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

By the time I finished repeating my conversation with Carla Lattimore for what felt like the hundredth time, I was exhausted. Trooper Bob’s phone didn’t ring, which meant that Carla hadn’t been picked up, yet. For a brief moment, I was afraid he meant to make good on his threat about locking me up. However, the teens started making their way inside, and I took that opportunity to sneak out while he was distracted.

I sent Michael a text that I would meet him at Baby Cakes, and then I headed for my appointment with Jackson Abernathy.

I parked in my usual spot, in front of the sign Aunt Octavia had that read OWNER, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT PARKING HERE! That sign always brought a smile to my face. I was the owner. I snapped a picture and quickly uploaded it. #StillLove-OwningABusiness #StillLivingMyBestLife #GrandReopen-ingComingSoon

At least, I hoped I would be reopening and not sitting in jail.

I noticed Abernathy’s truck parked in front, but I didn’t see the mayor anywhere in sight. He’s probably shaking hands, kissing babies, and campaigning for votes. I also noticed Chris Russell’s Spider parked down the street. That McClaren Spider was hard to miss, especially in a town the size of New Bison.

I unlocked the back door and entered the bakery. The construction was done at last. The new bakery looked #Amazing. I walked through the entire building, snapping pictures. #NewDecorSameGreatTaste #GrandReopeningAllWelcome #BabyCakesBackInBusiness

I couldn’t help running my hands across nearly every surface. The glass display cases were empty, but I couldn’t wait until they were filled with cakes, cookies, and all kinds of delicious treats. The demonstration area was open and bright and just waiting for Leroy to work his magic. It was very different from the bakery I’d inherited from Aunt Octavia, but deep down inside, I knew she’d approve.

The construction crew had the building professionally cleaned, but I wanted to do something. I wanted to polish or sweep or bake. Since no groceries had been delivered yet, baking was out of the question. Besides, while my repertoire of items that I knew how to bake had increased, I wasn’t ready to get my new bakery dirty by actually baking something. So, I opened a closet and hunted for a broom and a dustpan. Just as I found the elusive dustpan at the back of the closet, I heard voices. For a few seconds, I stood up and strained to hear where they were coming from. That’s when I remembered the passage that connected Baby Cakes to the building next door.

I had never used the passage and didn’t plan to use it this time. Whoever Candy was entertaining, she didn’t need me dropping in on her. Broom and dustpan in hand, I was just about to close the door when I heard my name and stopped in my tracks.

Why would anyone be talking about me?

I strained against the back of the closet, but I could only hear every fifth or sixth word.

I should walk away. So what if they are talking about me? Maybe they want to buy cookies. It probably doesn’t mean anything.

I pushed the door to the passage open a crack. This is stupid. What am I thinking? Dumb woman enters a dark passage . . . ALONE had to be the dumbest classic horror mistake, EVER. Still, I took a deep breath, clutched my broom like a baseball bat, opened the door wider, and walked through.

This is stupid. I should absolutely NOT be walking down this passage.

I ignored my sage advice and followed the rumble of voices. I prayed that I wouldn’t see or hear anything scurrying around. When I estimated that I was mere feet from the coffee shop door, I stopped and listened.

The voices were clearer, but still I struggled to understand every word. I made out three different voices. One was Mayor Abernathy. One voice belonged to Chris Russell. The third voice was familiar, but still, I couldn’t quite make it out. In fact, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

I had a jolt and a moment of déjà vu as I remembered overhearing a conversation between Brad Ellison, Jackson Abernathy, and someone whose voice I couldn’t make out. In that moment, I had a strong desire to run. I didn’t care what they were saying about me. It didn’t matter. The blood rushed to my head. I was dizzy. My heart raced, and my hand shook.

I need to get out of here. I turned to leave and ran into a solid wall.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around me like a vise.

I took a deep breath and filled my lungs, prepared to scream, when a hand covered my mouth.

I wiggled but could barely move. My brain froze, and the blood pounded in my ears. I struggled to recall the self-defense classes I’d taken from the Navy. What was the acronym I was supposed to remember? SING, SIGN? Shin. Instep. Nose. Groin. Or was it Shin, Instep, Groin, Nose? Did the order really matter? I stopped struggling. The Admiral always said to Stop and Assess my situation. I decided that the instep was going to be my only option. I wished I was wearing my Louboutins rather than my Pyer Moss Sculpt sneakers, but I intended to put my entire body into the task.

I pushed back and heard a thud as my attacker’s back hit the wall of the tunnel. Just as I was about to deliver a crippling stomp, I leaned back and got a whiff of cologne. I recognized that scent.

Then, I felt two large paws on my shoulders as Baby stood up on his hind legs and licked my face.

I moved my head to avoid a sloppy mastiff kiss.

The hand on my mouth loosened. “Baby, off.”

“Shhh, what are you doing?” Michael whispered in my ear.

My knees buckled from relief. Before I hit the ground, Michael scooped me in his arms and carried me back through the passage, through the closet, and back to the Baby Cakes kitchen. He took me to one of the chairs in the demonstration area, got down on his knees, and checked my pupils and pulse.

“I’m fine.”

“People who are fine don’t collapse.”

I swatted away his hand. “They do when someone scares the crap out of them.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes reflected the concern I heard in his voice.

I reached across and kissed him. “I know you didn’t mean to scare me.”

He returned my kiss, and we lost track of time for a few moments. When we came up for air, he turned serious again. He gazed into my eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I grinned. “I’m a bit hot and bothered at the moment, but other than that I’m fine.”

“Well, I might be able to fix that.” He reached for me again.

There was a noise at the back door. Someone was entering the building.

Michael and Baby both went into protection mode. Both stopped, stood still, and listened. Baby gave a short bark and trotted to the back door. His tail was up, and he didn’t show any indications of fear. Whoever was coming into the bakery was a friend.

A few seconds later, I heard Tyler Lawrence’s voice. “Hey there, Baby. How are you, boy?”

I gasped. In that moment, I recognized the voice I’d heard earlier coming from Candy’s shop. Why was Tyler Lawrence talking with Jackson Abernathy and Chris Russell? Could Tyler’s voice have been the sinister voice I’d heard a few months earlier? The voice that promised, If she gets in my way again, I won’t miss next time.

After recognizing Tyler’s voice, Michael’s shoulders relaxed, but after hearing me gasp, he turned. His eyes asked for an explanation, but I merely shook my head.

“There you are.” Tyler came into the demonstration area. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. What brings you here?”

Michael’s tone was sharp, and Tyler stopped. “Hey, if I’m interrupting something, just tell me.”

I stood up and forced a smile. “You’re not interrupting anything important. We were just admiring the finished results. I can’t wait until all those display cases are filled.”

Tyler glanced around. “It looks great. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

“Thank you. I hope Aunt Octavia would approve.”

“Absolutely. She would love it.”

Michael was still in protection mode and not yet his normal friendly self. Tense and on high alert, he looked ready to pounce at any moment. I could feel the tension between the two men. I plastered on a big smile. “What brings you down?”

“I just came from talking to my friend at the bank,” Tyler said.

First lie.

“Really? Were you able to find out anything helpful?”

“Just twenty-four hours before Clayton Davenport was murdered, Jackson Abernathy withdrew nine thousand, nine hundred dollars from his savings account in cash.”

“That’s curious,” I said. “Why such an odd amount?”

“Just under the limit for federal reporting?” Michael said.

Tyler nodded. “Exactly.”

I glanced from Tyler to Michael. “I don’t understand.”

“Financial institutions are required to report withdrawals of sums over ten thousand dollars to the federal government,” Michael said.

Tyler pulled a notebook from his pocket and read. “It’s called structuring. It’s supposed to help against money laundering. Apparently, it’s part of the Bank Secrecy Act from 1970.”

Michael’s shoulders relaxed, but I could tell by the way he flexed his hands, he was still not fully at ease. “The act was modified in 2002 by the Patriot Act to try to stop the funding of terrorist organizations after 9/11.”

“That’s what my friend told me too,” Tyler said, flipping through his notes. “Although the Patriot Act included a lot of other things and expired in 2020.”

“Okay, so Abernathy withdrew just under ten thousand dollars,” I said. “What’s the big deal? Maybe he wanted to go shopping?”

Based on the way Tyler and Michael stared at me, I had obviously put my foot in my mouth.

“What?”

“Most people don’t withdraw ten grand to go shopping,” Michael said.

“Whatever. Well, that’s great. Nice job, Tyler.”

“Wait, it gets better. The same day that Abernathy withdrew nine thousand, nine hundred dollars, Clayton Davenport deposited nine thousand, nine hundred dollars cash into one of his numerous bank accounts.”

“That’s a big coincidence,” I said.

“If you believe in coincidences, which I don’t, then it’s a big coincidence,” Michael said.

I was still flustered, but I wanted . . . needed to know what Tyler was doing with Abernathy and Russell. “Did you just leave the bank?”

“Yeah. It’s going to cost me a dinner, but that’s it.” His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and a flush rose up his neck. “I need to take this. I’ll talk to you guys later.” He hurried out the back with his phone cupped to his ear.

When he was gone, Michael turned to face me. “Okay, what was that about?”

Briefly, I told him about hearing Tyler’s voice from Candy’s shop while I was in the tunnel.

Michael listened patiently. “Could you make out what he said?”

I shook my head. “No. I only recognized his voice, but I couldn’t make out what they were talking about.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t the voice you heard a few months ago in Abernathy’s office?”

I thought. “No. I recognized Brad Ellison and Jackson Abernathy the last time. I didn’t recognize the third voice.”

“So, it might not have been Tyler.”

I flopped down in the chair. “I really hope it wasn’t Tyler, but if he wasn’t mixed up in this mess, then why was he meeting with Abernathy and Chris Russell? And why did he lie about it? If it was just an innocent meeting, then why not just say, Hey, Maddy. Guess what. Mayor Abernathy just commissioned an alpaca sweater for Christmas?”

“Jackson Abernathy doesn’t strike me as an alpaca sweater kind of guy.”

“No wardrobe is complete without an alpaca sweater.” I waved away the joke. “No, there’s something going on between them. Something Tyler didn’t want to talk about. Remember, Aunt Octavia said she thought she had a ‘spy in her camp.’ What if Tyler was the spy? And who was that call from? Did you see the way he turned red? And he didn’t just say, Oh, this is my friend Lisa calling, I need to take this. He didn’t want us to know who it was.”

Michael frowned. “Who’s Lisa?”

“I don’t know. I made it up. I was just making a point.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with Tyler.”

“No, you’ll just scare him.”

“Me? Why would Tyler be scared of me?”

I tilted my head to the side, folded my hands across my chest, and glared. “Seriously, Dr. G.I. Joe? You military types can be very menacing to normal civilians when you get all . . . special ops, flexing muscles, like I can kill you with a paper clip.”

He laughed. “I have never said I could kill someone with a paper clip.”

I raised a brow and gave him the look. “But can you?”

He paused a beat. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

Before he could answer, my phone vibrated. I had a text. I responded and glanced up. “That was Jackson Abernathy. He said he’s going to be late.”

“Why?”

Before I could respond, my phone rang. When “Anchors Aweigh” played, I didn’t need to look at the picture to know who was calling. For a moment, I thought about sending it to voicemail, but at the last minute I changed my mind. “Hi, Dad.”

Conversations with the Admiral didn’t often require a great deal of input from me, especially when he was in a mood, which he almost always was. Today was no different. The theme for today’s rant centered around the dangers of New Bison. I put the phone on speaker, sat down, and waited: “Two murders in a town with less than two thousand people is a dangerous place to be. And how are you mixed up in this? If you took the time to think instead of making impulsive decisions, you would have figured out a way to offload the bakery and move to a town where you’d be safe. This is why you need a husband. You need someone responsible to help you make decisions.”

Baby had a psychic sixth sense that honed in on when I needed extra attention. He came and put his head on my lap and looked up at me with his big, soulful eyes. His eyes radiated the love and affection he had for me and helped bolster my self-esteem.

I gazed into Baby’s eyes and zoned out on my dad’s well-meaning but completely soul-shattering rant. I’d had a couple of decades to perfect the art of tuning out the Admiral. I completely forgot that Michael was still there. That is until he reached over and took the phone.

“Sir, you don’t know me, but my name is Michael Portman. I’m a veterinarian, a veteran of the Army, and your daughter’s boyfriend. I heard what you’ve said. I’ve only known your daughter for three months, but you obviously don’t know her at all. Madison is smart, funny, intelligent, clever, and caring. She’s a successful business owner with an amazing skill for marketing. If you can’t recognize that, then I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stand around and allow anyone to speak that way to the woman I love.” His voice was soft but full of iron. He pressed End and handed the phone back.

I stared at him.

He took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I couldn’t take the way he was talking about you.”

I stood up and flung myself in his arms and kissed him hard.

When he came up for air, he stared in my eyes. “You realize I’ve just destroyed any chance that your father will like me. He’ll probably disown you and may send a submarine to attack New Bison.”

I gazed into his eyes. “He won’t disown me. I’m the only family he has, but if he does, so what?” I shrugged. “I don’t need his money. I’m an independent businesswoman with a successful bakery. And I have the support of a wonderful man who isn’t afraid to stand up for me. What more could a girl ask for?”

He kissed me, and I lost all sense of time until Baby had enough of being ignored and got up on his back legs and forced his way in between us.

Michael smiled and scratched Baby’s ears. “Obviously, I’m going to need to have a conversation with your dog next.”

Baby’s ears perked up. He gave a short, quick bark and then trotted out of the room.

Michael stopped and stood perfectly still.

“Hey, Baby,” Candy Rivers cooed. “Have you been a good boy?”

Michael’s shoulders relaxed for the second or third time since he’d arrived.

Candy and Baby came around the corner. She saw Michael and stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

We stepped apart.

“You’re not interrupting,” I said.

She entered the demonstration room. “This place looks amazing. When is the grand reopening?”

“I hope tomorrow. I was waiting for Jackson Abernathy to sign off on the final paperwork for the insurance. He was supposed to come today, but—”

“Oh, he just left. He looked awful.”

“Really? Is he sick?”

She shook her head. “Worried. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He kept mumbling about something falling apart.” She leaned close and whispered, “I think he’s in some kind of trouble. I guess that’s why he needed to talk to Chris. He must’ve needed to talk to a lawyer pretty badly.”

“Really? I don’t suppose he mentioned why?”

“No idea. Chris asked if I’d mind giving them a little privacy. You know, client privilege or something like that. I decided to do a little shopping.” She turned away so I couldn’t see her eyes, but I did notice a flush go up her neck.

“Was it just the two of them?” I asked.

“What?” Candy snapped out of a daydream. “I guess so, yeah. I didn’t see anyone else.”

Michael and I exchanged a glance.

Candy wasn’t artfully deceptive enough to be a good liar. Tyler could have come and gone while she was out, so she never saw him. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe I hadn’t really heard his voice. I was almost certain I had. But, then again . . . I shook myself like Baby in an attempt to clear my head. Now wasn’t the time for waffling. I had heard Tyler’s voice. I needed to stick to the facts.

“Candy, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

She smiled. “Of course not. I’m an open book.”

Before I could ask, Michael stepped forward. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Coward,” I said. “You’re willing to take a Navy admiral on full steam, but you run away from a conversation between two women?”

“I know my limitations.” He kissed me and left.

When he was gone, I turned to Candy and gave her the sly let’s have some serious girl talk look. “I’m just curious about you and Chris Russell. Are you two serious? I mean, when Clayton Davenport was killed, I couldn’t help but notice his fancy sports car parked out back, and he made it down here in record time.” I winked.

“That just happened. I mean, he came up to go over some documents with me about the building and Paul’s will, and then we decided to have a drink . . . or two or three. We had a lot of drinks.” She giggled. “The next thing I knew, I woke up butt naked, and he was right there, snoring.”

My brain was going one hundred miles an hour. “So . . . you don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head and leaned closer. “I’m afraid to tell him I don’t remember it. Men can be so sensitive. Plus, he’s been super nice and attentive. He sends me flowers every day, which is sooo cool.”

“And neither of you . . . left?”

“For what?”

“You know . . .” I gave her a knowing look, even though I had no clue what I was implying or hinting about.

“Oh . . . no. I’m covered.” She shook her head. “Good thing too.”

I needed to try a different tactic. “I’m sorry if I woke you when I called.”

“You didn’t wake me. I didn’t even hear the phone. Chris told me what happened when I woke up. Frankly, I’m surprised he woke up. Both of us are really sound sleepers. I got up once to go potty, and he didn’t budge. I could have tap danced on the kitchen table and he wouldn’t have woke up.”

Isn’t that interesting. I’d pretty much discounted Candy as a suspect in Clayton Davenport’s murder because she was having a romantic interlude with Chris Russell all night. But Candy could have snuck downstairs and stabbed Clayton Davenport, and Chris Russell would have slept through it. Ugh . . . I didn’t want my mind to go there. I liked Candy, and I didn’t want to believe that she killed Clayton Davenport.

“So many men have a crush on you. You have your pick of suitors. Why Chris Russell?”

She scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s a lawyer, and he’s super smart.”

“And . . .” I egged her on to share more.

“And I’m really flattered that he asked me out . . .”

“Why do I sense a but coming?”

“But I don’t know. I mean, it just feels wrong.”

“Oh, Candy, I’m sorry. I’m sure it must feel wrong to be dating again, so soon after your husband’s death. It has only been three months.” I reached over and squeezed her hand.

She shook her head. “It’s not that. Paul and I were over long before he was murdered. We were separated, and I know now that I wasn’t really in love with him.” She used air quotes around love. “I think I was flattered. He was the mayor, and he talked about a lot of nice things.” She paused and then shrugged again. “I think I feel much the same about Chris. He’s so, so smart. I feel flattered that he wants to go out with me. He went to college and then law school, and I barely finished high school. I know I’m not very smart, and most men just want . . . well, you know, but when I tell people I’m dating a lawyer, then they look at me differently. They treat me differently.”

In that moment, I felt closer to Candy Rivers than ever before. We were both insecure. While my insecurity came from my dad’s criticism of my decision-making ability, Candy was young and beautiful, but she was also insecure because she didn’t feel smart enough.

“Candy, you are smart. You’re opening your own business.”

“Maybe, I mean, I wasn’t smart enough to verify that Paul was divorced before I married him. That was pretty dumb.”

“Actually, I don’t think you were dumb at all.” I thought for a few minutes. I felt confident that Trooper Bob wouldn’t want me spreading rumors or sharing what I found out from Carla Lattimore. But, he didn’t tell me I couldn’t talk about what I knew. Of course, I’m sure he didn’t think that I’d run into Candy Rivers right after I left his house. Besides, it would all come out soon anyway.

I shared. I told Candy that Marjorie was really Carla Lattimore and that it was all a big scam.

Candy stared at me open-mouthed. “But where is the real Marjorie?”

“No idea. But maybe your lawyer friend could look into it and find her.”

She squealed and hugged me. “You are amazing. That’s the best news I’ve heard in days. I can’t wait to go tell Chris.” She hopped up from her seat. She reached down and threw her arms around Baby’s neck. “You big, wonderful boy. You are such a good boy. Aunt Candy is going to find you a nice big bone.” She stood up and turned to me. “And you get free red-eye coffees for life!” She hugged me again and then hurried out of the back door.

I stood in the same spot and stared at the door. “I wonder if the local penitentiary has a coffee shop. Because you just might be making those red eyes behind bars.”