Til a Death Do Us Part: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery (2 page)

"
I
still think
bright pink is tacky for a wedding," I commented as we sat inside the van in the front of the vineyard. This was no small church wedding, no back yard deal. It was a real classy affair. I was a little surprised that they'd managed to pull together such an intricate event since they'd been engaged such a short time.

It had taken us forty minutes to drive to the vineyard from Belldale and it had been a steep and windy trip up a mountain before we'd arrived.

"Come on," Pippa said, pushing the door open. "I need some fresh air."

"It's beautiful here," I commented, taking in the crisp fall air. The sky was mostly clear, but the grey and pink clouds that lingered didn't ruin the scene. In fact, they'd probably only make the wedding party photos even more beautiful. "A perfect day for a wedding," I murmured, my voice sounding a little melancholy.

Pippa raised an eyebrow. "Not a perfect day to ruin a wedding, I hope," she said as she began to unload the van.

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I adjusted my uniform, making sure that my white tie was straight.

"You've really got to no plans of standing up and shouting something when the celebrant asks if anyone objects?"

I stared at her with my jaw wide open. "Pippa! Of course not."

Though the thought had crossed my mind. But only in passing. I'd never dare make such a scene like that. I got terrible stage fright. Even the idea of being a bride was a little daunting to me. All those people staring at you while you had to walk down the aisle and recite vows when you got to the end of it. I shuddered at the thought.

Of course, if you were marrying the right person, it wouldn't be so bad.

“Rachael?" Pippa asked. "We've got to get a move on."

"Right," I said. There were other vans like ours parked in the parking lot. Even though we were the official dessert caterers for the wedding, with the pastries and finger cakes and the most important thing of all, the wedding cake, there was another caterer there taking care of the savory snacks. Apparently, there was going to be a sit down meal. Instead, finger food would be served while guests drank and danced. It was a sort of trendy, modern choice and I had to admit I was a little envious of how nice the entire reception seemed like it was going to be.

The reception hall, with a breathtaking view of the vineyard on every side and its floor to ceiling windows and large outdoor dining area, was decorated in rustic chic. There was a candy buffet filled with chocolate-covered pretzels and hard candies and all sorts of old-fashioned confectionary that guests could help themselves to once the ceremony was over. It all left me feeling a little superfluous.

"Hey, we've got the most important thing, remember?" Pippa said, giving me a nudge. "The cake."

Yes. The cake was the most important thing at a wedding.
Not a groom,
I thought with a little sigh.

"You know those sweets aren't even handmade," I said, eyeing them suspiciously. The buffet was being set up by a woman in a red and white pin-stripped shirt with "Shirley's Old-Fashioned Sweets" plastered loudly on her back.

"Calm down," Pippa said. "You seem a little on edge today, Rachael."

"I'm not," I snapped back as I set up our station. "Why would I be on edge?"

"Maybe because the guy you like is getting married to someone else today."

"I've told you a thousand times. I don't like him."

Pippa leaned against the table and shot me a look. "Look, if this is all too much for you, you can tell me. We can go. We don't have to do this."

I looked at her in shock. "We can't just leave. This is a wedding, Pippa! You can't run away from a wedding."

Pippa shrugged. "We can leave the cake. Looks like the guests won't exactly starve if we're not around to hand out the rest of our stash."

"It would be terrible for business," I said stubbornly. "What if word got out that we'd done that? We'd never get another catering job."

"You hate catering. Admit it."

I did hate it. But we had to do what we had to do. "Anyway," I said, covering up our trays of baked goods with a large plastic lid to keep the flies away. "I do NOT care about Jackson. He is the least of my concerns right now."

Pippa pouted a little. "That's a shame. I would have enjoyed watching you make a scene as you tried to stop the wedding."

"I don't think there'll even be an opportunity to do that," I said. "We're stuck here in the reception room, remember? The ceremony is taking place two doors down." There was a bar and a kitchen area standing between us and where the ceremony was officially taking place. I wasn't sure whether I was disappointed or relieved that I wouldn't get to actually see the wedding ceremony.

"Rachael," Pippa whispered. "Don't look now."

"What is it?" I asked, spinning around.

I gulped. It was Jackson, already dressed in his tux, walking towards us. I cringed at how stupid I looked in my bright pink shirt with apron and tie.

"Hey," he said a little nervously. That was no surprise, it was his wedding day. I noticed that his eyes were a little bloodshot and there were bags under them like he hadn't slept much. Maybe a wild bachelor's party the night before?

I straightened up. "So! It's the big day! You must be excited?" I asked.

Jackson hesitated for a moment before he nodded a little unsurely. "Yeah," he said, still nodding. "It's a very exciting day."

Pippa shot me a funny look. "So, as you can see," I said, waving to the table behind me. "Everything is ready to go."

Jackson nodded. "Great," he said as he looked at the cakes with bleary eyes. "So, um, Rachael, I was meaning to ask you something. Pippa as well," he added, nodding towards her. Oh, so he wasn't going to ask me to marry him instead of Emma then. Well, unless he also wanted Pippa to be involved.

"What's that?"

"Well, it seems awful rude not to invite you to the actual ceremony, considering that you are here," he said with a frown. "After all, we are friends. I'm sure you can leave your station for a little while and come and join the rest of the guests."

I stared down at my outfit. "I'm not sure I'm exactly dressed for it," I said, cringing.

Jackson shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You can sit at the back where no one will really see you."

Great.

I made myself smile. "I suppose everyone will be focused on the bride, won't they?"

Jackson nodded. "Yes, I suppose they will be."

I looked over at Pippa for support but she just shrugged weakly and shot me a look that seemed to say
are you sure this is such a good idea?

"We'll be there," I said. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

P
ippa
and I were crammed into the back row of the room, with me teetering on the edge of my seat so precariously that I was about to fall right off. "It sure is a packed house," I commented.

"They're cops," Pippa said. "They're meant to be popular within the community."

I glanced at my watch because I'd thought constantly checking my phone for the time would look unprofessional. Besides, the vineyard didn't get very good reception.

"I bet that Emma looks beautiful in her wedding dress," Pippa whispered as the rest of the guests were beginning to stir impatiently. "She's so tall and pretty, and that long red hair is going to look amazing contrasted with the white gown."

"What are you trying to do, Pippa?" I asked, shooting her a look.

"What? I thought you didn't care that she was marrying Jackson?"

I tried to get comfortable in my seat but it was difficult considering that half of my butt was hanging off the side. "Where is she?" I asked, checking the time. "The ceremony was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. Maybe we should have put the cakes in the fridge."

In the front of the chapel, Jackson was standing with a stony expression as he gripped both hands tightly in front of him. I'd have thought he'd have looked a bit more concerned about his bride's tardiness.

"Maybe she isn't going to show," I said suddenly, turning to Pippa. "Maybe she's had cold feet and is having second thoughts." I failed to hide the excitement in my voice by dressing it up with concern.

"All brides are late for their wedding," Pippa said plainly.

"Are they? Or is that just something that happens in movies and TV."

"Well," Pippa said thoughtfully. "I wasn't late to my wedding, actually."

"But you and Marcello just went to the court house to get married, like, the day after you met," I pointed out. "That doesn't count."

"Hey, it was two weeks after we met," Pippa said, poking her tongue out. "But you're right, maybe it does only happen in the movies. She's twenty-five minutes late now."

I looked back at Jackson for any sign that he was growing worried or impatient himself. But there was that same bleary-eyed look on his face like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Excuse me, dear," a voice said and I looked up, startled, to see a woman in her late sixties or maybe early seventies wearing a flowery hat trying to get past me. "This is taking so long and I'm afraid at my age, my bladder can't hold on much longer."

"Oh, sorry!" I said, standing up so that she could get through.

She smiled as she looked my outfit up and down. "That's an interesting get-up, dear," she said with a smile.

I laughed a little. "I'm working here today, I'm afraid," I said. "Would you like me to show you to the bathroom?"

"No, no, dear, that's fine, I know where it is," she answered sweetly. "You wait here just in case that niece of mine actually decides to show up," she said. Leaning closer to me, she whispered, "Though I wouldn't put money on it."

She hobbled away and I sat down. "That was Emma's aunt," I told Pippa. "She doesn't think Emma is going to show up either."

After another five minutes of us all twiddling our thumbs had passed, and even more people had left to use the bathroom—and a couple of guests leaving all together— the celebrant finally leaned over and whispered something in Jackson's ear. My lip-reading skills weren’t good enough to catch it, but I was pretty sure he was asking Jackson if he still wanted to wait or whether they ought to just call it.

"Where is that aunt of Emma's?" I asked, realizing that she had been in the bathroom for a long time. "Maybe someone should go check on her."

Pippa shrugged. "I suppose so."

I leaned over and whispered to the young man that the woman had been sitting with. "That woman?" I asked. "Who was sitting with you?"

"Aunt Cassie," he said. Turning around, he added, "She's been gone a while, hasn't she?"

I stood up. "I need some fresh air myself. I'll go check that she's okay."

It had gotten rather humid in the room so it was a relief to feel the cool fall air on my face as I headed out the back of the building, down a few stairs and around to where the bathrooms were kept. Tall trees and rows and rows of grapevines stretched out to my right and, even though there was a threat of rain in the air, it was still picturesque.

It was a fair walk to the bathrooms so I supposed it wasn't that strange that Aunt Cassie had taken her time getting there and back. They were removed from the main part of the building and I had to walk down another set of stairs to get to them.

"Aunt Cassie?" I called out through the bathroom door. There was no answer. I looked around. There was no one else in sight. A chill suddenly ran down my spine.

I paused before I took a step inside the building. Then I told myself that I was just being stupid. There was nothing to fear at a vineyard, right?

"Aunt Cassie..."

I came to a standstill as I saw Aunt Cassie, lying lifeless on the floor of the bathroom with her face as blue and grey as the sky was that day. "Aunt Cassie!" I screamed as I ran and checked for her pulse.

Nothing.

There was a mark around her neck, red and bruised. She had been strangled.

"Oh my..." I took a step back frantically and fled out of the bathroom, intending to run back to the function room for help.

That's when I saw Emma, startled in her wedding dress, standing on the stairs with a wild look in her eyes.

She took one look at me and ran.

I
stumbled back
into the chapel where the guests were whispering and muttering amongst themselves, and at first I thought they must have known about Aunt Cassie.

Then I realized, of course they didn't. I was the only one to have seen her.

Then I thought about Emma's dazed look of shock before she ran away and fled for the hills.

"Rachael?" Pippa waved me over. I realized then that the guests were all murmuring because the celebrant was clearing his throat ready to make an announcement.

My first instinct, stupid as it was, was to just sit down in my seat as though nothing had happened. I must have been in shock. I felt as though it would be rude not to sit and listen while the celebrant was speaking.

"Upon the advice of Mr. Whittaker," the celebrant started to say. "I need to inform all the guests present today that..."

I suddenly jumped up. "Aunt Cassie!" I called out. I was met with shocked whispers and Jackson shooting me a look that said,
what the heck are you doing?
Her nephew spun around to stare at me and I looked down at him apologetically. "I’m sorry," I whispered to him.

He stood up. "What about Aunt Cassie? Where is she?"

"She wasn't...she wasn't breathing," I said lamely.

There were more gasps and whispers. "She's...she's in the bathroom," I finally said before I collapsed back into my pew.

Jackson was already gone, running out the door.

* * *

T
he fresh air
in my lungs barely did any good. I still felt as though I was going to hyperventilate.

Pippa fanned at my face as we waited at the steps in the back of the reception lodge. "And there I was, thinking you were going to object to the wedding! Then you go and object just as the wedding is about to be called off!"

I gritted my teeth. "I'm sure it's been called off now," I said as I looked at the idle mingling guests beside us, spilling onto the steps in seas of floral and grey suits.

"Well, yes, a murder does have that effect," Pippa said. "But I suppose we'll never know what Jackson actually wanted his guests to know."

I had a pretty good idea, though.

"Is it just my imagination or does Jackson seem relieved that the wedding has been called off?" I said, turning her around a little so that she could get a good look at him at the top of the stairs. The other guests were keeping a respectful—or perhaps embarrassed—distance from him and he was standing on his own with his phone pressed to his ear, most likely in contact with the rest of the police force. There was already an ambulance and a few stray officers down at the bathrooms where I'd found Aunt Cassie. I myself was keeping a respectful distance from that place.

Pippa shot me a look. "I just wonder if we're still getting paid."

I had to admit that the thought had also crossed my mind, but I chided Pippa for the comment anyway. "It's hardly the most important thing right now."

"Hmmm, and what is the most important thing right now then?" She nodded towards Jackson pacing alone out the back of the building with the vineyard behind him. The sky had turned progressively more purple and pink during the hour we had been stuck in there.

"Aunt Cassie's murder, of course," I whispered.

"Good. I hope that is what you are going to focus on then."

I glanced back at the bathrooms. "Who would do such a thing, though?" I whispered, reaching up protectively for my own neck. I'd always had a thing about being touched on my neck. If anyone did it, or their hands came anywhere near my neck, without my prior consent then I would reflexively bat them away. Even if I knew they were going to touch my neck, like for instance I was getting my makeup done by a professional and they had to add some powder or foundation to my neck, I would hit their hand away half the time. I had to really,
really
trust a person before I would let their hands near my neck.

Just thinking about the way that Aunt Cassie died made me shudder.

"Rach?"

"Right," I said, coming back to reality. "Of course that is what I am going to focus on."

"Oh, good," she said quickly, seeming a little surprised. "Because half the time, you have to be dragged into these things reluctantly."

I shook my head. "Not this time," I said, my right hand still lingering on my own neck. "Whoever did this to Aunt Cassie is going to be brought to justice."

It seemed like I was going to be the first person brave enough to approach Jackson after the disaster that was his wedding ceremony. Or lack thereof.

He put his phone down as I approached him, covering up the bottom of it so that whoever was on the other end couldn't hear him.

"You found Aunt Cassie, right?"

I nodded. "One of the officers at the bottom of the steps just questioned me about it."

He spoke into the phone again. "I'll call you back in five."

He looked up at me.

"I didn't do anything. I just found the body," I stated.

"That's okay. I don't care about that. Well, I do..." He ran a hand through his hair.

"What then?"

"Did you see Emma?" he asked me frantically. "While you were outside. Was there any sign of her?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that.

"I saw...I saw her for a moment," I said a little unsurely.

Jackson's eyes sprang wide open. "So she was here?" He seemed shocked by that. "What happened? What was she doing? Where did she go?"

Those were a lot of questions to answer in one go, and the last one I had no idea of how to answer.

Jackson took a few deep breaths and as he calmed down a little, he seemed to realize that he had overwhelmed me with his interrogation. "Sorry," he said.

"Hey, you've had a really…I was going to say tough day, but it's more of a strange day."

He nodded a little in agreement. "Okay, just answer this," Jackson said, his face full of anguish. "Was she wearing her wedding dress?" He waited anxiously for the answer.

I nodded. "She was wearing her dress."

He took another few deep breaths. "So she was intending on marrying me, or at least she went as far as putting the dress on."

She'd gone as far as heading towards the steps. It was still impossible to know whether or not she'd have climbed them if I hadn't spotted her.

I shook my head. "I don't know Jackson," I said lamely. If I'd been being completely honest with him, I would have told him that the fact that she was over half an hour late for the ceremony and then fled was not a good indication that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. But it wasn't the time for brutal honesty. I tried to reassure him instead. "I think the shock of Aunt Cassie...it might have all just been too much for her."

Jackson's phone rang again and he excused himself while he took the call. "Can you wait around though, Rachael? I've still got a lot of things I need to ask you about."

I nodded and took a few steps backwards. "Sure."

We had a lot of packing up to do anyway. "At least no one touched the candy buffet either," Pippa pointed out when I found her in the reception room.

I took the other side of the three-tiered cake as we placed it back in the box. "But now, we'll never know whose food was most popular."

Pippa sighed and looked at the cake that seemed to be sagging, even though it wasn't warm enough in the reception room for any of the frosting or cream to have melted. It was like it knew what had happened and was sad it was never going to be used. "Maybe we should donate this somewhere."

"It does seem a shame to waste it," a voice from behind me said.

I spun around to see Aunt Cassie's nephew standing there. "I'm Dylan, by the way," he said, extending his hand. I shook it a little awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to him at a time like this.

"I'm so sorry about your aunt," I said.

He nodded and I saw that his eyes were a little bleary. "We weren't...well, we weren't super close, I suppose, but it's still..." He gulped and didn't finish his sentence.

"So are you Emma's brother?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Cousin," he answered.

That made a little more sense seeing as Emma had red hair and Dylan had almost jet-black hair that seemed plastered onto his head like a Lego man.

"Are you close with Emma?" I asked suddenly as Pippa shot me a look.

Dylan shrugged a little. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and the action as well as the sullen look on his face made him look younger than he probably was. He was likely in his mid to late thirties, but the haircut made him look a little bit like a sulky teenager. "Not really since we were little and our parents spent a lot of time together. We don't even spend the holidays together anymore. Today would have been the first time I'd seen her actually in...oh, I don't know, three or four years? I was a little surprised to even get the invitation, to be honest."

At least he'd gotten an invite. That was more than I'd been afforded.

"So, you didn't actually see Emma today, by the sounds of it?"

I could still see Pippa's face out of the corner of my eye, with an expression that read,
what angle are you working here, exactly?

Dylan shook his head. "No, we arrived just before the ceremony started. Or was meant to start, I should say."

"So you have no idea whether Emma was actually intending to marry Jackson today?"

He looked a little taken aback. "Well, no... I mean, I assumed she was. Like I said, we aren't that close now." He cleared his throat a little and I apologized.

"Right, sorry, you wouldn't know."

"I just came to thank you," Dylan said, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

"Thank me?"

"Well, you were the one who went looking for Aunt Cassie. You seemed to care about her when no one else did."

I looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "It's not like me going after her did any good." Maybe if I'd left a few minutes earlier, then she would still be alive.

"Still," Dylan said. "Thank you. I have to go now, but maybe we'll see each other again if this wedding ever actually takes place."

I nodded. "Maybe," I said, unconvinced that would actually be the case.

"What was all that about?" Pippa asked as soon as Dylan was out of the room.

"What are you talking about?" I took my apron off and stuffed it into our cart.

"All those questions about Emma." Pippa narrowed her eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were considering her as a suspect!"

I looked away.

"Rachael! I know you're a little jealous of her."

"I'm not jealous of her," I snapped. "I'm not," I added firmly.

"Well, regardless. She has no reason to kill her aunt on her wedding day, for crying out loud. She's a police detective, for one thing!"

"Yeah, well, why did I see her running away from the crime scene?" I asked.

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."