Catering and Crime Read online

  “They were an odd couple. I believe their names were…” She scrunched up her nose in thought. “Zachary and…Roxanne Fox. Yes, that was their names.”

  “Interesting in what way?”

  “First off, they aren’t a couple, mind you. They are brother and sister. Not that that’s odd, but they are both just so effervescent. They stick out because they are so good at working a crowd.”

  “Working in what way?”

  “Oh, you know,” she gave a halfhearted shrug. “They know who to talk to.”

  “Do you know much about them?”

  Ann shook her head. “They are wealthy. I think it was inherited wealth, as well as the company they run. Again, it was just that they were so vibrant that makes them stick out in my mind.”

  “Interesting. Anyone else?” Margot asked.

  “Not really. At least, no one I haven’t known for years. Most of them don’t have the energy, or the need, to create a plan to steal my jewels. Especially not one as elaborate as this seems to be. If the chain hadn’t broken, I wouldn’t have ever known they were fake—well, until Mr. Frasier took a look at them.”

  Margot thanked the woman for the information and made her good-byes, the woman’s words echoing in her mind. She might not have ever known they were fake. How many other wealthy patrons were out there with fake jewels in their vaults?

  8

  “What did you find out?” Adam asked, taking a bite of the sandwich she’d brought him.

  Margot filled him in on what her friend had said and ended with, “I think Roxanne and Zachary might be the ones we need to look into next.”

  “We?” he said, eyebrow rising in suspicion.

  “You know what I mean,” she said with a laugh. “They sound a little suspicious to me, but maybe I’m looking into it too far.”

  “I can do some digging.” When Margot didn’t reply Adam looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, spill it. What are you thinking?”

  “I know you’ve got an investigation to run, but I also know you don’t like me poking my nose where it ‘doesn’t belong,’ as you say.”

  “But you have an idea regarding these two.”

  She nodded.

  “And you’d prefer not to tell me…why?”

  “Because you’ll feel obligated to either stop me or come with me, and I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”

  Adam reached across his desk and took her hand in his. “I know you are more than capable and if you can promise me what you’re doing is not dangerous to yourself or others, then I won’t need to ask any more questions.”

  Margot considered his request and nodded slowly. She could do that. Her plan, while in its infant stages, was subject to change and—at this point—held little in the way of actual danger to anyone.

  “I can do that.”

  “All right then. I trust that you’ll let me know when things are settled and you can tell me what you learned. And,” he added with a wink, “that you won’t be stepping on the toes of my investigation.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said with a bright smile.

  “Then we have an agreement.”

  “We do.” They shook on it before Margot checked her phone and shot to her feet. “I’ve got to run. Meeting Julia for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, I’d almost forgotten. Have a good time and tell her I said hi.”

  “Will do.” Margot leaned down and brushed a quick kiss across Adam’s lips before rushing out the door. She has just enough time to make it to the small café that they had agreed to meet at, which was also, coincidentally, the same café Ann had said Roxanne Fox liked to visit. Or, at least that was what the rumor mill reported.

  Margot felt a little underhanded, asking Julia out to dinner as a cover, but she’d gotten a photo of the woman and had assured herself—and now Adam—that she wouldn’t do anything too daring. Just a little reconnaissance.

  “There you are,” Julia said, walking up dressed in skinny jeans and a flowing floral top. “Am I underdressed?”

  “Nope.” Margot flashed the employee a friendly smile. “I think this place is supposed to be very laid back.”

  “Good. I hate not fitting in.”

  “You’ll be fine. Shall we?”

  “After you,” Julia said, following Margot inside.

  The lights were not fully dimmed yet since it was still early in the evening and Margot asked for a corner table without making it obvious she wanted a good view over the room. The hostess showed them to a table and assured them that their waiter would be out soon.

  “So, give it up,” Julia said, looking at her menu.

  “Um, what?” Margot tried to sound innocent.

  “Tell me why you asked me to dinner here.”

  “Doesn’t the menu sound good?”

  Julia merely raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Okay,” she said, relenting. “I’m on something of a stakeout and you’re invited.” She flashed a big smile at the end and Julia laughed.

  “I had a feeling. Who are we ‘staking out’?”

  Margot covertly slipped the photo she’d printed of Roxanne over to Julia. “Her.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Supposedly, her and her brother are extremely wealthy, and I was told by a friend that she likes to dine here.”

  “So she may or may not be here.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right.” Julia opened her menu again and pretended to look at it while really scoping out the tables next to them. Margot smiled to herself as she did the same with the other side. And this was exactly why she’d taken Julia with her.

  By the time their server had come, they still hadn’t seen Roxanne, but Margot wouldn’t give up hope until they were going home.

  They chatted about the bakery, about Julia’s ideas for the coming holiday season with specific pastries, and then about Dexter.

  “I mean, he’s the sweetest guy and does so well with Nick. That’s where Nick is tonight, actually. Staying with Dexter.”

  “He loves him already, I can tell when I see them together.”

  “I know…” Julia grimaced. “But, Margot, what if it doesn’t work out? Nick will be heartbroken.”

  Margot waited while their server delivered their plates, then met Julia’s concerned stare.

  “You were really careful about introducing Nick to Dexter. You waited a long time for that to happen because you wanted to protect him and, while I completely understand that, I can’t help think he’ll be better off knowing Dexter no matter what happens. Dexter is not the type of guy who would ignore Nick if things didn’t work out between you—no matter how awkward it could seem at first.”

  “You’re right. And that’s all part of what makes Dexter so great.”

  “You don’t really think it won’t work out, do you…”

  Julia offered a hopeful but tightlipped smile just as the door opened and Roxanne walked in. Julia must have known from the look on Margot’s face that she’d seen their mark and she played along perfectly, keeping up the conversation even though Margot was clearly not listening as much as she was watching.

  “You see her, right?” Margot said, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side to indicate where the woman was sitting.

  “Totally.” Julia looked at her food but kept talking. “And I’ve got to say, for someone whose supposed to be an heiress, she sure doesn’t look like it.”

  Margot observed the woman again. She’d removed a floppy brimmed hat now that she was inside, and her light brown roots were obviously visible where they met jet black-dyed hair. Her nail polish was chipped and overall, she had a less-than-polished look to her.

  “What makes you say that?” Margot asked, knowing her own deductions but wondering about her friend’s.

  “Aside from the obvious need of a dye job, which I’m assuming you saw, that cardigan is from Target—I have the same one—and I’m pretty sure those jeans are from there as well. I mean, what millionaire sh
ops at Target?”

  “Stranger things have been known to happen,” Margot agreed, “but in this case, I think you’re right. There is definitely something off about this woman.”

  Just then, the door opened again, and Margot had to control her gasp before it was audible to the whole room. Ben Anderson stood in the doorway and, when he spotted Roxanne, he walked up to her table and sat down.

  Margot tried to keep her gaze from the couple in the middle of the room, but she couldn’t. Every few seconds, she glanced over, wishing she were closer so that she could hear what they were talking about.

  “Margot,” Julia said after she’d turned to see Ben walk in. “That’s Bentley’s son, isn’t it?”

  Margot nodded, forcing herself to take a bite to make it look like she was enjoying the meal.

  “Then what’s he doing here meeting with her?”

  “I wish I knew,” she said, her gaze flicking to them again. She had one idea, and at this point, it was more likely to be the truth than anything else. Roxanne was involved in something that required Ben’s skills and notoriety in the underground thief world, but she didn’t know that he was also working with the FBI. At least, she hoped that story was true.

  “But, I mean, they have to have met somehow. You don’t think they just happened to meet and he asked her out on a date or something, do you?”

  Margot almost laughed. “No, I don’t think that’s what happened, but let’s watch and see what happens.”

  They went back to their meal, creating small talk as best they could, each of them looking to the table every few seconds. Finally, when they had almost gone as long as they could with their meal without creating suspicion, Roxanne got up, taking her purse with her. She made her way to the women’s room and Margot felt like it was her lucky day.

  Telling Julia she’d be right back, Margot sneaked to Ben’s table.

  “Interesting seeing you here.”

  “Margot Durand. I wouldn’t have expected to see you here without your austere fiancé, the dashing detective as I’ve dubbed him.”

  Trying hard not to roll her eyes at his poor alliteration, she shook her head. “I’m more interested in who you’re meeting with.”

  “Old college friend,” he said with his charming smile.

  All right, she thought. I’ll take another avenue.

  “I’ve heard she’s wealthy. An heiress of some sort?”

  “Then you know more than I.” He flashed an overly white smile at her. “We’ve only just met.”

  “And how did that happen?” she asked, shooting a glance down the hall to the bathroom.

  “Mutual friend.”

  “Ben, listen—”

  “No, you listen, Margot.” He lightly gripped her wrist, his meaning clear. “They are dangerous people and you don’t need to look into this, all right? I’m handling it.”

  He might be handling it, but did that mean he’d get Jacqui out of jail any faster? Margot needed answers and she needed them quickly.

  “Margot!” Julia whispered though clenched teeth.

  She straightened and stepped back to their table as if they were getting up to leave just as Roxanne came back. Julia sent her a wide-eyed gaze that said, “That was close.” They left, but not before Margot shot Ben another pointed glance. She needed him to know that this was not the end of their conversation, no matter how much he thought it was.

  “What did he say?” Julia asked when they were outside.

  “Not much. Mostly that he would handle it. I don’t think him handling it will get Jacqui out of jail any faster.”

  “You don’t think she did it?”

  “I don’t. The facts aren’t there.”

  “So who do you think it was?”

  Margot thought for a moment. “I don’t know that we have enough facts to know at this point. I really want to get a look at Roxanne and Zachary’s lives—see if they are just playing everyone, saying that they are wealthy when they aren’t. I’m not sure what would possess someone to do that, but it’s a definite possibility.”

  “Then what?”

  “Money is always a factor,” she said, looking back at the café. “While Roxanne may not obviously have money, she puts on appearances as if she does—most of the time. I would assume the reason is to get more of it.”

  “So you think they are in on some moneymaking scheme?”

  “I do,” Margot said thoughtfully, “but it’ll be challenging to uncover it. I have a feeling we only know about my friend Ann’s faked jewelry because of a fluke accident.”

  Julia tilted her head, considering what Margot had said. “You think there’s a ring of gem-smuggling thieves here in North Bank?” Then she started to laugh, and Margot had to admit it did sound pretty funny. If Ben hadn’t shown up like he had, she wouldn’t have even considered it—not really. But because he had, and knowing his background, she had to at least assume theft was involved in some way.

  She thought back to what Ann had said about attending a party. Then she thought of Jacqui and her mentioning the waitstaff. It was a logical choice—bring on waitstaff specifically for a job. But what would that job be? She had to figure out who might have been targeted and who was just being used as a way to get to something else, something greater.

  “What are you thinking of?” Julia nudged Margot gently with her shoulder.

  “I’m thinking that I need to attend a party.”

  9

  Margot called Adam that night after their dinner and explained what she’d learned in full detail. He was surprised to discover the Ben angle, but agreed that there had to be something to the waitstaff angle. What it could be, he had no idea, but he promised he’d look into it and get back to her.

  The next morning, bright and early during her ‘baker’s hours,’ Margot kneaded dough, digging her fingers into it over and over again as her mind wandered. She still had details to take care of for their wedding but most of her energy was in trying to find out how she and Adam could be invited to a party catered by Chef Franco. It seemed easy enough, but finding an available party list without tipping off Lindsay proved to be impossible.

  When Margot called the first time, hoping to pretend to be someone else, she recognized Margot’s number—a foolish mistake on Margot’s part—and Margot had to come up with a question about their menu on the fly. The second time, she’d used Julia’s phone but hadn’t been able to get any valuable information past the woman who guarded their schedule like Fort Knox.

  Finally, Margot pulled her ace. She called Ann and asked her to ask around. She also included a request—if there was a way for her friend to drop a line that a Mr. and Mrs. Tharman from out of town were interested in attending, they would consider it a personal favor. She had Ann salt the exploitation with things like ‘old money,’ ‘jewels,’ and ‘did I mention lots of money.’

  Before long, Margot found out from Ann that Mr. and Mrs. Tharman, upon considering a move to North Bank, were asked to attend by several realtors, among others selling what only the rich could afford.

  Margot smiled to herself, thinking that Adam would be proud of her resourcefulness, but then she considered the fact that he wouldn’t want to attend, seeing as he was a visible detective in the area, and began to worry.

  “Disguise,” Bentley said as he wrote in another word for his crossword.

  “Was that a clue or an answer?”

  “Neither,” he said, smiling up at her. “It’s a suggestion. Give him a moustache and dye his hair—non-permanent, of course. No one will think twice when he wears a fancy suit and talks about golf.”

  Margot laughed but had to admit that Bentley’s idea had merit.

  “I could get used to a blonde Adam,” she said with a laugh, knowing that he’d just come in the shop door.

  “Wait, what? What did I miss?”

  Margot winked at Bentley. “I’m going to dye your hair blonde. And how do you feel about a moustache?”

  “Um, no—to all of the above.�
�� He frowned. Margot laughed.

  “We were talking about how Mister and Missus Tharman have been invited to the Langs’ summer party by the sea.” She said it with as much excitement as she could, but Adam still rolled his eyes.

  “You want me to go with you?” he asked, giving her an incredulous look.

  “I do.” She grinned. “How are your golf skills?”

  “Deplorable.”

  “Can you make something up?”

  “Sure.” He stroked his chin in an exaggerated manner. “I can be Hadley Wellington Tharman the Third. Champion golf player and yacht owner.”

  “Do you know anything about yachts?” Bentley asked.

  “I’m sorry… Can we go back to that name? Do you even remember what you said?” Margot asked with raised eyebrows.

  Adam grinned. “Hadley Wellington Tharman the Third. And yes, I know quite a bit about yachts, my good man.”

  “Good to see this is going to go well,” Margot said with excessive sarcasm.

  “I can play it up with the best of them. But I’m not dying my hair.”

  “How about that moustache, though?” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

  “Sure, sure,” he said with a laugh. “Hadley’s been growing it for a while now.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be doing some detective work or something?” Bentley said in a good-natured way.

  “I stopped by to see if Margot wanted to accompany me to holding.”

  “Are we going to see Jacqui?”

  “Yes.” He suddenly looked grave. “It’s not looking good for her.”

  It didn’t make any sense. The girl had only walked in on the poor boy, killed by someone who had likely just run from the tent, but without witnesses, they saw her fingerprints on the murder weapon and a supposed history.

  “There’s no motive.”

  “An eyewitness places Jacqui and Simon together the night before, arguing behind the tent. Said it sounded bad and Jacqui was very angry.”

  Margot’s mind flew to Jacqui saying she didn’t know the boy. Had she lied to her?