producer. He seemed to be the only person who could control Chef Marco. He said he took Marco back to the hotel last night. We had to cancel the show because Marco was so drunk.”
“One sec.” Thomas sprinted to the front, grabbed his iPad and clicked it on. “I need to get this all down. I don’t want to miss a single detail, especially since this is my first time securing a crime scene on my own.” He looked at the iPad. “The county sheriff is on his way. I hope he gets here soon.”
“You keep saying crime scene—why?”
“Jules, first of all the odds of someone passing out in a mixer filled with frosting are pretty slim, don’t you think?”
I agreed.
“Second, Marco has a large contusion on the back of his head. I’m not a doctor, but I’d bet money that’s the cause of death. The coroner will be able to confirm that.”
I felt like I might be sick.
“Jules, you okay?” Thomas grabbed my arm. “Maybe you should sit back down.”
“It’s fine. I just can’t believe I’m involved in another murder.” My hands trembled.
Thomas kept his hand on my arm. “I was going to say the same thing. Anything you want to tell me? You didn’t really go to culinary school, did you? I’m guessing you’ve led a secret life as a special agent on the seas.” He winked. I could tell he was trying to put me at ease.
I gave him a half smile.
“That’s more like it.” He motioned to the chair. “Sit, I have a few questions.”
He typed on his iPad while I filled him in on everything I could remember from last night. I explained Marco’s drunken behavior and how I wondered if he’d sabotaged all the cakes. When I left last night, Marco and Philip were the only two left. Philip claimed to have taken Marco back to the hotel. Maybe he hadn’t? Could he have hit Marco and left him to die? Was there any way the inebriated chef could have trekked back up the hill last night if Philip did indeed leave him at his hotel?
Thomas held up his index finger. “Jules, you’re not getting involved in this case. I made a big mistake this summer asking for your help. Leave the questions to me. There is no way I’m taking a chance on you getting hurt again.”
My hand reflexively went to my right shoulder.
Thomas noticed. His voice softened. “Does it still hurt?”
I rubbed the scar. “No, not really.” The scar was a physical reminder of the danger I’d been in a few months ago, and how lucky I was to be alive.
He leaned closer. I could smell a hint of lavender and lilies on him. His family owns A Rose by Any Other Name, the flower shop two doors down from Torte. Thomas helps out in the shop when he’s not on duty. “Jules, if this is murder—and I think it is—I don’t want you involved. Got it?”
“Got it.” I traced the small scar on the palm of my hand. Helping Thomas with a murder investigation last summer had definitely left its mark. I understood why he was being so serious, yet there was part of me that felt shut out.
Sirens wailed outside. The county sheriff and coroner arrived. Thomas told me to head back to Torte as he directed the coroner and sheriff to Marco’s body. “I’ll come find you at Torte later,” he whispered, walking me to the door.
My eyes had to adjust to the sunlight outside. The flashing strobe lights on the county sheriff’s vehicle made it more difficult. I wondered how much time had passed. The sun had risen overhead, casting a cheery glow on the bricks. I felt anything but cheery.
Philip grabbed my arm and startled me. “What did you tell the cop?”
“What do you mean?” I pulled away.
“What did you tell him about the show and Marco?” He had to shout over the sound of a siren on yet another police car arriving at the scene.
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
I shrugged. “That Marco was drunk last night and that I thought he may have intentionally destroyed our cakes.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I was going to say too.” He clicked
“One sec.” Thomas sprinted to the front, grabbed his iPad and clicked it on. “I need to get this all down. I don’t want to miss a single detail, especially since this is my first time securing a crime scene on my own.” He looked at the iPad. “The county sheriff is on his way. I hope he gets here soon.”
“You keep saying crime scene—why?”
“Jules, first of all the odds of someone passing out in a mixer filled with frosting are pretty slim, don’t you think?”
I agreed.
“Second, Marco has a large contusion on the back of his head. I’m not a doctor, but I’d bet money that’s the cause of death. The coroner will be able to confirm that.”
I felt like I might be sick.
“Jules, you okay?” Thomas grabbed my arm. “Maybe you should sit back down.”
“It’s fine. I just can’t believe I’m involved in another murder.” My hands trembled.
Thomas kept his hand on my arm. “I was going to say the same thing. Anything you want to tell me? You didn’t really go to culinary school, did you? I’m guessing you’ve led a secret life as a special agent on the seas.” He winked. I could tell he was trying to put me at ease.
I gave him a half smile.
“That’s more like it.” He motioned to the chair. “Sit, I have a few questions.”
He typed on his iPad while I filled him in on everything I could remember from last night. I explained Marco’s drunken behavior and how I wondered if he’d sabotaged all the cakes. When I left last night, Marco and Philip were the only two left. Philip claimed to have taken Marco back to the hotel. Maybe he hadn’t? Could he have hit Marco and left him to die? Was there any way the inebriated chef could have trekked back up the hill last night if Philip did indeed leave him at his hotel?
Thomas held up his index finger. “Jules, you’re not getting involved in this case. I made a big mistake this summer asking for your help. Leave the questions to me. There is no way I’m taking a chance on you getting hurt again.”
My hand reflexively went to my right shoulder.
Thomas noticed. His voice softened. “Does it still hurt?”
I rubbed the scar. “No, not really.” The scar was a physical reminder of the danger I’d been in a few months ago, and how lucky I was to be alive.
He leaned closer. I could smell a hint of lavender and lilies on him. His family owns A Rose by Any Other Name, the flower shop two doors down from Torte. Thomas helps out in the shop when he’s not on duty. “Jules, if this is murder—and I think it is—I don’t want you involved. Got it?”
“Got it.” I traced the small scar on the palm of my hand. Helping Thomas with a murder investigation last summer had definitely left its mark. I understood why he was being so serious, yet there was part of me that felt shut out.
Sirens wailed outside. The county sheriff and coroner arrived. Thomas told me to head back to Torte as he directed the coroner and sheriff to Marco’s body. “I’ll come find you at Torte later,” he whispered, walking me to the door.
My eyes had to adjust to the sunlight outside. The flashing strobe lights on the county sheriff’s vehicle made it more difficult. I wondered how much time had passed. The sun had risen overhead, casting a cheery glow on the bricks. I felt anything but cheery.
Philip grabbed my arm and startled me. “What did you tell the cop?”
“What do you mean?” I pulled away.
“What did you tell him about the show and Marco?” He had to shout over the sound of a siren on yet another police car arriving at the scene.
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
I shrugged. “That Marco was drunk last night and that I thought he may have intentionally destroyed our cakes.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I was going to say too.” He clicked
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