Loaf or Death (Sweets and Secrets Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “Cranky,” I offered, earning an amused look from my aunt.

  “That’s certainly one word for it, yes,” she continued. “And even though her artisan breads are still delicious, there’s no denying that the quality has slipped in the past few years, probably a result of cutting costs once her business started to fall off.” Betsy shrugged. “I really just made the offer as a way to help her out. I never expected her to be so offended.”

  It seemed to me that Aunt Betsy had probably dodged a bullet when that deal fell through, but I decided it was probably for the best if I kept my opinion to myself. It was nice that she had tried to help Dorothy, but then to be publicly accused of stealing—and right there in the middle of Betsy’s own bakery?

  Yeah, my aunt was handling the whole thing with a level of grace and understanding that I hoped to possess someday. If it had been up to me, Dorothy Adler would have been taken off the night’s guest list without a second thought.

  Mom gave Aunt Betsy a hug. “We just wanted to come over and say happy birthday before we stuffed ourselves full of all the delicious food you’ve made, so—”

  Whatever she’d been about to say was cut off by the sound of sirens and a flash of red and blue lights passing outside the restaurant windows. A few people around us turned to look, since the sound of sirens in downtown Reedville was pretty rare.

  But then something almost unheard of happened.

  There was another siren.

  And another.

  By the time the ambulance passed by, most of us had given up any pretense of polite conversation and had moved to the windows to see what all of the commotion was about. This clearly wasn’t just someone getting a speeding ticket or being pulled over after having a few too many at the bar downtown.

  This seemed serious.

  You didn’t see at least two police cars and an ambulance in a town as small as Reedville unless something was on fire or someone had been seriously injured—or worse.

  “Can you see where they’re going?” someone asked.

  “It looks like they’re stopping at the end of Main Street,” my mom answered.

  I couldn’t see very well from where I was standing in the throng of people, but I knew all the shops on Main Street like the back of my hand. There were only a couple of businesses down there where the police could have stopped.

  One was an office shared by a real estate agent and an insurance salesman, neither of whom would have likely been at work in the evening.

  The other was—

  “It’s the Adler Bakery!” one of the ladies in front of me called out.

  There was an instant hum of chatter as people started looking around and asking about Dorothy. “She was supposed to be here tonight,” my aunt offered. “I spoke to her just a little while ago.” She looked around. “I feel like I should go check on her, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m being rude by leaving my own party.”

  Mom patted Betsy’s arm. “If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them that you had to step out for a minute but you’ll be back shortly. It should only take a few minutes to walk down the street and make sure she’s okay.”

  Aunt Betsy looked at me, and I nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  “I just hope she’s okay.” Betsy’s voice was shaky as we moved through the crowd. “I can’t imagine what might have happened.”

  “I can’t either.” I opened the door and ushered her out through the restaurant. “But we’re about to find out.”

  The front door of the Adler Bakery was closed off with yellow police tape by the time Aunt Betsy and I had walked down the street, but I could see through the big display windows that Detective Dean Wheeler was inside talking to someone.

  “Do you know who that guy is?” I asked my aunt, nodding toward the middle-aged, disheveled, distraught-looking man inside with the detective. “He seems like he’s really upset.”

  As I spoke, the detective had to take a step backward to stay out of reach of the man’s wild gestures. He was pointing toward the front of the shop and then the back, and I could even hear his voice through the glass window, though I couldn’t make out any of the words he’d said.

  “That’s Dorothy’s son, Steven,” Aunt Betsy whispered, as if the men inside the bakery might somehow hear us. “Whatever is going on in there can’t be good, can it?”

  Before I could answer, the man turned, and his already-wide eyes grew even wider. He jabbed a finger in our direction. Even through the thick glass pane, there was no mistaking the words that came out of his mouth.

  “That’s her!”

  Dean looked in our direction, and I could see his shoulders visibly slump. He and I hadn’t been on good terms since high school, and we generally tried to avoid each other whenever possible.

  This was apparently not going to be one of those times.

  “Why is he pointing at us?” Aunt Betsy’s brow furrowed as she looked over at me. Dean was already heading our direction, leaving the man standing there and glaring at us from the other side of the window. “Detective?” she called out as Dean ducked under the police tape at the front door. “Can you tell us what’s going on here? We came to check on my friend, Dorothy.”

  “Ms. Williams,” Dean hesitated for a moment and then huffed out a short breath as his expression hardened. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to the station.”

  “What?” Both Betsy and I asked at the same time.

  “What are you doing?” I moved to block his hand as he reached out to guide my aunt toward his patrol car. “You’re not taking her anywhere. What’s going on, Dean?”

  His jaw clenched as he stepped around me. “Jean, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” He turned to my aunt as he opened the car door. “You aren’t under arrest, but I need to ask you some questions about Dorothy Adler’s death.”

  My aunt gasped as she sat down in the back of the car and looked up at Dean. “Dorothy is dead? I… I can’t believe it. I just saw her a little while ago.”

  He looked from her to me and then back again. “Yes, ma’am. That’s why you’re a… a person of interest in this case.”

  Now it was my turn to gasp. “Are you saying my aunt is a suspect?”

  He shook his head. “That is not what I said. We’re pulling the footage from the security cameras, but right now, your aunt is the last known person to have seen Dorothy Adler alive. That makes her a person of interest.”

  He shut the car door and tried to move past me, but I grabbed his arm, stopping him again. “She didn’t do anything, Dean. You have to know that. There has to be some sort of explanation.”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out, Jean.” He looked down at my hand that was on his arm, and I reluctantly took it away.

  “She isn’t in trouble though, right? Like… everything is going to be okay, right?”

  “Jean, a woman is dead. Your aunt was the last one to see her alive.” He pressed his lips together and gave me a hard look. “She isn’t under arrest, but right now? From where I’m standing?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”

  He walked away and left me standing there on the sidewalk, feeling helpless as my aunt peered out of the back window of his patrol car.

  “Don’t worry,” I said out loud, hoping she could at least read my lips. “I’ll fix this.”

  I didn’t know how I was going to make that happen, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t have a choice, did I?

  Aunt Betsy was counting on me, and there was no way I was going to let her down.

  Chapter Three

  I’m not sure how many times I woke up throughout the night thinking about Aunt Betsy.

  Dean hadn’t arrested her, thank goodness, but she had spent most of her birthday evening down at the police station answering questions.

  She’d called to let us know she was okay once she finally made it home, but there was no salvaging the night. The birthday party guests had quickly dispersed once the news of
Dorothy’s death and Betsy’s possible involvement spread to the restaurant. My parents and I stuck around to clean everything up and kill some time while we waited for word from the police station, but it had been impossible to console Aunt Betsy even after she’d been released to go home.

  Of course, I wouldn’t have blamed her for being upset or wanting to hide away from all of the prying eyes in town, but I wished I could have spent a little bit of time with her last night after she’d left the station.

  She had been adamant, though—no more calls, no texts, and absolutely no visitors.

  Those were last night’s rules.

  But today was a new day, and in theory that meant I could go spend a little time with her and make sure she was okay after last night’s events. That was the excuse I’d planned on using, anyway.

  “Good morning, dear,” Mom called from the kitchen as I came downstairs from my room. “Are you hungry? I thought I’d make some blueberry pancakes and maybe some bacon.”

  My stomach rumbled in approval, but I had to shake my head with a frown. “It sounds delicious, but I need to head to the bakery.”

  “Poor Betsy.” She shook her head with a sigh. “I still can’t believe what happened last night.”

  “Send our love,” Dad said from the kitchen table. “And let her know we’re here for her if she needs anything.”

  I nodded. “I will. I don’t even know for sure if she’ll be at the bakery this morning, but I figured that would be my best bet at finding her. Plus, they’ll definitely need an extra pair of hands if she isn’t there.”

  Just thinking about it made my heart hurt for her. She’d looked so sad and confused in the back seat of that police car, and I couldn’t even imagine how awful her interrogation with Dean must have been. He wasn’t that pleasant to have a conversation with at the best of times.

  Even if she still didn’t feel like talking, I felt like she could probably use the company. Someone to keep her mind off the death, the investigation, her ruined party, and whatever crazy gossip was no doubt already floating around town.

  Mom handed me an apple and a banana. “At least take these with you so you’ll have something to eat on the way. With the way things have been going the past twenty-four hours, I think you might need your strength today.”

  I thanked her and said goodbye to both of them as I walked out the door. I sighed to myself as I took a bite of the apple.

  Mom was absolutely right about one thing—no matter what else happened, I’d need my strength.

  It was going to be a long day.

  The bakery was unusually quiet as I walked through the front door. This mid-morning hours were usually some of the busiest, but there were only two other people sitting in the dining area as I looked around in surprised silence.

  Aunt Betsy’s smiling face and boisterous greeting were nowhere to be seen. It felt more like a library or the waiting room at the dentist’s office than the loud, bustling bakery I was used to.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” the new cashier, Kimberly, whispered so loudly that she might as well have been yelling in the deserted front of the store. “Everything feels so…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

  “Is Aunt Betsy here?” I looked around again with a frown and, before she’d had a chance to answer, added, “And has it been like this all morning?”

  Kimberly nodded. “This is the busiest it’s been since we opened. It’s like a ghost town.” She looked back over her shoulder and then nibbled at her lip as she turned to face me again. “Your aunt is back there in her office. She only came out for a few minutes to unlock the door when we opened and then she disappeared back there again. I… don’t think she’s doing too well today.”

  That was all I needed to hear. I thanked Kimberly and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but my mind was already on Aunt Betsy as I started walking toward the kitchen.

  Even back there, the mood was subdued. Janelle looked up from the large industrial mixing bowl and gave me what was almost a smile. “Glad to see a friendly face here.” She kept her voice down as she glanced toward the corner of the building where the office door was firmly shut. “It’s been a rough morning.”

  “I can imagine.” I didn’t say anything else or stop to chat like I normally would have. I knew Janelle would understand, though. My first and only priority was to make sure Aunt Betsy was okay.

  I knocked on the door and waited a moment for her to answer. When she did, her voice sounded quiet and tired. My suspicions were confirmed as soon as I pushed the door open and stepped inside. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

  Her eyes were red and puffy when she looked up at me. “Hi, Jean. How does it look out there?”

  I shook my head. “Not great. I’ve never seen it like this before.”

  “That’s because it’s never been like this before. You should have seen the way the customers were looking at me when I opened up today. I couldn’t take it.” She sighed. “So I came back here to try and distract myself with busy work and now…” She made a gesture to encompass the papers that were scattered across her desk. “I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the stress or something else, but I can’t seem to get my accounts to balance.”

  I didn’t know much about balancing accounts—other than the fact that it was just the kind of busy work she normally hated to focus on. It really had to be bad if she was intentionally seeking it out this time.

  “Is it off by very much?” I asked, trying to be helpful. “Maybe take a break from it and come back to it later to see if it adds up. It really could be stress—and it’s not like anyone could blame you for that.”

  She shook her head. “That’s just the problem. It isn’t a small amount. According to what I have in front of me, the bakery has been losing a few hundred dollars every week for a while.” She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly as she flipped through some of the papers. “I know I don’t stay on top of this part of the business like I should, but we’ve been busier than ever. I don’t see how it’s possible to lose money when we’ve had so much business that I can’t even keep the shelves stocked. I’d love it if someone could explain that one to me.”

  I grimaced. I didn’t have an explanation for that. Not one that she would have wanted to hear, anyway. Because if she really was suddenly losing that much money when business had been booming, then yeah, there was probably more to it.

  “What are you going to do?” I hesitated to ask. “You don’t have any idea where the money could have gone?”

  “None. And I don’t know what I’ll do, but I can’t keep going on like this. I’ll be out of business in less than six months at this rate.”

  I couldn’t help but gasp. It seemed impossible to me. Aunt Betsy had only had her bakery for a few years, but it had already become an attraction in itself, with tourists stopping in all the time on their way through town. The thought of it closing down—especially because of something like this—was unbearable. Perhaps she was wrong about the accounts.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything else from Dean?” It wasn’t a very graceful change of subject, and probably wasn’t one she cared to talk about any more than the lost money, but it was all I had. And I genuinely wanted to know. “I know it was late when you called my parents last night. I felt so bad that you had to go with him to the police station.”

  The frown that had been fixed on her face deepened at the mention of the detective. She sat back in her chair and heaved another long sigh. “I haven’t heard anything more this morning. But what else is there to say? I’m the number one suspect in my main competitor’s death.”

  I winced. It sounded so bad when she said it like that. “You and Dorothy weren’t really competitors, though. I mean, technically you were, maybe… but…”

  “I never looked at it as a competition,” she agreed. “But that’s not the way anyone else is looking at it.” She gestured toward the front of the store. “The proof is right out the
re for everyone to see. People in town think I’ve done something awful, and now nobody wants to be seen eating here. If I can’t clear my name, I’m… I’m ruined.”

  There was no way I could let that happen. Not without at least trying to help. “Did Dean give you any more information while you were at the station?”

  She shrugged. “Not much. He said that Dorothy’s son found her body inside the bakery next to the oven. The cause of death was a blow to the head with a blunt object—probably the rolling pin they found nearby, he told me.” Her voice caught in her throat and she paused for a moment.

  “Was there anyone else around?” I offered. “Anyone who might have seen what really happened?”

  “Whoever the detective spoke with said they saw…” Her voice broke again as she shook her head. “Said they saw me enter the building and then leave shortly after.” Tears were welling up in her eyes as she looked over at me. “I didn’t hurt her, Jean. We didn’t even argue while I was there. We had a nice, quick conversation, and I thought that whole unpleasant business from earlier in the day was water under the bridge. I thought she was coming to my party. But regardless, she was very much alive when I left her shop yesterday afternoon.”

  I walked over and hugged my aunt. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong. Nobody who knows you could honestly think that.”

  “But what are we going to do, Jean? I know how it must look to everyone.”

  I hated that she had to think that. I hated that she was even in this position at all. But I knew she was innocent. I had no doubt about that. And that meant that whoever did kill Dorothy was still out there somewhere.

  “I’m going to find out who did it,” I promised. “We’ll clear your name and get everything back to normal.” Then, thinking about the bakery accounts, I added, “And I’ll find out what’s going on with your missing money in the accounts too. I don’t know how yet, but we’re going to fix everything.” I smiled for the first time that morning, hoping it was at least a little bit reassuring to her. “We’re going to fix all of this.”