Dahlias and Death Read online

  I kissed her cheek. "Thanks for breakfast. I'll be back at noon. Dad, put on sun block and have fun."

  I opened the garage to get my bicycle. Dash's truck was gone. He was probably already working down at the marina. After spotting him with Olivia the X, I hadn't seen him all night. I was sure he'd be at the show with Kate. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Kate either.

  I climbed on the bike. Kingston took off ahead of me. It had been a few days so he definitely needed to stretch his wings. I needed to stretch my wings or at least my legs some too. It was a beautiful morning so I decided to take the long, scenic route to the shop by heading down Culpepper Road past the farms and down to the lighthouse and beach before circling back to the shop. Naturally, I had an ulterior motive for the detour. I planned to ride down Maplewood Road where Jenny and Molly both lived. Jenny's house was at the end. Molly lived several doors away. It was easy enough to spot Molly's house with its impressive flower and vegetable garden. Her red sedan was in the driveway but the house was quiet.

  Kingston spotted me pedaling down an unfamiliar street and swooped down to see what I was up to. The fact that the garbage cans were still out front due to the holiday probably had something to do with his interest too.

  I rode up to Jenny's pretty farmhouse. Soon, the colorful blossoms and flourishing plants dotting the fence in the front yard would be drying up from neglect. From what I knew about Jenny, she'd lived alone in her Victorian farmhouse since her husband's death.

  It was probable that Detective Briggs would eventually search the house for clues into her death, but at the moment, the place looked quiet and untouched. My investigative instinct told me to search around the house for an open window or door, a common occurrence in the small town of Port Danby. But I didn't want to risk having Briggs catch me inside before he had a chance to go through the place. We just weren't on solid enough footing at the moment. I was sure he'd be angry. At least far more annoyed than usual.

  I heard a rustling noise down the street and saw that Kingston had set himself the task of drawing an empty box out of Molly's trash can. His big wings flapped as he pulled the box free. It fell on the road, which was Kingston's goal. He paced around the box, checking it out, trying to decide if it had been worth his effort.

  I rode back toward him. "Kingston, this is what street crows do. Not crows who wake up with a handful of snacks in their personal feeding trough."

  He ignored me and quickly grabbed what looked like pie crust out of the box. He carried it up to a tree where he could finish his stolen snack in peace. I picked up the box and saw that it was from Mayfield Bakery. Only crumbs were left in the box. I lowered my face to take a deep whiff. Apples and cinnamon. It was hard to know for certain without tasting the pie from the box, but it could easily have been the same pie I tasted at the contest table. That would mean Jenny had been right about Molly cheating. My eyes swept back to Jenny's house. Her trash can was sitting out front. It made me sad to think just yesterday she was rolling the bin down to the road and today she was dead.

  On a whim, I decided to check Jenny's trash can. I had a farfetched notion that if Jenny knew about the pie, she might have bought one from the bakery for proof. The can was filled with lots of tidbits of embroidery yarn. Jenny must have been straightening up her embroidery supplies.

  I wasn't planning to go too deep into another person's trash, but after pushing aside a few empty cartons and potato peels, I spotted the same bakery box. I held my breath to avoid breathing in the mix of odors coming from the can but managed to wrench the box free. It was wet from the potato peels but not much could mask the smell of cinnamon. It was one of those fragrances that could permeate a room with hardly any effort.

  I put the box back into the can. It wasn't going to do much toward solving the murder but it solidified the idea that Jenny had very likely confronted Molly about cheating in the pie contest. Granted, it was a wildly ludicrous motive for killing someone, but at the moment, it was the only motive I could come up with. Jenny just didn't have many enemies.

  I shielded my eyes with my hand to look out at the property behind Jenny's house. Percy was not out toiling on the wall. I was sure he'd already heard about his neighbor's death. I wondered if he took that as a cue that he could just skip the whole thing. From what I remembered, he was on the losing end of a legal fight where he ended up having to pay for the wall and lost three feet of property. Now that was a much stronger motive than pie.

  I climbed on my bicycle. I'd given Ryder the day off, and I wanted to spend time with Mom. I would open the shop for a few hours and then drive her to Mayfield. And while we were there, we could stop in Mayfield Bakery for a slice of apple pie.

  Chapter 24

  "You're home already," Mom said. She set down her book and stretched her arms up. Nevermore had curled up next to her on the couch. "I thought you might stay longer."

  I walked into the kitchen for a glass of ice water. "No, it's quiet in town. The after holiday lull. And that's what's brilliant about being my own boss. I can shut down the shop whenever I have a mom to entertain. By the way, Elsie said four o'clock at the bakery. She's looking forward to your baking session."

  "I am too." Mom hopped up from the couch. "Where to? You mentioned a shop that had lots of kitchen and tableware. I'd love a new platter for my Thanksgiving table."

  I nodded. "You and your holidays. The sparkler smoke hasn't even cleared away and you're thinking about your Thanksgiving table."

  "Time goes fast when you're my age. By the time I get back home, they'll be setting up pumpkin patches around town. Well almost. Anyhow, I'm ready if you are."

  I drained the ice water. "I am now. Let me just call in my wacky crow." I opened the door and whistled. Seconds later, Kingston waddled across the threshold with his beak forward and his hands behind his back.

  Mom watched with amusement. "My goodness, he really does think he's human."

  "Actually, I'm pretty sure he considers himself a step or two above our species." Tired from the flight around town, Kingston readily hopped into his cage and onto his favorite section of perch. I shut the cage.

  "Let's go. I'm hungry for some pie."

  "Pie?" Mom asked as we headed out the door. "You should have told me. I would have baked one. I'll make one tomorrow. What kind?"

  We climbed into the car. "Actually, I need to check out the apple pie at Mayfield Bakery. It has to do with the murder."

  Mom buckled her seat belt. I pulled out onto Loveland Terrace.

  "How on earth does apple pie have a connection to the murder? Besides, I thought the woman was a gardener not a baker."

  "Jenny was a retired librarian. She was talented in many things. You should see her embroidered pillows. Just your thing. She had a different one for each holiday."

  "Some people are so talented. I tried to embroider once. Needless to say, I ended up with a lot of pricked fingertips, tangled embroidery thread, a collection of new curse words and nothing that resembled the cute little kitten picture I was going for. But you haven't explained how the pie is connected to her murder?"

  I drove down Myrtle Place toward the turnoff to the neighboring town of Mayfield. "It's probably not. I'm just grasping at straws, or in this case, pie crust because I can't figure out why anyone would kill Jenny. She was the kind of woman who had too many friends and very few enemies. Jenny was the official judge of the Fourth of July pie contest. A woman named Molly had been winning every year with her apple pie. I think Jenny recently discovered that Molly had been buying her contest pie from the Mayfield Bakery. I'm fairly certain they argued about just that before the fireworks started."

  "Hmm." Mom moved her chin side to side in thought. "Was there a big cash reward for the winner?"

  "As far as I know, the only reward was a blue ribbon and the satisfaction of knowing you baked the best pie in town. Elsie's not allowed to enter, otherwise the ribbon would be hers and no one else would bother to enter."

  Mom gazed out the
window at the shops as we headed toward the center of town. "What a cute little commerce center. Wish we had something like this back home." She turned to me. "If there was no cash reward, it seems like a flimsy motive. Unless Molly didn't want her pie scam exposed because then people would know she was a cheater. But still, killing someone just to save face? Seems farfetched."

  "I agree. I'm out of sorts with my whole investigation this time. I guess my head and heart just aren't in it."

  Mom's brow arched. "Your investigation? Are you officially part of the team?"

  I thought about her question. I certainly always felt like part of the team. Briggs always included me on new details in murder cases, but since our friendship was on tender ground right now, I didn't feel that connection. I felt almost like an outsider. That must have been why I didn't do my usual brazen snoop job by looking for a way into Jenny's house. I didn't feel like I had a right to search it. Which technically, I didn't. Though that'd never stopped me in the past.

  The kitchen and tableware store was near the bakery. I found a parking spot in between, right in front of the coffee shop.

  Mom unbuckled her seatbelt. "From what I've learned through books and movies, motives usually have to do with money or crimes of passion. You said Jenny's picnic basket was the source of some marital tension. Maybe that's where you should be looking. Just my two cents though. What do I know?"

  "A lot, actually. Now, why don't you start perusing that kitchen store. I'm just going to run in and buy a slice of pie to make sure Molly was definitely cheating. Even though it probably won't help solve the murder, at least I'll know what kind of character Molly has. She's not the kindest individual. Cheating in a pie contest would just add another layer to her personality. Not saying that you go straight from pie contest cheat to murderer but . . ." I stopped not sure how to finish because I knew it was a fragile connection at best. "It's all I've got."

  Mom opened the door and grabbed her purse. "Well then, why don't you just let that brash detective figure it out all on his own. It's what he gets paid for." Even though he shelled out a hundred bucks for the sandwich she created, Mom was not letting go of Briggs first ditching me for the fireworks show and then speaking harshly to her at the murder site. I wasn't in the mood to defend Briggs at the moment either.

  "I'll see you in the shop in just a minute, Mom. I'd ask if you wanted anything from the bakery but that would be silly since you are going to be baking with Elsie tonight."

  "Yes, I am." She stopped. "I hope I don't seem like a clumsy amateur to Elsie."

  "Mom, you're still my favorite baker in all the world. No, you won't seem clumsy or amateur. And Elsie will welcome your company."

  That seemed to satisfy her. She headed down the sidewalk to the kitchen shop and I stepped into the bakery. I was in luck. There was one slice of apple pie left behind the glass.

  The bakery clerk was young, a high school junior or senior. She still had a mouth full of braces but that didn't take away from her gracious smile.

  I glanced at the goodies behind the glass and realized just how gorgeous Elsie's cookies and cupcakes were in comparison.

  "What can I get you?" she asked.

  "I'd like that last slice of apple pie, please. I'll eat it now."

  "Sure." She picked up a plate and slid open the glass.

  "Summer job at the bakery," I quipped. "What a treat."

  She smiled politely at my corny joke. Oh my gosh, I was that age now where the teens humored me, all the while thinking poor, old woman and her old lady sense of humor.

  She put the slice of pie on the plate and straightened. Her gaze landed on something behind me and stuck for a moment. I expected to turn and see the one thing that I was sure could hold her attention—a cute boy. I glanced back. Yep. Only it wasn't a cute boy. It was an exceptionally handsome man. My exceptionally handsome neighbor to be exact. My eyes drifted to the person next to him. Olivia the X. It seemed they were heading next door to the coffee shop. Port Danby had the Coffee Hutch, the best coffee shop in the area, but Dash and Olivia the X had made a trip to Mayfield to have coffee in the less superior shop.

  Dash's bright green eyes swept into the bakery and landed directly on me before he yanked his gaze away and dropped his face.

  "Ma'am, ma'am," the voice behind said several times. Yep, I was that age too. The ma'am age. I was still trying to sort out what I just saw as I pulled my money out and paid the girl.

  I carried the pie piece to one of the small tables and sat down. I had no real appetite for apple pie or anything for that matter. I was sure I only needed a few bites. It was a decent pie. Cinnamon, tart apples, flaky crust and currants. It was the same pie that Molly had entered into the contest. There was no more doubt about that, but matching the pies had left me feeling fairly deflated. I didn't have much. I thought about Mom's comment on motive being money or a crime of passion. Maybe I was completely off track with the pie. Or maybe I was so bamboozled by what I'd just seen, my mind could no longer make sense of anything. If nothing else, it seemed I had another mystery on my hands.

  Chapter 25

  Two hours combing meticulously through the kitchen and tableware store ended with one brand new spatula. Mom held up the shiny silver pancake flipper and admired it in the sunlight coming through the windshield.

  "This is the kind I've been looking for." She ran her finger along the front edge. "See this paper thin edge. Perfect for getting underneath a thin crepe without tearing it."

  "Then I'm glad the shopping trip was a success." I didn't mention seeing Dash to Mom even though it might have been an opportunity to dull some of that shine she saw when she gazed up at Dash with those fuzzy, future son-in-law glasses. After I confirmed my pie suspicions, I walked quickly past the coffee shop, not wanting to be seen. Only it was sort of like walking past that proverbial car wreck where curiosity forces you to look. I snuck a quick peek inside the shop and saw that Dash was sitting across from Olivia. They weren't at the table in the window but farther in where it took a second to find him. Only then did I manage to spot him because Dash was taller than most people. The conversation looked about as casual as it could be between two impossibly good looking people. It was hard not to muse that they were quite a good match. But how on earth did they become a match at all? Just a few days earlier, Dash was asking me to the fireworks show. Was Olivia the X's visit unexpected? Or maybe they'd only just met. It would be crazy to think that Dash saw her walking on the marina or at the diner and immediately swooped in to do his Dashwood Vanhouten thing. But the big million dollar question was—did Dash know he was sipping lattes with Briggs' ex-wife? The plot might have been thin and threadbare around the murder, but it was definitely thickening around some of my men friends.

  I was deep in thought when I turned onto Loveland Terrace.

  Mom sat up straighter. "Oh look, it's your handsome neighbor."

  I nearly hit the curb. Dash was walking out of his house with his dog, Captain, on a leash. We had spent a long time in the store so it made sense that he'd finished his coffee date. If that was what it was—a date? The coffee part was irrefutable.

  "Hurry up," Mom said.

  I lifted a brow at her. "Uh, all right hold on teen version of Mom. Settle it down. You taught me yourself—never look too anxious. It makes them think you're easy."

  She swatted my thigh with her spatula. "See, I knew this spatula was special."

  "Ouch." I rubbed my leg and pulled the car into the driveway.

  "I just think you should talk to him. See how his day was."

  I suppressed a grin because I had some insight into his day. But if I let even a flicker of a smile go, Mom would catch it and ask the meaning behind it. She was that good as far as reading her kid's facial expressions. (Which probably meant that I hadn't changed my expressions since I was a kid.)

  As badly as Mom wanted me to talk to Dash, I wasn't in the mood to face him. I was certain he saw me standing in the bakery. I purposefully rolled up the
driveway at a snail's pace. Mom was just about to jump from the car while it was still rolling, so I finally put it in park.

  She opened the door and waved her shiny new spatula. Dash was just to the far corner of my house. "You hoo, Dash, how are you?" Mom called.

  I considered just crouch walking into the house in an attempt to not be seen, but I was sure Mom would yell out 'why are you walking like an old man, Lacey?'

  Dash hesitated on the sidewalk and looked as eager to talk with us as I was to talk with him. But we had the social queen of the world between us waving her new pancake flipper like a scepter.

  Dash put his free hand in his pocket and walked Captain toward us. With his broad shoulders bunched higher than usual and his hand in his pocket he looked like a guilty kid just coming home from school with a detention note to sign.

  "Lacey took the afternoon off and drove me to the town of Mayfield. It's a nice little place. Not as nice as here, of course."

  Dash nodded. "I agree." He finally found the courage to look my direction.

  I found some courage too. "I could have sworn I saw you walking into the coffee shop."

  Mom's face snapped my direction. "Really? Why didn't you say something? We could have stopped in for a latte."

  "I think Dash was busy with a friend. I didn't want to intrude."

  My comment stunned him for a second. "Uh, yes, I was having coffee with an old friend."

  I'd found my courage. Now that I'd opened the gates, I decided to pry a little deeper. There had always been a mysterious source of anger between Dash and Briggs, and since I'd been caught in the center of it on more than one occasion, I felt I had every right to dig into their past friendship. His use of the word old triggered a few alarm bells. He certainly wasn't using it in the literal sense about beautiful Olivia. It seemed Olivia the X was part of Dash's past too.