Éclair Case of Murder: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Rosie Kale Culinary Cozy Mystery Book 2) (10 page)

Chapter 27

“Ouch,” I said, still in tremendous pain whenever I moved. Not only were my muscles not getting any better, they seemed to be getting much, much worse. I could barely walk.

“Honey, what’s wrong with you?” Casey asked as he led me into the hotel ballroom.

“I had a sports massage today,” I said with a wince as a passing waiter offered us each a glass of champagne. I had to remind myself to move as little as possible.

“A sports massage? Why on earth? You don’t do sports.” He looked me over. “Did that have something to do with your hair?”

“My hair?” I reached up to find that my neatly pinned hair was now falling out of its elegant updo.

“That’s a longer story,” I said as I put the glass down on an elegant little table and quickly pinned it back up without even looking. “I better get to the restroom.”

I glanced around looking for the
Ladies Room,
hoping that there was an attendant inside with some better hair clips and maybe a little spray.

“Rosie,” Casey said, as I looked around distractedly. “I don’t want you to be nervous, but there’s something I didn’t tell you about this ball.”

“Oh? What’s that?” I finally spotted the restroom sign, towards the back entrance of the giant ballroom.

“Well…” he said, hesitating. “The thing is, my father’s here. I wanted him to meet you tonight.”

“Your father?” My hand automatically flew to my hair as I looked at him horrified.

“Your father’s here? How could you know that and not give me any warning? That’s…evil!”

“I know,” he said, looking guilty. His long eyelashes gave his deep green eyes a sensitive air. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you nervous, you know how you get.”

It was true, it was the sort of thing that would have eaten at me for days.

But still…

“I can’t believe you sprung this on me,” I said. “I can’t meet your father looking like this!”

“Darling,” he said, bending down and whispering in my ear. “Can you be angry at me about it in a just bit…he’s right behind you.”

I froze, then put a fake smile on my face and turned to see a handsome, distinguished, silver-haired version of Casey standing there.

“Hi,” I said with an uncomfortable smile—while inside I planned out just how I would kill Casey.

“Miss Kale,” Casey’s father said, “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh… the pleasure’s mine,” I said weakly. I smiled as best I could, taking in his gorgeous tux, the glass of champagne in his hand, the scent of expensive cologne and his overall aristocratic air.

I reached up to touch my hair again and tucked a stray piece, back behind my ear.

“I've heard so much about you,” he said in the same upper crust accent as Casey.

I looked at Casey, surprised. Then I smiled back at his father. “And I, you. You look so much like Casey,” I said as I leaned in to do the European kiss on each cheek. “Like an older version of him, I mean. But not that much older. Slightly older.”

I blushed, feeling like an idiot, but when I looked over to Casey, he was smiling as though everything was perfectly fine.

“So Father, is Kaz in town?” he asked.

“No, unfortunately your brother is stuck in London. On business.”

“Ah, too bad,” Casey nodded. “But I’m glad you made your way out here. And got the chance to meet Rosie.”

Casey smiled at me and I smiled back at him. My earlier anger had all but disappeared as I admitted to myself just how well his devious plan had worked. The potentially nerve-wracking situation of meeting his father was over and done with almost as soon as I realized it was happening.

Relaxed and happy, I took another sip of my champagne and smiled at Casey as he and his father discussed some new business venture in Seattle. But my smile quickly faded as I saw someone who looked like Detective Sanders entering the hotel ballroom.

“I think that sounds doable,” Casey was saying to his father. “Let’s ask her. Rosie, would you like to come?”

After a moment I realized they were talking to me.

“Come?” I gave Casey an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I missed some of what you were saying.”

More like all of what he was saying.

“To Seattle...we have some new business there, potentially.”

“Oh, I love Seattle.” I smiled from one to the other of them. “Sure. I’d take a trip there any time.”

Casey seemed pleased. I was just about to ask him when they were planning to go, when I was again distracted by Detective Sanders—who’d spotted me and was now heading my way.

I told myself that he was just here for the party but even I had to admit that was a lie. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion and he seemed to be making a beeline right for me.

I couldn’t let this happen. I had no idea what he was going to say, but by the expression on his face, I could tell it wasn’t good.

“Can you gentlemen excuse me for a minute?” I smiled. “ I just have to run to the restroom.”

I started to walk off, but Casey grabbed my arm. “But you are up for Seattle then?” He was looking at me, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Yes, of course,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. Then, before Sanders could come and humiliate me in front of Casey’s father, I hurried off towards the women’s lounge at the back of the ballroom.

Chapter 28

I had almost made it to the restroom when Detective Sanders came up from behind and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Miss Kale,” he said sharply.

“Detective, hello, I was just…”

“You were just trying to avoid me. But you need to come with me. Now.”

“Come with you?” I turned to face him. My heart sank when I saw how serious he looked. Granted, he didn’t like my nosing into the Wright case, but he seemed to be going a little bit overboard considering I hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Down to the station. I have some questions you need to answer.”

“Detective. I’m here with my boyfriend and his father. If this is about my going over to the Wright’s house earlier… All I wanted was to ask Mrs. Pond a few questions, that’s all. That can’t be illegal.”

“It seems you did a lot more than that. But we can talk about it down at the station. Unless you want to make a scene right here by having me arrest you.”

“Arrest me?” My voice rose a full octave and quivered uncontrollably.

His only answer was to stare at me.

“Okay,” I sighed. I looked around the room and spotted Casey who was standing by the bar, talking to his father, blissfully unaware of my conversation with Sanders.

Thank goodness.

I didn’t think his father would respond too well to this kind of drama.

I looked towards the doors at the other end of the ballroom thinking that maybe we get out without being spotted. I could clear this up fast and be back before anyone even realized I was gone.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go,” I said.

I’d decided that I would send Casey a quick text on the way to the station telling him I had a run in my pantyhose and that I’d be back in a few minutes. Then I’d explain everything to him later, after his father had left.

I was following Sanders through the crowd and out the front door when I spotted a familiar figure entering from the opposite direction.

“Laila?” I said, surprised to see her there.

“Hey, Cuz!” she beamed, looking more stunning than ever. She wore a slim black metallic gown that showed off her pale skin and blonde hair to its fullest effect. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

“Rosie!” She gave me an air kiss on each cheek. “Where’re you going? You’re not leaving are you?”

“No, I’m…I just have to talk to Detective Sanders outside for a minute.”

She frowned at him then back at me. Then she nodded knowingly. “Riight. Let me guess. It’s about that stupid dead woman again, isn’t it? I mean here you are at a ball…with a Baron and you’re still thinking about that dead woman—it’s crazy!”

“He’s a Lord,” I corrected her. “His last name is Baro…”

But she didn’t let me finish my sentence. “All you can think about is that case! It’s like you’re…obsessed!” she squealed.

I couldn’t help but notice how Detective Sanders’ ears seemed to prick up at her use of the word ‘obsessed’—which made me even more uncomfortable than I already was. Which was quite a lot.

I put on a fake smile and spoke in what I hoped was a lighthearted tone. “Laila, I’m not obsessed. I’m just…interested in the truth…”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “That lady is all you talk about! You were even on the news earlier for stalking her family!”

I gave her a severe look but she wouldn’t stop talking. “Seriously, Rosie,” she stage-whispered. “It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Laila, would you do me a favor!” I practically yelled in the hopes of getting her to stop. “Would you please just tell Casey I’ll be gone for 20 minutes? Tell him that I wanted to talk to Sanders about something and I’ll explain everything when I get back. But don’t say anything about it in front of his father. Okay?”

She nodded but was now scanning the ballroom, so I couldn’t be sure she’d even heard a word I’d said.

“Laila!” I said more sharply. “Please. Just get Casey alone and tell him…”

“Right, I got it. Gone. Twenty minutes. Explain later. No father.” She rolled her eyes. “You need to lighten up, Cuz. This is a party. It’s supposed to be fun.”

And with that, she turned on her five inch heels and sashayed elegantly into the ballroom.

I sighed, watching her go, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t screw up my message. Then Detective Sanders took my arm and escorted me out.

But just before we walked away, I glanced back at the ballroom and saw that Casey was busy talking to a beautiful Asian woman. He didn’t even seem to notice I was missing.

His father however, was looking right at me.

Chapter 29

I looked around Sanders’ small, paper-strewn office while I waited nervously for him to come back into the room; I’d realized on the way in that this had to be about a lot more than my trespassing on the Wright’s lawn. And as each minute passed, I grew more and more anxious to find out just what it
was
about.

He reappeared a few moments later, holding two sodas in his hand. Then he sat down, handing me one.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it and flicking the tab nervously with my fingernail. I was much too agitated to even think of drinking it. Plus, with my hands shaking the way they were, I would probably spill it all over Nana’s beautiful gown.

“So,” Sanders said, popping open his can and pouring the contents into his coffee cup. “Where were you tonight at 6:30 pm?”

I frowned and pretended to think back to earlier in the evening—though, in reality, I knew exactly where I was at the time. Our local news comes on at 6:30 and I was home, watching it, in my living room.

I decided it might not be prudent to mention it, however, just in case he’d missed my command performance with the garbage cans.

“I was home, getting ready for the party tonight,” I said.

“Mmph,” he grunted, eyeing my hair with a frown.

My hand immediately shot up and I realized that my hair had again come out of its clips and was hanging unevenly against my shoulders.

“It’s a long story,” I mumbled.

“So. Any witnesses? To you being at home at that time?” he asked.

I shook my head ‘no’ and Sanders nodded as if he expected this answer.

“What exactly is that you think I did?” I asked, unable to contain myself any longer.

He sat back in his chair and studied me. “There was some vandalism at the Wright house earlier tonight. Someone threw a big rock through their window with a note wrapped around it.

“A note?” I was nervously flicking the tab of the soda can. Then I saw him notice and I stopped.

He nodded. “Yup. A note. It said, ‘I know you killed her.’”

I looked at him, shocked. “And you think I did it? I would never do something like that.”

“It certainly sounds like your line of thinking.”

“But I’d never…never do something like that. How could even think that?”

“Because the family thinks you did it. Plus, your fingerprints were on the rock.”

“But…that’s impossible.” I stared at him dumbstruck, trying to make sense of it all but I couldn’t. I shook my head, puzzled. “Look, I don’t know how that could’ve happened. But I didn’t do it. Someone’s obviously setting me up.”

He sat back and sighed as if to say, “Of course you’d say that.”

I looked off, tapping my fingers against the soda can apprehensively. “Was Purple Streak…er, Violet home at the time? Or Chuck Wright? Maybe they threw it themselves and blamed it on me…just to get me in trouble."

“Nope,” Sanders said. “No one was home at the time—except for Mrs. Pond, the housekeeper and Sammy, the kid. And before you start accusing them, we happen to know that Dr. Wright was at work and Purple Streak, as you call her, was in her car on her way to Los Angeles. We’ve verified that already.”

I frowned and bit the inside of my cheek. “Well then she must have hired someone to do it. And I bet I know why. It’s because I have evidence that Helen Wright was murdered. She wasn’t even the one that made the call to the hotl…”

But I didn’t get to finish my sentence because just then, Sanders stood up causing his chair to screech back violently. He leaned forward his knuckles against the wood of the desk, his face growing red.

“Listen, Miss Kale. I don’t know how I can make this any clearer to you. You do not have any ‘evidence’ here because you are not on the police force. There is no murder investigation because there is no murder!”

I sat back, shocked by his outburst. His usually sullen face was red with emotion. Even his normally hangdog, handlebar moustache seemed deranged. “You were seen carrying a gun to their house on TV!” he barked.

“No! That was a fake! It was a prop for Laila’s play,” I protested. “Ask her! Or go get it. It’s probably still in my car! You’ll see!”

“We already checked it out,” he said, still standing. “And you’re just lucky it wasn’t the real thing. But I’ll have you know that threatening someone with a fake gun can have the same consequences as using a real gun!”

“But I wasn’t threatening…” I began.

“Listen, Miss Kale. If you do one more thing to accuse or harass these people, you will wind up in jail. You will probably get sued for slander too—after all, you practically accused the family of killing Helen Wright. On TV! If you keep it up, you could lose your bakery. And wind up behind bars.”

“But Detective, please. You need to listen to what I found out.”

“No you need to listen!” he said angrily. Then he sighed and stared at me. “But I can see that you’re not going to."

He continued to stare at me wordlessly as though he was having some kind of internal debate. And though his mood was calmer now, it seemed somehow even more unsettling than his earlier outburst had been.

I looked down nervously, saying nothing.

Finally he spoke in a low voice that sounded almost regretful. “I promised Mr. Wright that I’d see to it you stayed away from them. But it’s obvious that you’re not going to. So there’s nothing else I can do. They’re going to want to press charges against you for stalking and harassment and trespassing."

He motioned for me to stand up and pulled out his handcuffs.

“What? No wait, please…," I said in shock. “If I could just explain…”

He shook his head and exhaled loudly. “I have no choice. You’re not going to drop it. I see that. They warned me you were obsessed but I said no…”

“But I will,” I protested, practically begging. “Please. Seriously. I’ll drop it—I’ll drop the whole thing. I promise.” I stood up and backed away from him.

“You say that now but as soon as I let you out of here you’re going to go back to your…Nancy Drew-ing.”

“No, really I won’t. Please!”

Sanders put the cuffs back down and looked at me skeptically.

“I promise. I’ll drop it,” I repeated with as much sincerity as I could muster—which at the moment was quite a lot.

“Fine.” He looked me deep in the eyes. “But if I hear one more word about you harassing that family or asking questions about them or going near them, I’m going to bring you back in handcuffs. That’s a promise.”

“I understand,” I said, practically crying in relief. “Thank you.”

He motioned to the door and I slunk out, miserably walking into the dark empty night.