Murder Gone A-Rye (A Baker's Treat Mystery) (2 page)

“Grandma, don’t be rude,” I chided her.

“It’s not rude when it’s the truth. Everyone here knows Willy Wonka would have a field day with that teen.” Her blue eyes sparkled with glee. “That’s what you should do with next year’s float.”

“What?”

“A Willy Wonka theme. We can invite Hutch’s kid to come drink out of the chocolate fountain. Or better yet, have him stomp around and say, ‘I want it and I want it now!’” Grandma snickered. “That kid’s mother is another one. If her boy wants it, it’s his. If something bad happened, her kid didn’t do it. If they weren’t Hutch Everett’s family, people wouldn’t put up with their nonsense.”

“Grandma!” I could feel my cheeks heating up as I glanced around. I was pretty sure everyone could hear her. Grandma Ruth had one of those voices that carried. When my mother was small, Grandma used to yodel when it was time for the kids to come home for supper. There wasn’t a place in town where you couldn’t hear her. She had a voice as big as her personality.

“It’s true. Maybe we should put them both on the Willy Wonka float.”

“I can’t blame Mrs. Everett for defending her child. Family is family, Grandma. You know as well as I do that blood is thicker than water. There isn’t a member of our family you wouldn’t defend in a heartbeat—is there?”

“No.” Grandma pouted. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t deliver a good swat when it was needed. Speaking of family, doesn’t Lucy have a float this year?”

Lucy was my oldest cousin. When you had fifty-two cousins on your mom’s side alone it was sometimes hard to remember who was who, but Lucy and I were close. Lucy owned Grandma’s Diner, two blocks from my bakery on Main Street. She bought out the original owner, “Grandma” Irene Nast, when Mrs. Nast retired to Phoenix to live with her children. Lucy was only two years older than me, but while I was still considering having children, Lucy’d had hers early enough that she was already a grandma. It was a thought that I didn’t want to contemplate too closely.

The diner usually had a float in the parade, and Lucy’s five kids would hand out treats.

“Simon has that band trip,” I reminded Grandma Ruth. Simon was Lucy’s second youngest. He played saxophone in the high school band.

“A band trip? Over Thanksgiving? Who does that?” Grandma groused. Her frown was huge. “He’s going to miss my float debut.”

“He’s marching in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City.” I handed her a basket trimmed with paper flowers. “It’s a big honor.”

“He’ll be on television,” Tasha said. “You should be proud.”

“Wait, my great-grandson is going to be on television and you’re making me sit on a wooden trailer, hand out cookies, and miss his performance?”

“You won’t miss it, Grandma.” I straightened and put my hands on my hips. “I plan on recording the Macy’s parade and playing it when everyone is over for dinner. You won’t miss a thing. You’ll be fine. Besides, you told me you always wanted to be in the Homer Everett Day parade.”

“Is Grandma Ruth causing trouble again?” I turned around to see my brother Tim closing in on us. Tim was my favorite brother. While I loved my brother Richard, Tim and I had been partners in crime growing up. Now with all the new beginnings in my life, Tim had been there to keep me from falling too far into a funk.

“She thought she would miss Simon’s opportunity to play in the Macy’s parade.”

“I may still miss it,” Grandma said. “TV’s on the fritz.”

“Grandma, I said I would show it at my house when you’re over for dinner.”

“Now, you know I can’t be watching television when my babies are around.” She stuck her lip out in a pout.

“No worries, Grandma, we’ll take care of it.” Tim hopped up on the parade float and brushed a kiss on Grandma’s cheek, then just as quickly hopped off.

My brother was tall and lanky. The kind of man who had a grace to his movements. He brushed his shock of blond hair out of his face. “We can buy you a television, and I’m sure Toni will get you a copy to watch.”

“How about you get me one of those tablet thingies and I can stream the parade through Wi-Fi.”

“What do you know about Wi-Fi streaming?” I asked.

“I’m a lifetime Mensa member.” Grandma straightened in her seat. “There isn’t much I don’t know about.”

“I heard Mrs. Martle got a tablet and has been showing it off at the senior center,” Tasha said as she glued the last flower into place. “Roxanne Iger told me that the electronics department at Walmart can’t keep enough in stock.”

“Really?” It was hard for me to imagine senior citizens buying up tablet computers.

“We like to watch movies,” Grandma pointed out. “And we like to ride on floats and hand out cookies.”

“Wait, you said I was making you ride on the float—”

“Yes, but now that you’re buying me a tablet, I don’t mind so much. Tasha, did you know you can store hundreds of books on those things?”

I made a face and turned my back. Tim chuckled. Grandma had a way of getting what she wanted every time. I bet she planned that whole conversation. It wasn’t like her to complain about her television—which, by the way, was a flat screen that I bought her this time last year. I stepped down off the trailer with a long sigh. I’d been had by a ninety-year-old woman. At least I could use the fact that she was a lifetime member of an organization for geniuses. It didn’t make me look so stupid.

“N
ice float.”

I turned to see Brad Ridgeway leaning on one of the metal poles that held up the roof. Why did the sight of him always make my heartbeat pick up? Was it his electric-blue eyes? The wide cut of his shoulders? The thick blond hair now sporting white at the temples? How was it that the man managed to still look like he was a teenage heartthrob?

“Thanks.” I stepped toward him without thinking about it. Today he wore a tailored dress shirt tucked into nice-fitting Levi’s. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek. “Are you working on a float?”

“Elks club.” He pushed away from the beam. “What gave it away? My workman’s tool belt or the cut on my thumb?”

His words had my gaze going to his belt. What was it about a man with a tool belt slashed across his hips? I forced myself to concentrate on the bandaged thumb he held out. “Neither,” I admitted. “It was the smudge on your cheek.”

“There’s a smudge?” He rubbed at his face, smearing whatever the smudge was until he had a long dark streak.

“More than a smudge now.” I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket. “May I?”

“As long as you don’t wet it with spit.”

I stepped in close and took a deep breath of warm male and starch. “Man, you take all the fun out of things.” I reached up and wiped the dirt off. I really didn’t want to step back. I really didn’t, but we were in a very public place, he was my lawyer, and I had sworn off dating.

His blue eyes sparkled and the temperature in the building sizzled. I took two big steps back. “So which float is the Elks club’s?” I congratulated myself for being nonchalant in the face of all his glory.

He reached over and put his hands on my forearms, turning me to the right. “It’s the one with the giant bust of Homer Everett.” He pointed unnecessarily and leaned forward far enough that I was enveloped in the heat from his body. “You can’t see it with your eyes closed.” His words were whispered near my ear.

I popped my eyes open and glanced around to see if anyone else had caught me nearly leaning back into him. Grandma Ruth, Tim, and Tasha were in a heated discussion about the merits of one brand of tablet over the next. No one else in the building seemed to notice how close we stood, so I pretended my skin didn’t have prickles on it.

“Not the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you mean ‘not the worst’? I have it on the best authority that ours is this year’s winning float.”

I turned to find him smirking. “Whose authority?” I placed my hands on my hips and widened my stance. I could feel my chin rising. “The floats aren’t even finished yet.” I waved my right hand about as if the state of incompleteness in the room wasn’t obvious.

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.” He leaned in to kiss me and I stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I would never kiss a man who keeps secrets.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not kissing.” He laughed, straightened, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his perfect-fitting jeans as he walked away.

“Lawyers,” I muttered. “Don’t ever trust them.”

“Don’t trust who?” Grandma Ruth was back in her scooter of death.

“Lawyers.” I tried real hard not to turn around and stare as Brad walked away. Instead I concentrated on Grandma’s scooter with the tall red triangle flag waving in the air. My father had attached it to the scooter when Grandma’s driver’s license was first taken away. He thought it would give her some measure of safety. I, personally, thought that he should have installed wide bumpers all around, but he’d fallen ill and passed away before he could do it. The thought crossed my mind that he may have actually purchased bumpers. If that was the case they would be out in our old carriage house somewhere. I should go look.

“Oh, come now. Brad gave you good advice last month in that murder case you solved.”

“You think his telling me to stop investigating was good advice? You’re the one who pushed me into it in the first place.”

Grandma looked away. “Oh, that reminds me. I think I’ve found another mystery we can solve.”

“Grandma, I run a bakery. I don’t solve mysteries.”

“But you’re so good at it. What about last month? I know you were successful figuring that out.”

“I also promised everyone I’d give up crime solving, remember?”

“No worries.” Grandma put her scooter in gear and pushed her fedora down hard over her short orange hair. “This is a mystery right now, not a crime. No one said you couldn’t solve mysteries.”

“Grandma—”

“Bill and I will be over for dinner tonight to discuss the mystery. See you at eight
P.M
.” Grandma dodged through the float makers before I could comment.

I glanced at Brad. He waved at me from his professional-looking float. Seriously, it looked like it could have been a corporate float from the Rose Parade. I scowled. Maybe he stole it from the Rose Parade. I didn’t want to think about how impractical it would be to get a float from Pasadena to Oiltop, Kansas. Maybe he brought in a float designer. Either way, he made my float look like a junior high project.

I blew out a long breath and knocked my frizzy bangs out of my eyes. There wasn’t enough time to fix it. I would have to hope that the cookies would score me points.

Not that I expected to win. This was my first parade, but at the time I signed up I’d hoped for at least an honorable mention plaque. You know, something I could put up in the bakery window that would help me become more accepted in the community.

If my bakery was to be a success, I needed to try as hard as I could to fit in. No matter what Grandma Ruth said, I was a baker, not an amateur sleuth. My goal was for the community to think of tasty gluten-free baked goods first and murder last.

M
y cell phone rang as I exited the fairgrounds four hours later. A quick look at the time and I knew it was Grandma Ruth. I was late to dinner, and since she expected me to cook, I would not be excused for being tardy.

“Hi, Grandma, there are chips in the pantry and spinach dip in the fridge.” But then she should have known that. Grandma and Bill were never shy about helping themselves to food at my house. It had been her house first.

“Toni, honey, I’m not at the homestead.” Grandma’s tone was loud and excited. “I’m at the police station.”

“I told you, you should have paid those overdue traffic tickets.” I mentally sighed. Hard. “I’ll be right there to bail you out. It better not be more than a few hundred dollars, because that’s all I have in my checking account at the moment.”

Grandma laughed low and throaty, ending in the cough of a lifetime smoker. “Oh, no, this isn’t about my tickets.”

I stopped in my tracks and scowled. “Did something happen to Bill?”

“No, silly.” She switched to a stage whisper. “I’m a murder suspect.”

There was a long pause as I swore to myself I had heard the wrong thing. “What?”

“Do you think they’ll book me? I’ve always wanted to see how they do mug shots and fingerprints.”

Okay, something was really, really wrong. “Don’t say anything, Grandma!” I unlocked the bakery’s white van and jumped up into the driver’s seat. “I’ll call Brad. Seriously, lawyer-up, Grandma, please . . . for me.”

“Now you know I don’t need a lawyer. I’m a lifetime Mensa member.”

“Grandma, everybody needs a lawyer. That’s why we have them.”

“But, honey, it’s so much fun. They ask me all sorts of interesting questions. I question them back, of course. That’s why they had to take a break.”

“Grandma . . .” I put the phone on speaker and backed out of my parking space. “Is this your one phone call?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll get more phone calls. They’re really nice young men. One brought me coffee. Another said he might even take me out back for a smoke if I cooperate.”

“Grandma!”

“Don’t worry, dear, I know better than to incriminate myself. Oh, here they come, I’d better hang up. Isn’t this exciting? Do you think they’ll try good cop/bad cop? I’ve always wondered how they did that.”

The phone went dead. My heart beat in my throat as I gripped the steering wheel. I could barely see the road through the terror and rage at the fact that the police had my grandma in for an interview. For crying out loud, the woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. The most she’d ever done had been accidentally running over a squirrel with her scooter, and even then she swore the squirrel was suicidal. Badly suicidal at that, since she simply knocked it out. By the time she’d gotten off her scooter to check its pulse, the squirrel had gotten up, shaken its head clear, and run away.

“Call Brad Ridgeway.” My voice shook as I ordered my phone to dial while I drove. After Tasha’s last boyfriend had attacked us I had gotten a new cell phone. One programmed with voice command.

“Hey, Toni, what’s up?” Brad’s voice was rich and deep.

“Grandma Ruth needs a lawyer . . . now.”

“Calm down. What’s going on?”

I hated it when people told me to calm down. It usually had the opposite effect on me. It made me want to strangle someone. “Grandma Ruth called me. She’s at the police station in the interview room. Brad, I don’t know what’s going on, but she said she was a murder suspect.”

“It’ll be all right,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

“You don’t know her, Brad.” I turned a corner a tad too fast, and the tires squealed. “She’ll confess to something only to see what happens next.”

“I’ll call Blaylock and tell him to stop until I get there.”

“Thank you.” I pushed hard on the gas pedal as I careened down Central Street. I didn’t care if I got a ticket. In fact, getting a squad car to follow me to the station would be a good thing at this point.

It seems there’s never a police car around when you want one, though. I made it to the station in record time, parking crookedly and hopping out before the van was completely stopped.

“Where’s the fire?” Bill Aimes, Grandma Ruth’s current love interest, strolled across the parking lot, cane in hand, Fedora on his head. Five years younger than Grandma, Bill liked his food as much as she did, and it showed. Tonight he wore a corduroy suit coat over a tweed vest and white shirt. His dark pants clashed with his bright white athletic shoes.

“They’ve got Grandma.” I took long strides and hit the door first. I opened it and waited as Bill took forever to make the short walk to the door.

“I know. I bet she’s having a blast.”

I rolled my eyes. “She needs a lawyer.”

“HA!” Bill snorted. “More like the police need lawyers.”

“Can I help you?” Stan Lomis sat behind the reception desk in full police blues.

“I understand you have my grandma, Ruth Nathers, in interview. I need to see her.”

“Have a seat and someone will be out to speak to you.” Stan pointed to the row of four plastic chairs that looked as if they had been purchased in the ’80s from a thrift store.

I glared at the twentysomething gatekeeper. “I will not. I demand to see my grandmother right now.”

“You can demand all you want.” Stan went back to filling out paperwork. “Unless you’re her lawyer, you can’t see her.”

“Have a seat, Toni.” Bill shuffled over to the chair closest to the window. “This could take a while.”

I leaned over the counter and put my face inches from Stan’s. He didn’t scare me. I changed his diapers when he was little. Since I was twelve at the time and I’m now forty, he had to be twenty-eight years old. “I want to see my grandma now!”

He raised a blond eyebrow and stared back. “Only lawyers are allowed in the back with suspects.”

“I could be a lawyer.”

He didn’t even blink.

I let the staring match go on until it grew uncomfortable. Luckily Brad came through the door and broke the standoff.

“Hey, Stan, I’m here for Ruth Nathers.” At six foot seven inches, Brad was far more intimidating than I was, even when he was dressed in jeans.

Stan hit a button, and the door to the back clicked open. I dashed over, but Brad must have anticipated my move.

He blocked the door with his arm. “I’d better handle this alone.” His electric-blue gaze had me stopping in my tracks. Darn it. Why was I so susceptible to commands from good-looking men?

“But—”

“I don’t want to have to represent you for unlawful conduct.” His tone was firm, and he had the nerve to close the door in my face.

“I expect a full report!” I shouted through the bulletproof glass.

He didn’t even bother to turn back; he simply waved me off. I might have cursed something dark and ugly. I might even have flung my arms around.

Bill laughed heartily.

I spun toward him. “What?!”

“You are so much like your grandma.”

Oh my god, I am nothing like my grandmother.
I stormed over to Stan but discovered he had conveniently disappeared. I pulled out my cell phone and called Brad.

He didn’t even say hello when he answered the phone. “Sit down, Toni.”

I narrowed my eyes and refused to budge. “What’s going on? Is she okay? What are they doing to her?”

“Tell her it’s more like ‘The Ransom of Red Chief,’” I heard Grandma holler through Brad’s phone.

“I told you not to say anything, Ruth,” Brad’s voice rumbled through the phone. “I mean it.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Now, Toni, hang tight. I don’t have the facts yet.”

I paced the reception area. “Then keep me on the phone.” I was desperate to find out what was going on. “I’ll be quiet and listen. I promise.”

“Good-bye, Toni.” Brad hung up.

I hit redial but it only rang once and he hung up on me—again. I wanted to fling the phone across the room. Impatience was a redhead trait. As the strawberry blonde version of my family’s red, I always thought I should show more restraint. My shoulders slumped and I tucked my phone back into my purse.

Bill removed his hat and patted the bright orange chair next to him. “Have a seat. Ruth’s in good hands.”

“No.” I could be stubborn simply to be stubborn. “What did she mean by ‘The Ransom of Red Chief’?”

“It’s a wonderful O. Henry short story.” Bill shook his shaggy gray head. “Sometimes your lack of education is appalling.”

“I’ve read O. Henry,” I muttered, and sat down in spite of myself. “If Grandma is being uncooperative it will make things worse. That’s what I was afraid of.” I blew out a breath. “Do you have any idea what this is all about?”

“No clue.” Bill intertwined his fingers and rested his hands on his portly belly. I had to say one thing for the man—he knew how to dress. I kept thinking he looked like a strange version of the Burl Ives snowman from
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
.

Grandma Ruth loved characters, and Bill loved Grandma, so who was I to judge? I was hardly an expert at love. My marriage had been a disaster from the start.

I paced some more. “He’s been in there a long time. Surely he knows something by now.” I grabbed my phone and went to punch Brad’s speed dial number when Police Chief Blaylock walked into the building. He had a scowl on his face.

“Just the man I wanted to see.” I practically leapt on him. “What do your men think they’re doing holding my grandmother for questioning? She’s in her nineties. Something like this could kill her.”

Bill stood, his cane creaking. “Who’d she kill?”

“She didn’t kill anyone.” I scowled at Bill then turned to the chief. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t give out details of an ongoing investigation,” Chief Blaylock stated. He took off his hat and scrubbed the top of his bristled crew cut with a heavy hand. “Does Ruth have a good lawyer?”

“Brad Ridgeway is in there with her.” I didn’t like the pit of sickness that had settled in my stomach.

“Good, she’ll need him.”

“I’m going to ask again, who did Ruth kill?”

I sent Bill an evil glare that should have withered him, if he’d been paying any attention.

“Lois Striker is dead.”

“Good!” Bill said.

“What?” I asked.

Bill and I spoke at the same time. I scowled at him. “Wait, Lois Striker is dead?
The
Lois Striker, queen of the Chamber of Commerce?”

“Yes. She was found early this evening.”

“And you think it may be murder?”

“We know it’s murder,” Chief Blaylock said.

“How?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“At least tell me where she was found.”

“Toni . . .” He shifted uncomfortably.

“Fine, you can’t tell me any details, but you think someone killed Lois Striker and Grandma Ruth is your suspect. Are you kidding me?”

“Everyone knows there was no love lost between Ruth and Lois,” Bill piped up.

“You’re not helping, Bill.” I put my hand on his arm as if I could shut him up by touching him. “Can you tell me when Lois died? Grandma Ruth was with me today. I can be her alibi.”

Chief Blaylock played with the brim of his hat. “I can’t discuss anything with you, Toni. I won’t jeopardize my case.”

The door to the back of the building opened and Brad stepped out with Grandma clutching his arm.

“Grandma, are you okay?” I rushed to her and hugged her tight.

She gave a husky laugh. “Of course I’m okay.” She patted my back. “Bill, did you bring my walker? They’re keeping my scooter as evidence.”

“Your scooter?”

“I’ve got the walker in the car,” Bill said. “No sense in getting it out. I’ll bring the car around.” Bill popped his fedora on his head and ambled out.

“They’re keeping your scooter?” I glanced from Brad to the chief and back. “Why?”

“Get this,” Grandma said with excitement. “They found incriminating scooter marks near Lois’s body.”

“But half the people in assisted living use a scooter.” I sent the chief a withering look.

“Yes, but mine has all-terrain tires on it,” Grandma wheezed, then coughed and hacked so badly she had to cling to Brad to stay upright. Brad patted her awkwardly on the back and Grandma winked at me.

“There are at least six others with all-terrain tires,” I pointed out as I stepped in and took Grandma’s arms off Brad. She frowned at me.

“You take away all my fun,” she stage whispered. The chief choked behind his hand in what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Brad’s eyes twinkled. He all but winked at me.

“What’s going on?” Tim rushed into the police station. “Someone at work said that Grandma Ruth was in trouble and I should get to the police station.” He pushed me away from Grandma and put his arm around her slumped shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine as a fiddle.” Grandma waved a large, square, freckled hand. “Just having some fun with the detectives.”

“What?” Tim looked at me.

“Someone killed Lois Striker and the cops requested your Grandmother come in for an interview.” Brad crossed his arms.

“The questions they ask aren’t nearly as sly as I always thought they would be,” Grandma said. “It’s a wonder anyone gets prosecuted in this county.”