Houses and Homicide Page 5

  “Marcello?” Pippa called out in vain. No response.

  “So you just leave your backdoor unlocked, do you?” Clark asked, bustling down the hall to the kitchen and dining room. “That figures.”

  Pippa pouted at me while we trailed behind him. “What was that supposed to mean?”

  I think he was insinuating that Pippa was a little bit flakey. Which she certainly could be. In fact, when she was younger and didn’t have Lolly and Marcello, she was always the flakiest person I knew. But these days…

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Although, you really should lock your backdoor.”

  “I know,” Pippa said. “Buttercup could have walked right on through.”

  Well, yeah. Not exactly what I meant. She also could have suffered a home invasion. From, you know, an actual human being.

  Clark calmed down a little once we were inside and he’d sat down, but he still wasn’t mincing this words. “I’m not your babysitter, Pippa. I thought I was selling the property to a professional. You are a professional, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I am.”

  “And you have enough money to pay the mortgage? You can make the first payment in a few weeks, right?”

  She looked at me. “Of course I can. I co-manage a flourishing bakery that is about to be part of a national chain. I’ve got more than enough money to pay a mortgage twice this size.”

  That might have been pushing it a wee bit.

  Clark stood up and straightened his shiny tie. “You can’t keep these animals on the property. They have to go. You’re not only annoying the neighbors, you are actually breaking the law. You have to be a responsible homeowner. And, Pippa, take my advice. Play nice with the neighbors from now on or you’re going to live to regret it.”

  Chapter 6

  The next afternoon, I found myself back at Pippa’s hobby farm. I took the back road in again, curious to see if she’d actually heeded the warning and gotten rid of some of the animals.

  But I still counted ten hens, three pigs—three now? Had she acquired a new one?—and two cows.

  I stepped out of the car and immediately groaned when I saw what my foot had landed in.

  I’d come over to ask if Pippa wanted to come on a mission with me to trail a suspect. Stepping in cow poo was not a part of that mission.

  Buttercup mooed sweetly at me and wandered over to say hello. “Are you the one responsible for this?” I asked, trying to wipe my shoe off on the little amount of lawn that was still left in the backyard.

  Pippa came out the backdoor wielding a bucket of something that she informed me were cow pellets. After greeting me briefly, she opened the flimsy gate to the cow enclosure and began to feed them. The larger black and white cow—called a Jersey, apparently—almost knocked the bucket out of her hand and ate so quickly that little Buttercup only got a few leftover scrapes.

  Pippa returned, sweating a little. She wiped her brow and smiled. “Molly’s a crazy one sometimes, but she’s worth it. All the animals are worth it.”

  I wasn’t sure about that. I’d arrived hoping to find Pippa selling the animals off, not becoming a full-fledged farmer. I was worried she was going to become so attached to the animals that she’d never be able to say good-bye to them.

  “What are you going to do, Pippa?” I asked. “You can’t actually keep the yard like this. It’s not actually a farm. You heard what Clark said. What if you get reported to the city?”

  “Oh, what does Clark know,” she said dismissively.

  I though as a real estate agent, he probably knew about property laws.

  “I know it’s going to be hard,” I said gently. “But don’t you think you ought to think about giving away the animals before you get too attached?” I looked down at the pockmarked earth. “And before the property is completely destroyed?”

  She sighed. “You’re right. And Clark is right, although don’t ever tell him I said that. I am going to have to figure out what to do with all of them…” Her face crumbled a little. “I just hope I can find a good home for all of them, especially the cows.”

  “Can you sell them back to the place you got them?”

  Pippa shook her head. “I’m not sure… I don’t think so. I bought all the animals from a small hobby farm that was closing.”

  That sounded like a no to me.

  “Maybe I can post an ad on Craigslist,” Pippa said with a heavy sigh. “After all, you got lucky that way, didn’t you, with your new bestie, Sue.” She pouted at me a little. “Want to help me write up a couple of ads?”

  But it was starting to get a little late in the day by that stage. I hadn’t anticipated so much farming. I checked the time and knew it was time to get going on my mission.

  “So, um,” I said to Pippa, following her back to the house as I tried to sidestep another cow poo. “I had this little idea.”

  She stopped and turned around, still carrying around that tin bucket. She leaned over and filled it up under an outdoor tap. “Oh? And what might that be, exactly?”

  “I think we should follow Blake. See what he’s up to.”

  She looked at me a little blankly. “Blake?” She blinked a few times before it dawned on her. “Oh, right, you mean the manager of Dough Planet?”

  “Yes, Pippa, who else? Something didn’t add up with him.”

  Pippa frowned and tipped the bucket of water into the trough for the cows and pigs to drink from. She really was a farmer now. “Are you sure you’re not just a touch obsessed with him?” she asked me teasingly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’m obsessed with everyone. Come on, Pippa, you remember how angry you were with Cheryl when you found out she’d been talking to both our bakeries. What if Blake found out and got just as angry?”

  Pippa nodded and chucked the empty bucket on the ground. “You’re right. He’s a good suspect. But what good is following him going to do?”

  I shrugged. I figured that Blake couldn’t spend all his time at Dough Planet. Maybe if I trailed him at the end of his shift, I’d learn a little bit more about him. Maybe he’d even lead me straight to a big fat clue that proved he was guilty. Though that did kind of seem like a fantasy.

  Buttercup mooed loudly. “I think she’s still hungry,” I said, looking down at the bucket.

  “I’m sorry, Rach,” Pippa said, looking down at her filthy pants covered in mud and I didn’t even know what. “Do you mind going on this mission without me?”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “You’ve got a lot to sort out here.” Such as what she was going to do with a whole barnyard of animals.

  I looked up the closing time of Dough Planet—4:00pm—and decided to park my car just a little out of sight, a few hundred feet up the road.

  It was busy this time of day. School had just gotten out for the day and the streets were full of the bustle of moms and dads rushing to try and get home or to extracurricular activities, and school buses were trying to squeeze their way down the narrow streets. Horns were honking and kids were squealing and dodging in and out of traffic.

  “Come on, Blake. Where are you, buddy?”

  I had to strain my neck past a four-wheel drive in front of me to keep sight of Dough Planet. I sighed. There had really been no point trying to keep a few hundred feet back so he wouldn’t see me. I could have parked right in front of the bakery and I would have been camouflaged by the school rush.

  A yellow bus drove in front of me and stopped, blocking my view. I checked the time: 4:15.

  If he chose this exact time to leave, I would miss him. Miss my opportunity to follow him, at least until the following week. It was a Friday afternoon, so he wouldn’t be back at Dough Planet for three days.

  The bus moved and I sighed with relief.

  Finally, I watched Blake step outside and take in the sandwich board from the front, offering some trendy bakery version of ‘happy hour’—two dollar muffins and coffee between three and four o’clock. He didn’t have much else to
pack up and within a few minutes, he had turned the sign around to closed and had flicked off the lights.

  Something about Blake really annoyed me. Maybe it was that arrogant smirk he always had on his face, even when no was looking. Or, at least, when he didn’t know anyone was looking. Or maybe it was his super trendy hairdo that seemed to flop over his head and sit just right, no matter what he did or how he moved.

  He drove an old model SUV, which surprised me a lot. Not so trendy as the rest of him then. I could only guess it was a hand-me-down from his mom or something like that.

  Luckily the street had started to thin out a little by then. We had some breathing space between the after-school rush and the end of work rush, but not too much space.

  I got a text from Simona right before I pulled out. “I can’t close up tonight. I have a date, and I need to leave before five.”

  I put the phone away and concentrated on Blake. He was still sitting in his car, also looking at his phone. Wonder if he’s texting a girlfriend, I thought absentmindedly.

  Finally, he pulled out onto the road and began to drive, very slowly, out of town.

  He’s probably just going to his house, I thought, but I hoped I would get lucky. Even if he only led me to his house, at least that would be something. At least I would know where he lived.

  I’d had a little experience in trailing people by car, but wasn’t a trained PI, so I had to take it easy and not follow right behind Blake’s bumper. I remembered reading somewhere that you had to stay at least three cars back to not be obvious, but still close enough that you wouldn’t lose the target. But by the time we circled around the roundabout, there weren’t even three cars left on the road.

  But I was confident that my trailing skills were good enough that he wouldn’t clock me, anyway.

  We snaked through the streets as we left the center of town and headed towards the more suburban area.

  Belldale is small, so there aren’t many directions you can go in, to be frank. And yet, Blake did seem to be heading in a direction that was a little too familiar.

  He turned onto a road that I’d already travelled down twice that week.

  Don’t tell me…

  I pressed my foot on the accelerator so that I wouldn’t lose him. If he was going where I thought he was, I didn’t want to miss it.

  Yep. He pulled his car into the familiar parking lot.

  The Golden Medallion.

  I slammed on the brakes.

  Well, well, well.

  Chapter 7

  I’d wanted to tell Pippa everything, but she was busy when I called her that night and the next morning. In the background, I could hear pigs snorting wildly and Pippa explained that they were trying to get them into a crate so they could be taken to market. “Sorry, we’ve got to sort this out, Rachael.”

  I got it. It was an emergency. Of sorts.

  I heard a loud cheery tapping on the front door. “Hello, hello, hello!” Sue called brightly, arriving with her belongings, all in vintage suitcases. “The bed will arrive later on this afternoon. Hopefully!” she sang out as she skipped down the hall with what looked to be a hat bag.

  “Let me know if you need any help,” I called before retreating to the kitchen. The bakery was closed, seeing as it was a Saturday, and I didn’t have plans until my date later that evening. I sat down at the kitchen table and tried to figure out what Blake could possibly have been doing at the Golden Medallion.

  Maybe he was staying there?

  I shook my head. That didn’t seem very likely. As good as business seemed to be, there was no way he was selling enough espresso and vegan slices to be shelling out eight hundred a night at the Golden Medallion.

  I could only think of one explanation.

  Blake had been who Anderson was talking to on the phone after Cheryl died. The one he had told, It’s all taken care of. She’s gone.

  Once Sue had unpacked a little, she joined me in the kitchen, where I was doing my best not to totally spin out. I had to remind myself I still didn’t have solid proof. It did look pretty damning for Blake, though.

  Sue was carrying a box filled with non-perishable items that she must have brought with her from her previous apartment—cereal boxes, canned peaches, and cans of beans, along with a whole spice rack.

  She clapped her hands together. “So! Shall we start the cooking roster tonight? I volunteer to cook first! I make a mean lasagna.”

  I looked up. “No. Um, that’s very nice of you, Sue, but I’ve actually got a date tonight.”

  She looked a little surprised to hear that, which I tried to brush off. “Oh, who with? Some new guy you met? Tell me all about it.” She opened up a few pantry doors until she found an empty space. I had meant to clear some shelves for her, but I hadn’t expected her to turn up with food that she’d immediately want to unpack. She started lining up boxes of cereal, in what appeared to be color-coded order.

  I shook my head. “Not a new guy. My boyfriend. We’ve been going out for about six months.”

  Sue spun around. “Oh! You just didn’t mention him the first time we spoke.” She looked a teeny bit disappointed. “Well, maybe the cooking roster wasn’t such a hot idea of mine. I suppose you and your boyfriend must go on date nights a lot. So it looks like it will just be dinner for one, for me!” she said with a little grin, returning to her cereal stacking.

  I grabbed my coat and started to head towards the door.

  “No,” I mused slowly, stopping for a moment in the doorway. “Write the roster up. I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.”

  Kenneth was already waiting for me at the restaurant, a place called Scott’s that we’d saved from certain ruin a few months earlier.

  “Sorry I’m so late,” I said, sitting down across from him at the red table-clothed booth. “I had to help Sue settle in. She’s a bit of a crazy one…”

  I rambled on about Sue for a little while, telling him about her wacky clothing and makeup choices, and the fact that she had an art exhibit coming up, which sounded interesting but I knew what I was really doing. I was just making small talk, doing everything I could to avoid talking about anything serious.

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week,” Kenneth finally interjected once the waiter had brought us a bottle of wine and I’d been forced to shut up for a second.

  I held up my menu and studied it intensely. “I’ve just been busy. What with Sue moving in, and The Pastry Tree takeover…”

  “Yeah. What is happening with that?” Kenneth asked. He leaned over a little so that I was forced to see him, even with the menu still acting as a shield. “You haven’t said anything about that for days.”

  I fiddled with the menu for a few moments, trying to focus on the items, but they all became a bit of a blur.

  I placed it down and shifted a little nervously in my seat. “There has been an, erm…an issue.” I didn’t want to come right out and say it. “The head of acquisitions, Cheryl, is no longer…” I paused. “With the company.”

  Kenneth’s mouth fell open. “I told you, Rachael, you have to be careful when you deal with these corporate types. They have no loyalty to anyone.”

  I shook my head and played with the napkin sitting over my lap. “There’s nothing to worry about, at all. We’ve already been in touch with the new acquisitions manager of The Pastry Tree and the deal is going ahead,” I said with confidence, even though it was a total lie.

  He took a long gulp of wine and shook his head. “I think you should back out of the deal. They are probably planning to drop you anyway, so you should leave first. It will save you from having egg on your face.”

  “It will all be fine, Kenneth! I don’t know why you have to be so negative about this whole thing!”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Because I don’t believe in selling out to corporations, though clearly, you do.”

  Wow.

  I shook my head and stared down into my wine glass. A waiter came up and asked if we were rea
dy to order, but I just shook my head.

  Kenneth started to speak, even though I still wasn’t looking at him. Nor did I want to talk to him. “We started that petition together, Rachael, to try and stop The Pasty Tree from opening in Belldale. And now you want to become one of them.”

  Yeah, well. We couldn’t all run our tiny businesses out of our own apartments. Some of us had overheads, and staff to worry about.

  My phone began to ring.

  It was Detective Jackson Whitaker.

  I couldn’t tell whether this was the very best or the very worst time for him to be calling me.

  “Excuse me,” I said, standing up. “I need to take this call.”

  Kenneth scoffed in disbelief and threw his hands up, but I hurried off outside anyway. I needed fresh air just as much as I needed to take the call.

  I leaned against the front of the restaurant and took a few deep breaths before finally taking the call. Just in time, apparently.

  “Oh, I didn’t think you were going to answer. I was about to hang up,” Jackson said, before clearing his throat.

  “Yeah, sorry, I was just a little busy with…” I paused. “Work stuff.”

  “I just needed to check in with you, Rachael,” Jackson said. My heart started beating a little faster. He did?

  But then his voice turned awfully grave. “I understand you had some sort of connection to a woman named Cheryl Spellman?”

  “Oh.” My heart fell a little. I supposed I had been hoping he was calling to check in with me for personal reasons, not because there had been a murder. But he was a detective, after all. That was one of the reasons we’d never been able to get together, not properly anyway.

  “You sound a little upset,” Jackson said. His voice grew more gentle when he added, “Is there something you want to talk about? Were you close to Cheryl?”