Catering and Crime Read online

  In between bites, Margot asked about the rest of his day, skirting around the information she really wanted to get to, but not wanting to push him before he was ready to share.

  “And they are already busy with their three kids,” he continued, talking about one of the men at work who was expecting another child. “I know they are excited, though.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, her gaze drifting to the distance.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  He grinned. “Then out with it. You want me to tell you what I found, don’t you?”

  She grinned, her shoulders rising to meet her ears. “You caught me.”

  “I did some checking into Franco’s background first. You were right. He put aside his dreams to care for his wife. It was pretty bad for him for a while but then, when she’d passed, he made a move down to North Bank and a few years later, opened up his restaurant with his daughter—the woman you met with.”

  “Right, I knew that much.”

  “I know, I’m just verifying the facts.”

  “Thank you,” she said with another appreciative smile. “Do go on.”

  “There really isn’t much after that. He’s abided by all of the laws and rules for his restaurant. There’s nothing on him. Not even a traffic ticket.”

  “What about thefts?”

  Adam nodded. “I looked into that too. Nothing’s shown up on our radar aside from petty theft and the like. Nothing that I would say fits what this young woman is talking about.”

  “It’s so odd,” she said, shaking her head. “Why would Jacqui jump to theft?”

  “You said she talked about this Lindsay woman having more money than she should. Maybe she got an inheritance or someone else who’s paying for her extravagant lifestyle.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Margot agreed, “but Jacqui finds that hard to believe. Then again, she wouldn’t be the best person to know about what Lindsay is doing. It doesn’t sound like they get along.”

  “Do you think Jacqui is making things up then?”

  “I didn’t get that feeling from her, no. I think she really believes that something is going on, but without evidence, we’re stuck.”

  Adam took a long drink from his lemonade and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t really keep digging on this, though. I didn’t cross any boundaries, just looked into what is already public record or easily obtained, but it sounds like you need eyes on this Lindsay’s assets more than anything else.”

  “Something we won’t be able to do.” Margot’s mind went to Dexter, but she pushed that thought away. While her baker’s assistant had impressive computer skills, she didn’t want to get into the habit of looking into people’s accounts whenever it suited her. That wasn’t right or lawful. Instead, she’d rather dig up things the old-fashioned way.

  “Maybe I’ll go see this Lindsay woman.”

  “Margot…” Adam’s tone was a warning.

  “At the restaurant. I won’t do anything foolish, I promise. But—” She pointed at him, “I’m not going to do anything until this festival is over and done with.”

  Adam laughed. “I’ve heard that a lot lately.”

  “It’s a big festival for us.”

  “If it’s such a hassle, why do you do it?”

  She shrugged. “It’s really not that bad once we’re there. It’s just getting to that point that we’re there and everything is ready that’s that difficult part. Plus, I love celebrating this community! I’m just afraid of rain.”

  “You’ve got that massive tent I’m hauling out there for you,” he reminded her.

  “I do. And it’ll do fine with the rain, but not everyone has that type of equipment. What if things are ruined out there?”

  “Then they’ll have a better tent next year.”

  She rolled her eyes at her fiancé and stood to clear their plates.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with for tomorrow?” Adam asked, coming up behind her while she stood at the sink rinsing their plates.

  “Nope. Well, there’s one thing.” She turned off the sink and turned to face him. “Actually, two things.”

  “Name them, my love.” His nose brushed her playfully.

  “One, let me leave early tonight because I’ve got to keep to my baker’s hours tomorrow.”

  He let out a sigh. “I suppose I can do that. I’ve got a few cases I could work on once you leave. And the second?”

  “Kiss me for good luck.”

  “Now that,” he said, pulling her close, “is something I can do.”

  4

  Saturday had gone by in a blur of activity. Margot, Dexter, and Julia had arrived early at the bakery, taken care of the early morning baking, and made it to the festival with boxes and boxes of baked goods ready to be sold. From the moment they opened the tent flaps, the tent having been erected by Adam and a few helpers, they saw a steady stream of customers.

  They had done so well that Margot had sent Dexter and Julia off to enjoy the fair while she managed the last few hours on her own, only a few selected pasties and goodies left. She’d had many promising conversations with business owners as well, trading cards and talking about collaborating or the possibility of Margot catering a dessert bar here and there. All in all, she considered Saturday a success.

  The next morning found Margot and assistants doing the same thing all over again. They reduced some of their number in order to adjust for the crowd flow, but they were still out the door and to the tent by the time things were just starting to open up.

  Julia pulled back a tent flap. “Margot, I’ve got an idea.”

  “What’s that?” Margot asked from her place near the back wall that was really just white tarp pinned up to keep the wind from blowing across the baked goods.

  “Why don’t you go out and see some of the festival this morning? Dexter and I will hold down the fort.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, looking between her two workers.

  “Positive,” Dexter said with a wink. “We saw pretty much everything—twice. Besides, the crowds won’t get busy until after church, I’d think.”

  “Good point.” Smiling, she slipped out of her apron and pulled on her cardigan. Lifting her small purse from under the checkout table, she headed to the tent entrance. “I’ll be back soon.”

  They waved her off and she slipped out into the warm morning sunshine. The promised rained had held off so far, but Margot didn’t have a good feeling about the clouds making their way in from off the water. They looked dark and ominous, and she hoped they’d hold off until the late afternoon at least.

  A light breeze brushed across her skin and she was glad she’d worn a light sweater that morning. Despite the fact it was summer, the mornings had held on to a chill coming from off the coast, no doubt a warning of the coming storm.

  Margot let her gaze drift to the various tents and stalls as she meandered through the thin crowd. Dexter had been right, there weren’t many people now, though they would likely come in droves after church, coming to filter through the pathways lined with businesses offering their wares. Everything from handmade soap, pottery, and leather goods to wooden children’s toys and kettle corn surrounded her.

  Stomach churning from a lack of food since much too early that morning, Margot headed back toward the end of the festival field where the food tents were held, hers among them. She’d picked up a colorful scarf for Tammy, an early birthday present, and a new wallet for Adam. Feeling accomplished, she began to eye tents that offered food. She wanted something quick and easy but satisfying.

  Up ahead, completely blocking the path, was a large crowd in front of a tent for the local bagel place. They had a special for Sunday morning and no doubt the college students from Williamston had come up to take advantage of it.

  Rather than weave through the tightly-packed bodies, Margot took the circuitous route though the festival’s back area. Since she had credentials t
hat allowed her entrance anywhere due to her status as a vendor, she decided to exercise some of that privilege.

  She’d just made it around the busy bagel tent when she saw a familiar figure a few tents ahead. It looked like the short, petite figure of Jacqui Franco entering a tent from the parking lot side. Margot knew that Chef Franco had a tent at the festival, but she’d yet to see it.

  She was still at least seven or eight tents from her area, no doubt what had caused her to miss the Bistro Franco tent, but she thought a quick detour wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she’d been thinking about Jacqui and wanted to see how the young woman was faring after their conversation over coffee.

  As she approached, however, Margot nearly lost her footing as a blood-curdling scram rent the air.

  Rushing toward the tent, Margot pulled the back flap aside and saw the young woman leaning over the prostrate body of a man, his muscular shoulders pulling taut the fabric of his white shirt. Jacqui held a bloody knife in one hand and Margot saw dark crimson blood pooling on the man’s back from a stab.

  “Jacqui,” Margot whispered, shock lacing her words.

  Jacqui’s eyes flew to Margot’s and she dropped the knife, her hand opening reflexively. She backed away from the body, her whole body visibly shaking.

  “I—I just found him like this. I—I—I didn’t stab him.”

  Margot’s eyes went from the young woman to the man before her brain forced her frozen body forward. Without saying a word, Margot flung herself to her knees next to the man, careful to only touch his neck to find a pulse and nothing else.

  “Is…is he dead?” Jacqui gasped.

  Margot looked up at the girl, whose face had paled to a white hue, a tinge of green making it painfully obvious she was trying not to be sick.

  Before Margot could answer in the affirmative, the front flap flew open and a security guard plunged into the depths of the tent. He stuttered to a halt, blinking several times before his thoughts aligned themselves and he snatched at the radio on his belt. Plunging further into the tent, he knelt next to Margot.

  “He’s gone, I’m afraid,” Margot said, sitting back on her heels and shaking her head.

  The security guard felt for a pulse then nodded as if in agreement to her assessment. Putting the radio to his lips, he called in the problem then stood. “I’m going to have to ask you both to back away from the body.” His gaze went to Jacqui’s hands, covered in blood, and his eyes clouded. “Want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  “A man is dead,” Margot said, point blank. “We need to call the police.”

  “What happened?” Margot asked the young woman, sending a quick glance to the other security guards who had shown up to secure the area until the police could get there. They had been forgotten in the melee, but Margot knew better than to leave before they could be questioned, especially Jacqui.

  “I—I just walked in and he was there ly-lying on the ground.” She shivered despite the warm sun beating down on them. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but all the sudden, I found myself on the ground next to him and I was pulling out the knife and there was blood and and…it was awful.”

  “Do you know who the man was?”

  “No. I’ve n-never seen him before.” She averted her gaze, wiping at tears.

  Margot opened her mouth to ask another question but was cut off by the sound of her name.

  “Margot!”

  She spun around to see Adam coming toward her, a hard look on his face. He was trailed by several officers and his partner, Les Mabry.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” he said, coming to her and pull her to him in a quick embrace.

  “Of course I’m all right,” she said, pulling back to look up into his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “All we heard was that there was a stabbing at the festival today in the food section and…I suppose my mind went to all possible scenarios.”

  “I’m fine,” she reassured him.

  “But you’re here,” he said, his gaze narrowing at her now, “at the crime scene. Should I be surprised?” Then his gaze trailed over the woman next to her and his eyebrows rose.

  “Adam, this is Jacquelyn Franco, Chef Franco’s daughter. Jacqui, this is my fiancé, Detective Adam Eastwood.”

  He held in the questions she knew he wanted to ask but accepted the introduction graciously. “You found the body?” he said, his gaze trailing to her hands then back to her face.

  “Yes.” She bit her lip and looked at her hand then too. “Can I wash my hands?”

  “Soon,” Adam said, his tone gentling. “You’ll need to talk with Detective Mabry. Les,” he said, motioning the man over. “Can you take her statement?”

  “‘Course, Adam. Hey, Margot,” Les said, nodding toward her.

  She returned the gesture and Adam pulled her further away from where the officers were sealing off the crime scene area. “Tell me what happened.”

  She did, but the more she said the more his face clouded.

  “And you found her with the knife in her hand?”

  Margot nodded. “You don’t think she did this, do you?”

  Adam roughed a hand over his face and looked to where Les was jotting down notes as Jacqui talked. “It doesn’t look good, Margot. Why take the knife out? Who actually touches a murder victim like that unless they want their prints over the murder weapon?”

  “You think she did all of this to stage a scene?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know enough to speculate. But we’ll have to take her down to the station for questioning. I’ll have an officer take your statement as well.”

  “All right,” she said.

  Suddenly, a bellowing voice cut through the crowd. “What in the world is going on?”

  “I’ve heard that voice before,” Margot said, mostly to herself.

  “What are you all doing in my tent?” he bellowed.

  Adam immediately stepped forward to the perimeter line two of his officers had established. “Excuse me, sir, are you Chef Maurice Franco?”

  “I am. Are you responsible for what’s going on here?”

  “In a word, yes,” Adam said evenly. “Please, come back this way. We need to talk.”

  Margot saw the red rise from Chef Franco’s neck to flare over his cheeks. He ground his teeth and stomped around the barrier, coming to what looked like a standoff in front of Adam. When his gaze went to the side and he saw his daughter, his look darkened. “What is going on, Jacqui?”

  “I—” she started to say, but stopped when it became clear Chef Franco saw her bloody hands.

  “Why— What did you do? Why is there blood on your hands?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Papa,” she said, tears now streaming down her face.

  He rounded on Adam. “What is going on? I demand answers!” he shouted.

  “Pleas remain calm,” Adam said in a soothing, no-nonsense tone. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, but I need to know if you’ve seen this man.” He gestured to an officer near him who came forward and held up his phone. He’d snapped a photo of the man who had died and Margot swallowed, seeing the man’s face masked by death.

  “I— Yes. He was hired for this festival. Just a worker.”

  Adam nodded his thanks to the officer, who put his phone back in his pocket.

  “I don’t even remember his name. Saul or something. Sam? Some weird name. My assistant hired him.”

  “Right…” Adam made a note of this. “You don’t have any say in who your assistant hires?”

  “It’s not like that,” he scoffed, taking offense when none was meant. “I trust her implicitly.”

  Margot thought back to the argument between Chef Franco and his daughter involving Lindsay. He trusted her, but Jacqui didn’t.

  “And who—”

  “Are you going to stand around asking me questions all day or are you going to look for whoever killed this poor man?” Chef Franco said, his voice raising almost an octave.

  “Sir,�
� Adam said, holding up his hand in a placating gesture. “We can discuss it here or we can take you down to the station. I was trying to consider your circumstances, but if you’d prefer to come with your daughter—”

  “My daughter? Wh-what do you mean?”

  “We’ll need to take Jacqui down to the station for further questioning. We have a witness placing her at the scene of the crime and…other evidence.”

  “A witness?” The chef’s gaze roved around the area, coming to rest on Margot. “Was it you?” he asked, taking a step forward. “Are you spreading lies about my baby girl?”

  Margot was taken aback by his strong words and Jacqui tried to interject. “Papa, it’s all right—”

  “No, it’s not. You need a lawyer obviously. There’s so much nonsense going on here.” He threw his hands in the air and rounded on Adam. “Take us to the station if you must, but you’ll find that no Franco is involved with this!”

  5

  Chef Franco’s words hung in the air as Margot walked toward her tent. She wanted to go with Adam, to listen to the interrogation with Maurice and Jacqui, but there was no reason for her to. She’d given her statement and, while she hated this fact, she was the one placing Jacqui at the scene of the crime. The girl’s fingerprints were on the weapon as well. This situation had guilt written all over it.

  But there had to be another explanation. Margot knew better than to take anything at face value. There were two entrances to the tent and that meant that someone could have entered and left from the front entrance as easily as Jacqui had gone in through the back.

  Secondly, what motive could the young girl have for stabbing a random man? She’d already admitted to not knowing the man, but her father had. Had Jacqui lied about knowing the man or had she truly not recognized him?

  And how—if at all—did Lindsay fit into all of this? Her name kept popping up in Margot’s mind the more she thought about the conversation she’d overheard between the three and the subsequent conversation she’d had at the coffee ship with Jacqui.