Murder By Muffin, page 10
part #3 of Whispering Bay Mystery Series
“What do I look like? Your errand girl?”
“Aren’t you the production assistant?” he sneers.
“Not my fault you and Pete got drunk Saturday night and tore up some beer hall. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have to clean up your messes anymore.”
Alan’s phone pings. “That’s my Uber. Look, Gilly, are you gonna help me or not?”
“I know The Draft House,” says Will. “I can drop that off if you want.”
“For real? Thanks, man.” He plucks the envelope from Gilly’s hand and gives it to Will. “Tell Dave I’m sorry. There should be enough cash in there to cover all the damages.” On his way out the door, he turns and mock-salutes Gilly. “Thanks for nothing.”
“Thank God I don’t have to deal with those two cretins anymore,” she mutters. She rises from her seat. “That’s enough questions. I need to pack.”
“You’re leaving too?”
“Tomorrow morning. Like Alan said, there’s no use staying here if we aren’t filming.”
“What will you do?”
She hesitates a moment before saying, “I’m going to be taking over Tara’s job until the network decides who they’re going to get to replace her. Which means I need to scout out more locations for our next season of Battle of the Beach Eats.”
“So Whispering Bay is definitely out?”
“I’m afraid so. Besides, we can only film here if the restaurants actually want to participate.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She frowns like she’s said too much. “I think you should go now, Lucy.” She gets up and turns her back on us. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
“So what’s the verdict?” Will asks. “Did Gilly kill Tara?”
I wait till we get inside the car to answer. “She’s sneaky, all right. Did you notice how she kept dodging my questions, or worse, answering my question with a question? It’s a classic case of redirection.”
“I take it that means you don’t know.”
“It’s not so simple. I just caught Gilly in a big lie. She said she was worried when she found Tara’s bed empty the morning of the murder, but concern wasn’t the emotion I picked up on. Gilly was terrified that Tara wasn’t in her bed.”
“Terrified? Couldn’t that be the same as really worried?”
“Sometimes, but not in this case. She wasn’t terrified for Tara; she was terrified for herself. This is twice now that I’ve gotten that same vibe from Gilly. When Rusty pulled me out of the meeting yesterday, she was panicked when she first saw him, which leads me to think she definitely feels guilty about something.”
“If she killed Tara, wouldn’t it stand to reason that she’d feel guilty?”
“Possibly. Or maybe her guilt comes from some other place. I’m not sure.”
“Is the Lucy-meter broken?”
“Be serious. This is what we know. Tara was found dead in my kitchen on Sunday morning. The time of death was between 2 and 3 a.m. According to an eyewitness, Tara left the beach house around two and she was driving erratically, which means she was already poisoned and feeling the effects. So why get in a car and drive if you feel badly? Why not call 911 or better yet, wake up your trusted assistant and ask for help? Unless said trusted assistant isn’t so trustworthy after all.”
“Let’s say Gilly did poison Tara,” Will says. “Maybe she didn’t mean to kill her. Maybe she only wanted to put her out of commission for a few days so Gilly could take over her job. Even if it was just temporary. You know, the old show-them-what-I-can-do-if-I-was-in-charge scenario? In case you didn’t notice, she got a big kick out of putting Alan in his place back there.”
“You know, that’s actually kind of brilliant.”
“I don’t know. Personally I think the whole thing is pretty sick.”
“Not the poisoning, dummy. Your theory on how it went down.”
I pull the car over to the side of the road. Will’s theory is more than brilliant. It makes total sense when you take into account the vibe I was getting from Gilly. How did I not think of it before him?
“It would explain why Gilly went looking for Tara Sunday morning,” I say. “Think about it: Gilly puts cyanide in Tara’s food or drink. Maybe even the whiskey she was drinking when I came to see her. Later that night, Tara starts to get sick. Maybe she threw up and Gilly starts to worry that she might have given Tara too much of the poison. They all go bed, and when Gilly wakes up, she goes to check on Tara. Only Tara isn’t in her bed, and her car is gone.”
“Okay,” Will says thoughtfully. “I’m with you so far.”
“Now Gilly’s in a total panic. If Tara went to the hospital, someone would eventually figure out that she’d been poisoned, so to cover her tracks, she laces my muffins with cyanide, putting the potential blame on me. She gets in her car to hunt Tara down and finds it parked in The Bistro parking lot.”
“Which brings up the question: What on earth was Tara doing at The Bistro?”
“I think Tara knew something was up, and she came to me for help.”
“Why you? She’d just kicked you off the show.”
“When I brought her the muffins, she asked me how I’d solved the El Tigre case. Maybe she knew she was being poisoned and she wanted me to figure out who did it.”
Will takes off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, Lucy. Do you really think Gilly is capable of poisoning someone? She seems more like a mouse than a lion.”
“In my experience of late, it’s the people you least suspect of murder that surprise you.”
“True,” he muses. “People aren’t always what they seem.”
Speaking of which. “That was nice of you to offer to take Alan’s envelope to that bar. What was it called again? The Draft House?”
Will shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“What’s it like?” I ask, curious, because I’ve never once heard Will mention the place.
“It’s a pool joint over in Panama City.”
“How come we’ve never gone there?”
“You wouldn’t like it. It’s kind of rough,” he says evasively.
Huh. I didn’t know Will played pool. Sometimes I feel like he has this secret life. Of all the people in the world, why is he the only one who can hide something from me?
“They don’t open till four, so there’s no use going before then,” he says.
“Okay, but I want to go with you. I’ve never been in a pool joint before.”
“Does that mean we’re done playing detective for now?”
“Not quite. Just because I think Gilly is the murderer doesn’t mean I’m not going to check everyone else out on that list. I’ve jumped the gun before, remember? No way am I doing that again. Plus, what did Gilly mean by that last cryptic statement of hers? About not being able to film a show unless all the restaurants want to participate? It sounds like I wasn’t the only person in that competition that had a beef with Tara.”
Will grunts in agreement. “So what do we do now?”
“We pay a visit to Whispering Bay’s best beach eats.”
He frowns. “Which ones?”
“All of them.”
Chapter Thirteen
The first place we go to is Heidi’s Bakery. Besides eliminating Heidi as a suspect, I have another motive for coming here. Even though muffins outrank all other forms of baked goods, I’m ashamed to admit that once in a while I get a craving for one of Heidi’s premium crumb cake doughnuts. We walk into the bakery at the same exact time something delicious comes out of the oven. Paco lifts his nose in the air to sniff appreciatively.
Normally when I come here, I do a hit and run. I order at the counter to take back to my place, so I’ve never actually sat at a table or looked at a complete menu. The café section is painted a cheery yellow. Blue and white gingham curtains add to the down-home look. The place is swarming with customers, some of whom I recognize as my regulars. Since The Bistro is currently closed under police order, I suppose they have no recourse but to come here. So I forgive them.
“Hey, Lucy!” Viola Pantini waves from a table by a window overlooking Main Street. Seated next to her is Gus Pappas and a few other members of the Gray Flamingos. They’re all munching on doughnuts and looking quite happy. Too happy, as a matter of fact. I need to solve this case and get things back to normal in Whispering Bay.
I wave back.
“Thanks for letting us bring Paco inside,” I tell Heidi as she shows us to a table. “I hate to keep him in the car unless I have to.”
“Not a problem.” She hands us menus. “How are you holding up, Lucy?”
While her question seems innocent enough, what Heidi really wants to know is what happened during my little visit to police headquarters. I could play a game of dodge and evade, but that’s not why we’re here. We’re here to get answers.
“As well as can be expected considering someone is trying to frame me for Tara’s murder.”
Heidi sucks in a breath. “Is that what the police think?”
“It’s the truth. Someone laced my muffins with cyanide. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”
Will hides his face in the menu. “Uh, what’s good here?”
“Everything,” Heidi snaps. She turns back to me. “Did you just accuse me of killing Tara?”
“Lucy is joking,” says Will.
“Well it’s not funny.”
“We just came back from seeing Gilly,” I tell her. “Interestingly enough, she told me that a few of the other contestants wanted to quit the show.”
“Why would anyone want to quit the show?”
Oh boy. Things just got good.
“I suppose if they didn’t think their restaurant would be shown in a good light … ” I leave that thought dangling in the air.
“Personally, I think I had a great shot of winning. Not that your place isn’t fabulous, Lucy. But you have to admit, there’s nothing like a homemade doughnut.”
Good to know there’s nothing wrong with Heidi’s ego.
“Can I get an order of the cinnamon pancakes?” asks Will.
Heidi nods curtly. “How about you, Lucy?”
Originally I wanted a doughnut, but just looking at this menu is making my mouth water. Good grief. Everything on here is either laden with sugar, flour, butter or all three. No wonder it all smells so good. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything low-cal, would you?”
“This is a bakery, Lucy,” Heidi deadpans.
“Right. I’ll have the pancakes too. Oh, and one of your crumb cake doughnuts to go.”
She plucks the menus from our hands and marches back to the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” asks Will.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t think you were being a little aggressive?”
“I’m trying to catch a killer, not make friends.”
He shakes his head. “So? What’s the verdict?”
“I’m pretty certain Heidi didn’t kill Tara. She was genuinely shocked by my insinuation. But she definitely thought of quitting the show.”
“Really?”
“Which brings up another question. Why would perfect Heidi and her perfect doughnuts think of quitting a show that she’s so positive she can win?”
“Lucy,” Will says, not bothering to hide his smirk, “are you jealous of Heidi’s doughnuts?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Who prefers doughnuts over muffins anyway?’
“Not me.”
“Good answer.”
The next stop on what I’m now referring to as our truth or consequences tour of Whispering Bay is The Harbor House. I ask the hostess if I can speak to the manager.
“Sorry, but Mr. Dalton is in a meeting right now. If you want to have brunch, I can send him over to your table when he’s through.”
Even though I’m still full from the pancakes we had at Heidi’s, we agree. A little brunch isn’t going to kill us. Since we have Paco with us, we head to the outdoor seating area overlooking the gulf.
Will has avocado toast, and I have the eggs benedict. I’m halfway through my plate when Mark pulls up a seat at our table. He nods at Will and smiles at me in that smarmy way of his. He really does think that he’s God’s gift to womankind. “Hey, Lucy. I heard you wanted to see me?”
“I was just telling Will about my visit to police headquarters the other day.”
Mark shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “That was something, huh? Being dragged out of that meeting.”
“The cops think Tara was poisoned. You wouldn’t happen to know who poisoned her, would you?”
Will kicks me under the table. Ouch. Somehow, I manage to ignore him.
“That’s what you wanted to see me about?” Mark asks indignantly. “To ask me if I knew who killed Tara?”
Exactly. Only I can’t tell him that because it would blow my cover. Knowing Mark, he might tell Travis what I’m up to, and that would certainly put the kibosh on my investigation.
“What do I look like, a cop?” I ask.
“Then what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I, um, came to see if you’d heard anything new about the show? Like if they’ve decided to go through with the taping?” This is so lame I doubt he’ll buy it, but it’s the best I can come up with.
“Gilly says she doubts the network will want to continue the show here in Whispering Bay, so I think that’s pretty much it.” He glances around the crowded patio. “If that’s all you wanted to talk about, then I need to get back to work. I’m taking my wife on an anniversary cruise, and I need to make sure everything here at the restaurant is good to go.”
“A cruise, huh? That’s nice. When are you leaving?”
His brows draw together. “Not that it’s any of your business, Lucy, but we’re driving down to the port of Tampa on Thursday. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He gets up and goes table to table to schmooze with the customers.
“Looks like you’re determined to make friends all over town today,” says Will.
I bend down to rub my sore shin. “FYI, that hurt. What did you kick me for?”
“Are you seriously going to accuse everyone of killing Tara?”
“That’s the plan.”
Will shakes his head like he’s not sure what to do with me. “What’s the verdict?
“Did you notice how neatly Mark evaded my question by asking me a question? Plus, he’s definitely stressed out.”
“Maybe he’s stressed because he has a lot of work to catch up on before he leaves for his vacation. Have you thought about that?”
Of course I have, but I’m not about to admit it to Will.
We pay our bill, and while I go to get my car, Will takes Paco for a walk along the grassy area next to the restaurant.
I hand my parking ticket to the same valet who was working on the day of the meeting. He looks at my YOU AIN’T SEEN MUFFIN YET T-shirt. “I remember you. You’re one of the contestants with that cooking show.”
And I remember him too. He’s the wannabe actor.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
He makes a face. “I tried giving my headshots to that new producer. You know, the one who was here the other day running the meeting. But she shot me down fast. Too bad the other one had to die.”
“Yeah, that was bad luck for you all right.”
He nods, oblivious to my sarcasm.
It occurs to me that maybe this guy might know something that could help me.
I look at his nametag. “Josh, did Tara—that’s the other one, by the way—tell you she’d take a look at your headshots?”
He glances around the parking lot like he doesn’t want to be overheard. “She told me not to say anything, on account of her job, but yeah, she said she really liked my look and maybe she could put in a good word for me.”
Tara offered to do something nice for someone? Naturally, this makes me suspicious. “What did you do for her in exchange?”
“Nothing.”
The hair on my neck tingles.
“That’s not exactly true, is it, Josh?”
His voice cracks. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, of course not,” I say soothingly. “I’m just trying to help the police figure out what happened to Tara.” All of which is completely true. I am trying to help the police. They just don’t know it.
“You mean like an investigator?”
“Exactly.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter now, what with her dead and all, but she didn’t want it to come out that she was … you know, hanging around the restaurant a lot.”
“You mean, she and the film crew were here working?” This is confusing. Tara was filming all over town. Why wouldn’t she want anyone to know that she was at The Harbor House?
“Not with the film crew. Sure, they were here during the day sometimes filming. But I, uh, usually work till closing.” He says this with special meaning.
“Closing?” It takes me a few seconds to catch on. “You mean, Tara would come here at night? Without the film crew?”
“I’d park her car in the back where no one could see it. I mean what she and Mr. Dalton were doing in his office late at night is their business, right?” He frowns. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? Mr. Dalton would probably fire me if he knew I was blabbing.”
“No worries. My lips are sealed.”
Will comes back with Paco. He glances between me and Josh. “Everything all right?”
“Everything is just peachy.”
We barely get out of the parking lot before I burst with the news. “Tara and Mark Dalton were having an affair.”
“The valet told you that?”
“Pretty much. So, besides the great big yuck factor involved, Mark has just oozed his way up to the number one spot on my suspect list.”
Will scratches his chin. “I thought you said he didn’t know who killed Tara.”
“No, he never answered my question directly. He’s sneaky all right.”
