Sweet Last Drop by Melody Johnson Page B

Priscilla, had been sixty-three years old, high school sweethearts, and enjoying dinner with their daughter, Alba. She was attending cake decorating classes at the local bakery, Hot Buns, and her parents had been so impressed by her new fondant skills, they’d stayed later than usual to have a slice of her newest creation—strawberry-vanilla marble cake with chocolate icing and a flip flop-shaped fondant topping. The Dunbars left Alba’s apartment shortly after sunset without taking their extra slice, so she packed the slice in a Tupperware container and drove after them.
    Alba only made it five minutes down Elm Street before finding their upturned car on the side of the road. Their bodies had been thrown so far from the car that Alba hadn’t found them until Officer Riley Montgomery and Sheriff Keith Pitston arrived at the scene, which was actually very fortunate considering their injuries. Officer Montgomery removed Alba from eyeshot of her parents’ remains—what little there was left—and brought her to his car to recover. I kept her company while more officers flooded the scene, examined the bodies, and gathered evidence.
    Berry had arrived in his van a few minutes ago. Although they wouldn’t move the bodies for several hours, after all evidence had been collected and photography had been captured, he was deep in conversation with Sheriff Pitston. If the Sheriff’s deepening crease between his brows were any indication, I’d need to snatch another interview from Berry. For the moment, until the activity at the scene settled, I contented myself with interviewing Alba.
    I leaned on the frame of Officer Montgomery’s cruiser as Alba huddled in the passenger seat. I tried to keep my interview light and unobtrusive, but I didn’t need to ask Alba questions to encourage her story. She couldn’t stop talking about her parents. I listened and wrote some brief notes, but throughout the entire conversation, I couldn’t help but think, dear God, not another baker.
    John and Priscilla were the golden couple, according to their daughter, and their love was why she was still single. They’d taught her to never settle because once she found the right love, she’d have the rest of her life to enjoy it. She’d never settled, so she was alone. Now, being an only child, she was completely on her own.
    Alba clammed up after that. She covered her mouth with her hand and just shook her head in shock. I didn’t have the words to comfort her—I knew how deep and sharp grief could stab—so I just sat with her in silence until Officer Montgomery returned. He was in his late twenties, like Alba, and from the looks he was shooting her, Alba wasn’t as alone as she felt.
    “Is this woman bothering you, Alba?” he asked
    Alba shook her head, but she hugged herself a little tighter and started rocking back and forth from her perch on the passenger seat.
    Officer Montgomery turned to me. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I think you’ve done enough here. Please be so kind as to leave the scene and Miss Dunbar to me.”
    “Have I done something wrong, Officer?” I asked congenially. I reminded myself that this was not my turf and reined in my temper.
    His face flushed. “If you can’t see what’s wrong here, there’s nothing I can do for you, ma’am. You can teach manners, but you can’t teach morals.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I’ve been keeping Alba company. Seems to me like she needed it.”
    As I’d hoped, Alba’s name sparked her awareness. She glanced up and smiled wanly. “Hi, Riley.”
    “Is this woman bothering you?” Officer Montgomery asked again, pointing at me.
    “No, not at all,” Alba said, shocked. “She’s been wonderful company. I’ve never met a better listener. I just can’t believe that—” Alba covered her mouth, and her throat made horrible squealing noises as she tried and failed not to cry.
    He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.