Devil's Food Cake (5 page)

The pleading tone of his voice took the wind right out of Sadie’s sails. She looked past him to Gayle, still sitting several feet away. She was trying to look as though she wasn’t crying, but her chin was quivering and she kept wiping at her eyes and nose. She was sitting alone and it made her look vulnerable, which tugged at Sadie’s heart. Police officers were everywhere, talking to witnesses and taking notes. To Sadie’s left was the stage, and she could just make out the leg of Mr. Ogreski behind a cluster of people. The crime scene unit was securing the stage, getting everyone off so they could do their job. A
job
—something Sadie did not have. All of these official people were here to do a job. Like Pete had said, Sadie was just a civilian.

Humble pie was never a tasty dish, but Sadie nodded, a bit embarrassed by her assumption that she was an integral part of the investigation. She was Sadie Hoffmiller, a widow and retired teacher who had found herself in one too many of these kinds of situations and had forgotten how serious they were.

“The thing is,” Pete said, softening his tone a bit, “even though things worked out well in the end, the way you became, uh, involved in Anne’s case left a bad taste in the mouths of some people at the precinct.”

Sadie looked past Pete at the other officers around the room, truly surprised to hear him say such a thing. How could they have a bad taste in their mouths about what she’d done when Anne was murdered? Sadie was the reason the case had been solved at all. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, lowering her voice and narrowing her eyes at Officer Malloy, who stood speaking to someone on the opposite side of the room. There was no doubt he was one with that
bad taste.
She moved her eyes back to meet Pete’s. “I mean, you defended me, right?”

Pete paused too long, and Sadie gasped slightly. He
hadn’t
defended her?

He hurried to save himself. “It’s not that
everyone
thinks you’re a busybody, but—”

“A busybody!” Sadie repeated, even more offended. Did they all talk about her that way? Was she gossip fodder at the local police station? Granted, she did have certain busybody tendencies, but to summarize her that way was so . . . dismissive of the good she’d done through being a little bit hyper-curious at times.

Pete shook his head and put up his hands in front of his chest, making a calm-down gesture. “Okay, this really isn’t the time for this discussion—I’m working a case and I can’t seem to find the right words, but it doesn’t reflect well on me to have my girlfriend asking questions that could potentially undermine the investigation. I’m sorry. I know you like to be in the heart of things, but everyone is watching you very closely, and neither you nor I can afford to step out of line even a little bit, which is why I need you to go home and lay low, okay?” He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “I’ll write you a note so they’ll let you leave.”

Sadie was still hung up on the word
girlfriend.

“Girlfriend?” she asked out loud. He’d never referred to her that way before and although saying it out loud made her feel like she was thirteen, she couldn’t help it.

Pete blushed slightly—which was darling. “I’ve got to keep my mind on my work tonight, Sadie. Please.”

As opposed to keeping his mind on
her
?
Sadie smiled, flattered by the implication that she had the power to distract him.

Pete seemed to pick up the implication as well. He looked around as though making sure no one had overheard, then he rubbed his chin and made eye contact with Sadie.

His beautiful hazel eyes nearly melted her.

“Maybe Gayle ought to stay at your place tonight,” he said. “She’s had quite a shock and probably shouldn’t be home alone. We’ll have both of you come in tomorrow, when she’s calmed down a little bit, and give us an official statement. We have enough for now.”

“Okay,” Sadie nodded. The word
girlfriend
replayed in her mind over and over and all her negative feelings had been laid to rest.

Sadie likely could have walked to New York City and back in the time she’d spent pondering her relationship with Pete these last few months. They always had a good time together, but there was a distance he’d never tried to breach. Sadie credited his hesitations to the loss of his wife two and a half years ago; as a widow, she understood that moving on was difficult when you had fully expected to spend your life with the person you married. Even twenty years after Neil’s death, Sadie struggled with the fear that letting another man into her life would somehow replace Neil. Empathy for those feelings was why Sadie hadn’t pushed for more than what Pete was willing to offer. But the fact that he called her his girlfriend—well, that was big!

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Pete said, giving her a parting smile as he let go of her arm and turned back toward the stage.

Sadie nodded, still a bit dreamy. After a few more seconds, she headed toward Gayle, who was looking a little more composed. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be making a concerted effort to take deep breaths. Mascara was still smeared all over her face, and Sadie reminded herself to make sure Gayle had cleaned up before she looked in a mirror.

“It’s time to go,” Sadie said, her voice rather cheery considering the circumstances. She cleared her throat, hoping to find a more appropriate tone. Gayle opened her red and black-rimmed eyes. “Pete said you should come to my place,” Sadie continued. “I think that’s a good idea.” She put a hand under Gayle’s elbow and helped her stand up. “How are you doing?”

“Horrible,” Gayle said. “I keep seeing it in my head over and over again.”

Sadie patted her friend’s arm. “Well, maybe a hot bath and some French chocolate will help,” she said, thinking of Gayle’s favorite hot beverage of choice. It was a favorite of Shawn’s as well.

Shawn!

Sadie’s heart sunk. This was Shawn’s first trip home since Thanksgiving. Of all the bad luck—he had to choose the weekend of a murder. She suddenly remembered that her phone was in her purse in the car. What if he’d heard about what had happened and was trying to call her? Suddenly anxious to get home to her son, Sadie headed for the ballroom doors, still holding Gayle’s arm. And yet, even in the chaos around her, Sadie couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she and Pete would discuss this new level of their relationship. The idea made her toes tingle all over again.

Chapter 6

Sadie considered telling the officer posted at the ballroom door that she could be reached at any time if they needed her. The thought embarrassed her all over again. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t a detective—but she
was
a detective’s girlfriend. The thought made her all fluttery again. As soon as she and Gayle entered the hotel foyer, they were pounced upon by other attendees at the dinner—friends and people in the community worried about Gayle, everyone asking Sadie what was going on in the ballroom. It seemed to take forever before Sadie managed to appease the crowd enough that she and Gayle could move forward.

They were nearly to the front doors when Sadie stopped. “Oh, biscuits,” she said in a huff before turning toward Gayle. “I had to bring all those cakes in so I parked around back. We have to go out through the kitchen.”

Gayle’s shoulders slumped as if she couldn’t handle the strain of turning around, but she nodded and headed toward the swinging doors to the right of the ballroom with Sadie. Janet Reese threw her arms around Sadie’s neck, causing her to stumble backward before she regained her balance. Apparently Janet had been at one of the front tables; the podium had hit their table when the recoil sent it falling backward. Sadie had no sooner untangled herself from Janet when Denise Braden appeared in front of her; she was worried about her kids at home who she’d left with a sitter. Being a good friend to so many people made Sadie a natural outlet, but now was not the time. She felt horrible putting them off, but kept repeating how she needed to get Gayle home. She finally managed to get Janet and Denise to talk to one another and slipped away.

They reached the swinging doors and escaped the foyer, entering a small utilitarian hallway with chairs and tables propped against the walls. Access doors on the right led to the stage portion of the ballroom while double doors on the left led to the kitchen itself. All of the doors were closed, making Sadie feel cocooned and protected—for the moment anyway.

She pushed open the kitchen doors and encountered a chaos that had been undetectable in the little hallway. Some of the servers talked in scattered groups while others were trying to take care of the leftover food. Andy, the manager of the catering service she’d hired for everything but the cakes, saw them and raised his hands and eyes toward the ceiling as if offering a prayer. He was quite dramatic, which Sadie usually found amusing but wasn’t in the mood for right now. She was
trying
to focus on getting Gayle home. It was harder than it looked.

“Oh, Sadie, Sadie, Sadie,” Andy said as he hurried toward her, dodging servers as he made his way across the room. “This is just disastrous,” he said, throwing his hands up again. “And right while serving your cake too.” He shook his head. “What a tragic turn to the evening.”

“I know,” Sadie said, nodding. “It’s all so terrible. I need to take Gayle home. She was on the stage when it happened, you know.”

Andy looked at Gayle for the first time and visibly startled at her appearance. Sadie cringed inwardly. No one else had reacted to Gayle’s unfortunate makeup situation, and she’d been hoping to keep it that way. Between Gayle’s green contacts that made her eyes look almost iridescent against her pale skin and the mascara smears, she looked like a cast member on a low-budget zombie movie.

“Oh, darling,” Andy said, putting his hand on Gayle’s arm. “You look awful.”

“I
feel
awful,” Gayle said, her voice flat.

“It shows, believe me,” Andy said, his eyebrows creased. “You can’t go out looking like this. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What do you mean?” Gayle asked while Sadie winced. “Looking like what?”

“I’ll, uh, take the leftover cakes to my car,” Sadie said sheepishly as Andy led Gayle to the small hand-washing sink in the corner.

Unfortunately for Gayle—and Sadie—there was a small mirror above the sink. Gayle gasped and ducked slightly upon seeing her reflection. Sadie turned her attention to the cakes in order to avoid the guilt of having allowed Gayle to become so undone. But it wasn’t like she’d had a lot of options.

There were three full-sized cakes on the far right counter and one partial. Apparently several women had stuck to their New Year’s resolution of not eating dessert.

As she boxed up the cakes, she fantasized about sitting down in a corner and eating an entire cake herself—if for no other reason than to distract herself from everything else. The urge was strong enough that her knees went weak for a moment and her mouth watered. She’d never eaten a full cake by herself, but tonight seemed like a fabulous time to try.

She began moving faster, hoping to ignore the temptation. She picked up a marker from the counter and wrote Andy’s name on the box with the partial cake in it so he could take it home to his wife and their two girls. It wasn’t much, but Sadie hoped it would let him know how grateful she was for his help. In addition to helping Sadie procure the pink bakery boxes she’d used to transport the cakes, Andy had also walked her through the necessary steps to get a food handler’s permit plus a certificate allowing for the off-site preparation of the cakes in the first place. Red tape—what a nightmare!

“I’ll be right back,” she said a minute later as she turned toward the outside door at the back of the kitchen with the first cake box in her hands. Andy nodded, busy wiping Gayle’s face with a dish towel. Sadie hurried to the door, not relishing the scowl she was sure Gayle would send her way as soon as she could.

It was snowing outside—a soft, floating snow that was devoid of wind, thank goodness. Sadie took careful steps, not wanting to slip on the wet pavement, as she headed for the row of cars on the far side of the lot. When she reached her car, she balanced the cake against her hip with one hand and pushed the code into the number pad set beneath the handle on the driver’s door. She’d fallen in love with the feature when she’d seen the Ford Taurus on the lot three years ago. To never have to worry about locking her keys in the car again? Priceless.

The locks clicked, and she opened the back door and put the cake on the seat. As she reached to shut the door, she heard the chime of her cell phone alerting her that she’d missed a call.