Desserts and Deception: A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Read online

  George shook his head and raked a hand through his greying hair. “The last I knew, he was staying in protective custody in D.C. awaiting the trial.”

  “Protective—” Adam sighed and now he ran a hand through his dark, short-cropped hair, mirroring George. “What can you tell me about his protection?”

  “Not much. I’m part of a team of lawyers, Adam. I know what I'm focused on and that’s about it.” George shrugged. “More or less.”

  Margot saw Adam’s eyes narrow and she had a feeling he didn’t believe George—or had some doubts about what he was saying. Why? George wouldn’t lie. And what was this about being on a team of lawyers? Margot’s thoughts raced to catch up.

  She knew George was a lawyer in D.C. and that he commuted from North Bank. It had to be a nasty commute, but Tamera insisted that he enjoyed the time on the metro and that it was a small sacrifice he was willing to pay in order to live in the less-hectic area of North Bank. But if George knew the victim and the victim had been under protective custody…that meant he was likely a witness in a case. Didn’t it? But what case?

  “Margot?” Adam’s gentle voice accompanied his light touch to her arm and she jerked her mind to the present.

  “Uh, Tamera—and I—were wondering if we can go. It’s late and she’s tired, understandably.”

  “Right.” Adam looked at George then back at Margot. “George, why don’t you go ahead and take your wife home. I’ll have more questions but they can wait until tomorrow.”

  George nodded and Margot could see him swallow. Was he nervous? Or just shaken by the night’s events?

  “Thanks,” George said to Adam. “And thanks for picking up Tamera tonight,” he said to Margot.

  She offered him a tired smile as he turned and went to his wife. Her friend dissolved into her husband’s arms and, for a brief moment, Margot felt the slight stab of jealousy again.

  Pull yourself together, Margot. There’s been a murder!

  She blinked and the feelings were gone, replaced by the reality of what had happened that night.

  “Hey,” Adam said, coming to stand next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You look tired yourself. Doing okay?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that. The image of the man’s pale face still haunted her. But, more than that, she wanted to know who he was. What case had he been a witness for? His death was surely linked to that. Though Adam would know all of those things.

  “I’ll be all right. Just shaken.”

  “Understandable.” He turned her to face him, letting his hands rest lightly on her arms just above her elbows. “Now why don't you go on home? Get some rest? I may have more questions tomorrow, but I can come by after the shop is open or…later. I could bring dinner.”

  His words didn’t register at first, but then she lifted her gaze to his. He was giving her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. But, the moment she thought she saw it, it was gone.

  “Uh, sure. Tomorrow,” she said, noncommittally.

  “You’re still considering hiring someone, right?”

  She laughed. He was so insistent about it. “I'm considering it.”

  “Good. Now go home and sleep. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you want me to drop you? I could drive your car and finish my run on the way back to my place,” he said with a laugh.

  She shook her head. “You probably need to finish up here, I'm assuming. I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, holding her gaze again. She almost thought he would say something else, but instead, he dropped his hands, releasing her from their warmth and the connection to him.

  He was right. She needed to get home and sleep.

  Or see if she could find what case the man had been a witness for.

  No! She reasoned with herself as she walked toward her car. She was not getting in the middle of this.

  Margot lay in bed, staring up to the darkened ceiling that held shadows cast from the trees in front of the streetlight outside of her window. She should be sleeping, it was way past the time that she should have been in bed, but she couldn't fall asleep. Every time her eyes closed, the man’s face floated before her.

  At first it had been frightening, but the more she tried to push the face away and find sleep the more she began to reason through what she’d seen at the crime scene that night.

  They hadn’t been in the boutique long but she knew a few things for certain. The front door hadn’t been broken into so the killer and victim had either broken in the back or had a key for either door. As far as she knew, only she, Tamera, and probably George had keys. It was possible the old landlord still had a pair too, but Tamera had bought the building outright with inheritance money after her father died. Had she changed the locks?

  After mulling over that for far too long, Margot rolled onto her side and thought about what she could remember seeing.

  They had walked through the darkened part of the shop. Tamera had gone ahead because she knew the way in the dark better than Margot. She had turned on the lights in the back and screamed—of course, because she’d seen the body. A natural reaction. Then…Margot had rushed to the back, nearly falling over a table leg, and seen the man.

  Nothing was out of the ordinary in her memory. Now she considered how they’d found the man. He’d been face down when she went to search for a pulse and she suppressed a shudder at the memory of his cold skin. No pulse. No blood.

  Odd. She wondered what the cause of death would be. From what she’d seen of his back and then the brief—but still too long—look at his face, there hadn’t been any trauma to report. Drugs? Poison?

  Then there was the fedora. The temperature had been pushing ninety degrees even in the evenings most nights for the last week. There was no cause for a man to be wearing a fedora whatsoever, at least not at night. Then again, some men liked to wear hats all the time. Maybe he was like that?

  Sighing, she rolled onto her other side. This was ridiculous. What was she going to do? Solve the murder from her bed at midnight? Unlikely. But there was something about the scene that had been off to her and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Even now, as sleep began to take hold, she felt unsettled. She’d seen something—she knew it—but she had no way of knowing what it was.

  Maybe she would remember in the morning. Maybe…

  Chapter 3

  The smell of heavy sweetness laced the air as Margot pulled the last batch of walnut, chocolate chip cookies from the oven. She’d worked past her allotted morning time, feeling the strain of only a few hours of sleep, but she was finally done and she’d only had a few customers drawing her from the back. For once she was thankful for a quiet morning.

  “Hello?” a rough voice called from the front.

  Her smile slipped into place easily and she called out, “Be right there, Bentley!”

  His lack of response was typical and she rushed to slide the cookies off the baking sheet so they wouldn’t over bake. Then she cut an extra corner out of an Oopsie—what she called any baked good that didn’t meet up to her standards for the shop—and added it to Bentley’s usual order.

  “Thought I’d fall asleep before you made it out here,” he teased good-naturedly.

  “How about an extra slice of a caramel pecan cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee on the house to make up for it?”

  “You barely make me pay as it is. But I accept.”

  She grinned and slid the baked goods in front of him. “When am I going to get you to try something else?”

  He took a bite, his eyes closing and some of the wrinkles smoothing out. “Never,” he whispered.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re set in your ways, aren’t you, Mr. Lawyer?” Ever since she’d found out he used to be a trial lawyer in D.C., she hadn’t let him forget she knew his past.

  “Quite right, Detective.”

  She shook her head, taking his nickname in stride. Around the same time she’d found out about his past profession, she’d
also helped solve a murder case and he’d taken to calling her Detective. Thankfully not around Adam—yet—but she had a feeling it was only a matter of time.

  Her thoughts slipped to the night before. All of this talk about lawyers and detectives caused her curiosity to run wild, but she couldn’t go there. That was Adam’s job, not hers.

  “Heard about the hubbub last night,” Bentley said casually.

  She stopped scrubbing the already-clean countertop and turned to look at him. “You did?”

  “News travels fast in this town. Besides, Phyllis Henderson is best friends with Anita Mallord who lives two doors down from me in the senior living apartments. Of course Phyllis had to come and see her last night and then she nearly knocked down my door to tell me about it. Police cars and a body wheeled out on a stretcher.” He tossed his hands up and shook his head. “What is this town coming to?”

  Margot wasn’t sure what she could—or should—share about it all. Just as she was about to make a non-specific comment, the front door opened and Adam walked in. His hair still looked damp from his morning shower and she caught a whiff of his aftershave moments after his entrance. It smelled sweet and spicy.

  “Adam,” she said, surprised. For some reason, talking about last night with Bentley when he walked in somehow felt wrong. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you I was going to stop by,” he said with an easy grin. “Hey, Bentley, how are the crosswords going?”

  Bentley tossed up a hand. “Terrible. Atrocious. Abhorrent.”

  Adam grinned. “But you’re still working on them, eh?”

  “You betcha, boy. It improves my vocabulary.”

  “I'm sure it does. Hey, Margot,” Adam said, turning toward her, “can we chat in the back?”

  She nodded and led the way to the kitchen. The warmth of the oven filled the space, as did the scent of cookies and pastries, but Adam didn’t seem to mind. He zeroed in on the Oopsies and helped himself after a glance for permission. She poured him a cup of coffee and then crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter.

  “I thought you were coming around lunchtime? Or later?”

  “Is now a bad time?” he asked around a mouthful of pastry.

  “No, I just…” What? Was caught off guard thinking about the murder like a detective—again? “No. It’s not a bad time.”

  “Good.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin she handed him and then took a sip of the hot coffee, letting it wash away the sugar that no doubt coated his throat. “So, I’ve got to ask you some additional questions. That okay?”

  “Of course.” She wasn’t sure why he looked so hesitant. This was part of his job, she knew that better than anyone. Last night would set the course of Adam’s days from now until the culprit was arrested. Of anyone, she knew this better than most. Her late husband Julian had been a detective with the same precinct as Adam. She knew how it worked. Knew what his life would look like from here on out.

  She was about to tell him as much when her cellphone rang. Sending him an apologetic look, she rushed to her small office and snatched her phone from the desk. She was about to silence it when she noticed it was Tamera. Considering the previous night, she decided to answer despite the fact she was making Adam wait.

  Tamera was her friend and a fellow businesswoman in a small town. Adam would understand waiting for a few extra minutes.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank God you answered!”

  Tamera sounded frantic. Had she found another body? The thought, as strange as it was, crossed Margot’s mind but she pushed it away.

  “Calm down, Tam. What’s wrong?”

  Tamera panted as if she’d run from somewhere. “I was,” gasp, “just out on,” gasp, “a run and I came back,” she took a moment to swallow, “to find a message on my phone from George.”

  Though Margot had no idea what the message was about, she knew by Tamera’s frantic gasping that it wasn’t anything good.

  “What is it? What did he say?”

  “He’s—” She gasped again, but this time it sounded more like a sob. “He’s been arrested.”

  “What?!” Margot forgot the fact that that she was in her shop or that anyone else could hear her. Her shouted reply came from pure shock.

  “I know.” Tamera was crying now, the tears heavily lacing her voice. “I can’t believe it. He couldn’t tell me much, but I knew I had to call you.”

  “Arrested, not brought in for questioning?” she clarified.

  “Arrested,” Tamera all but wailed back.

  Margot reasoned through all of the things that could have caused George to be arrested. She could only assume that it was in response to the murder, but he had helped identify the victim. That was hardly cause for being arrested, was it? It had to be something much worse.

  “Please, help him Marg! You know Adam and—”

  “Adam,” Margot said out loud and heard the scrape of a ceramic mug on her metal countertops. He was out there right now in her kitchen. Had he come by because he already knew George was arrested? Was that the reason for his hesitance?

  “Tam, I’ve got to go.” She straightened and mentally prepared for a battle of wills with Adam. “But don’t worry. I’ll talk to Adam and call you back as soon as I hear anything. Okay?”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now go take a shower, eat something, and try to calm down. It’ll be all right.”

  It had to be, because Margot knew there was no way George Wells had killed anyone.

  Margot walked back into the kitchen and stood at the counter, arms crossed and hip pressed against the cold metal side. Adam looked appropriately contrite but she waited, wanting to hear it from him.

  “That was Tamera?”

  She merely nodded.

  “And she told you we arrested George this morning.”

  She nodded again.

  “Okay, so maybe I should have led with that today. And don’t keep nodding. Your silence throws me off.”

  She dropped her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know Tamera is my best friend.”

  “I was going to get there…eventually.”

  “Sure, after you ate all my pastries, drank all of my coffee, and I answered your questions. What was it going to be, ‘Oh, by the way, Margot, we arrested George, bye’?” She raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lip inched upward.

  “Actually, I was going to call you once I was in the safety of my car.” He cracked a smile and she shook her head. “No, really, Margie, I was going to tell you.”

  He used his nickname for her and, though she’d once hated it, she had to admit she was used to it now and it had a softening effect on her.

  “Then tell me what’s going on. Why did you arrest George?”

  He scrunched up his face like he did when he wanted to tell her something but couldn’t because of protocol. She understood it, even if she disliked the fact that she couldn’t get all of the information she needed from him. It sounded so awful, like she was using him merely for his role as detective, but that wasn’t the case.

  “All I can say is that there is a witness that places George at the craft boutique during or around the time of the victim’s death and we couldn’t verify his alibi.”

  “What?” Margot felt like the air in the shop had just disappeared. George had been seen at the boutique? Normally that wouldn’t bet too strange, but Tamera hadn’t even been back yet and he was there? But why?

  “Wait, when was time of death?”

  “We’re still waiting on the final results from the medical examiner, but his initial assessment puts it at or around five last night.”

  “What? That seems unlikely.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Margot paced to the sink and poured herself a glass of water before answering. “It would still be light out at five. How would someone kill a person in broad daylight?”

  “They were in the shop—”

  “You don’t really believe
that, do you?”

  He frowned, eyes narrowing. “What makes you think otherwise?”

  “Last night when we came in, it was dark—really dark. I had just reached for my cell phone to turn on the flashlight app when Tamera walked through to the back to get the lights. Nothing was out of place. Nothing moved—at least I don’t think so, or else she would have been tripped up. She knows that store like the back of her hand. So, no struggle. Besides, where was the blood? Then again, we don’t know how he died…” She trailed off. Her gaze had gone to the window while she thought and only when Adam lightly touched her shoulder did she jolt back to the present.

  “Hey, nice to have you back among the living.”

  She made a face at him. “I was thinking.”

  “And that’s what worries me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His head tilted to the side. “Margot, you know how I feel about you putting yourself in the middle of dangerous situations and—”

  “If George is the murderer, then you have him in custody.” She folded her arms again and waited.

  He rolled his eyes. “All right, so I don’t think George did it either.”

  “I knew it! Then why did you arrest him?”

  “Because my chief doesn’t listen to gut feelings or the fact that George is a friend of a friend. He goes by facts—like George being at the scene of the crime apparently both times. When it allegedly happened and when the body was found.”

  “But he was coming to pick up his wife!”

  Adam held up a hand as if to say, I know, I know. The facts didn’t look good for George, but it was encouraging to hear that Adam was on her side. Not that she could really have a side at this point—merely the side of her friend.

  “I do still have a few questions I need to ask you, if you’ll cooperate?”

  She cracked a smile. “For you, Detective Eastwood? Absolutely.”

  He seemed pleased by her reply and pulled out his notebook. “What can you tell me about George?”

  The question, seemingly innocuous, meant so much more now that Margot knew he was in custody, but she tried to separate that from her thoughts and focus merely on the questions.