Til a Death Do Us Part: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 3

  Pippa swallowed and took off her own apron. "Maybe she just fled at the sight of you."

  "Yeah, because I'd caught her," I said. I stopped when I realized how ridiculous that probably sounded. But I told myself it only sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud and decided not to do that again for a while until I had more evidence.

  Pippa sighed and threw her apron into a box. "If you ask me, you're focusing on the wrong person," she said as she stared out the door.

  "Huh?" I asked, turning around to see what she was looking at. Dylan was still standing in the doorway of the reception room, smoking a cigarette.

  "If you want my opinion," Pippa said, pointing towards Dylan, "that's the man you should be looking at."

  Chapter 4

  "It seems a little bit awkward for me to be here...in your honeymoon suite." I said, looking around the inside of the small cabin that lay on a hill about half a mile from the reception buildings. If you held your wedding at the vineyard, you had the option of booking a cabin for the night as well, before heading off to the actual honeymoon. I had no idea where Jackson and Emma were supposed to be heading after this. And I wasn't really sure I wanted to know the details anyway.

  "It's not like it's an actual honeymoon suite if there's been no wedding. Me and the groomsmen used this cabin to get ready this morning so there's not exactly been a lot of romance happening in here." That explained the empty beer bottles discarded all over the place. I'd thought Jackson might have been indulging in a heavy drinking session before I'd arrived and I wouldn't have totally blamed him.

  Jackson sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "I just can't believe all of this happened."

  I sat down next to him. The mattress was far softer than I had expected and I sank into it. I wished that I was wearing anything other than my bright pink uniform. Why hadn't I at least brought a change of outfit for the reception?

  "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. I still wasn't entirely sure why he had asked me up to the cabin. It was almost dark now and Pippa had already headed back to the bakery in our van. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to get back to Belldale.

  Jackson didn't answer. "I just wish I knew where Emma was."

  "What did the police say?" I said, trying to change the subject. "Not about Emma. I mean, about Aunt Cassie."

  He groaned a little before he let out a heavy sigh. "That's the other thing. I'm supposed to stay out here all night to work on the case." He shook his head. "Great timing, right? Especially when the person who would usually help me—my partner—is also my runaway bride."

  "Maybe that's a good argument against cops marrying their partners," I said. Was that a stupid thing to say?

  Jackson let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah," he said, staring down at his phone.

  "I don't suppose you've heard anything from her then?"

  "There's no answer. She's either turned her phone off or she's just ignoring all of my calls."

  Or she's destroyed her phone so that she can't be traced.

  Okay, maybe that was being a little dramatic on my part. Still, something wasn't right.

  Jackson jumped up suddenly. "You know what? There's no time to focus on that right now. Emma’s disappearance has to be the least of my worries right now."

  What a strange thing to say. I wasn't sure that his bride running way on their wedding day should be the LEAST of his worries. I tried to contort my face into an expression that showed that I agreed with him, though.

  "Yes, no matter which way you look at this, life goes on, doesn't it?" I said. That sounded like a thing that people said.

  Jackson nodded. "It does."

  "Maybe the best thing to do is just to throw yourself into work right now."

  Jackson nodded and started pacing over the rustic floorboards. "That's exactly what I need to do." He stopped suddenly. "Rachael. Will you help me with this case?"

  I opened my mouth to answer but no sound came out. "I...uh..." My throat suddenly felt very dry. It wasn’t that I wasn't intending to investigate Aunt Cassie's death—of course I was going to do that—but not with Jackson. With Pippa. By myself. With Dylan. Anyone but Jackson.

  "Is that...is that even allowed?" I asked.

  Jackson ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe not officially," he said, stopping to look at me. "But you're the best person for the job. And without Emma here, I need the help, Rachael."

  I looked up into his pleading eyes and I already knew I was going to say yes if he asked me one more time.

  "Please," he said one last time. "I need to do everything I can to take my mind off what happened today. If I say I'm not up to taking the case, they'll send another detective up and then...I don't know what I'll do. And I'd rather work with you than anyone else. At least stay until the morning and think about it."

  I took a slow breath and nodded. "Okay, I'll stay until morning at least."

  Sunlight streamed in through the window and gently bathed my face. I opened my eyes slowly and stretched my arms. Was I on vacation? I blinked a few times trying to remember where I was. It definitely wasn't my own bedroom. And it wasn't my sofa. My apartment looked out onto an alleyway, not a vineyard.

  Shoot. I suddenly remembered where I was. Jackson's honeymoon suite.

  I sat up sharply and felt around the soft, saggy mattress for my phone. Just as I expected. Seven missed calls from Pippa and twice as many texts.

  Well, there wasn't good reception up at the vineyard and calls and texts only came through sporadically and or all at once. That was the excuse I would use.

  Even though there were a dozen texts, they all basically said the same thing. Where the heck are you?

  Pippa and I still lived together—she and her husband Marcello slept on my sofa—so my non-appearance all night must have alarmed her.

  I glanced down at Jackson still fast asleep on the floor. Probably better not to tell her the whole truth.

  I slept at the vineyard. Will explain later I texted before shutting off my screen and putting my phone down. I wasn't super keen on reading her response when it inevitably came through.

  I tiptoed past Jackson’s sleeping body and quietly made myself a cup of peppermint tea. Still, I was surprised that the whistling kettle didn't wake him as I made my way out onto the little porch that had a drop beneath it that would have landed you a hundred feet down the hill if you fell over the edge.

  It was a picture perfect morning. The hues of pink and purple were clouding the sky again as the sun came out and I found myself wishing that I lived there. But that's how I always feel on vacations. Well, most of them, I thought, as I swirled my tea bag around in the cup, turning the water a darker shade of green. I'd just come back from a vacation that had made me want to be anywhere else.

  But here, at the vineyard? I could easily stay there forever in that little cabin. As long as I had space to bake and a small TV so I could watch my cooking shows every week. I settled back in a lounge chair and fantasized about how I could finish writing my novel—well, start writing my novel—if only I lived in such a beautiful, picturesque place.

  "Jackson!" I almost spilled my tea as I noticed him creeping out onto the balcony behind me. He still had his white shirt on from the wedding, and his trousers, but his belt and suspenders were gone.

  "You should have woke me up." He moved over the balcony and stared out over the mountains.

  "I thought you could use the extra sleep. Sorry." I took a sip of the sweet tea.

  "No, don't be sorry. I just mean, you could have woke me if you'd wanted to." He turned to me with a weak smile. "So, have you thought about helping?"

  I swirled the teabag around in the water again. "I can't stay up here very long," I said. "I've neglected the bakery enough lately."

  "Just for today," he said. "After that, we'll go back to Belldale. Almost all of the wedding guests live in town anyway."

  I frowned. "All the guests are suspects then?"

  What about the people who weren't guests? I thought. What about the people who were brides here?

  Jackson shrugged and looked out over the scenery again. "Everyone who was here yesterday is a suspect." He shot me a look over his shoulder. "Come on, we should head back to the lodge." He walked back inside the cabin with a dark look on his face. "We need to get started."

  Chapter 5

  I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket as we headed back into the lodge, but I ignored it. I didn't feel like a lecture from Pippa right then on the inappropriateness of staying the night with Jackson in his honeymoon suite.

  Jackson had his detective suit back on—had he packed it to wear on his honeymoon? —as well as his badge folded into his pocket.

  Walking along side him, I would have felt like a real, official detective for the first time in my life. Unfortunately, I still had my bright pink shirt on.

  Jackson held the lodge door open for me and we headed back into the reception hall. "There was supposed to be another wedding here today but they cancelled it now that it's a crime scene," Jackson explained as we entered the empty room that looked completely different from the day before, now that the cakes and balloons and candy displays were gone.

  "That's gonna be one pissed off bride," I said, making a face.

  Jackson shrugged. "Not really the top of my list of concerns right now."

  Right.

  I looked around the room. I suddenly felt like a real amateur standing next to a real police detective.

  "What are we looking for exactly?" I finally asked.

  "We have to look for everything," he said simply, pulling a pen and notebook from his pocket.

  Right. That was much clearer then.

  "Did you speak to anyone yesterday?" Jackson asked me a little absentmindedly while he perused the room.

  I shook my head. "No, just you, and Pippa, while we were packing up." I still didn't know whether we were getting paid for that cake. "Oh, wait," I said, remembering. "While we were boxing up the wedding cake," I said, emphasizing the words ‘wedding cake,’ "Aunt Cassie's nephew came in to thank me. Though I don't know what for."

  Jackson put his pen down and spun around to look at me, suddenly interested. "Which nephew?"

  "The one she was sitting with. Dylan."

  Jackson's eyes were wide open and he shook his head. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Rachael, what else did he say?"

  "I, uh..." I tried to recall the conversation. "Not much. Just that."

  "Come on, think."

  Why was he so interested in Dylan? "He said that he wasn't very close with Emma, that they hadn't seen each other in a few years and he was surprised to get an invitation."

  Jackson scoffed. "I'm sure he was," he said, shaking his head. "I knew we should never have invited him."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  Jackson was still shaking his head and largely avoided answering my question. "And I'm very surprised that he was sitting with Aunt Cassie." He finally stopped shaking his head and stared at me. "Are you sure that he was sitting with her?"

  I nodded slowly. "Yes, they were beside us in the back row. You probably didn't even notice us squished all the way down there."

  Jackson scratched his head. "It just doesn't seem right." He hurried over to the back door of the reception hall and I ran after him. He walked down the two sets of steps and stopped just before we reached the bathrooms where Aunt Cassie had been found. There was still police tape around the building and when I turned, I noticed a car with a cop sitting inside.

  "Dylan wasn't speaking with Aunt Cassie. He wasn't speaking to any of the family," Jackson muttered.

  I grabbed his arm and forced him to look at me. "Are you ever going to tell me the reason why?" I asked, growing annoyed. "You practically begged me to stay and help out and now you won't even explain anything to me."

  "You're right. I'm sorry." Jackson cast an eye at the squad car. "After Aunt Cassie's husband died... Well, there was an issue with his will," Jackson said, gritting his teeth like it was a subject that pained him to talk about.

  I just stood there with my hands spread out, like, Yeah? And are you going to tell me the rest of the story?

  "Aunt Cassie's husband, Walt, well, in his will, he said that he left his entire estate to Dylan," Jackson said a little bitterly. "They didn't have children of their own, so in a way it wasn't an entire shock. But what was shocking was that nothing was left to Cassie herself. Or any of the other nieces and nephews, Emma for example."

  Jackson took a deep breath before he continued speaking. "Aunt Cassie, quite rightfully, contested the will. But Dylan wasn't very happy about it for obvious reasons. The case is still being handled by lawyers now."

  "But with Aunt Cassie dead..." I said slowly.

  Jackson nodded with his teeth still gritted. "Exactly. The money is free to go to Dylan."

  "And did Walt have a lot of money?" I asked.

  "The inheritance was three million dollars," Jackson said flatly.

  An amount worth killing over.

  A shudder suddenly ran down my spine. "We need to find Dylan then," I said. "Where does he live?"

  "In Belldale," Jackson replied. "That's if he hasn't fled somewhere, though."

  "Well, that would only make him look suspicious."

  I thought about Emma running away the day before and gulped.

  "Should we head back into town then?" I asked.

  Jackson shook his head. "Not just yet. I need to speak to the staff first, and clear things up with this officer," he said, nodding as the officer finally climbed out of his car and headed towards us. "We'll head back later this afternoon… Well, tonight at the latest."

  I felt like I could no longer ignore the vibrating in my pants pocket so I pulled my phone out and accepted the call, bracing for a lecture as I put the receiver to my ear.

  "Rachael?" Pippa's weak voice called out. "Oh, thank goodness I finally got through to you."

  "There's bad reception up here," I said meekly.

  "You're still up at the vineyard?" she asked in disbelief.

  "Afraid so."

  "I need you to come back, Rachael!" Pippa said. Had she been crying?

  "I will be back later this afternoon. This evening, at the latest," I added quickly.

  Yes, she definitely had been crying. "Rachael, something has happened."

  "What's happened? Is everything all right with the bakery?" I asked quickly.

  "It's not the bakery. It's Marcello."

  Oh no. Marcello has...how can I put this...a little trouble functioning in day-to-day life. I was amazed he had actually survived all the way to twenty-seven years of age, actually. It was always an achievement if he could get through a week without accidentally stabbing himself, or setting something on fire, or worse.

  I waited with my breath held for Pippa to tell me what had happened. Was he in intensive care? Or was it even worse than that? I wasn't sure I could handle two dead bodies in as many days.

  "Rachael, I think Marcello is cheating on me."

  I let out my breath. "Phew," I said before I could catch myself and I had to hold the phone away from my ear as Pippa's screaming reply came back fast at me.

  "Rachael! How can you sound relieved at that?!"

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I hastened to say. "It's just that I thought you were going to tell me he was laying in a hospital bed somewhere. You have to admit, this is Marcello we are talking about here."

  Pippa was quiet for a second. "Well, he will be laying in a hospital bed somewhere once I get my hands on him."

  A little dramatic.

  "Pippa, I’m sure he’s not cheating on you. Whatever it is, you must have gotten your wires crossed somehow."

  I noticed Jackson had finished talking with the uniformed officer and he nodded at me to join him. "Pippa, I gotta go," I said quickly.

  "But, Rachael…"

  "We'll get pizza tonight as soon as I'm back home. My treat. You can tell me all about it then. I'm really sorry, I've got to go."

  I hurried back over to Jackson, who still had that same grave look on his face. "What is it?" I asked.

  "Emma didn't show up for work today," he said.

  I frowned. "Was she supposed to work today? Shouldn't it be your honeymoon?"

  Jackson shook his head. "We weren't going to have a honeymoon. Well, besides the one night in the cabin here."

  Wow. He must have seen the look on my face because he quickly added, "There's too much work to do and the station is understaffed. Its two highest-ranking detectives can't both have a week off at the same time. And taking two separate honeymoons didn't seem like the best start to married life."

  And this was?

  I nodded to show that I understood, or at least look like I did. "So, no one's heard from her at the station?" I asked.

  Jackson shook his head. "Not at the station...none of her family...none of our friends..."

  "Do you think...." I stopped speaking and looked to my left where the sun had fully risen now, adding hues of bright orange to the pinks and purples.

  "Do I think what?" Jackson asked sharply.

  Something was telling me that it still wasn't the right time to bring up my suspicions, multiple as they were. But didn't he deserve to know the truth, even if it was harsh?

  "Do you think that maybe she never really intended to go through with the wedding?" I asked.

  It was very difficult to read the expression on Jackson's face in that moment. He had that same steely, bleary-eyed expression that he'd had on his face right before the ceremony.

  "I know that she's avoiding me," he said simply. There was no emotion in his voice. "But she hasn't been in contact with anyone following the death of her aunt. Don't you think that's a little strange?"

  Not if she had something to do with it.

  I studied his face. Was he really not surprised that Emma had run out on their wedding? It was impossible to tell. I supposed that poker face of his was good for detective work, but it did nothing for interpersonal relationships.

  "So what now?" I asked him, taking a deep breath. "Do we head back to Belldale?"