Meet Your Baker (30 page)

She snatched my wrist and squeezed it tightly.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, am I hurting you?” Caroline squeezed tighter, cutting off circulation. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

She yanked me to the other side of the island. I was wrong—she wasn’t weak. She was extremely strong.

“Caroline, please, listen to me. I think you’re confused. I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.”

“Stop repeating yourself.” She dragged me toward a butcher block knife stand. Grabbing a twelve-inch serrated cake knife from the stand, she raised it in her free hand. “I know you’re not going to hurt me, precious Juliet. I’m going to hurt
you
.”

My God, had they given her the wrong medication at the hospital?
The strange thing was that her voice sounded normal, not strung out or confused, but she had to be. I tried to wriggle free of her grasp. My hand tingled and looked bright red.

She tightened her grasp. “Stop moving. You’re not going anywhere.” She waved the knife in front of my face.

What should I do? Should I try to kick her? Kick the knife from her hand? My legs were much longer than hers, but she outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. Should I keep her talking? That’s what they always do in the movies. I wondered if anyone outside could see us. Should I yell?

I decided to try to keep her talking. Maybe if I could get her to talk she would loosen her grip on my arm or forget about the knife.

“Caroline, I don’t understand. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Ha!” She tapped my chest with the tip of the knife. “Who’s the smart one now?”

I bent backward to avoid it.

“You’re not
scared,
are you, Juliet? Oh lovely, lovely Juliet.”

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Maybe I should try being more firm. Obviously being calm wasn’t working. “Caroline. I’m not scared. I know you’re not going to hurt me. You’re obviously sick.” I held out my free hand. “Give me the knife. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”

She flicked my palm with the rounded edge of the knife, slicing an inch gash on my hand. Blood oozed from the wound.

“Not going to hurt you?” She tapped the knife to my chest again.
“Oh, really?”

I squeezed my cut hand together. Blood dripped from my fist, splattering in drops on the kitchen floor.

Caroline had obviously lost it. I weighed my options. If Caroline had sliced my hand open, how long did I have before she sliced my neck?

“Please, Caroline, I know you. You don’t want to do this.”

“You know me? You know
me
!” She waved the knife wildly in the air. “Oh, that’s rich. The lovely Juliet waltzes into town, ruining everything, and you think you know me.”

“What have I ruined?”

“Everything!” she screeched.

This was good. Maybe someone outside would hear us.

She focused her eyes on me. They looked clear.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, this is priceless.” She squeezed my left hand even tighter. I’m not sure how it was possible.

Pain radiated up my arm. The tips of my fingers were swollen and purple.

“Help me understand, what have I ruined? I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“You can’t fix it.” Caroline laughed. “I will though. I am going to fix this once and for all tonight. Won’t it be a shame when your mother comes in tomorrow morning to find her lovely Juliet has sliced her wrists? The only thing more ironic would have been a poison, just like the original Juliet, but that seemed a little too dramatic, even for me.”

My heart skipped. I inhaled through my nose and tried to steady my voice.

“Caroline, your fingerprints are all over my arm. You’ll never get away with it.”

“Oh, I’ll get away with it. I have a master plan all worked out. The last few days in the hospital I had plenty of time to figure out exactly how this is going down. I learned from killing Nancy. I’m a quick study and I can promise you I’m not making a single mistake this time.”

Bile rose in my throat. Caroline wasn’t crazy. And I was out of options.

Chapter Forty-five

“You murdered Nancy?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice. “Why?”

“Drop the act, Juliet.”

“I’m not acting. I had no idea. I thought Lance or maybe Richard killed her.”

“Those two idiots?”

I nodded.

“Juliet, young one, don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re up to.” She prodded me with the knife. “Get moving. Over to the sink. We have some washing up to do.”

I inched backward. “How did you kill Nancy? That photo—Sterling. What does it all mean? And your accident? If you killed Nancy why did someone hurt you?” Words spilled from me. I’m not sure if it was nerves, or a desperate desire to figure out the truth before I met an untimely demise.

Actually the sink might be my saving grace. The pastry cutter that I’d used on the lime crescent dough earlier sat in the bottom of soapy suds. If I could reach it, maybe I could use it against her.

“Killing Nancy was easy.” Caroline marched me backward. “She was such a lush. Should have learned how to control her alcohol intake, and her tongue.”

“Because she offended you about your weight?”

“Give me more credit than that. I could handle her catty remarks.”

“Why did you kill her then?”

“She and Lance were plotting to get me out. They wanted to take full control of the company. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Lance had been telling the truth. How did Caroline know? My mind connected the dots—I’d seen Lance and Nancy talking by the Lithia fountains. Caroline must have heard them then.

We made it past the island and were only a few feet away from the sink. A trail of blood spread through the flour on the floor. She was insane. There was no way she could make this look like a suicide.

Caroline caught me looking at the blood seeping into the flour on the floor. “Don’t worry about that, honey. I’m going to clean all that up. You too. Such a tragedy. The brokenhearted Juliet Capshaw couldn’t go on.”

I crinkled my nose.

“Don’t believe me? The whole town’s talking about it. Lovesick Juliet. No one will ever even question it.”

“Thomas will.”

“He’s still so in love with you. He’ll be equally heartbroken.”

“He isn’t. He’ll know. We’ve been working on Nancy’s murder together.”

Caroline froze. She scanned the room. After a minute she shrugged and pushed me on. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m at the hospital now. I haven’t been released. By the time I finish with you. I’ll be back in my snug little hospital bed.”

“What about the picture of Richard and Nancy? What did Sterling have to do with all this?” I had to keep her talking and get closer to the sink. It was my only chance. The hand Caroline clenched had turned completely purple. I felt light-headed.

“That? One of my many deceptive devices to keep the police off my tail. Richard has a collection of skeletons in his closet. Once the police learned all of them and found his glove that I planted here I knew they’d arrest him.”

“So that was you?”

She snarled. “Yes. Only I didn’t hit you hard enough. I was hoping to knock you out for good. I won’t make that mistake this time.”

I felt the stainless steel ledge of the sink behind me. If I could distract her, hopefully I could reach my injured hand in the water and find the pastry cutter.

“Really, I don’t get it. Why did you meet Sterling here and give him the photo?”

Caroline let out a cackle. “Stupid kid. Wouldn’t take my bait. That photo showed Richard and his pregnant girlfriend, Anna, with the schemer Nancy, forever ago. I thought maybe he’d pounce on Richard, but instead he ran away.”

“But what about your accident? Who tried to kill you?” The sink felt cold to the touch.

“No one. Grab that soap.” She pointed to the soap on the top shelf. “A little mistake. I lured Lance backstage in hopes of taking him out too. You remember how it goes. One wrong command and a sandbag comes sailing at your head. I thought I had mapped it out perfectly, but the idiot crew dropped the wrong bag, hit me instead. Turned out to be a stroke of genius. No one would ever suspect that I’d injure myself.”

With Caroline holding my left hand like a tourniquet, I twisted my body to pull the soap from the top shelf. Blood poured down my wrist and trickled on my arm. I intentionally held my arm as high as possible so that the blood would stain my clothes—explain that as a suicide, Caroline.

I handed her the blood-coated soap.

She seemed to be considering where to start.

“Why didn’t you just go to the board, or the managing director? They’d all be motivated to put a stop to Lance and Nancy’s plans.” I bent my elbow and moved it closer to the ledge of the sink.

“I tried. Lance has that board wrapped around his little finger. They all wanted me out too. Just like you—I know you planned to take my spot. Lance has been gaga for you since the day you came back into town. You’ve been plotting against me this entire time.” She laughed again. “Nancy. You. Now I’m going to have to work out another move on Lance.”

My hand hit the cool, soapy water. The cut felt like it was being sliced open again. I bit my lip to keep from yelping with pain and reached farther down into the water. “Caroline, I promise. I don’t have
any
interest in acting. None. I haven’t been plotting anything with Lance. In fact, I’ve been trying to avoid him.”

“Right.” She cackled. “Your little act won’t work on me, darling.”

I fumbled along the bottom for the pastry cutter. Just as my fingers grasped its edges, Caroline shouted.

“What are you doing? Get your hand out of the water!”

This was my only chance to make a move. I flung the pastry cutter out of the water—splashing as much as I could in her face. She recoiled. I slammed the pastry cutter into her arm. She yelped in pain and relaxed her grip.

It was just enough to break free. Everything happened in a flash. I punched her as hard as I could in the stomach with the pastry cutter. She keeled over but kept the knife grasped in her hand. I raced to the front door, burst outside, and started screaming as loud as I could.

“Help!” Smoke got sucked into my lungs. I didn’t care.

I yelled again, frozen on the sidewalk. “Help! Help!”

Any other summer evening in Ashland there would have been dozens if not hundreds of tourists in the plaza. Tonight, no one was outside in the smoky air. In hindsight, I should have run to one of the restaurants a few shops down, but I was so stunned I couldn’t move or process fast enough.

I checked behind me. Caroline was on her feet and running for the front door. Now with knives in both hands.

You’ve got to get out of here. Run, Jules, run!

My feet obeyed the voice in my head. I ran toward Puck’s Pub, every cell in my body conscious of Caroline’s heavy footsteps behind me. She was surprisingly fast for someone carrying extra weight on her hips.

Reaching for the cast-iron handles, I flung the door open and yelled as loud as I could, “Help!”

The next thing I knew a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my shoulder. A wave of dizziness came over me and I hit the floor.

Chapter Forty-six

“Jules, Jules, are you okay?” Thomas’s voice sounded far away.

Where am I?
I squinted. The grainy wood floor and ornate ceiling of Puck’s Pub came into view. I tried to move, but pain in my right shoulder made me want to vomit.

“Don’t move. Stay there,” Thomas commanded.

I blinked my eyes. He knelt beside me, holding a rag to my shoulder. It was saturated in blood.

“Look at me, Jules.” Thomas leaned closer.

“What happened?”

“Caroline stabbed you. You passed out. You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is on its way.”

“Caroline, she’s, she’s the one.” My voice sounded strange, like it was coming from outside my body.

“I know. The Professor has her.” Thomas waved for a waiter to bring him more towels. He threw the bloody towel on the floor and pushed a clean one on my shoulder with all his body weight.

The sight of that much blood made me sick. The room began to spin.

“Keep your eyes up here.” Thomas gave me a firm command. “You’re going to be okay, Jules.” The light reflected on his shiny, gold badge.

Why did he keep saying that?

Thomas touched his hand to my face. “I think she may have nicked your artery. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you all fixed up. I can hear the sirens now. They’re close. Stay with me.”

I don’t remember much of what happened next. It’s all kind of a blur—flashing lights, a gurney, Mom’s face, EMS workers shouting out orders and sticking me with something that made all the pain disappear. I may have lost consciousness on the way to the hospital, or maybe whatever they gave me was meant to knock me out.

When I awoke in the hospital room later, Mom sat in a vinyl chair next to the bed reading a paperback. Her clothes were rumpled and worry lines were etched on her forehead.

“Honey, you’re awake.” She put the book on the bedside table and scooted the chair closer.

My eyes adjusted to the overhead fluorescent lights. Mom leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I was so worried. I haven’t slept all night. They told me you were going to be fine, but in the ambulance you were so out of it…” She trailed off.

“What time is it?”

Mom glanced at her watch. “Almost six
A.M.
You’ve been out of surgery for almost four hours now.”

“Surgery?”

“When Caroline stabbed you she hit your brachial artery. The vascular surgeon was able to control the bleeding quickly. Thank God. He doesn’t think you’re going to have any permanent nerve damage, but you’re probably going to have to do some physical therapy once the wound heals.”

“Did they get Caroline?” I tried to sit up. The room smelled like industrial disinfectant.

Mom stopped me. She grabbed a remote. “Here, I’ll prop you up, but they don’t want you moving around right now. Plus, they have you on a nice little cocktail of pain medication and heparin for the bleeding.”