A Crusty Murder (11 page)

Sleep evaded me, just as I knew it would. The letter, as appalling as it was, lay tucked inside the pocket of my sweater. I’d decided to call Graham first thing after Seanmhair arrived to handle the shop.

I must have dozed off. The alarm blared and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of it. Time to sell the bread. I stumbled into the bathroom, readied for the day and rushed downstairs.

Sales went well, the hours passed, and Seanmhair strolled in around half past nine. I handed the two remaining customers over to her and headed for the kitchen.

I was told Detective Graham was unavailable, so I called his cell phone and got his voicemail. I left him a brief message and returned to help Seanmhair.

We’d just gotten a break from the rush and had settled down for tea and a muffin when the bell over the shop door rang, announcing a customer had arrived. Seanmhair got up to answer the summons. I waved her into the chair and pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen. Detective Graham inhaled deeply while he gazed at the loaves of bread bundled in baskets and piled on shelves.

“This place always makes me hungry,” he said with appreciation. “You called?”

With a nod, I beckoned him into the kitchen and pulled a stool forward for him. Muffins and jam were the offerings. I asked if he’d like tea or coffee.

“Coffee, thanks,” Graham answered.

Seanmhair sat quietly at the table. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed she couldn’t face the detective. With a smirk, I figured she had that embarrassment coming to her and I wouldn’t interfere with it at all.

“Here you go,” I said and handed him a mug and a plate of muffins.

Graham nodded and leaned back in the chair. “You didn’t call me here for muffins, did you, Melina?”

“I didn’t. Seanmhair, would you excuse us? I need to speak with Detective Graham in private.” Her eyes widened at my request, but Seanmhair did as asked. I figured she’d listen at the door, anyway, but I hoped she wouldn’t. I hadn’t mentioned the letter, or Aidan, to her, and hoped she remained unaware of the broken window. We’d been busy with customers all morning with no time to chat.

I produced the offensive letter and held on to it firmly. “Before I give this to you, I want to tell you once more that I didn’t kill or harm Mrs. Peterson in any way.”

His intense stare flicked from me to the letter and back again. “I know that, Melina. You couldn’t possibly have killed her. You have an airtight alibi. What’s this about?”

I dropped the letter on the table and pushed it toward him. He picked it up, read it, and then looked at me over the top of the paper.

“When did this arrive?” he asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. It’s been so crazy here these past few days that I haven’t checked my mail. Last night while waiting for the bread to bake, I went through a stack of bills, ads, and whatnot. This was wedged within the pile. It was mailed from Providence, with no return address.”

“I see,” he said. “Do you have the envelope?”

“Yes, I’ll go get it.” I strode into the office and fetched the envelope.

“I’ll have it dusted for prints, though it’s probably useless at this stage. Any ideas who’d do this?” Graham wondered.

“None. It means the real killer was there when I found Mrs. Peterson. I could be dead, too.” I shivered and crossed my arms tightly in an effort to ward off the chill that engulfed me.

“What else is there that you’re not telling me?” Graham wanted to know.

This was no time to vacillate between my telling him what I knew and trying to control the situation on my own, so I owned up. I offered a rundown of the meeting with my fellow shop owners to try and come up with a resolution to what had been happening. While I spoke, Graham’s face took on an ominous expression. Yikes, I was in for a hard time, I could tell.

He rose from the chair, walked toward the rear exit of the room, and then stopped when he saw the broken window.

He turned and demanded, “When did this happen?” His voice was chilling, anger laced each word. “Did you notify the police of a break in?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I insisted. “Last night, right after I’d read the letter, I fainted. Aidan Sinclair stopped by and he broke the window to get in and help me.”

“How convenient of him.” Graham didn’t buy the story. I didn’t care.

“Yes, it was. I was also mighty glad he came to my rescue. The ovens were at full tilt. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t been handy.”

“Mmm, yes, I bet he’s handy,” Graham murmured as he glanced at the cardboard covered window again. “You’d better have this repaired right away or the Health Department could close you down, or fine you heavily.”

I agreed, made the call to a local handyman, and then returned to Graham. He seemed lost in thought as he paced the room. He glanced up and said, “You seem to trust this Aidan Sinclair. How well do you know him?”

I shrugged. “He’s been to a couple classes. We’ve had a drink together. Nothing more.” I refused to admit to buckling knees, hot kisses, and all that accompanied those things. No, sirree, not saying a word.

“That’s all?” Graham asked, his keen stare glued to my face.

“Mmm, that’s it,” I lied. Could he tell I was lying? What business was it of his, anyway?

His thoughts and expression unfathomable, I watched Graham make a few notes on his pad and tuck the letter in the evidence bag he pulled from his jacket pocket.

“I’ll get back to you on this.” Graham patted his pocket. “Don’t go anywhere alone, day or night. The same goes for your grandmother and also for your friend BettyJo.”

“Sure thing. I’ll tell her when she pops in later. Thanks for coming by so quickly. I appreciate it, Detective Graham.”

“Jack, you can call me Jack,” he said with a slight smile as I handed him a wrapped muffin.

“Fine, Jack. “

“You’ll be sure to have somebody check out the parking lot during the evenings, then?” I asked.

“A patrol car will pass through the area occasionally. It could be the killer is just waiting for another chance at one of you. Be careful, Melina.”

I assured him I’d taken his words to heart and watched as he left the shop and drove away. Seanmhair stood behind the counter, wiping down the glass countertop.

“You had a long chat. Anything I should know about, Melina?” Seanmhair asked as Aidan swung through the door, followed by BettyJo.

They both asked at once, “Was that Detective Graham?”

I laughed at their voices in unison and admitted it was Graham and that I’d given him the letter. Before BettyJo could ask, I explained the letter and its contents. Now that Graham, uh, Jack, wasn’t planning to haul me off to jail, I was confident in telling Seanmhair of the threat hanging over me.

Seanmhair’s hands were on her hips. “You should have told me straight away, Melina. You need a bodyguard.”

I heaved a sigh. “I’m not getting a bodyguard. Definitely not. I’ll have to be more careful and aware of my surroundings, is all.”

Aidan grinned. “I’d take that job on, lass, if I weren’t up to my neck in meetings. I did want to stop in and tell you though, that I’ll be here for longer than I initially thought. We’ll see more of one another, yeah?”

I could feel the heat in my face. The three faces before me held knowing smiles. Crap. Was I that transparent? Apparently so.

“Why not, I’d enjoy seeing more of you. Oh, uh, I meant seeing you more often, not seeing more of you . . . ,” I trailed off as laughter swelled and my embarrassment deepened.

“Right, I understand, lass. No worries,” Aidan said with a sparkle in his eyes.

Seanmhair headed toward the kitchen, BettyJo hot on her heels. I was alone with Aidan.

He checked the time and said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll be by later and we can have dinner? I’ll come for you around six?”

“Great, sex, uh, six, it is. See you then,” I muttered, blushing as he left. With clouds beneath my feet, I floated into the kitchen. BettyJo and Seanmhair studiously busied themselves with muffins and tea.

I laughed at the two of them. “You listened at the door, right? Admit it.”

Both women denied having done so until I remarked that Aidan would pick me up at seven.

Seanmhair corrected me, as I knew she would. “No dear, at six.”

I pointed a finger at her. “Aha, caught you. You did listen at the door. Were you also eavesdropping when Jack was here?”

“Jack? It’s Jack, now? My, my,” BettyJo teased.

I gasped. “He asked me to call him that. I didn’t do so on my own.”

BettyJo cleared the table while Seanmhair began to wash it down. “What did
Jack
think of the letter?” BettyJo asked.

I rolled my eyes at her pronounced use of his name.

“He assured me that my alibi was rock solid and he took the letter for fingerprint dusting. He wasn’t hopeful that there’d be identifiable prints, though. Jack advised we never go out alone, any of us, until the murderer is caught.”

I glanced toward the rear door as the local handyman raised his knuckled fist to rap. I scooted over and let him in, explaining what needed to be done and asked if he could fix the damage today. He nodded and peered at the gaping hole behind the cardboard.

BettyJo and Seanmhair watched and waited until I was finished with my instructions. The handyman got to work, I rejoined the women, and the three of us went to wait on the customers who’d entered the shop.

Before long, Seanmhair had placed the closed sign on the front door. Bags of bread and rolls for delivery to Martin Mason’s shelter lay on the glass countertop. BettyJo had meandered off to get her shop in order for the slew of readings she’d scheduled for the evening.

“Seanmhair, I’d like you to ride to the shelter with me. When we return and you go home, I want you to call me when you arrive. Safety is a major factor for all of us. Do you mind?”

“If you feel it’s necessary, I will.” Seanmhair gave me a long look and said, “I’m sorry for my actions, Melina. I was being rash and foolish. You have enough going on without worrying about me, too.”

“I’m not going to say I told you so, but . . . ,” I said with a smile. “Lesson learned?”

Seanmhair nodded and helped me load the car for delivery. Our short ride continued through our historic section of Providence. I parked at the curb and we brought the goods into the shelter by way of the rear door.

Martin greeted us with a wave and a smile. How the man remained cheerful in the face of such devastated lives was amazing. I handed over the packages and said my goodbyes. Seanmhair gaped at the families and others who stood in line for a meal. Her expression alone showed how the sight affected her. She turned to Mason. “Is this what it’s like every day?”

“Sometimes more, sometimes less, but always a crowd. There are many in need,” Martin answered.

“Have you enough staff? I could help serve if you’d like,” Seanmhair offered.

Martin’s face crinkled as he smiled at my grandmother. “You do enough by donating this food for us to share. You’ll never know how grateful I am for that. Thanks for offering. I appreciate it.”

Seanmhair nodded, gave him a sweet smile and told him to call if he changed his mind.

Speechless at her offer, I waited until we reached the car before I said, “You mean you’d give up your card game to work at the shelter?”

“Did you see those children? It’s disheartening to see them living such a difficult life. I’d gladly give up my free time to help out,” she answered.

I muttered under my breath about turning over a new leaf, but left it at that.

The mirror doesn’t lie. It just doesn’t, no matter how much you want it to. Crap. I’d changed clothes, one outfit after another, but the result remained the same. I wasn’t fat, I was a might fluffy. There was no doubt about it.

I ended up with a black pants suit, a red scarf that set off my skin and dark brown hair color to perfection, and donned black sparkle covered pumps. My jet earrings glittered when the light struck them. All in all, I didn’t look too bad. I dabbed a bit of lipstick on my lips and considered my look complete.

When Aidan came to the back door, I waited, ready to go. His smile and the look in his eyes told me what I wanted to know. I’d chosen wisely. There was no denying that it certainly felt good to be appreciated by a handsome man.

“You’re looking fine, lass. Shall we go?” Aidan held out his arm, crooked at the elbow. I tucked my hand into it and we left for dinner. Where, I didn’t know or care. I just wanted to be with him.

Our time together passed far too quickly. In a trance-like state, I ate the plate of veal Marsala placed before me while Aidan described his life in Scotland, the Border collie named Jock, he had as a pet, and the family he’d lost in a tragic boating accident off the coast. A momentary sadness filtered across Aidan’s features. He glanced at me and then smiled.

“Were you close to your parents?” I asked.

“Aye, they were the best a boy could have. My mother was beautiful. She had a sunny nature. My father was what you Americans call a
man’s man.

I smiled when I realized our commonality. We’d both lost parents and we’d become stronger for it. His attentive behavior extended far beyond the usual treatment I’d received from American men. I could get used to this, really used to this. That’s when I brought my wandering mind up short. I didn’t need a man to take care of me, one who’d try to control my every breath, a man who’d make demands and want me to stay home catering to a gaggle of kids rather than be the bread maker extraordinaire that I’d become. I snapped out of my reverie and released Aidan’s hand as we walked.

He’d worked magic on me. The evening wind off the bay suddenly cooled. I leaned against the rail bordering the Providence River that wended its way into Narragansett Bay. The steady breeze played across my face, ruffling my hair, and tossed the fine strands across my eyes. I’d been about to throw caution to the wind and ask Aidan back to my apartment and entice him into my bed. I’d only known him a brief time. I’d succumbed to his charm and wit without blinking an eye. Was I crazy? Probably. Horny? Definitely.