story. The only way to clear mine, and Olivia's name, too, of course, for good was to launch my own investigation. I couldn't believe the detective actually thought we were suspects, although he seemed to be focused more on me than on Olivia, but I wanted to hear the words straight from the horse's mouth, as it were.

*  *  *

I had called Olivia to let her know I'd be in a little late and told her about Calista dying from peanut butter that was probably injected into one of our doughnuts, then being strangled with one of our T-shirts after she was already dead. I'd gotten Jamie's phone number from her and I was now sitting across from him at Joe's Café with a bowl of frosted cereal, a bagel, and a glass of orange juice in front of me. As you can see, the low/no carb lifestyle had yet to make an impression on me.

“What exactly did you hear?” I asked Jamie. “Tell me everything. From the second you arrived at Calista's.”

“I can tell you everything I told the police, Molly.”

I dug in my purse for my brand-new notebook and a pen. “Go.”

He fiddled with his napkin. “I arrived at Calista's around ten in the morning that day. She asked me to look at her Benz while I was there because she thought one of the tires was soft. So as soon as I was done with the horses, I left the barn and crossed the back of the house on my way to the garage.”

“That's when you heard them?”

He nodded. “The kitchen window was open, so I couldn't help but hear them. I know I shouldn't have, but I paused right in front of the window. Luckily, they didn't see me. “

“Of course you couldn't help but hear them.” I agreed as I put down my bagel; this merited my total attention.

He took a sip of coffee. “Trey was the first one I heard. He said, ‘I can't explain why, but I'm in love with you.' Then Calista replied with, ‘I love you, too. It scares me. I've spent so much time hating you, I don't know where to go with this.' Then Trey replied, ‘I agree, it's strange. I still can't believe you actually agreed to go out with me. I want to marry you, Callie. I want to merge our orchards. Soon. Think of the money we'd make, especially since your new apple is coming out.'”