Flourless to Stop Him (14 page)

“What are you going to do?” Brad asked as I put on my stocking cap and my gloves.

“What I should have done the moment we found that body,” I said and wrapped a muffler around my neck. “I’m going to investigate.”

B
rad followed me out of the station. I ignored him as I hit the
UNLOCK
button on my key and opened the van door. I climbed up into the driver’s seat and tried to close the door before he could talk me out of my decision.

I was too slow. Brad’s long legs ate up the ground, closing in on me. He grabbed the door when I did. There was a moment where we tussled for possession, then I gave up. He was bigger and stronger. I stuck my keys in the ignition and started up the van. If I had to I could simply put the van in reverse. He’d either let go or be dragged under.

Yeah, like I could hurt the man of my teenage dreams. I rolled my eyes, tossed up my hands, and turned to him. “What?”

“As your lawyer and your brother’s lawyer I have to advise you not to investigate this,” he said solemnly. “As your friend, all I can say is be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t confront anyone; bring your evidence to Calvin. He will listen.”

“Fine. Is that all?” I couldn’t look at him. I reached out to close the door again when he stopped me.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

I did and saw real warmth in his blue eyes. “What?” I asked.

He put his hand over mine. “Promise me you’ll be safe. Okay, Toni?”

My heart softened at the plea in his voice. “I promise.”

“Good.” He gave a short nod and stepped away from the van. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shivered.

“Go inside and get warm,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ten
A.M.
at the courthouse,” Brad said.

“Ten it is,” I said then closed my door, turned my heater on high, and pulled out of my parking space. The first thing I was going to do was find out more about Maria. We really didn’t know anything other than what she had told us. I’d get Tasha to investigate the public records. Meanwhile I’d run a credit check on the maid. It should tell me at least when and where she entered the United States. I also needed to find out who the main drug dealer in town was.

If they thought it was Tim, then that meant they didn’t know for sure who was dealing. Grandma might have her sources, but so did I.

*   *   *

M
y alarm made this horrible buzzing noise. Still half-asleep, I tried to hit
SNOOZE
. The buzzing turned into screaming metal rock music. Ugh. I hit the thing a third time. Finally, peace and quiet. . . . “Good morning, good morning, good morning, time to rise and shine . . . Good morning, good morning, good morning, I hope you’re feeling fine. Get up, get up, get out of bed, get up, get up, you sleepyhead.” It was the most annoying little ditty.

Now I was really awake and mad as a bear dragged out
of hibernation too early. I grabbed the offending machine and yanked it out of the wall and threw it across my room with a resounding smashing noise. I lay back down and pulled the pillow over my head, but it was no use. My anger had me fully awake. Disgusted, I sat up. It was dark out, but I could see the snow driving through the light given off by the nearby lamppost.

I remembered why I had set my alarm even earlier than normal. I had hoped to go in and make cookies early so I had time to do some investigating. After Tim’s arrest, I’d realized that waiting for the authorities to proceed with justice was foolish. And so I had finally decided to investigate after all. With so many cookies to bake and money to earn, the only time left to investigate was during my sleep time. And so it was that I had set my poor abused alarm two hours earlier than normal.

My eyes felt like they were filled with grit. I showered and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. At least getting dressed was easy when you wore a uniform. The longest part of my morning routine was waiting for the coffee to brew. I skipped the at-home coffee, wrapped my muffler firmly around my face, and, holding my puffy down coat close to my chest, I braved the icy wind and hurried to the van. Once inside I started it up.

“You’re up pretty early,” a gravelly voice said from behind me. I screamed with fright, and turned to find Grandma Ruth lying in the backseat. I sometimes laid it flat to add more cargo room. Grandma lay on the folded back as if it were her bed. Her feet stuck out from a pile of knitted afghans and were covered in fluffy pink bunny slippers.

My heart raced and all the spit dried up in my mouth. “Holy Moses, you scared the stuffins out of me,” I managed to say. “What are you doing in my van at this hour of the night?”

Grandma sat up. The blankets rolled down revealing her
thick down coat unzipped enough that you could see a black cable-knit sweater and a tee shirt underneath. Her hands were tucked inside two pairs of mittens. “I figured you were finally mad enough to do some investigating. I thought I’d wait for you in the van.”

“Grandma! You could have frozen. What is the windchill outside, negative twenty degrees?”

“It’s forty degrees in here,” Grandma said. “Which is above freezing, so there is no way I could freeze, plus it’s even warmer under my blankets.”

“How do you know it’s forty degrees in the van?” I wanted her to realize how silly she had been. For goodness’ sake, she could have frozen to death. “And what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten up early? Hmm?”

Grandma grinned and lifted her hand. “I have a thermometer.” She showed me the small round indoor outdoor temperature gauge. “If it got below freezing I would have come inside.”

“Grandma! There are plenty of beds in the house.”

“And if I’d have slept there you wouldn’t have woken me when you left. This way is far better.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat up, turning her legs toward the front. She reached over and hit the lever that bounced the backseat back into its L shape. “Now tell me what you’re thinking of doing first.”

I turned the key in the ignition. “If I had any sense I’d take you home first, but something tells me you’d simply drive your scooter through the snow to get to the bakery.”

“You are a very smart girl,” Grandma said. “You should really take the Mensa test. I’m certain you would pass it.”

“I don’t have time to be a genius, Grandma.” I backed out of the driveway and turned on my windshield wipers. The snow was coming down sideways as the wind blew fiercely. It was tough to keep the van on the road in the storm. My vehicle was great for delivering baked goods, but
top-heavy for bad weather. The wind kept pushing us off the road. I eased through the storm with my wipers going full force, the heater blasting, and my semibald tires slipping around corners.

All in all it was a harrowing journey to the bakery. I knew my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. Meanwhile Grandma grinned from ear to ear as if she had just gotten off a roller coaster and wanted to go again.

“Grandma, how is it that you’re so brave?”

“Kiddo, at my age I’m happy to just be alive. I don’t have time to worry about dying.”

I shook my head and opened the van door. “Stay put until I unlock the bakery door. Okay?”

“What’s that?” Grandma’s grin widened. I shook my head. Grandma was what we called “selectively” hard of hearing. In other words she could hear just fine when she wanted to otherwise she was deaf in one ear.

“Don’t make me use the child safety locks,” I warned.

“They don’t put them in delivery vans,” Grandma said. “I checked. Did you know that all the car manuals are now available online?”

I rolled my eyes and got out. The wind was what you would call
bracing
. It pushed me back a good foot before I got my bearings. With weather like this, it was going to be a slow bakery day. Anyone with any sense would stay home and off the roads.

That meant I would have more time to figure out what the heck Chief Blaylock had on Tim that he could arrest him and make him spend a night in jail.

I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and hit the lights.

“Is your coffee made yet?”

Startled, I turned to see that Grandma Ruth was out of the van. She pushed her girth through the door, waddled to the small table in the kitchen, and sat down. When she
wanted to, Grandma could move faster than I could. “Well, close the door. You can’t afford to heat the entire outside.” She waved her hand at me.

I closed the door and threw the lock shut. A glance out the peephole showed me that the van doors were closed. I hit the automatic lock on the key and the van’s lights flashed at me, letting me know it was secure.

There wasn’t anything in the van to steal, but I had gotten into the habit of securing everything when I lived in Chicago. It was a good habit to keep in Oiltop. Especially since a wheat-free bakery wasn’t the most popular place in wheat country.

“So, what’s the plan?” Grandma asked, rubbing her hands together.

“Besides figuring out how to help Tim make bail?” I asked. “There is no plan.” I evaded the question. The last thing I needed was to get Grandma involved in whatever I planned to do. I made a show of filling the big perk pot with water and coffee.

“Oh, there’s a plan,” Grandma said. “First off, I can bail Tim out if need be. I have retirement funds.”

“Grandma, you don’t need to put your retirement funds on the line for Tim,” I said. “We can put a lien on the house. It’s what Mom would want.”

“What if you lose the house?” Grandma asked.

“I’m not going to lose the house. Tim isn’t going anywhere and if he were, then it would be better to lose the house than your retirement fund. Case closed,” I said.

“Fine,” Grandma said.

“Fine,” I replied.

She sat in silence for a moment or two and watched me.

“What?” I asked, feeling weird that she kept staring.

“If you don’t want to tell me your plan, then I won’t tell you mine.”

I mulled that over a moment. “Fine. Tell me yours first.”

“Oh, come on, kiddo, you know I’m smarter than that.” Grandma raised her right eyebrow and gave me the look.

“Fine.” I put my hands on my hips as the coffeemaker perked, filling the air with the fresh, hot scent. “I plan on visiting all the local motels and speaking to the staff.”

“Already did that.” Grandma pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “They don’t remember squat. Turns out you don’t need a Mensa card to sit at a reservation desk and welcome people for eight hours.”

I grabbed the second chair and sat down. “What did they say? Anything? Did anyone remember Tim?”

“You would know all this if you’d been investigating from the start like I told you to.” Grandma raised both eyebrows and half lowered her lids.

“Grandma, I don’t have a lot of time here.” I stood. “I’ve got dozens of cookies to make and all the morning pastries.”

“You don’t have to make a full complement of pastries this morning. I listened to the weather. We’re in a severe storm warning with blizzard conditions and such for the next twenty-four hours. No one’s coming to buy donuts.”

“Darn it, Grandma, I need people to buy donuts and pastries and breads. How else am I going to stay in business?”

Grandma shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t make the weather.” She pointed at the coffeepot with her chin. “Coffee’s ready.”

Great. Grandma was as hard to open as a fresh clam. I poured her coffee. “Fine. If you aren’t going to tell me what you know, then I’ll just have to find out myself.”

“You do that.” Grandma poured a ton of pink packets in her coffee and stirred it with one of the spoons in a container on the table.

“I will,” I said and pulled out the bowls of dough that had been in the refrigerator overnight. One thing to know about Grandma—she hated to be ignored. I did just that, sprinkling the marble countertop with cornmeal and dumping the cool
dough onto the surface. The smell of yeast wafted up as I did a couple of turns kneading, shaped the dough into round mounds, and popped it in the proofer.

“The silent treatment isn’t going to work on me,” Grandma said. “I’ve got my smartphone. I’ll just sit here and read the
New York Times
. Maybe even work the puzzle.”

I continued with my usual morning prep work. My mind raced as I tried to figure out who I could talk to that would know anything about the dead man or the identity thief who framed Tim. Maybe other people’s identities had been stolen. Maybe someone else local had been checking into hotels once a week. It was a start, anyway.

I turned my radio up and blasted Mumford & Sons. Grandma got up and poured herself another cup of coffee and snatched two day-old muffins from the bin where I put the leftovers at night.

“Don’tcha wanna know who I talked to?” she asked as I pulled out the ingredients for the cookies.

“I do, but you won’t tell me,” I said as I measured sugar and butter.

“Darned right I won’t tell you. You have to tell me your plan first.”

“I don’t have a plan,” I repeated.

“Oh, poppycock. We both know you have a plan, and I have information. Spill.”

“I’m making cookies, Grandma,” I said. “See that list on the wall? Those are the orders that need to be baked today.”

“What does that have to do with your brother?”

“Not a thing.” I blew out a breath.

“Humph.” Grandma took her baked goods and coffee and went back to the table. A few more moments of music and Grandma started talking. “Allie May at the Motel 7 says her records show Tim was checked in twice a month, but she doesn’t remember ever seeing him there. She’d remember, too, because she has a thing for your brother.”