Murder is a Piece of Cake (A Baker Street Mystery Book 2)

I stared in silence.

“Say something,” April said.

“Wait. What do you mean, your husband?”

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated? You’re either married or you’re not. How is that complicated?”

April opened her mouth to respond but stopped when the bathroom door opened. A woman came in clutching the hand of a young boy, who looked to be three years old. The boy was screaming. “I don’t wanna go in there. That’s for girls.”

The young mother picked up the screaming boy and carried him into the stall, mumbling, “Just get in there.”

“Maybe we should go someplace where we can talk in private,” April said.

I nodded, and we left the bathroom.

“Baby Cakes? I want to see how the renovations are going, and we won’t be disturbed there, but you’ll need to drive. I came with Michael.”

April agreed.

I sent Michael a text letting him know to pick me up at Baby Cakes, and we headed out.

The drive from the town hall to Baby Cakes Bakery was short. We could have walked, but the breeze from Lake Michigan was brisk, and I’d opted for style over practicality and changed from my sneakers into the cutest-ever pair of tangerine-colored pumps. The four-inch heels weren’t a problem. I could run through the airport in four-inch heels without breaking a sweat. The problem was that the weather in Southwest Michigan was unpredictable, and while a Bottega Veneta pump could hold up to a lot of wear and tear, unlike the postal service they were not intended to endure rain, sleet, snow, and hail. All of which could make an appearance any given moment in Southwest Michigan.

April drove the short distance. Retail stores lined both sides of the two blocks of the area New Bison residents called downtown. Baby Cakes Bakery was on the corner of Main and Church Streets and was somewhat larger than the other businesses that occupied the block-long brick building filled with retail shops. The previous mayor used to own a hardware store next door. Now, his wife, Candace Hurston Rivers, was in the process of converting the hardware store into a high-end coffee shop. She’d converted the upstairs into a small apartment that she hoped to rent out. I was as excited for Higher Grounds Coffee and Tea as Candy was. While I was adapting to living in a small town, not having a high-end coffee house was one area where I hadn’t adapted. I longed for a truly good cortado or a red eye for those exceptionally difficult mornings. Michael said I was a coffee snob, and I’ll own it. I love a good cup of java. I was surprised to learn that Candy was so knowledgeable about coffee. When we met, she’d been a waitress at the New Bison Casino. However, the casino had a first-class coffee bar, which is apparently where she perfected her craft. Besides, a coffee shop next to a bakery would be good for business, so I was excited.

Next door to the soon-to-be coffee shop was Tyler’s Knitwear, followed by a small café and a store that sold used furniture, which the owner generously referred to as “antiques.” Across the street was a shop that sold soap, candles, and essential oils; Garrett Kelley’s bookshop; a small boutique women’s clothing store; and a custom jewelry store. Change in small towns is slow, but after the deaths of both Mayor Rivers and Garrett Kelley, things started changing quickly. There would be the new coffee shop, and a lot of activity had been happening at Garrett’s bookshop. Although, no one knew exactly what was planned for the space. The new owners were keeping their plans on the down-low, but I was making connections in New Bison, and I planned to unleash them to find out who had purchased the building and what their intentions were.

April and I went in through the back door. A few months ago, Baby Cakes had suffered damage when a fire was deliberately set to hide a murder. In the vein of converting lemons to lemonade, I’d used the insurance money to update the space. The kitchen had undergone a remodel previously, so that space had simply needed the replacement of anything damaged by smoke or water from the fire department. One side of the bakery had been where the baked goods were displayed and sold, and it had a few bistro tables. There was a wall that separated it from another space where Aunt Octavia had sold bakeware. I’d had the wall removed and opened the customer area up so that the bakery was light, bright, and airy. I’d gotten the idea of removing the bakeware and installing a kitchen where we could demonstrate baking techniques and offer cooking classes. The space wasn’t large. Leroy and I had argued over the configuration. However, after I saw the price tag for my dream—albeit pared down—version of Le Cordon Bleu, I nearly passed out. My design was beautiful, but April showed me that affording it with my budget would have meant giving up cable, internet, food, and shopping for two years. I probably could have managed without most of those things, but no shopping for two years was a deal breaker. Instead of a true cooking school with twelve moveable islands complete with ovens, cooktops, and prep areas, a space that would have made angels sing—and the Barefoot Contessa, Ina Garten, weep—we had a galley-style design with one massive island. There was an oversized double oven, two sinks, and a built-in refrigerator, but mostly the space was ideal for sitting around the island watching Leroy demonstrate various techniques.

April and I pulled up stools to the large white marble-topped island and sat. It took a few moments for her to gather herself enough to speak. I waited.

“I grew up not very far from here in a town a lot smaller than New Bison, if you can believe that.”

I couldn’t. Before moving to New Bison, I didn’t realize there were towns with only one zip code, one high school, one post office, and no shopping malls.

“Growing up, the only thing I had going for me were my looks. My mom entered me in one beauty pageant after another. By the time I was sixteen, I had a room full of trophies and ribbons and a closet full of expensive pageant dresses. I wanted to get away, do something with my life, but I wasn’t smart enough to do anything but walk in heels while wearing a bathing suit with a smile plastered on my face like the Joker from a Batman movie.”

Take away the bathing suit and Joker-esque smile and I saw a lot of myself in April. True, I’d attended a prestigious college, but deep down, we both lacked self-confidence. “April, you’re smart, brave, kind, and intelligent. You’re the freakin’ sheriff, for Gawd’s sake.”

She shrugged. “Maybe now, but back then I was just a scared kid who believed I was only good for one thing.” She gave me a pointed look.

I reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Clayton was one of the investors in the beauty pageant. I had just turned eighteen, and he was twenty years older, but he was handsome and rich. He showed me a world I didn’t know existed. Private planes, penthouse suites, and access to anything I wanted.”

She paused and I prodded. “But . . .”

“But there was another side to him. When it came to business or money, he was vicious. He had to win. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to win. If he thought someone had gotten the upper hand, he was relentless in seeking vengeance.” She stared into space as though gazing into a crystal ball of the past. “Clayton’s family had been poor, and he vowed he would never go through that again. He fought his way to the top of the financial dung pile. Only the best would do. He had to have the fastest cars. The biggest, most lavish houses . . . he had several. The most expensive custom-made suits.”

She grew quiet, and I added, “The prettiest wife?”

She nodded.

I gave her hand another squeeze. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t love me. I don’t even know if he cared two cents about me. All he wanted was perfection. I had to be the best. The prettiest. The most perfect wife at all times.” She took a deep breath. “He got into a battle over a business he wanted to acquire. But the guy he was fighting was just as rich and ruthless as he was. It was like some vicious chess match. Whenever one of them made a move, the other countered. CJ was furious. Whenever he thought he was making progress, he met a brick wall.” April frowned and tilted her head to the side. “The weird thing is that Clayton never met the guy. I mean, no one knew who he was or what he looked like.”

“How is that possible?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea, but I know Clayton tried everything to find out who he was. Apparently, he had dummy corporations set up in several countries and . . . well, I don’t understand it, but somehow, the guy sent Clayton a message offering to settle, on one condition.”

“What?”

“Clayton was to trade me for the business.”

I blinked several times and shook my head as I’d seen Baby do to clear the cobwebs. I couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me?”

I saw a tear drop onto the counter. I got off my barstool, went to the bathroom and got a box of tissues, and came back. I placed the box in between us and slid several tissues into her hand.

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore.”

When the waterworks slowed to a trickle, I said, “Please tell me Clayton told the guy exactly what building he could take a flying leap from?” Her silence hit me in the gut, and for a split second, I thought I would puke. “Are you kidding?”

She shook her head.

I reached across and pulled her into an embrace. I could feel her body shaking and felt her tears on the back of my neck. In that moment I was so angry, I could have happily strangled Clayton Jefferson Davenport with my bare hands. No human being deserved to be treated like a baseball card. We hugged until the tears slowed.

She pulled away, grabbed several tissues, and handed them to me before grabbing more for herself. We wiped away the residue of the conversation, but I couldn’t imagine what could erase the wounds left by her revelation. Whoever said Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you was wrong. I couldn’t imagine any physical violence that cut deeper than words.

I dreaded asking, but I had to know. “What did you do?”

“I walked out. I left the money, credit cards, clothes, everything.”

I was grateful that she valued herself enough to leave, but something bothered me. “He doesn’t sound like the type of man to just let you walk out. Did he try to find you?”

April avoided looking me in the eyes, and I knew she was holding something back, but now wasn’t the time to press her.

“Did you ever find out who the other man was?” I asked. “The one who wanted to . . . trade you?”

She shook her head. “At first, I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to avoid anything that would connect me to Clayton. Later, when I became sheriff, I tried. I hoped I could arrest him, but technically he hadn’t done anything wrong or illegal.”

“Nothing wrong? He’s a—”

April held up a hand to stop my tirade. “Nothing happened. So, propositioning a man to hand over his wife in exchange for business considerations isn’t illegal.”

“But . . . surely Clayton . . .”

“Still not illegal. Now, if he tried to force me to comply, then that would have been illegal.” She shrugged. “I was just so disgusted. If he thought he could have gotten away with it, he would have. The way he said it . . .” She shuddered. “I knew . . . I could see it in his eyes. When he saw my reaction, he flipped a switch. Suddenly, he was outraged by the audacity. But it was too late. I’d seen inside his soul, and I knew it was dark and evil. That was eight years ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Why is he here now?”

“I have no idea.” She gave me a hard stare. “But I’m scared.”