Croissants and Corruption: A Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Page 3

  “Yes. Come by around seven and we can have dessert.”

  “If we’re talking about your baked goods, I’m there.”

  She merely smiled and left the office, showing herself out. The sun still shone brightly, but dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon and Margot couldn’t help but think of it as a warning.

  Chapter 4

  Taylor pulled dishes from the table, simultaneously checking messages on her phone every few seconds. By the amount of texts she was getting, she was certainly popular. She’d seemed to recover from the previous night well, though Margot wasn’t sure how she would take the news about Marco.

  Glancing at the clock for the third time in the same minute, Margot knew she should have told Taylor about the expected visitor. It was nine minutes until seven o’clock and her stomach was twisted in knots.

  “Taylor, I probably should have mentioned this before,” she said, waiting until the girl looked up from her phone, “but my friend Detective Adam Eastwood is going to be stopping by in a few minutes. He, uh, he has some questions for…us.”

  Taylor blinked. “A detective? Questions? What are you talking about, Aunt Margot?”

  Here was the moment of truth. “I phoned him this morning to relay the incident from last night at Antonio’s place—”

  “I asked you not to call the police,” Taylor interrupted.

  “I know, but I thought it best to warn him there was a disruptive man in our community. We’re very tightknit with a big population of senior citizens. I feel responsible to watch out for them.”

  “Okay. Whatever. But why is he coming here?”

  “That’s just it,” she said, twisting a dishtowel in her hands. “Marco Rossario, the young man from last night, he was found dead this morning.”

  Taylor paled at the news, her hand reaching out to steady herself on the nearest chair. “Dead? Did he, like, have an accident or what?”

  “No, sweetie.” Margot tried to break the news as calmly as possible. “He was murdered.”

  “Whoa.” Taylor put a hand to her stomach and Margot prayed she wouldn't be sick. “I—I can’t believe that. How? What happened?”

  “Well—” A light knock sounded at the door and she shrugged. “That’ll be Adam. Why don't you have a seat in the living room?”

  Taylor nodded, staring down as she walked like she was processing the information she’d just gotten. And why shouldn’t she be? It wasn’t every day that you were around someone one day and they were gone the next.

  “Hi, Adam,” she said, opening the door to let her friend in.

  “You doing all right?” he asked, pulling a baseball cap from his head. He’d changed out of the gray suit he’d worn that morning and now wore jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It tugged at his shoulders, showing muscular arms and proving he was more than fit for his job.

  “I suppose. I just told Taylor about what had happened. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but I didn’t want to spoil dinner.”

  He offered a sad smile. “It’ll be all right. You’re doing great.”

  “No, I actually think I’m the world’s worst aunt.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “I mean, a murder? In our town? And my sister thought it was a good idea to send Taylor here?”

  “Hey.” Adam reached out and rested a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. “You’re doing the best you can. Besides, you had no control over this. Let’s go have dessert and I’ll talk with her. Don’t worry, I’ll make it as painless for her as possible.”

  “Okay.” Margot led the way into the living room where Taylor was curled up on the couch, staring out the window with her phone forgotten beside her. “Hey, sweetie, this is my friend Detective—”

  “You can call me Adam,” he interjected. “You must be Taylor. I saw pictures of you as a kid. You’ve definitely grown.”

  She offered a weak smile and Adam sat down on the chair across from her.

  “I’m going to grab some macaroons.”

  Adam flashed her a smile then began talking to Taylor again. Margot couldn’t hear the conversation from the kitchen, but she sent up a prayer that it wouldn’t completely frighten Taylor and that they’d still be able to get past this and have an enjoyable summer. Somehow.

  “Yes!” Adam said when she came back into the room. “These are my favorite. Taylor, have you had your aunts macaroons before?”

  Taylor shook her head but reached out for a chocolate hazelnut macaroon just as Adam grabbed the lemon. Margot selected her favorite, lavender and vanilla, and they munched on the airy French cookies for a moment before Adam spoke again.

  “So, after he slipped you the note—”

  “What note?” Margot interrupted. At Taylor’s guilty look, she turned to Adam for an explanation then back to Taylor when he looked at her.

  “He slipped me a note,” she said, looking down at her cookie. “I mean, do you really think he needed to refill our waters so many times?”

  “What did the note say?” Margot’s tone came out harsher than she’d intended.

  “Chill, Aunt Margot. He just wanted to talk with me. You know, ask me for my number or something. I didn’t think it would hurt to talk with him.”

  “So you went to talk with him?” Adam asked, a small notebook in his hand where he jotted down notes.

  “Yeah. He wasn’t interested in talking, though.” She blushed and looked out the window.

  “So that’s when your aunt found you guys in the closet?”

  Something passed over Taylor’s face, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

  Adam looked to Margot then back at Taylor. “You didn’t give him your number or anything, right?”

  Taylor looked down at her macaroon. “No.”

  Adam made another note then leaned forward to snatch another cookie.

  “Look, I'm tired. Can I go to bed? Aunt Margot’s going to get me up before dawn and I really should get some sleep.”

  Margot fought for composure, shocked that the girl was thinking of bed at seven-twenty in the evening, but she looked to Adam to make sure he was done with his questions.

  “Sure,” he said, folding the notepad closed and stowing it in his jacket pocket.

  She shuffled past them, bypassing the macaroon plate and disappearing down the hall until they heard her door close.

  “Huh,” he said, his eyes searching the empty space in front of him.

  “What?”

  He met her gaze and frowned. “What?”

  “When Julian used to ‘huh,’ it always meant something wasn’t lining up.”

  Adam offered her a half-smile. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

  She leaned back, savoring the last bite of her macaroon before answering him. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Detective. I’m just a baker after all.”

  He held her gaze for a moment before pushing to his feet. “I’ve got to get going. I may not have baker’s hours, but I do have a lot of work ahead of me. Thanks for letting me come by tonight.”

  Margot stood as well, wondering just how far she should push. She could tell he was keeping something from her, but she didn’t know what—or if she even had the leverage to demand the information.

  “Macaroon for the road?”

  “Absolutely.” He took another lemon and grinned, taking a bite. “Delicious.”

  “Come by the bakery any time, Adam. There’s more where that came from.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary then turned toward the door. “I may do just that.”

  “No, a little thinner. Yes, there you go.” Margot instructed Taylor on how to make her famous chocolate-filled croissants as the clock raced toward seven o’clock and their opening time. Taylor was already yawning, but she’d get her second wind soon—that or Margot would be giving her another cup of coffee with an extra shot of espresso.

  The timer dinged and she reached for the oven door, pulling out more macaroons. Their sweet scent wafted through the kitchen and mingled with the
classical music, which Taylor had complained about at first.

  Now, though, she hummed along to an aria that had a familiar and repetitive melody. Margot resisted the urge to tell her niece ‘I told you so’ and instead worked on whipping up the fillings for her macrons.

  By the time Bentley came in, the small bell chiming his presence, she felt well ahead of schedule. His caramel pecan cinnamon roll and cup of coffee delivered, she eyed the newspaper in his hand.

  “Anything…interesting in there?”

  “You betcha there is.”

  Margot’s stomach clenched. “Oh?” Knowing ahead of time about a murder in town wasn't something she wanted to gloat about.

  “Sure thing. There’s some controversy about putting a halt to the construction on the new senior center lodge. I’m irate, seething, one could even say apoplectic.”

  “You've been doing crosswords again—that or reading the thesaurus I gave you for Christmas.”

  Bentley grinned up at her, his bristly moustache tipping up at the corners. “A little bit of both. But it’s true.”

  This wasn't the news she’d expected, but she decided to go along with it anyway. “Why would they do that?”

  He sighed heavily, leaning back and slurping from his coffee cup. “Darn politics. That’s why.”

  “Politics?”

  “Forget I said anything. We’re working on it.”

  She knew by ‘we’ he meant he and other patrons that frequented the senior center. They were a rowdy bunch.

  “All I know is that I wouldn’t be caught dead on the wrong side of you all.” She laughed but noticed his expression had turned serious.

  “Speaking of dead,” he said, conspiratorially, “A body was found at the river near Miller’s Bridge.”

  So the news had made the paper. “Oh?” she said, trying to look surprised.

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you know about it?”

  “Me?” she feigned surprise. “I—I don't know…” She wasn’t willing to lie to her friend, though she didn't want Taylor to be caught up in the middle of a scandal like this. Somehow, mentioning what happened at Antonio’s restaurant opened her up for questions as well.

  “Come on, tell old Bentley. I’m an old man. Who would I tell?” He grinned at her, his eyebrows wagging.

  “You’d tell the entire senior center, who would somehow tell the rest of the town.” She crossed her arms, daring him to contradict her.

  “All right, so you may have a point there. Speaking of, you’re coming tonight, right?”

  “Coming…” Margot searched her memory for what was going on that night.

  “It’s World Dinner Night. You promised to bring French pastries.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, a hand flying to cover her mouth, “With Taylor coming and all of this—” His look said, I knew you had something to tell. “I completely forgot.”

  “Good thing I’m here every morning to remind you of your commitments. Besides, bring the kid. We like to see a little life in that place every now and again. You know, someone under the age of fifty.”

  “Hey,” Margot said, nailing him with a look.

  “Present company excluded.” Bentley gave a rasping laugh and looked back to his newspaper. “Besides, then you can tell me—and everyone else—what you know about this murder.”

  Spinning on her heel, she walked back toward the kitchen to avoid having to say anything else about what she knew—or didn’t know—about the murder.

  “What was he saying about tonight?” Taylor asked. Flour dusted her cheek and her lopsided ponytail was sliding closer to her neck than the top of her head.

  “World Dinner Night.”

  “What is that?” she turned back to the dough she was kneading and Margot had to bite back her criticism of her technique. They would be the toughest loaves of bread to ever come out of her shop.

  “Every third Tuesday of the month they do World Dinner Night at the senior center. Different restaurants around the area usually provide entrées or side dishes from different cultural backgrounds. I’m often called upon to bring French pastries. They open the event up to the community. You pay a small fee and get to enjoy the meal with the seniors. They are a crafty bunch when it comes to raising money, especially for the new building they are putting up—well, hopefully.” Margot thought of the article Bentley had mentioned. She had thought they were close to their funding goal, but Bentley made it sound like they weren’t. If so, where had the money gone?

  “Are we going to go?”

  Drawn from her thoughts, Margot looked at her niece. “Do you want to go?”

  “I don't know.” Taylor shrugged. “It kind of sounds fun.”

  Feeling like she could have been knocked over by a feather, Margot feigned surprise. “All right. Yes. We’ll go.”

  “Sweet.”

  Taylor went back to kneading the life out of the dough and Margot slipped into baker mode as she thought of the desserts she would need to make for that night. Familiar recipes, ingredient lists, and baking times filled her head, but soon they were sifted to the side as she thought again about the poor boy that had been killed. It was awful to think of anyone dying, but the fact that she’d seen him the night before stuck with her.

  There had to be a logical explanation. She thought of Antonio and what he might know. Would he be at World Dinner Night tonight? He often brought some of his favorite Italian meals to share. If so, she would make a point to talk with him.

  But, for now, she had to focus on baking or the seniors would likely rebel.

  Chapter 5

  “So, it’s like a fundraiser?” Taylor took a moment to look up from her phone long enough to show Margot just how excited she wasn’t about attending the dinner that night before her eyes sought out the next text message.

  “Yes and no.” Margot maneuvered the car onto a side street shaded by large trees and began looking for a parking spot. She had a feeling the lot would be full plus she liked to leave the closer spots for the elderly. Finding an empty spot, she pulled in. “They are raising money to put up a new senior center lodge, as they are calling it. The old one is falling apart and they want to tear it down and put up a new one. They see it as future income for them, renting it out for parties, weddings, and the like, plus they want it to be more handicap accessible. It’s really a great thing they’re doing.”

  “Sure.” Taylor was distracted by her phone again.

  Part of Margot wanted to snatch the device away and tell her niece that it was time to grow up and start having face-to-face conversations with those around her, but she bit her cheek and prayed for strength. Getting after Taylor only a few days after she’d arrived wasn’t the best way to approach something that probably had deeper strings in Taylor’s life.

  “Hey,” Margot said. The tone of her voice was serious enough to draw the young woman’s gaze. “I know it's not easy being here and I’m sure spending the evening with a bunch of senior citizens isn’t high on your list of things to do, but these are great people. I’ve gotten to know them and they hold a special place in my heart. I guess…” She fumbled for the words under the weight of the young woman’s gaze. “I just hope you could, you know, try to get the know them.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She slipped the phone into her purse and reached for the handle. “Ready?”

  Margot almost laughed. The better question was if Taylor was ready for what she was about to walk into. Instead, she nodded and opened her own door.

  They walked down Front Street and took the walkway leading around the building to the front entrance. There was already a short line forming and she waved to Sally and another woman Margot hadn’t talked to much as they accepted payment for the dinner. When they got to the front of the line, Sally winked up at her.

  “Lynellen, this here is the mastermind behind those wonderful French pastries!”

  The other woman’s eyes grew round. “Mercy. You don't say! Well, honey, you should go in for free because I think half of t
he folks who are coming today have mentioned those pastries.”

  Margot shook her head. “Absolutely not. If we’re going to get the lodge built, we’ll need every penny.” She handed over ten dollars and introduced Taylor to the women then walked around the table and entered the dated center.

  Light fixtures circa the nineteen-sixties hung across the room, more than a few bulbs burned out. It created a mood-lighting affect, even though she wasn’t sure that was what they were going for. The green carpet had seen better days and the walls that had once been white were now a dull grayish color.

  “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said they needed a new place.”

  Margot sent her a look that said, I told you. “They should be close to their goal, but I haven’t heard updates. Except…” She recalled the conversation she’d had with Bentley.

  “Yeah?” Taylor’s eyebrows were raised.

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. One of my customers said that something was going on. Maybe— Oh look, there’s Mayor Penberthy.”

  “Who?”

  Margot drew her attention back to her niece, who looked pale. “The mayor. He’s over there talking to— Tay, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

  “I—uh, never mind.”

  The girl’s reaction was strange, but just then Bentley came up, smile widening as he took both of them in with outstretched arms.

  “And look who we have here. The famous pastry chef and her budding new assistant. Happy to have you ladies here.”

  Taylor still looked distracted, but Bentley immediately drew them toward a table and began asking questions about what they wanted to eat. He was thoroughly enjoying his role as a waiter.

  “Aren’t you quite the host,” she observed. “I should hire you part time at the Pâtisserie, but I have a feeling you’d eat more than you’d sell, Bentley.”

  His smile widened. “I’d be delighted. You could just pay me in pastries.”

  “I somehow don’t think it would be equal.”

  He shrugged and said he’d be right back with their meals. Nearly the moment he was gone the mayor stepped into the spot he had vacated. “Why if it isn’t my favorite baker!” His grin made the extra skin under his jaw jiggle slightly and his bushy white eyebrows wagged as if waiting for her to deny his statement.