The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery (4 page)

* * *

I
'd never had
any interest in local politics. Of course I still voted, did my civic duty whenever there was an election, but as far as local elections were concerned, I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't do my research until the day of voting.

And the mayoral elections weren't due to be held for another two weeks. So I knew nothing, other than I'd seen Olive Styles' face on the side of a bus while I was at my hair stylist's.

"Geez, I didn't even know all of this was on the same street as my bakery," I said, standing in the front of the office that was—or at least, had been—the home of Olive Styles' campaign. The office windows were plastered with "Vote Styles" and three-feet-high posters of Olive's very attractive for fifty-five-year-old face.

Chloe had brought me down here to show me something. She fetched her notes from her bag and went over them. "This has been Olive's campaign headquarters for the past few months," Chloe said.

"I've probably driven past here a hundred times then," I murmured.

"Probably."

Olive Styles’ posters were in very classy colors of blue and white. They weren't the most eye-catching, in your face posters, but she had clearly been going for a more subtle approach. The cool, light colors were probably why the shop front hadn't stood out to me very much.

"Look at this," Chloe said, pulling a piece of paper out of her kit. "It's a list of all the people that Olive was campaigning against," Chloe said, handing it to me. I hadn't known there were so many candidates in a local election. There were six other people running for mayor.

"Looks like she's made a lot of enemies," I said, unable to stop the grin spreading over my face. A lot of enemies for Olive was good news for me.

Chloe reached out and tapped her nail against one of the names on the list. "There were six other candidates, but only one that was a real threat to Olive." Her nail tapped against the name "Braxton Madison." Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Him and Olive were the top two candidates. It was either going to be one of them or the other."

I frowned.

Chloe turned around and pointed to the window of Olive's campaign office. She pointed to a spot in the corner where one of Olive's classy blue and white posters had been covered by a garish poster in colors of yellow and red that definitely caught the eye, but not necessarily in a good way. It took a moment for me to look past the loud color scheme to be able to focus on the candidate's face.

"That's him!" I said, pointing at the poster just like Chloe was. "Braxton Madison," I gasped. "That's the man that was in the bakery with Olive when she died!"

Chloe nodded. "Told you that you wouldn't believe it," Chloe said with her eyebrows raised.

"So he was running for mayor as well."

"Still is, as far as I can tell," Chloe said.

Oh, this was too good to be true. For me at least, and my chances of clearing my name. Not only was he Olive's biggest rival, Braxton Madison had been sitting and eating with her when she'd been poisoned.

Rain started to fall and Chloe and I both quickly moved in under the shop awning, but it was heavy and splashed up at us anyway. I shivered.

"So this all begs the question," Chloe said, staring at the red and yellow poser that had been so rudely imposed over Olive's face. "Just where is Braxton Madison now?"

"I have another question," I said. "A bigger one, I think. Just what exactly was Olive doing eating pie with her biggest rival?"

"
C
ome on
, let's get out of here," Chloe said as the rain started to fall even more heavily. We'd parked at the bakery and walked all the way to the campaign headquarters.

"Braxton had the perfect motive," Chloe said, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, slipping a little in the rain as we hurried down the street. "With Olive out of the way, he's primed to win the election."

"Plus, he was actually there, sitting right beside her, when Olive was murdered. So he had the motive, and the perfect opportunity." No wonder he was on the run.

We were still hurrying down the road, dodging people as well as the rain as we raced to reach the car. "Do you remember seeing him do anything? Anything at all?" I asked Chloe.

"You mean do I remember him pulling out a vile of poison and sprinkling it on top of her pie?" Chloe asked a little cheekily.

"Okay, maybe nothing that obvious," I said, sticking out my tongue playfully. A man coming in the opposite direction banged into me and I bit down on my tongue. "Ow!"

I had to stop for a second, clutching at my aching mouth.

"Are you okay, Rachael?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I said, cringing when I heard there was now a weird lisp to my voice.

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No, it's not that serious."

The rain was pouring down. The spot we had chosen to stop at was right in the front of Bakermatic. Talk about loud shades of nauseating yellow... The Bakermatic color scheme matched the campaign signs of Braxton Madison and was already making me dizzy. "Come on, let's just pop in here," I said.

"I dunno," Chloe said hesitantly. "Bakermatic? Are you sure you want to give them your business?"

"No. But it's not like they are my rivals right now. I don't even have a bakery to run at the moment. Come on, Chloe, it's pouring rain." There was still a lisp to my voice and I just wanted to sit down for a minute.

Chloe glanced in the window and looked around like she was searching for something specific. I asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing. Just making sure there's a seat for us," she said.

"The place is empty, come on, let's go in."

Bakermatic might be bright yellow and they might sell stale, pre-packaged food, but at least it was dry and warm. I took off my coat and asked for a glass of ice for my tongue as we approached the counter and ordered some coffee. I was relieved that the manager, Simona, wasn't working. I had history with her and it was always awkward. I didn't recognize the young guy behind the counter at all. He looked about seventeen, with spotty skin, which the bright yellow paint, unfortunately for him, did little to flatter. He was very nice and friendly, though, and fetched me my glass of ice right away, promising to bring our coffees to our table.

We slid into a booth and I relaxed a little. Now that we were out of it, the rain outside was actually pretty pleasant. I smiled a little to myself, thinking about how well the day's investigating had gone so far. It couldn't have gone better, actually. Suddenly things were looking up. It wouldn't be long before this whole thing was sorted, and I was off the hook, and customers were flowing through the door again.

Chloe cleared her throat. "You seem pretty calm, Rachael, considering everything that's happened."

I shrugged. "I don't think I have anything to worry about," I said. "It kinda looks like we've already got our guy."

Chloe's face fell a little.

"You look disappointed," I said.

"I suppose…" She trailed off. "Oh, it's silly. But I was kind of enjoying the whole detective thing."

"I know the feeling," I said sagely. "But you can't let your desire to keep investigating cloud your judgment. We've figured out who did it, Chloe. That's a good thing."

She shrugged a little. "I suppose so."

The spotty kid from behind the counter delivered our coffees with shaking hands. He shot Chloe a funny look and she looked away.

"What was that about?" I asked her.

She laughed a little and took a sip of her latte. "I dunno."

"Probably just wants to ask you out on a date," I said with a little wink while I dumped a packet of sugar into my own latte. "He did seem kind of nervous after all."

"He's a little young for me!" Chloe said with a shocked laugh.

"He's only a couple of years younger, at the most,” I teased.

"I'm not sure it would even be legal." Chloe sat her latte down and looked out of the window like she was pondering something.

"So," I said. "Are you seeing anyone special then?" We'd never really had the chance to talk about anything like that at work. I hadn't thought it was really appropriate, actually. This was the first time we had ever done anything socially. I had no idea about Chloe's private life at all, but she was very pretty and I doubted she was single.

She fiddled with her coffee cup for a few seconds. "No, no one special," she said with a heavy sigh. "I was seeing this guy for a while but we broke up a couple of weeks ago—before I started working for you."

"Sorry," I said. "What happened?" I was being nosy but I wanted to know.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I found out he was seeing another girl. Same old story, you know," she said before she picked up her coffee and finished it in one gulp. She set the empty cup back down with a thud. "I really need to call him to get my stuff back, but I don't want to."

"Speaking of guys I really don't want to call, but I have to," I said, pulling out my phone. "I think it's time to call Detective Whitaker."

* * *

J
ackson met
me at my car behind the station, holding up an umbrella for me. "It's been raining cats and dogs," he said as I stepped out.

"Thanks," I said, huddling under the umbrella next to him. Even though he'd been quite stern with me when he'd taken me in for questioning earlier—understandably, as he suspected I might have murdered someone—he was being sweet and kind now and I wasn't looking forward to entering through the doors of the station where the spell would be broken. And I'd be back to suspect, him back to detective.

As soon as he took the umbrella away, I felt short and exposed as I followed him into the interrogation room.

"Thanks for seeing me," I said, hoping that the lisp had gone from my voice. My tongue still ached, though.

Jackson nodded and his eyebrows shot up. "I hear you've got something important to tell me." He was hiding it, but I could tell he was smiling a little.

My face split into a wide grin. I couldn't wait to tell him all about Braxton Madison. Not only would I be cleared, of course, but Jackson could go back to treating me like a person, and not a suspect. We had a lot of history. Some good, some terrible. But recently things had been heating up between us and I knew if I could just get rid of the small obstacle of me being a murder suspect and him being a cop, then we might be actually able to go on a real date.

It had been a while for me. Six months to be exact. The thought of going on a date, especially with someone I actually liked, terrified me. But I was willing to put myself out there...just as long as Jackson was.

He sat there expectantly and I realized I'd just been staring at him for a full minute. "Right," I said, clearing my throat. "I should get on with it."

I spilled everything I knew. It was hard to read Jackson's face as he listened to my findings. He had a good poker face and didn't give anything away, but I was certain he must be impressed with what I'd managed to find. And that he must have been just as relieved as I was that I would be cleared of any suspicion.

"So, as you can see, Braxton Madison must have killed Olive Styles." I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms, looking at Jackson expectantly.

He stared at me blankly before the slightest crease formed on his brow. "Is that it?" he asked, finally, in slight disbelief.

"Well, yes, it is," I said, confused. "Isn't that enough?"

Jackson blinked slowly a few times as though the story I had told him was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard and he needed a few moments to collect himself. "Did you really think we hadn't already figured all of this out, Rachael?" He shook his head lightly, still in disbelief. "We know that Braxton Madison was Olive Styles’ biggest rival. He was the first suspect we looked at."

I didn't get it. Now it was my turn to blink slowly. "And what did you find then?"

Jackson shrugged a little. "I shouldn't really be telling you any of this, Rachael, but nothing. We found nothing."

My mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. "How can you have found nothing? He killed Olive Styles. He was there, at the bakery..."

Jackson burst out laughing. "No, he wasn't..."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course he was. There are witnesses."

Jackson returned the same look of disbelief that I must have had on my own face. It was like we were talking two different languages, struggling to gauge the others' meaning.

Jackson took a moment to reply in a calm voice. "Braxton Madison has a solid alibi. The only witnesses he has placed him at his home at the time of Olive's death."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I saw him there with my own two eyes."

"You must have been mistaken," Jackson said. "Confused."

"I'm not confused," I said quickly. "I didn't imagine him walking into my shop with Olive Styles, and sitting down to eat with her."

Jackson leaned back. "Did you serve him?"

"No," I had to admit. "I wasn't feeling too well so I was in my office. Chloe handled the table."

"So how can you be sure it was really him?"

I hesitated for a second. He was making me second-guess myself. Had it actually been Braxton Madison in my bakery? Or was I just getting confused, seeing what I wanted to see and making the facts match my case the way I wanted them to.

"I am sure," I said firmly. "It was him."

Jackson threw his hands up. "You got any video footage?"

I sat up straight, excited. "Yes! We've got cameras in the shop!" Then all the life drained from me as I remembered. "We took the cameras down for the remodeling."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient."

"Hardly."

I scratched my head, dumbfounded. This was not how I had expected our meeting to go at all. I'd walked in expecting to get myself off the hook, and I was going to leave feeling like I'd seen a ghost. How could I have seen Braxton Madison there if he wasn't actually there? I needed to go. I needed to talk to Chloe. She saw him as well. She would confirm that I wasn't gong crazy.

I stood up.

"Where are you going, Rachael?"

"I need some fresh air," I said. "And since you are so intent on not believing me, I think I'm wasting my time here."

"I think you better sit back down, Rachael," he said, and his tone was stern enough to make me.

I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Jackson stared at me in disappointment. "I really wish you hadn't come in here today, with this crazy story," he said. "It only makes you look more guilty." He looked away, unable to look me in the eye, but I could feel the disappointment radiating off him.

"Jackson, it's not a crazy story."

He finally looked back at me. "It looks like you're just desperate to get yourself off the hook," Jackson said.

"Of course I'm desperate to do that, Jackson! Wouldn't you be?" I shook my head and leaned back on my chair. "And I'm not pretending otherwise. I am desperate. But Braxton Madison was there, in my shop."

"You got any proof of that?"

"Chloe can back me up."

Jackson sighed. "She could have been mistaken just as you were."

"I wasn't mistaken, Jackson."

He stood up now. "I think you'd better leave, Rachael. My advice, off the books," he said, lowering his voice, "is to stop doing things that make you look guilty. And to get yourself a lawyer."

* * *

C
hloe was waiting
for me when I finally got back to my car. The rain had cleared and she was leaning against the passenger side. Even though she'd had errands to run, I'd texted her where I was and she was kind enough to meet me.