Gluten for Punishment (26 page)

“Okay, I answered your question. Now, tell me, how come you aren’t answering your
phone?”

“It’s Tasha. I hung up on her a few minutes ago and now I’m going to have to apologize.”

“Really? Why?”

“I saw Ralph Kennedy walk by around five-thirty.” I pushed the carafe top, dispensed
Sumatra into my mug, added a generous splash of half-and-half, and again tried not
to blush at my assumption that Sam could be a killer. “He had a heavy bank bag in
his hand. I watched him all the way until he turned into the bank drive.”

Sam took a sip of his coffee, his expression thoughtful. “And this made you hang up
on Tasha because . . . ?”

“I thought I saw him walk back by. I wanted to ask him in for coffee.” I shrugged
as if it were nothing. I wasn’t about to admit that I had begun to suspect everyone
of being a killer. “When I met him, he’d said he’d wished he’d had time to come over
and see for himself how good the pastries were.”

Sam sprawled out at the table and studied me for a moment. “So you’ve decided you
want to date Ralph?”

“What?” I didn’t know what to say. I scrunched up my eyebrows. “No, don’t be silly.”
My cell phone in my pocket rang for the third time. I set my cup down on the table
next to Sam’s and picked up my phone. “Hey, Tasha.”

“I can’t believe you hung up on me.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not, or you would have picked right back up. I’ve half a mind to come
down there. Tell me you did not let Ralph Kennedy into the shop with you this morning.”

I shook my head at how much she sounded like a mom. “Um . . . no, not Ralph.”

“Don’t tell me you let in a perfect stranger.”

“I wouldn’t say perfect . . .”

“Marie Antoinette Holmes! Do I have to call your family?”

“No, just kidding. By the time I got the door open, Ralph was gone. Sam pulled up.
He’s here now checking on me and having coffee.”

“And a donut,” Sam called.

“And a donut,” I added and made a face. I went to the display cabinet and pulled out
a plate and placed two gluten-free spice cake donuts with maple frosting on the plate.
“So you see, I’m perfectly fine.”

“You are not fine.” Tasha all but snorted afterwards. “You are off your rocker. After
seeing your bedroom last night, anyone with any sense would have packed up and gone
on a long vacation.”

“I couldn’t pack. All my clothes were shredded, remember?” I set the plate down in
front of Sam and took the chair across from him. His open coat revealed a denim work
shirt and jeans. “Would you have closed the inn if this had happened to you?”

“We’re not talking about me.” She sounded angry. “We’re talking about you, and I was
humoring you when I said you could borrow my clothes. I didn’t think they would fit.”

I glanced down at the too-tight white tee shirt and flood short pants. “They fit fine.”

Sam’s gaze wandered over me and he grinned and raised a thumbs-up. I could feel the
heat of embarrassment rush up my neck for the second time. I narrowed my eyes at him.
He smiled wider and popped the rest of the donut in his mouth.

“Listen, Tasha, if you’re calling to scold me, then I’m going to hang up.”

“No, wait!”

“What?” I played with the handle of my coffee cup.

“I wanted to ask you to go shopping with me after work tonight. Kip’s spending the
night at my mom’s. I can meet you at six
P.M.
and we can make a quick trip into Wichita.”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. You need a new wardrobe. I’ll buy dinner. It’ll be fun.”

I ran a hand over my face. “All right.”

“Yippee!” I could hear her clapping. “I can’t wait. I found this new shop I’ve been
dying to take you.”

“I’m not letting you dress me,” I warned. Sam’s eyebrows shot up at those words. I
sent him a dirty look and turned away from him.

“I promise. I’ll only show you the clothes I like. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said. “Give Kip a hug for me.” I hit the End button and put my phone in
my apron pocket. My coffee had cooled and Sam had finished off his breakfast.

“Back to my original question,” Sam said.

“What’s that?” I sipped coffee and enjoyed its bitter-smooth taste on my tongue.

“Are you dating Ralph Kennedy?”

He caught me with a mouthful of coffee. It wasn’t my fault if I spit it all across
the table and into his face. “What?”

Sam grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“A . . . no.” I took more napkins out of the dispenser and cleaned up the table and
reached over to dab at his jacket. “Where would you get that stupid idea, anyway?”

“You said you ran out into the street to wave Ralph down and invite him in for coffee.
Sounds like a date to me.” Sam shrugged and kept his face perfectly even.

He had to be kidding me. “It was not a date.” I threw the napkins away. “I wanted
to get to know the guy better.”

“Sounds like a date.” His gaze was intense. “Because you wouldn’t be stupid enough
to keep investigating George’s murder by yourself after yesterday.”

Pictures of my bed torn to shreds went through my head. Fine, the guy did have a point.
“I’m not alone.” I sipped my coffee and tried to act nonchalant. “You’re here.”

He tilted his head as one would when talking to a small child. “I kind of figured
you would try something like that. It’s why I’m here.” He shook his head. “I hoped
you wouldn’t. I hoped you weren’t really as stubborn as you come off.”

“Who, me, stubborn?” I was not offended. “It’s one of my finer qualities.”

“Good to know.” He lifted his coffee cup.

“Do you think Ralph Kennedy is capable of murder?”

It was his turn to do a spit take. I handed him a napkin. “Little quiet Ralph? Are
you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding. You should have seen the heavy bank bag he had in his hand this
morning. And, hey, he’s not smaller than I am. I mean, I’m tall and all but I’m not
as strong as a guy . . . even a guy my height.”

“Why would Ralph want to kill George?”

“That’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it?”

CHAPTER
35

T
asha and I walked into her carriage house apartment, shopping bags in hands, happy
but exhausted. I had spent the last four hours purchasing everything from new underwear
to two sets of work clothes. I had read somewhere that ten good pieces were the makings
of a great wardrobe. I had eight. That would have to do for now.

“Thanks for going with me.” I dropped the bags on the floor next to her kitchen island
and climbed up on a bar stool. Tasha pulled wineglasses out of her cupboard and opened
a bottle of red.

“It was my pleasure. How does it feel to start your wardrobe from scratch?”

I rested my elbows on the granite top and put my cheeks in my hands. “On one hand,
it’s kind of freeing. On the other, I’m grieving a little. I had a bunch of clothes
from Chicago that I’ll never be able to replace here.”

“That’s it then, we’ll have to plan a weekend shopping trip.” She poured wine into
our glasses. “One of the weekends Kip is with his grandma.”

“Here’s to a shopping weekend in Chicago.” I touched my wineglass to hers and took
a nice long swallow. The wine was a burst of grape and berry on my tongue. It warmed
me as it went down my throat, and I could feel my muscles relaxing. “Don’t get me
wrong, I’m thankful you loaned me some clothes, but I’m glad to be back into my own
size.” I waved my hand at the new pair of jeans and long-sleeved V-neck tee shirt
I wore.

“I thought you looked cute in my stuff.” Tasha pouted, her wineglass in hand. “It
really didn’t fit you though, did it?” Her smile was contagious.

“You should have seen Bob Meyer staring at my tight tee shirt in the shop. I had to
go and dig out a full chef’s coat to cover up.”

“That’s funny.” Tasha giggled. “How old is he, ninety?”

“He’s seventy-two. He told me so himself when I mentioned I catered birthday parties.
For a moment, I thought he was going to order a cake just so I could jump out of it.”
I slipped off my shoes and enjoyed the wine. “What a long couple of days.”

“I know.” Tasha pulled her hair out of its professional low ponytail and shook it
out. “What are you going to do about your house?”

“I called my insurance company. Tim said they sent over an adjuster this afternoon.
I’ve also hired a company to go in and clean up.” I frowned. “I asked them to toss
all the clothing. I don’t want to ever wear anything that monster might have touched.”

Tasha shuddered. “Ugh. I don’t blame you one bit. You know, he could have not ripped
up certain clothes so you would wear them after he touched them.”

“Eww, creepy.”

“What about your bed?”

“I have a new one on order. They’re supposed to deliver it on Tuesday.”

“Yay! A week of girl time.”

I sat up straight. “Oh, I’m not going to stay here the whole time. There are five
other bedrooms at the house that are empty. I’ll take one of them as soon as Chief
Blaylock thinks it’s safe.”

“Oh.” She slumped her shoulders and pushed out her bottom lip. “I’d hoped you’d stay
with me and help me figure out the mortgage thing.”

“I don’t have to stay here to help. Listen, the bakery is closed Sunday. I can spend
the whole morning working on the mortgages with you.”

The back door was yanked open, startling us both. I might have screamed a tiny bit.
A man stood in the doorway, his face shadowed. He was breathing heavily as if he had
run three miles. It was only six steps, a landing, and six more steps to the carriage
house.

“Hello, ladies.” He stepped into the light. It was Craig Kennedy.

Tasha stood. “Craig, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you knock? Have you no common
courtesy?”

“You’re the one who should be thinking about courtesy.” Craig’s voice was low and
a bit terrifying. “Where the hell have you been? What is
she
doing here?”

“I don’t have to answer that.” Tasha raised her chin. “Have you been drinking?”

“You need to leave.” I stood and said it firmly as if talking to a stray growling
dog. “Go!”

“Like hell I’ll go.” Craig took a step toward us. “Where’s Kip? Have you pawned the
poor boy off on someone else again? A good mother would be home taking care of her
son, especially a son like Kip.”

I stepped between Craig and Tasha. “I said, Go!” I pointed toward the door.

He narrowed his eyes and dropped his forehead like a bull getting ready to charge.
“You can’t tell me what to do, bitch. This is not your house.”

“It’s not your house either, Craig.” Tasha grabbed the cell phone off the countertop.
“You’d better go. I’m calling the police.”

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. My hand trembled. I straightened to my full height.
“You heard her, now go!”

“You are a meddling bitch. I should have let Ed kill you.”

My eyes grew wide and my mouth went dry. I grabbed a heavy frying pan off the hanging
rack and took a step toward him. “Get out!”

“What are you going to do, hit me with that?” Craig snorted. “Not likely.” He turned
his attention on Tasha. “If you dial that number, you’re going to regret it.”

“Don’t threaten me in my own home,” Tasha said, and with shaking hands started pushing
numbers. “I was right to break up with you. You’re insane.”

“Don’t!” Craig pushed me hard against the counter, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
He grabbed Tasha’s hand and wrenched the cell phone out of it. Then he knocked her
to the ground with a backhand across her face.

Tears sprung into Tasha’s eyes. I recovered my balance and rushed him with the pan
still in my hand. I might have growled or cursed. I was pretty scared, but I did manage
to catch the side of his head with the pan. Too bad all it did was deflect his head
about an inch or two. Now he was really mad.

He pivoted on his heel and cuffed me good. My head rung as I slammed into the wall.
The worst part was that I couldn’t see anything but gray and stars. He grabbed me
by the front of my tee shirt and hauled me up. His fist hit my cheek and I bit my
tongue. The warm and metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

A sane person would have run. Clearly, being smacked around had unhinged me because
I turned to fight. I wasn’t going to let him beat on me. I had enough brothers to
know how to defend myself. I ducked his fist, kneed him in the groin, stomped on his
instep, and brought my fist up into his chin. He let go of me and staggered backward.
I blinked as my vision returned. I couldn’t tell if I’d hit my marks right. Shouldn’t
he have completely crumpled?

He was bent over but looked up at me with death in his eyes. He rushed me, throwing
his shoulder into my stomach. The air whooshed out of my lungs and he threw me into
the wall. The world went black.

I don’t know how long I was out. It didn’t feel long. I woke up to Craig kicking me.
Pain radiated through me like fire.

Tasha jumped on his back. “Stop it! Stop hurting her.”

Craig was a man crazed. I could barely see straight. Breathing out through my nose
was less painful but barely. I heard him knock her off him. I say heard because the
only thing I saw was the floor. I realized my cell phone was in my pocket. We needed
help if we were going to get out of this alive.

Slowly, carefully, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Turns out the
murders and the vandalism had been a good thing because now I had the police on speed
dial. I blinked through whatever was getting in my eyes and hit the speed dial. Craig
was shouting. Tasha was screaming. I tried not to moan too loudly. I saw the phone
light up. I left it on and pushed it out of the way. Maybe, just maybe, someone at
dispatch would hear and send help. Or, at the very least be annoyed enough to investigate.

“I can’t believe you chose her over me.” Craig slapped Tasha. She fell back against
the wall. “After all I did for you. After I killed Ed Bruner for you.”

Holy shit. Craig had killed Ed. I didn’t dare look at the phone. All I could do was
hope the dispatcher had heard his confession. I wished I had taped the incident. I
mean, what if Sarah didn’t catch on? What if they sent Officer Emry? I should have
hit Record.

“Stop it, Craig Kennedy,” I shouted. It sort of came out as a high-pitched squeal.
“Stop hitting Tasha Wilkes, now!”

I tried to stand. He had grabbed her by the throat and was choking her. “Stop!” I
threw myself at him. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. He tossed Tasha aside like
a bag of feed and turned on me.

“This is all your fault, goddamn it. If you hadn’t interfered, Tasha and Kip would
have become my family. My family to watch over and care for.” He slammed his fist
into the side of my head. My chin came down on the countertop and I discovered how
hard granite could be.

Craig grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hauled me out of the kitchen and into
the living room. I saw the panic in Tasha’s eyes. “Run!” I shouted. “Tasha, run!”

“No!” Tasha was never one to listen. I saw her struggle to get up and then I was pulled
out of view of her and thrown to the floor. Pain blinded me.

“Now you’re gonna get the beating you deserve for being a home wrecker.” I heard him
whip his belt out.

“Like hell,” I muttered. My face throbbed and my tongue was swollen, but I couldn’t
think about that right now. I rolled toward him and tried to knock him down. He stepped
over me. I grabbed his leg and bit down hard. Screw it. If I was going to die, then
I was going down knowing I had left a mark on the killer.

He screamed like a girl and tried to kick me off. I clung to him as if my life depended
on it and clamped my teeth down even harder. If I had to, I’d take a piece out of
him. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me off. Tears sprung to my eyes, but my
hands were free and I reached up and clawed the hand that held me by the hair.

He growled and I felt the swing in his body before I felt the electric lick of the
belt across my shoulders. I had to get up or get him down. He still had my hair. I
scissored my legs and got them behind him and up high enough to knock the back of
his knees. He fell forward. The motion pulled my hair harder. Tears blinded me. I
heard a mighty crash and suddenly I was free.

I scrambled away and back. My heart pounded in my ears and I wiped my eyes trying
to see, to figure out what happened. Someone grabbed me by the shoulder. I reached
up and felt a female hand. It was Tasha.

“Come on.”

I saw Craig sprawled out on the floor. I put my arm around Tasha, whose face looked
like raw meat, and together we staggered to the kitchen. The back door burst open.
There was yelling as men rushed inside, guns drawn.

“Freeze!”

The words, the noise was too much. We crumpled to the floor. Someone big and warm
squatted down beside us. “Are you all right?”

I started laughing. I couldn’t see. My mouth was full of warm, metallic stuff and
there was ringing in my ears. “All right” didn’t quite cut it.

“Call an ambulance,” the man, whoever he was shouted. “It’s okay,” he said softer
and stroked my hair. I winced. “You’re safe now.”

I realized I hadn’t let go of Tasha’s hand. I turned to try to see her through the
stinging wetness and tears. She sat up straight, her back against the kitchen island.
Her face swollen and her eyes . . . her eyes glittered.

“I hope I killed that son of a bitch.”

That statement made me laugh like a lunatic. She looked at me and started laughing,
too.

Another man—this time I saw it was Officer Bright—squatted down. “How did you know?”
Tasha asked. “How did you get here?”

“Ms. Holmes called dispatch. We have the whole thing on tape.”

Tasha looked at me. “How did you do that? I tried to dial but Craig . . .” A small
sob broke out of her. I squeezed her hand.

“I hab da police on speed dial,” I explained as best I could with my swollen tongue.
“I hid one buddon and hid my phone, hoping id worked.”

“And it did.” Officer Bright picked up my phone and handed it to me. “Brilliant move.”

“Did you hear it all then?” Tasha asked. “Did you hear when he said he killed Ed Bruner
for me?”

Officer Bright nodded and patted her shoulder. “We’ve got it all on tape.”

Then the paramedics were there pushing everyone away, asking questions, shining lights
in my eyes, and generally making the pain worse. Somehow I didn’t seem to mind.