said, and I could have sworn his concern was genuine.
Before I could let his charm get to me, I threw the strap of my messenger bag over my head and said, "I'll go watch for Lindsay's car and make sure she isn't kept out of the shop."
Matt waved me off, and Emma offered up a strained smile.
On my way past, I heard the paramedics still trying to convince Alyse to go to the hospital. Outside, I saw Lindsay's car parked near the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery, and she was just slamming the door shut behind her. I needed to get to her before she panicked at the sight of the cruisers and ambulance.
Fred Fields was stationed in front of Monograms, keeping the curious passersby from congregating around the police tape blocking off the sidewalk. I went over to him and pointed at Lindsay. "She's here to pick up two of the women inside when the detectives are done with them. Is it okay if I go get her?"
"Sure, sure," he said. "I don't suppose you'd have time to nip into the bakery and get me a coffee, would you? Extra cream and sugar?"
"I'd be glad to." It would give me a chance to tell Lindsay what was happening, away from the actual scene of the crime.
I caught Lindsay just outside the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery. She nodded at the commotion in front of Monograms and said, "You fainted again, didn't you? Why aren't you in the ambulance?"
"Passed out, not fainted." If I couldn't convince Lindsay of that fact, I'd never convince myself.
I took Lindsay's arm and dragged her inside the bakery. As soon as I opened the door, it was like being inside a massive pastry, with the checkered chocolate-and-vanilla floor representing the slightly browned exterior and the pink walls representing the tender interior. The aroma of cinnamon swirled around us, reinforced by the clusters of cinnamon sticks tied with pink-and-white polka-dot ribbons that decorated the tables and gave rise to the bakery's logo.
Lindsay shook off my grip. "Whatever you call it, this time you hurt yourself. There's a cut on your forehead."
"Never mind my head." I went up to the counter and held up a hand to keep Lindsay from interrogating me while I placed Fred's order. The bakery's owner, Riley Spencer, wasn't behind the counter, or I'd have asked her if she knew what Fred's favorite dessert was. Instead, I settled for including one of the cinnamon cupcakes I'd seen him devour after one of the stress support group meetings. Lindsay had a similar fondness for sweets. "What would you like?"
She squinted up at the posted menu and finally shook her head. "I'm not hungry, thanks."
I paid for Fred's order and then said, "We need to talk in private."
"What's wrong?" Lindsay's eyes grew wide. "Where are Dee and Emma? I thought the cruisers were here because you fainted or passed out or whatever, but that's not it, is it?"
"No." I picked up Fred's order and ushered Lindsay over to a quiet corner of the bakery in the nick of time to claim an empty table. "Dee and Emma are fine, but Tremain is dead."
"Dead?" Lindsay's eyes grew even wider. "Really dead?"
"Really. His partner found him in his private office with his head bashed in and a quilt draped over him."
"My grandmother would never hurt anyone," Lindsay said firmly. "Not even Tremain."
"I know. The police are just doing their job, interviewing everyone."
"They're questioning Grandma? And Emma?" Lindsay jumped up, and I dragged her back into the seat.
"You can't go barging in there. You need to stay calm if you want to help them."
"Okay." Lindsay took a deep breath. "Who killed Tremain?"
"I have no idea." I wasn't any more inclined to share the details of my syncope event with Lindsay than I'd been with the detectives. "There are plenty of people who disliked him, and it happened when I was in the ladies' room."
"Where you fa—passed out." Lindsay peered at my forehead again. "You really need to go see a doctor. I can take you to the hospital after I get my grandmother and Emma back home."
"I'm fine." I reached up to
Before I could let his charm get to me, I threw the strap of my messenger bag over my head and said, "I'll go watch for Lindsay's car and make sure she isn't kept out of the shop."
Matt waved me off, and Emma offered up a strained smile.
On my way past, I heard the paramedics still trying to convince Alyse to go to the hospital. Outside, I saw Lindsay's car parked near the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery, and she was just slamming the door shut behind her. I needed to get to her before she panicked at the sight of the cruisers and ambulance.
Fred Fields was stationed in front of Monograms, keeping the curious passersby from congregating around the police tape blocking off the sidewalk. I went over to him and pointed at Lindsay. "She's here to pick up two of the women inside when the detectives are done with them. Is it okay if I go get her?"
"Sure, sure," he said. "I don't suppose you'd have time to nip into the bakery and get me a coffee, would you? Extra cream and sugar?"
"I'd be glad to." It would give me a chance to tell Lindsay what was happening, away from the actual scene of the crime.
I caught Lindsay just outside the Cinnamon Sugar Bakery. She nodded at the commotion in front of Monograms and said, "You fainted again, didn't you? Why aren't you in the ambulance?"
"Passed out, not fainted." If I couldn't convince Lindsay of that fact, I'd never convince myself.
I took Lindsay's arm and dragged her inside the bakery. As soon as I opened the door, it was like being inside a massive pastry, with the checkered chocolate-and-vanilla floor representing the slightly browned exterior and the pink walls representing the tender interior. The aroma of cinnamon swirled around us, reinforced by the clusters of cinnamon sticks tied with pink-and-white polka-dot ribbons that decorated the tables and gave rise to the bakery's logo.
Lindsay shook off my grip. "Whatever you call it, this time you hurt yourself. There's a cut on your forehead."
"Never mind my head." I went up to the counter and held up a hand to keep Lindsay from interrogating me while I placed Fred's order. The bakery's owner, Riley Spencer, wasn't behind the counter, or I'd have asked her if she knew what Fred's favorite dessert was. Instead, I settled for including one of the cinnamon cupcakes I'd seen him devour after one of the stress support group meetings. Lindsay had a similar fondness for sweets. "What would you like?"
She squinted up at the posted menu and finally shook her head. "I'm not hungry, thanks."
I paid for Fred's order and then said, "We need to talk in private."
"What's wrong?" Lindsay's eyes grew wide. "Where are Dee and Emma? I thought the cruisers were here because you fainted or passed out or whatever, but that's not it, is it?"
"No." I picked up Fred's order and ushered Lindsay over to a quiet corner of the bakery in the nick of time to claim an empty table. "Dee and Emma are fine, but Tremain is dead."
"Dead?" Lindsay's eyes grew even wider. "Really dead?"
"Really. His partner found him in his private office with his head bashed in and a quilt draped over him."
"My grandmother would never hurt anyone," Lindsay said firmly. "Not even Tremain."
"I know. The police are just doing their job, interviewing everyone."
"They're questioning Grandma? And Emma?" Lindsay jumped up, and I dragged her back into the seat.
"You can't go barging in there. You need to stay calm if you want to help them."
"Okay." Lindsay took a deep breath. "Who killed Tremain?"
"I have no idea." I wasn't any more inclined to share the details of my syncope event with Lindsay than I'd been with the detectives. "There are plenty of people who disliked him, and it happened when I was in the ladies' room."
"Where you fa—passed out." Lindsay peered at my forehead again. "You really need to go see a doctor. I can take you to the hospital after I get my grandmother and Emma back home."
"I'm fine." I reached up to
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