Gluten for Punishment (9 page)

“There was a thud around 5:30 that morning. I thought maybe a bird had flown into
the window or something. I looked out but it was too dark to see anything.” I tried
not to imagine what would have happened had I actually stepped out to see what the
noise was.

“Honey,” Candy pushed, “noise or no noise, you had motive and opportunity. Did you
do it?”

“Seriously?” I asked her. Here I’d been ready to give her a free cup of coffee. Not
anymore. I stepped back.

“Did you?” Her hand wafted under my nose.

“Of course not.” I pushed the mic away. “I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Are you telling me it’s a coincidence you’re new in town and a man who attacked you
at your ribbon-cutting ceremony gets murdered outside your bakery?” Candy’s eyes glittered
like a snake’s. Rocky glanced at Grandma and stayed out of the fray.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not new in town.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “I grew
up here. Are you saying any murders that happened while I lived here as a kid were
my fault?”

“No,” Candy said thoughtfully. “But it’s a good angle. I can check and see how the
murder rate was when you lived here and what happened after you left.”

“Stop it.” Grandma slapped her big square hand on the counter. “Toni wouldn’t kill
anyone.”

“Oh, really? Then why is the chief at the courthouse right now getting a warrant signed
to search your home and your bakery for evidence?”

I sat down hard at the word
warrant
. I think I wanted to throw up. No, I wanted to faint.

“Put your head between your knees.” Grandma was beside me. Her sharp tone of voice
combined with her palm on the back of my head had me doing exactly what she said.
I had to admit, staring at the black-and-white tile floor was a bit more calming than
looking at Candy. Her delight at my distress was unnerving.

“I thought we were friends, Candy,” I muttered to the floor.

“We are friends, honey.” Candy came around the counter and squatted down to peer at
me. “That’s why I came here before the chief did.”

I turned my head in uncertainty. “You came to warn me?”

“Good friends hide the body, honey, remember?” Her gaze took on a warm and concerned
look. I wasn’t sure if I should believe it.

“I don’t have anything to hide,” I insisted.

“Don’t talk to her,” Grandma chided. “She might be your friend, but she’s also a reporter.
Everything you say is on the record.”

“Is it?” I sat up and narrowed my eyes at them both. Grandma nodded and did a half
wink. Candy tried to look innocent. Good lord, they both wanted the story.

I covered my face with my hands. Crap.

The door opened, jingling the bells. I peeked between my fingers to see John and the
nurses come in. Thank God, customers. Yes! The crime scene tape wasn’t stopping people
from shopping. I glanced at the sign I’d made to tell people to go around back and
shrugged. Too late now, I thought and ignored the echo of Officer Emry’s warning that
people crossing the crime scene tape could get me into trouble with the law. At this
point, what’s a little more trouble?

“Hi guys, what can I get you?”

“Oh, I’ll take a blueberry muffin and a coffee,” Kay said. Today she wore light blue
scrubs and a navy blue jacket

“Make mine a pumpkin muffin and coffee,” Judy said. She had on matching scrubs but
a pale pink sweater instead of a jacket.

“Customers,” I hissed and waved Candy and Grandma out from behind the counter. I filled
the nurses’ orders and went to bag them when Kay spoke up.

“Oh, we don’t need them in a bag.” She tilted her head and batted her brown eyes at
me.

“No?” I wrinkled my forehead.

“We don’t want them to go. . . .” Judy stated.

I felt confused, but went ahead and took out plates and ceramic coffee mugs. “Don’t
you have to work today?” I placed their muffins on the plates and handed them off.
I mean, they had their uniforms on, why wear them if they didn’t have to work?

“Oh, yes, we have to work, but we got permission to hang around.” Judy pulled her
muffin-filled plate and cup and saucer toward her.

“You got permission?” I rang up the bill. My thoughts whirling. “Why?”

“We’re here to see them serve the warrant.” Kay and Judy sent each other looks as
they reached into their purses and paid. “Everyone at work wants to know what happens
when the police come.”

Crap. Really? They walked off and settled into a nearby table facing the door.

“Gawkers should have to buy more than a muffin and coffee to get the good seats,”
Grandma muttered from her seat on the stool near the coffee bar. I sent her a look.
She returned it with a smile.

“John?” I asked, waiting for him to change his usual order and goggle at me and the
cops like everyone else.

“Make mine the usual,” he said. “Sarah’s waiting.” He leaned against the counter and
seemed uninterested in gossip.

I blew out a breath. “Thank you.” One sane person in the whole town . . .

The doorbell jangled again and I jumped.

It wasn’t the police. It was half the town coming in for coffee and a pastry. Crap.
The crime scene was trampled. I glanced at the sign and wondered if it wasn’t too
late to put it up and lock the door before Officer Emry got here.

CHAPTER
10

A
pparently humiliation was profitable, too.

My small shop was standing room only. I’d refilled the coffee twice and sold nearly
all the breakfast baked goods before the police car showed up. The blue-and-red lights
reflected in the shop window and everything grew still. People held their breath for
what they clearly hoped would be a good show.

I took the bull by the horns, pushed through the crowd, and met Officer Emry at the
door. “Hello,” I said as he walked up. “Did you come to take down the crime scene
tape?” It was silly to have it still up since everyone had ducked under to come inside,
including Officer Emry. I’d be sure to point that out should he decide I’d somehow
been ruining his crime scene.

“Ms. Toni Holmes, I have a warrant to search the premises.” Officer Emry’s voice cracked.
He hitched up his gun belt then sniffed and handed me a piece of paper folded in thirds.

“I thought Chief Blaylock would be here.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Never mind, come on in . . .” I waved him toward the door and held it wide, exposing
the crowd inside.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you to step out while we search,” he said, unmoving.

“Really? The place is full of customers.” I pointed at the crowd in case he hadn’t
noticed.

“I’ll man the registers,” Grandma Ruth piped up.

“Works for me,” Officer Emry said, his head bobbing up and down.

“Fine.” I stepped out into the brisk fall air. “Can I at least take a cup of coffee
with me?”

“I’ll bring one out,” Candy called from inside.

“And a jacket?” I rubbed my forearms. It was probably fifty degrees, but fifty degrees
could get cold if this took any length of time. Thankfully, my storefront was small.

“You got it, honey,” Candy called then disappeared into the crowd.

Two of yesterday’s crime scene techs went inside the bakery with Officer Emry. They
carried dark, fat briefcases full of who knew what. Candy came out with my jacket
and a tall cup of coffee. The small smatter of freckles across her pert nose glistened
in the morning light.

“I gave you a generous amount of cream.”

“Thanks.” I put on my coat, then took the coffee and gave it a sip. “Perfect. Now
what? Am I the only person not allowed inside?” I studied the small crowd as they
watched the cops check out the front of the shop before disappearing in the back.

“You see, if you’re guilty, you know what to hide. Therefore, yes, you’re the only
one not allowed.” Candy put her hand on the door.

“This is nuts.”

“But it makes for great news copy.” She smiled her dazzling smile and scooted inside
where it was warm.

I leaned against the wall, wishing I’d put the café tables and chairs out on the walk
like I’d intended to do in the spring. Then I’d have someplace to sit and put up my
feet. As it was I was left huddling next to the door like the Little Match Girl. I
looked around. Cars drove by slowly. There were two cop cruisers with lights flashing
in front of the store. The street was fully packed. Yellow crime scene tape blocked
off my business. The trough itself still held slimy water. I shuddered at the thought
that it was the last thing George Meister breathed in.

I turned my back on the trough sculpture. Maybe when this was done I’d petition the
city council to have it removed—out of respect for George, of course. I watched through
the glass as the crime scene guys dusted the door and countertops for fingerprints.
Every single customer must have touched something. Did they plan on fingerprinting
the entire town? What were they looking for?

Evidence George had been inside the shop, I figured. But he hadn’t, so good luck to
them on that. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and sipped nervously
at my coffee until the cup was empty. I wanted more, but I wasn’t allowed to refill
my own mug.

Sighing, I set the empty cup on the ground and prayed Officer Emry wouldn’t fine me
for ruining his beloved crime scene. With nothing to do but wait, I decided to kill
time by reading the warrant. After all, they had to have probable cause to issue a
warrant, right? What was their cause?

The legalese made my brain go numb. Well, crap. I was a baker and a businesswoman.
I didn’t know very much about law. Why did they think I could read this? I should
probably call a lawyer or Grandma Ruth. She’d know what the heck the document said.
I peered through the window and tried to catch her eye. No dice. She was busy chatting
up the cops.

I frowned. The only attorney I knew was a corporate lawyer who had helped me set up
my business and ensured I had all the proper licenses and inspections. My only other
option was my wild brother, Tim. He had had a few run-ins with the law as a teen.
If anyone knew the county law system it was him. I pulled my cell out of my pocket
and punched his number. He picked up on the first ring . . . not a good sign.

“Hey.” Tim sounded put out. “What the hell did you do to have the cops issue a search
warrant?”

“I didn’t do anything.” I rolled my eyes. Brothers—they always assumed the worse.
“What did
you
do?” There, that would get him.

“My name isn’t on the search warrant.”

Right. I jiggled from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm. My nose was red and
starting to run. “They have one of those warrants for the house, too?” I knew Candy
said they did, but I didn’t believe her. After all, she would say anything to get
a story. I sniffled.

“They most certainly do,” Tim said. “You need a lawyer, little sis.” He sounded sincere.
Tim was rarely sincere. He had always been the laid-back party guy who ran just this
side of the law.

“I don’t know any lawyers besides the one in Chicago who helped me set up the business.”
It was an explanation, not a whine. At least, that was what I was telling myself.

“For something like a search warrant, you need someone local,” Tim advised. “Someone
who knows the county judges and the district attorney.”

“You sound like you have some experience in this kind of thing.” I had to get my digs
in where I could. No matter how lame they sounded at the moment. He was my brother,
after all.

“Look, do you want advice from me or not?” I’d hit a sore spot. Huh, I’d have to ask
him about that someday when my life wasn’t on the line.

“Yes, please.” I decided it was best to ask nicely or he might send me to someone
who would torture me. Which could be just about everyone in town.

“Call Brad Ridgeway. He’s the best in the county.”

“Brad Ridgeway?” My brain perked up. Memories flashed through it. “As in Brad Ridgeway
star basketball player two years ahead of me in high school? Mr. all-star-jock-voted-most-popular-male-student-of-the-decade?”

“One and the same.” Tim sounded pretty sure he knew what he was talking about.

“I thought he was in like Houston or New York or somewhere.” I sniffed again. Darn
it. Did I even have a tissue in my pocket? I did. I pulled out a wadded-up but clean
one and wiped my nose.

“Brad went to KU, got his BA, his MBA, and went on to law school. He came back five
years ago when his dad wasn’t doing well. Bought a house out by the country club and
settled in.”

“Huh.” Brad Ridgeway had been every teenage girl’s dream—tall, blond, gorgeous with
sculpted jock muscles that went on forever. I sighed, remembering the huge crush I,
and every girl within a five-year range and fifty-mile radius, had had on him.

I did a mental shake. That was what, twenty years ago? He was probably bald, married
with four kids, and fat. Right? “Text me his number.”

“When you call him, ask him if there is any way he can get the cops to hurry up on
their search of the house. I need to sleep before my shift tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, Grandma told me you got a job at FedEx. Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Tim sounded tired. “I hope to save up enough to move out in about a month.”

“Really?” I did a silent happy dance at the news until I noticed people watching.
I turned my back on the windows. “Text me the number, then go over to Grandma’s for
some sleep. She’s here with me at the store. I doubt she’ll be home for a few hours.”

“You are brilliant,” Tim said. “Tell Brad I said hello.”

He hung up. I glanced inside the shop. Grandma Ruth was still hounding the CSU guys.
Candy was gone—probably in the kitchen keeping an eye on Officer Emry. They might
be doing it for selfish reasons, but I know neither Grandma nor Candy would let anything
happen to my stuff. That at least was a relief. The crowd seemed content to eat pastries
and drink coffee. Maybe they’d decide the food was great and make it a habit to stop
in for a bite. A girl could hope.

My phone vibrated. And there it was, Brad Ridgeway’s number. I did a quick check on
the time: 9:05
A.M.
His office should be open. I dialed the number, shivering a little while doing so,
before I could chicken out. Yes, the idea of having his number made me feel fifteen
years old al
l over again.

“Ridgeway and Harrington Attorneys-at-Law, this is Amy, how can I help you?”

The secretary’s voice was nice. I bet Brad was dating her on the side. No, wait, that
wasn’t fair. As far as I knew he never ran around on his high school girlfriend, head
cheerleader Sheila Hamm. “Um, yes, hi, this is Toni Holmes. I own Baker’s Treat.”

“Oh, the new gluten-free bakery?”

“Yes—”

“I heard good things about your food. Can I ask, do you use peanuts in any of your
baked goods? My son’s allergic.”

“Oh, no. I am very careful not to use any peanut ingredients at the shop. I offer
some peanut cookies online, but I bake those in my home kitchen. Cross contamination
is such a big issue with allergies.” I watched a couple of cars crawl by the store.
I waved at the drivers, who stared. That got them to speed up a bit.

“Perfect. How do you feel about kid’s birthday parties?”

“I love to cater kid’s birthday parties.” Which was true. You could be much more inventive
with kid food. It brought out the artist in me. “In fact, I have several birthday
selections including cake, cupcakes, giant cookies, you name it.”

“Awesome, are you free to cater on November fifth?”

Okay, weird, right? I mean, I’d called her and she was acting like she’d called me.
Who was this chick? “Um, I don’t have access to my datebook right now. I’m kind of
in a bit of a bind what with the murder and all. But I can get back to you as soon
as I’m able.” The wind picked up and brought along the scent of fallen leaves and
oil refinery. Had to love Oiltop; it was the only town boasting an oil rig behind
the Pizza Hut.

“Oh, oh, my, I’m terribly sorry.” Amy did sound sorry and perhaps a bit embarrassed.
“Does this mean you can’t cater on that day?”

If anyone had been watching I’m sure my astonished expression was hilarious. Whoever
Amy was, she simply wasn’t understanding that this call was about me, not her. “I’m
sure I can cater. I would love to cater your son’s birthday party. Can I call you
back once I have access to my calendar?”

“Oh, certainly, but I’ll need to know soon. It’s only three weeks away, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Let me give you a tip . . . a good smartphone would give you access to your calendar
right from your cell. All the new technology these days is great, don’t you think?”

“Right.” My head had started to hurt a little. “Um, before you hang up, could I speak
to Brad Ridgeway, please?”

“Oh, oh, did you call me?” There was a small pause and I didn’t know quite how to
fill it. “You did call me. Sorry, one moment and I’ll send you over to Brad.” She
must have put me on hold because I heard soft rock tunes playing in the background.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head started to pound. I couldn’t tell if it was
from standing out in the cold or from Amy’s crazy conversation. Still, a sale was
a sale, and I shouldn’t complain but . . . really?

“This is Brad Ridgeway, how can I help you?”

Oh man, his voice was still sexy. Good thing I’d sworn off of men or I might be more
breathless than I was already finding myself.

“Hello?”

“Yes, I’m here,” I said weakly as I forced myself to breathe. “I’m sorry. I’m Toni
Holmes. My brother is Tim Keene. He said I should call you.”

“I see, Ms. Holmes, how can I help you?”

“Well.” I glanced at the police cars and tried to sound rational and coherent as I
explained, “I own Baker’s Treat, the
gluten-free bakery here in town. George Meister was murdered in front of my store
yesterday and now I’ve been handed a search warrant for my business. Tim says they
are also searching my home.”

“You need a lawyer.” Brad was the master of understatement.

“I know. They kicked me out of my own business and I’m hanging out on the street.”

“I’ll be right there. You’re at the bakery on Main?”

“One and the same. You’ll know it by the surrounding crime scene tape. And the cop
cars.”