Fireworks, a Firecracker & Foul Play Page 7

  She startles but then nods. “No. He actually bought this house for my husband and I.”

  “Wow. How sweet.”

  Her lips turn down in a frown. “Yes, I suppose.” She doesn’t sound thrilled to have gotten a house as a gift from her son. Of course, if my son earned his money by selling drugs, I don’t think I’d be bursting with pride either.

  “Anyway.” She motions to the kitchen table and we take seats around it. “You said you had some questions. I assume this is about Alastor’s death.”

  I look at Callie and Kristie for guidance. Their guidance? A nod for me to ‘go ahead’. Gee, thanks.

  “As you know, your son was murdered.” Way to be Captain Obvious, Anna. I try again. “We’re anxious to find his killer.”

  Her eyebrows rise as she glances at the group of us. “You? You’re anxious to find his killer?” We nod like a bunch of bobbleheads. “Why?”

  “Don’t you want to find his killer?” If someone killed my son, I’d go on the warpath until I found the person responsible. And you can bet your bottom dollar, no suspects would be getting cupcakes then!

  She shrugs. “My son wasn’t exactly what you would call innocent.”

  True, but he was still her son. On the other hand, who am I to criticize her relationship with her child? It’s not like my relationship with my parents is all rainbows and butterflies. I’d settle for a single rainbow from Mr. and Mrs. Uptight, although they have calmed down about me being a cupcake baker now I’m a partial owner of the business.

  “Here’s the thing.” I lean forward and place my elbows on the table. “My fiancé is innocent, but they’re accusing him of murdering your son.”

  She narrows her eyes on me. “Who’s your fiancé?”

  “Detective Logan Allen.” I’m totally abusing Logan’s title, but he’s innocent and I need to prove it!

  “A police officer is accused of killing my son?”

  “He didn’t do it,” I repeat. And I’ll repeat those words until I’m blue in the face. Until the actual murderer is found and Logan’s name is cleared.

  “Mrs. Drake. Do you have any idea who may have killed your son?” Kristie asks.

  She shrugs. “Anyone in that gang of his? Anyone in a rival gang?” She stands. “Look, I understand you want to clear your fiancé’s name, but I can’t help you.”

  “One more question,” Callie says as she also stands. “Who knew your son had asthma?”

  Mrs. Drake sighs and halts her progress towards the door. “Alastor was embarrassed about his condition. He didn’t tell anyone.”

  Fudgesicles! Another dead end. I force myself to smile and thank Mrs. Drake before trudging out the door behind Callie and Kristie.

  “What a waste of time,” I whine when we’re seated in the car.

  “She could have at least offered us a cupcake,” Callie complains as she starts the engine.

  “Are you trying to sabotage your wedding or what?”

  Callie blinks rapidly before a blank expression settles on her face. As if she’s fooling me or something. Did she forget I’ve known her since before I baked my first cupcake?

  Kristie must take pity on her because she pipes up from the back seat, “I thought we were here to solve a murder not interrogate Callie.”

  I huff but allow the change of subject. “Anyone have any bright ideas? Because I’m fresh out.”

  Kristie reaches forward and rubs my shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

  Sure, we will. Eventually. But will this great epiphany come before Logan is arrested for murder? Which would totally and completely ruin my wedding!

  Chapter 13

  Run, run, run as fast as you can. You’ll never catch me, but I’m not the gingerbread man.

  “How are the wedding preparations going?” Callie asks as she pulls out into traffic.

  “Good. The only thing I have left to do is bake the wedding cupcake cake and some groom’s cakes. Easy peasy. I don’t get why weddings are supposed to be stressful.” Unless your groom is accused of a murder he didn’t commit.

  Kristie snorts. “I think they normally are, but nothing about your wedding is normal.”

  “Normal is boring.” And the last thing in the world I want the wedding to the man of my dreams to be is boring.

  “I get you’re non-traditional, but sparklers instead of tossing rice? Tyler is concerned.” Of course, Kristie’s fireman boyfriend is concerned. Just wait until he sees the centerpieces are s’more packages. Add in the pillar candles the guests will use to make their s’mores and he’s going to lose his mind. I can’t wait.

  “Rice is bad for birds. Plus, it’s a waste of food. It’s a Fourth of July wedding, sparklers are mandatory.”

  “Only you would have a dream wedding on July 4th.”

  I ignore Callie’s remark. She has made her opinion on my Independence Day wedding abundantly clear. But what’s wrong with getting married on July 4th? Nothing! I want to start my marriage off with a bang – literally, a bang.

  “I’m surprised you’re not putting sparklers on the cake.”

  Little does Callie know I ordered boxes and boxes of food-grade sparklers the day after Logan proposed. Surprise!

  “Guys. I don’t want to alarm you, but I think we’re being followed.” I whip around and look to where Kristie’s pointing. “That black Suburban has been behind us since we left the Drake residence.”

  “Let me make sure.” Callie flips on her turn signal and takes a right, even though we’re now going in the opposite direction of the cupcake bakery.

  “Yep!” I shout. “He’s still there.”

  “It could be nothing.” I don’t know who Kristie is trying to fool. Her voice is shaky, and her knuckles have turned white from where she’s holding on to the door handle for dear life.

  “Buckle up, buttercup. Time to lose this dude.” I can’t help the excitement tinging my voice. Not only is a car chase right up my alley – although I wish I were driving – but we must be on the right track to finding the killer if we’re being followed. Yes!

  “Oh, no. Please tell me you’re not going to try to lose him,” Kristie pleads with Callie.

  “Don’t worry,” she answers. “I’m just going to take some extra turns. Maybe drive in a circle.”

  “And if he continues to follow us? What then?” Kristie’s voice pitches in panic.

  “Hold on,” Callie shouts before taking a right turn at the absolute last second. Tires squeal as we take the corner at a speed not intended for maneuvering. The car shimmies for a second before straightening out.

  I keep my eyes peeled on the black Suburban and sure enough, it takes the same turn and continues to follow us.

  “Still there,” I tell Callie. She nods before taking another right turn.

  “They are definitely following us!” Kristie shouts from the back seat.

  “One more turn and then I’m calling it,” Callie says before taking yet another right turn. We’ve now gone in a complete circle. There’s no way a car would be ‘accidentally’ following us at this point.

  “He’s still there! We need to do something!”

  I raise my hand. “I vote for hitting the gas and losing him.” I’m messing with Kristie. I don’t want to lose whoever is in the black suburban. I want him to be caught because whoever it is must be connected to the murder.

  “Are you crazy? Wait. Don’t answer. I’m calling 911.”

  I shake my phone at her. “I’m already calling Logan.”

  As soon as the call connects, Logan shouts. “Drive straight and take the second left.”

  “I take it you’re following us.” He doesn’t bother to answer as I direct Callie to do as he said.

  “Pull into the police station,” he orders.

  I motion to Callie. As soon as we’re parked, I jump out of the car and watch as the black Suburban flies by. Right behind the Suburban is a dark blue Caprice with Logan driving it. At the end of the street, three police
cars are lined up across the street in a blockade. The Suburban slams on its brakes before making a U-turn, but Logan has already blocked the street with his car. There’s no escape.

  “Come on,” Ben shouts. “Get inside.” He grabs Callie and motions to me and Kristie. Kristie immediately follows them, but I want to watch the action. I yelp when someone grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me inside the building. Son of a biscuit.

  Once we’re safely ensconced in the reception area of the police station, Ben rushes outside. Before I can follow him, he points to the desk sergeant who immediately stands and starts after me. I throw my arms in the air in defeat and back away from the door.

  At least the door is transparent glass and I can catch some of the action. Too bad the angle’s all wrong. All I manage to see is a bunch of officers running in the direction of the Suburban and Logan.

  “Get away from the door, Anna.”

  I nod but don’t move until I notice the police officers returning to the building. The excitement must be over, but what happened?

  It takes another five minutes before Logan walks through the door. I rush him. “What’s happening? Who was it? Did you arrest him?”

  “Whoa, Pixie Girl. Slow down.” He pulls me into a hug. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

  I push against his shoulders. “I’m fine. I’m fine. What’s going on? And why were you following us?”

  “Who said I was following you?” he asks, but his grin makes it clear he knows he’s been caught.

  “I want to know why you were following me.” I stomp my foot. “Right now!”

  “Babe,” he smirks. “You didn’t honestly believe I didn’t know you’ve been running around town determined to clear my name.”

  “Well.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. The effect is probably lost a bit as I have to look up – way up – at him but I’m working with what I’ve got here. “At least one of us is doing something to ensure we can get married next week!”

  Someone shouts Logan’s name. “I need to handle this.” He kisses my forehead and takes off.

  “But you didn’t tell me anything!” I shout at his retreating form.

  “Come on.” Callie grabs my elbow. “Ben said he’d let us know what happened if we leave.”

  “I’m out of here,” Kristie practically shouts before rushing to the car.

  “When did she become such a scaredy-cat?” I ask Callie.

  “Just because she isn’t ready to take on a man who was obviously following us, doesn’t make her a scaredy-cat.”

  I shrug. “You say potato, I say potahto.”

  Chapter 14

  Pixies are not known for their patience.

  “Whoa. Just how big is this wedding? I thought you said you only invited your close friends and family?”

  I barely look up as Callie walks into the kitchen where I may have gone just a teensy weensy tiny bit overboard. What else was I supposed to do while waiting for news on the murder my husband was accused of? “You can never have too many cupcakes.”

  “Oh mylanta! Are those cupcakes shaped like a groom?”

  I glance at the table where Callie is staring down at my masterpiece. I made a few dozen chocolate cupcakes with chocolate buttercream frosting and then arranged them in the shape of a man. I’m not done yet, though. I still need to add a few vanilla cupcakes for the shirt and bowtie of the groom’s tuxedo.

  “It’s my groom’s cake,” I explain.

  “Did you know the tradition of a groom’s cake originates from Victorian England? The groom’s cake was often richer than the wedding cake as stronger flavors were considered more appropriate from the stronger sex.”

  “Men are the stronger sex?” Kristie asks as she joins us in the kitchen. “Yeah, right.” She snorts.

  “Have you heard from Ben yet?” Fingers crossed Callie emerged from her office to tell me the men are on their way back.

  She shakes her head. “Nope.”

  Mother fluffer. “How long does it take to interrogate one man? He was caught red-handed following us. He might as well confess and get it over with.”

  “Just because he was following us doesn’t mean he killed Drake,” Kristie points out.

  “You and your ‘logic’. You know as well as I do there’s no other reason someone would follow us unless it was about Drake’s murder.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Or are you up to your old tricks investigating crimes without us?”

  She raises her hands in surrender. “Nope. It’s not like I have oodles of extra time or something.”

  Callie’s phone beeps and I rush her. “What does it say? Is it Ben? Are they done? Are they on their way back?”

  “Give me a second, Ms. Pushy.” When she reads the message, she smiles. “Yep, they’re on their way now.”

  “Finally!” I shout before looking around at the mess in the kitchen. “Come on. Help me clean up and hide the groom’s cake before they get here.”

  When Ben and Logan arrive fifteen minutes later, the groom’s cake has been stashed in the walk-in refrigerator and the place is sparkling clean. Well, maybe not sparkling. But at least there isn’t frosting attached to the ceiling anymore. Accident, I swear.

  “And!” I rush Logan. “Did he do it? Did he kill Drake? And why was he following us?”

  “Breathe, my Pixie Girl.” He leans down and sips from my lips until my heart rate starts pounding for an entirely different reason.

  “I thought you wanted to hear the news,” Callie teases.

  I sigh and pull away from my man. “Tell us everything.”

  “Victor Daleuge confessed to murdering Alastor Drake,” Logan announces.

  I jump for joy and dance around the kitchen. “Yeah! Awesome wedding here we come! I will not be a jail bride.” I can’t imagine the number of cupcakes I would have to bake for a jail wedding. All those prisoners, guards, the list goes on and on.

  “Um,” Kristie raises her hand, “who’s Victor Daleuge?”

  I stop and face Ben and Logan. “Yeah, who’s Victor Daleuge?”

  “He’s the man who was following you from Alastor’s mother’s house.” Logan glares at me. “He’d heard rumors about a bunch of women running around asking questions about Drake’s death. When he saw you pull up to Mrs. Drake’s house, he figured you were the women in question.”

  Oops. I guess we weren’t what you could call discrete.

  “Yeah,” Ben adds. “We need to talk about your tendency to get involved in investigating crimes, which have nothing to do with you.”

  Nuh-uh. “Nothing to do with us?” I cross my arms over my chest and huff. “This murder had everything to do with me. They accused Logan of the murder. No way could I let that stand. In case you missed it,” I gesture to the room still full of wedding cupcakes, “we’re getting married in a few days.”

  “Besides,” Callie chimes in. “We were perfectly safe. We didn’t go anywhere dangerous. We didn’t talk to anyone dangerous.”

  Ben growls. “Didn’t go anywhere dangerous? You went to the funeral of a gangbanger!”

  Callie rolls her eyes. “Please. We had a lovely picnic with delicious chocolate chip cookies. It wasn’t our fault there happened to be a funeral happening at the same time.”

  I watch as the two glare at each other. They will always disagree about her safety. Someone is Mr. Overprotective. Time to move this on. “So, why did this Victor dude kill Drake?”

  “He found out about Drake doing a deal with a rival gang. He didn’t agree and wanted to take the helm,” Logan explains.

  “Wow. A murder over a business deal.” I’m glad I deal in cupcakes. No one murders anyone over cupcakes, although things can get a bit hairy when we run out of the cupcake of the day.

  “Don’t forget,” Kristie chimes in. “This business deal probably involved drugs or weapons.”

  “What happened? Daleuge went to Drake’s house and confronted him?” It still doesn’t make sense to me. Why didn’t he shoot Drake and b
e done with it?

  “Daleuge claims it was an accident. They argued and it got heated.”

  “Yeah, sure. It was an ‘accident’. How do you accidentally shove drugs down someone’s throat, forcing him to have an asthma attack, before you destroy his inhalers? Accident my chocolate-covered behind.”

  The room falls into silence. Shoot! We aren’t supposed to know those details. “Not like that’s what happened—” I zip my lips before I dig my hole any deeper.