The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery by Stacey Alabaster Page B
Book: The Mud Pie Murderess: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery by Stacey Alabaster
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Authors: Stacey Alabaster
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why I am here, Rachael."
I just blinked a few times. "I've done something else that makes me look guilty?" I asked, incredulous. I was aware of the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes staring into my back. I wished we weren't causing such a scene. I glanced around to check for Angel and found her whispering to Anna. When she pulled away from Anna's ear, I saw that her eyes were full of betrayal as she stared back at me and I felt so guilty for betraying her trust, even though I had just met her. But I knew that she'd trusted me, thought she was someone she could open up to.
Then I saw something else in her eyes. Suspicion. Hatred.
It hit me in the pit of my stomach. She thinks I did it. She thinks I killed her mother.
I felt like I couldn't break her stare for a few seconds. I wanted to call out to her—heck, I wanted to run over to her—to scream, "I didn't kill your mother, Angel!"
"Rachael," I heard Jackson's voice say. "This is serious."
I turned back to him. "I didn't do anything," I mumbled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jackson."
His eyebrows were raised. "So you didn't go inside and tamper with the crime scene?"
"Tamper?" I asked, shaking my head. "No, of course I didn't."
Now it was his turn to blink slowly. "So I suppose you can't tell me why there is now a smashed bottle of chocolate syrup on the floor of the bakery? One that was definitely not there when we first did a survey of the scene?"
Oh shoot. "The wind could have knocked it over," I whispered. "You don't know that I did it."
He just gave me a steady look. "Plus the sign was turned around. From Open to Closed."
"Well, I didn't want anyone to think we were open, did I?!" I snapped, accidentally revealing too much emotion. I saw Angel's eyebrows shoot up and I cringed. Stay calm, Rachael.
Jackson glanced around. "Maybe we should do this somewhere else."
"So you think I'm guilty?" I asked him. He had one arm extend, ready to place it on my shoulders to escort me out of the courtyard, but it was frozen in midair. "You think I killed Olive Styles, don't you?"
His voice was very quiet. "Not intentionally. Rachael, it will be all right."
I backed away from him. My mouth was open. "Not intentionally?" I repeated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What are you saying then, Jackson?"
"I'm saying that you've been under a lot of stress lately, Rachael. Maybe your mind hasn't really been on the job."
I was completely offended. After everything we'd been through, how could Jackson stand there and accuse me of killing a customer, accidentally or otherwise?
But there was a terrible thought in the back of my mind. Could he be right?
Chapter 8
I needed Pippa . I really wished she was the one with me instead of Chloe.
Chloe, who had been hanging back and watching the whole thing from a distance, suddenly chased after me as I charged towards my car. "Rachael, where are you going?"
"Home," I snapped back. I didn't mean to take my anger out on her, and I knew it wasn't her fault that she wasn't Pippa, but at that moment, I resented her for that very fact.
She looked dumbstruck as I climbed into the car and started the engine. "Well, are you at least going to give me a ride?" she asked through the window.
Right. We'd arrived together. I nodded and took a few deep breaths. "Sorry," I said as she climbed into the passenger side. "I'm a little stressed out."
"What did you find out about Angel?"
"A dead end," I said, gripping the steering wheel even though we weren't actually moving yet.
"And that detective?" Chloe asked unsurely, like she was nervous I was going to snap at her again. "What did he want?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Please, I just want to get out of here."
* * *
" P ippa !?" I called out as soon as I entered the apartment. I desperately needed to speak with her, but I wasn't sure she was even awake, let alone ready for a full on chat.
I wasn't sure she was even still speaking to me after the fight we'd had.
I stopped
I just blinked a few times. "I've done something else that makes me look guilty?" I asked, incredulous. I was aware of the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes staring into my back. I wished we weren't causing such a scene. I glanced around to check for Angel and found her whispering to Anna. When she pulled away from Anna's ear, I saw that her eyes were full of betrayal as she stared back at me and I felt so guilty for betraying her trust, even though I had just met her. But I knew that she'd trusted me, thought she was someone she could open up to.
Then I saw something else in her eyes. Suspicion. Hatred.
It hit me in the pit of my stomach. She thinks I did it. She thinks I killed her mother.
I felt like I couldn't break her stare for a few seconds. I wanted to call out to her—heck, I wanted to run over to her—to scream, "I didn't kill your mother, Angel!"
"Rachael," I heard Jackson's voice say. "This is serious."
I turned back to him. "I didn't do anything," I mumbled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jackson."
His eyebrows were raised. "So you didn't go inside and tamper with the crime scene?"
"Tamper?" I asked, shaking my head. "No, of course I didn't."
Now it was his turn to blink slowly. "So I suppose you can't tell me why there is now a smashed bottle of chocolate syrup on the floor of the bakery? One that was definitely not there when we first did a survey of the scene?"
Oh shoot. "The wind could have knocked it over," I whispered. "You don't know that I did it."
He just gave me a steady look. "Plus the sign was turned around. From Open to Closed."
"Well, I didn't want anyone to think we were open, did I?!" I snapped, accidentally revealing too much emotion. I saw Angel's eyebrows shoot up and I cringed. Stay calm, Rachael.
Jackson glanced around. "Maybe we should do this somewhere else."
"So you think I'm guilty?" I asked him. He had one arm extend, ready to place it on my shoulders to escort me out of the courtyard, but it was frozen in midair. "You think I killed Olive Styles, don't you?"
His voice was very quiet. "Not intentionally. Rachael, it will be all right."
I backed away from him. My mouth was open. "Not intentionally?" I repeated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What are you saying then, Jackson?"
"I'm saying that you've been under a lot of stress lately, Rachael. Maybe your mind hasn't really been on the job."
I was completely offended. After everything we'd been through, how could Jackson stand there and accuse me of killing a customer, accidentally or otherwise?
But there was a terrible thought in the back of my mind. Could he be right?
Chapter 8
I needed Pippa . I really wished she was the one with me instead of Chloe.
Chloe, who had been hanging back and watching the whole thing from a distance, suddenly chased after me as I charged towards my car. "Rachael, where are you going?"
"Home," I snapped back. I didn't mean to take my anger out on her, and I knew it wasn't her fault that she wasn't Pippa, but at that moment, I resented her for that very fact.
She looked dumbstruck as I climbed into the car and started the engine. "Well, are you at least going to give me a ride?" she asked through the window.
Right. We'd arrived together. I nodded and took a few deep breaths. "Sorry," I said as she climbed into the passenger side. "I'm a little stressed out."
"What did you find out about Angel?"
"A dead end," I said, gripping the steering wheel even though we weren't actually moving yet.
"And that detective?" Chloe asked unsurely, like she was nervous I was going to snap at her again. "What did he want?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Please, I just want to get out of here."
* * *
" P ippa !?" I called out as soon as I entered the apartment. I desperately needed to speak with her, but I wasn't sure she was even awake, let alone ready for a full on chat.
I wasn't sure she was even still speaking to me after the fight we'd had.
I stopped
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