Murder Takes the Cake Text (18 page)

“Would you like to see the cake?”

“If you don’t open that box, I’m positively gonna bust!”

I laughed and opened the box, hoping the cake would meet her expectations.

Candy let out a squeal of delight and pulled me to her in the tightest bear hug I’d ever received from a skinny person, with the exceptions of Violet’s twins. “It’s positively perfect!” She let me go so she could look at the cake again. “Oh, I love it! I do!” She put her hands over her mouth, and I could tell she was fighting back tears. “Oh, Daphne, this is the prettiest cake I’ve ever seen. Look at the rook . . . and the knight . . . oh, and the queen!”

“So you’re happy with it?”

“Happy? Honey, I couldn’t be more tickled. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She hugged me again. “Let me get you a check.”

After her reaction, I’d have almost given her the cake for free. But Violet was right; I was running a business. I closed the cake box and waited for Candy.

She returned to the room almost as radiate as a bride. “You do such good work.” She handed me a check. “I’m gonna tell everybody I know.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
. I can’t wait to see . . . my friend’s face when he gets a load of this cake.”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to say, “He should certainly be pleased with how much thought you put into this.”

“Oh, honey, you’re the one that did all the work. I just wanted something he’d be tickled with, you know?”

I smiled. “I know.”

I left the pet store and drove home to work on Mrs. Dobbs’ “anything will do” cake. It was obvious Candy truly cared about Mr. Dobbs. Did Mrs. Dobbs suspect their affair? If so, that could explain her lackadaisical attitude about his cake. All she’d seemed to be particularly interested in was the message: “Happy birthday with love to my darling Kellen.” Was Mr. Dobbs toying with the affections of both women? Did he care for Candy? Or was he merely having his cake and eating it, too?

I know, I know. Bad analogy.

*

Mrs. Dobbs’ cake was in the oven when Myra dropped in. I took off my apron and joined her in the living room, bringing both of us a diet soda.

“How’ve you been?” I asked, sitting on the sofa and placing my drink on a coaster on the side table.

“I’m good. How about you, sweetie? I heard about your mother.”

“I’m fine. Mom’s getting there. She’ll probably get to come home today.” I took a drink of my soda. “I’m not sure, though. I haven’t heard from Daddy yet.”

“You keep me posted, and let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Thank you, Myra. I will.”

“You look tired. Are you getting enough rest?”

“No.” I sat my glass down. “Can I confide in you?”

Myra leaned forward and suddenly reminded me of an eager puppy that was expecting a treat. “You know you can confide in me, dear. And whatever you tell me in trust will stay right here in this room.”

“All right. Remember when we talked about Mr. Dobbs and how Janey Dobbs doesn’t like him working with Candy?”

“Yeah.”

I clamped my lips together as I tried to decide how to phrase my question.

“Go on,” Myra urged.

“Do you think Candy and Mr. Dobbs are having an affair?”

“Of course, I do. The whole town does. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe it was possible that Candy had a crush on Mr. Dobbs but that he didn’t feel the same way.”

Myra scoffed. “Darlin’, you’ve seen Kellen Dobbs. Do you think he’s one to make a young woman’s heart go pitter-patter?”

“I wouldn’t believe he could make anybody’s heart go pitter-patter. He certainly doesn’t do a thing for me. Still, Candy must see something in him.”

“Yeah. She sees dollar signs. She’s hoping he’ll leave Janey for her.”

“But you told me everything belongs to Janey.”

“It does. That don’t mean Kel Dobbs has told Candy that.”

“Then you think Mr. Dobbs is playing Candy for a fool…stringing her along?”

Myra gave me a half smile. “If the girl is having a fling with a married man, she’s a fool already. Don’t you think?”

“For some reason, I feel sorry for her. I think she really cares about Mr. Dobbs.” I told Myra about the cake. “She was so excited. She reminded me of a little girl at Christmas. She was a cake decorator’s dream client.”

“Maybe she does have feelings for the man.” She cocked her head. “But I still say she should’ve known better than to get involved with him. She’ll wind up with a broken heart and no job when old Kel decides to move on. Just you wait and see.”

“Do you think Mr. Dobbs loves his wife or that he just stays with her for the money?”

“You don’t cheat on somebody you love, Daphne.”

“No, you don’t.” It was inevitable for my thoughts to stray to Mom and Dad. Did she love him? Was it possible her infatuation with Vern March had been a passing fancy or that she’d felt some sense of obligation to Vern because of their past history? Because of their son?

I took another drink of my soda and tried to get my thoughts back on Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs. “How did those two get together in the first place?”

“Kel and Janey? Oh, honey.” Myra arranged herself into a more comfortable, this-might-take-awhile position. “You see, Janey was dating this young man who was in a band. His name was Elvis. He—”

“Elvis? Janey Dobbs was dating Elvis Presley?”

“No, not that Elvis. This was Elvis Collins. He played bass guitar, and he wasn’t all that good. The only reason he was even in the band was because of his brother Phil. Phil played the drums and was the band’s lead singer.”

My jaw dropped. “Phil Collins? Janey Dobbs dated Phil Collins’ brother?”

“Yes, she dated Phil Collins’ brother; and, no, he wasn’t
that
Phil Collins. These were a bunch of second-rate musicians who never amounted to much.”

“Gotcha. Sorry for the interruptions.”

“That’s all right. Anyway, Janey was pretty much dating a bum. Meanwhile, an industrious young fellow was working for Janey’s father in the snack food plant. He was in the accounting department. The boy knew how to manage money, and Janey’s daddy took a shine to him.”

“I’m beginning to see where this is going,” I said, “but the majority of kids—in the United States, at any rate—would hate anyone chosen for them by their dad.”

“True, but Janey was not the majority of kids. She was a relatively plain girl who’d rather die than be cut off from Daddy’s money.”

“And Kellen?”

“He’d had a rather lean upbringing. Now, all of a sudden, everything he’d ever wanted was within his reach.” She shrugged. “He’d probably never been in love and figured he could grow to love Janey as easily as he’d come to love her family’s fortune.”

“Wonder if he ever did fall in love with her?” I asked.

“That’s a question I can’t answer, honey.”

The oven timer rang to let me know Mrs. Dobbs’ cake was done.

*

It was almost dark, and it was difficult to drive and try to read the directions to Janey Dobbs’ house. Eventually, I turned onto Maple Lane. It was a dead-end street, and Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs lived at the end of it. I followed the winding driveway up a hill that made me wonder how Mr. Dobbs ever made it into town on slick winter mornings. And then, I was in front of the house.

No one could accuse the Dobbs of living in the low-rent district. While the other houses on the street had been impressive, the Dobbs’ house was the grandest of them all. The house was a two-story brick colonial that was six windows wide across the front. Given that the bottom windows were picture windows, I decided the two front rooms must be the living room and dining room.

Of course, this was merely conjecture on my part. I had two way-smaller-than-picture windows in my living room and no windows in my dining room. I did, however, have plenty of windows in my kitchen. I figured Mrs. Dobbs did, too, though. I mean, doesn’t everyone have windows in their kitchen?

I realized I was stalling and parked the car midway around the circular drive. There were no other cars in the driveway, so I doubted I’d be blocking anyone. Besides, another car could simply back out if need be.

If Mrs. Dobbs was having a party, none of her guests were here yet. That was to be expected, I supposed, but I would’ve thought the caterers would be here at the very least.

I took the cake from the passenger side of the car and walked up to the door. Mrs. Dobbs must’ve been watching for me. I didn’t even have to ring the doorbell.

“Right on time,” she said, opening the door with a broad smile. “I do admire punctuality. I have a bit of a reputation for being late myself.”

“I’ve been known to be late a few times,” I said with a laugh. “But when it’s for a client, I make an extra effort to be early or at least on time.”

“That’s good of you. Please come in.”

I preceded her into a wide foyer illuminated by a four-tier chandelier.

“Right this way, dear,” Mrs. Dobbs said.

I was right about the dining room. It was one of the rooms with the enormous picture windows. The furniture was cherry. There was a table for eight, a hutch and a side buffet. A brass and crystal chandelier hung above the table and shone on a white chrysanthemum centerpiece. Overall, it was an elegant room.

The table was set for two…but not at either end. One place setting was at the head of the table, but the other was to that person’s left . . . as if that person took a deferential position to the one who sat at the head.

I sat the cake on the table. “It appears Mr. Dobbs’ party is going to be an intimate occasion.”

“I do hope so, Daphne. I . . . .” She looked away. “I hope so.” She looked back at me. “I’m having Dakota’s deliver dinner.”

“Dakota’s delivers?”

She gave a tight smile. “We have an arrangement.” She glanced at the brass clock placed in the center of the buffet. “In fact, the young man should be here any minute.”

“Would you like to look at Mr. Dobbs’ cake before I go?”

“Oh, no, dear. I’m sure it’s lovely. If you’ll leave me your business card, I’ll have my accountant send you a check.”

“This one’s on me.”

“Nonsense. I’d feel terrible if you didn’t allow me to pay you.”

I took a business card from my purse and handed it to her. “I appreciate your business, Mrs. Dobbs.”      

“You’re quite welcome. I’ve heard you do marvelous work.”

“Really? May I ask from whom? I mean, I haven’t been in town that long . . . ”

“Yodel mainly. Yodel Watson. She might not have let on to you, but she was impressed with your work.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your sharing that with me.”

Mrs. Dobbs looked at the clock again. “I do hope Kellen gets here soon.” She lowered her eyes. “He’s so very dedicated to . . . the store.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can.” I moved toward the foyer, and Mrs. Dobbs walked me to the door.

“Do have a safe drive home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dobbs. Goodnight.”

As I left, Mrs. Dobbs was standing in the doorway. I didn’t know whether she was watching me leave or watching for her husband to come home. Either way, I could feel myself beginning to harbor some hostility toward Kellen Dobbs.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On Thursday, I awoke with a sense of purpose. I’d talked with Dad the night before and knew Mom was home and doing well; but the ghost of Jonah March would not let me see a minute’s peace. I had to find out if my mother and his mother were the same person. Most people—I’m thinking Violet here—would ask, “What difference does it make? The man is dead and gone.” But it did make a different to me. I wanted to know if Jonah had been my half-brother . . . if Joanne Hayden was my niece.

Since Mom’s latest episode, I doubted I could ever ask her anything about Vern March or an illicit pregnancy without making her heart explode . . . an event which would not only kill her but more than likely ruin the very bra she’d hoped to be buried in. Two major strikes against me in one fell swoop.

Please forgive me for being so flippant about my mother’s health. I do love her, but that woman and I have so much history…so much muddy water under our rickety bridge.

Anyway, I knew I couldn’t talk with my mother about the issues weighing on my mind—not to mention my heart—so I decided to look through public records. But where to start? Vern had been buried in Scott County. Something either Myra or Peggy had told me led me to believe he’d had family there. It made sense that he and Gloria would leave this town to get married, especially if they were going to falsify the license by having someone pose as Gloria’s mother. Scott County seemed to be my best bet.

I fed Sparrow, filled a travel mug with coffee and headed toward Scott County. By the time I got there, the courthouse should be open.

The fiery reds and golds and muted greens on the leaves had all turned brown on the trees I encountered along the way. Not many leaves were actually left on the trees, of course…only a few hung on, ignorant of their futility. Those stark, naked trees spoke to my soul as they lifted their limbs to heaven, seemingly entreating God for mercy. I, too, longed for His mercy. What would it do to me—how would it change my life—if I found out my mother had been married to Vern March and that they had had a son?

*

The Scott County courthouse loomed before me as I parked my car near one of the parking lot’s three-globed lamp stands. The building seemed to get even larger as I approached. I imagined Vern and Jonah March looking down on me from the octagonal tower atop the courthouse.

“That’s Gloria’s daughter,” I imagined Vern saying. “She’s here to learn the truth.”

I could practically hear Jonah’s mocking laughter. “Is she now? Is she really? The truth ain’t always what it’s cracked up to be. You can still get back in your car and go home, little girl.”

I could go home.

It’s odd that, in my mind, Jonah’s ghost had called me a little girl. Or maybe it wasn’t so odd. I did feel like a child—vulnerable, alone, getting ready to sneak a peek into her mother’s purse and afraid of getting caught. But I wasn’t taking a peek into a purse. I was taking a peek into the past. And I wasn’t afraid of getting caught but of what I’d find.