Bodies & Bundt Cake Page 9

  “If I tell you, you’ll stop wanting to be friends with me.” Mia’s lower lip quivered a little.

  “You can tell me anything,” Tricia said. “I will never stop wanting to be friends with you. You mean so much to me, Mia. More than you can imagine. So go on. Talk.”

  Mia took a deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling, then shrugged. “Fine. It’s going to come out at some point anyway. So I might as well tell you.” She squared her shoulders and faced Tricia. “Tricia, my father was a murderer. Not just a regular, run-of-the-mill murderer, he was a psychotic serial killer.” Her shoulders slumped automatically, as though she were expecting Tricia to recoil, or hit her.

  “So?” Tricia looked confused. “We know that already.”

  “What?” Mia’s eyes widened. “How? It’s not possible!”

  Tricia shrugged. “People talk, Mia. It’s okay. You’re not your father. You don’t have to be ashamed about his evil actions.”

  Mia’s eyes were brimming with tears. “You knew? You knew, and you never even mentioned it? You were still friends with me?”

  “Of course I was.” Tricia gave Mia a tight hug. “You silly thing. Is this what had you so stressed the last few months? Gina was blackmailing you?”

  Mia nodded. “She told me that she’d spread the news across town if I didn’t give her money. I gave her whatever I could but she’d still not be satisfied. She emailed me at 11am on the day of the cake-off, and asked me to come meet her at noon. I went over to her house, but I decided to use the back door because it’s a closer walk from my place that way. The door was already open and...” Mia shook her head. “I saw her body in the kitchen. I didn’t know what to do. I freaked out. My heel broke right then, and the sound was like a gunshot. I just ran away as fast as I could. I’m a coward; I’ll admit it. I debated with myself about calling the police, but then I decided not to. It was too risky. So I went back to Shoreline Park for the cake-off, and waited there till Annie asked me and Ethan to go check up on you two.”

  “You should never have paid her,” Tricia said. “So what if your father was a killer? Nobody cares what he did. Everyone knows you, Mia. Everyone in Swaddle likes you. None of us would have judged you.”

  Mia laughed. “You think? I don’t. I spent my life on the run with my mom. When the news about Dad first broke out, we wanted to stay in our hometown, thinking people would know that we did nothing. Well, turns out, people decided to hate us. We kept receiving hate mail. When someone drove by and tossed a brick at our picture window, Mom decided we'd leave.

  "The rest of my childhood was spent moving from school to school, town to town. Each time, the same story. We’d spend some time, settle in and then rumors would start to circulate. People would find out what my father did and start to hate us. I was bullied all the time, and I learned to fight for myself if someone was mean to me. Maybe I learned that a little too well. But my mother? She never learned how to fight it. I came home one day when I was seventeen… and she was on the sofa.”

  “Oh, Mia.” Tricia’s eyes were brimming. “I knew you’d found her dead. I never realized it was...”

  “Suicide? It’s not clear. Maybe just an overdose. Either way, my dad killed her, as surely as he’d killed those other women. I hate him. I hate him so much. He ruined my life too. I spent the rest of my teen years flunking out of college. The one thing I knew I could do well was fashion design, so I started working stupid jobs and saving up.

  "One day, I’d have my own shop. That was the dream. But the rumors never left me alone. Sooner or later, people would learn my past, and I’d get fired from my job with one silly excuse or another. Then… then I came to Swaddle and everything changed. Your family, Tricia, it was like they gave me a new lease on life. Your mom knew, you know. I told her upfront when she was hiring me, because I didn’t want a repeat of my past. She was so wonderful. She didn’t care. She hired me, and she taught me so much. She taught me how to have a work ethic; she taught me that I can be both disciplined and creative. She taught me… just what a loving family looked like.

  "Swaddle fit me like a glove. I loved how free this place made me feel. I even met you, and I’ve never had a friend like you before. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you about my dad… I was just so scared of having to leave town once again. I want to settle down. I want to have roots. I hate the thought of being run out of town once more.”

  “Oh, Mia...” Tricia wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much...”

  “So you knew all along, huh? Your mom probably told you. I was an idiot not to have guessed it.”

  “My mom told nobody,” Tricia said. “She took the secret to her grave. Annie’s the one who told me, actually. Just a few days ago. I think she stumbled across your dad in some old archives and the resemblance gave it away.”

  “We do look a lot alike.” Mia smiled. “I inherit my temper from him too, unfortunately. But I never killed Gina, Tricia. I promise you I didn’t. I just freaked out and ran away when I saw her body, that’s all.”

  “I know you didn’t kill her,” Tricia said. “It looks bad right now, but we’ll figure out a way to prove your innocence. Right Rachel?” She looked up hopefully at Rachel.

  Rachel nodded. “Of course we will!”

  But in her heart, she wasn’t sure she quite believed it. Mia gave Rachel a grateful look, and Rachel realized with a pang that Mia didn’t believe it either. She was just happy that Rachel had helped Tricia feel more hopeful.

  *****

  Chapter 14

  A Fight

  The sun had set by the time Rachel got home. Frustrated by the lack of any real evidence so far, and completely confused by everything, Rachel decided she needed to do something drastic. So, filling a bucket full of hot water, she put on some gloves and began a “deep clean” of the kitchen. Her hair was up in a shower cap, and she had donned her oldest, rattiest pair of shorts.

  Whenever her mind started racing too fast, Rachel would feel energy beginning to bubble up inside her, and the best way to get the energy out was to do something productive. Scooter, who hated the smell of her cleaning products, decided to go hide under her bed upstairs, and Rachel was glad he was no longer the puppy who would try and eat up the plastic container of bleach just because it was bright yellow.

  She rolled her shoulders and began scrubbing. Inch by inch, she went through the kitchen, while her mind went through the last few days.

  What did she know, really? Gina had been poisoned. The bundt cake had poison injected in it. So it stood to reason that the killer had access to the bundt cake somehow. But how? Mrs. Bingham had made the cake fresh in the morning, and then delivered it to Gina’s house. There, it had stayed in the kitchen under Gina’s watchful eye.

  Rachel gave a little groan. This was like a magic trick. How could the killer possibly have opened up the sealed cardboard box, and injected the bundt cake, with Gina right there and with so many other people coming in and out of the kitchen to drop off their own cakes? Perhaps the killer had waited for Gina to be distracted. But still, even assuming Gina was distracted, and the killer had the opportunity to poison the cake, how did the killer know that Gina would eat some?

  Rachel gave a little growl of frustration, and scrubbed at a very stubborn stain by her sink. After all, if things went according to plan, the cake would be eaten by all the judges later on. So could it be...

  The door opened slowly. Rachel was on her knees scrubbing the tiles, and glanced behind her shoulder. Scott’s eyes traveled over her, and his smile widened. Rachel grew suddenly self-conscious, aware of how she looked. Her hair was in a bright pink shower cap, her T-shirt had a hole in it, and her shorts weren’t fashionable twenty years ago. Not to mention the bright yellow gloves that reached her elbows.

  “Go away,” she said to Scott, half jokingly.

  “Not before I record this for posterity.” Scott took out his phone and snapped a photo of her. Immediately, Ra
chel jumped up and gave a squeak of protest. Laughing, Scott sat down on the kitchen island.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “You’ve clearly got things on your mind.”

  “It’s Gina,” Rachel said. “I just can’t figure out how she was killed.”

  “Well, since I’ve told the press, I can now tell you definitely that it was antifreeze poisoning. Don’t ask me any other questions,” Scott said. “To be honest, the case has been a nightmare for me too. I thought we’d close it in a week, but the more I investigate, the more complex it gets.”

  “So you’re not convinced that Mia’s done it either?” Rachel asked. “I spoke to her today and, well, she seemed so… persuasive. I really believe she hasn’t done it. I feel a little bad for her, to be honest.”

  “You? You feel bad for the woman who punched you?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You’re more forgiving than I would be.”

  “She did punch me, but she told me her story today, and I suddenly saw it all from her perspective. Imagine you’ve spent your childhood bullied and driven out of several towns. Imagine living with the shame of what your father did, and knowing that people will be disgusted or scared of you as soon as they hear about it. You’d grow defensive. Mia’s defensiveness comes out as anger. If she sees anyone who’s a threat, she attacks them instead of running away. It’s fight or flight at its finest.”

  “So… you’re saying you’re somehow at fault?” Scott scoffed.

  “I’m not at fault for her punching me, but I was aggressive with her, and accused her of a crime pretty blatantly. But it was only when Tilly agreed with me that Mia lost it. Probably because in her head, she imagined me turning the whole town against her, eventually. You know?”

  “I don’t know,” Scott said. “Mia’s a grown-up, and she’s responsible for herself. Maybe your accusations hurt her, but punching people is never a solution.”

  “Yeah...” Rachel said. “Still, I thought she was a short-tempered idiot. Now, I think that maybe she’s just misunderstood. She’s been through a lot.”

  Scott shrugged. “Listen. No offense, but sad backstories never get anywhere with me. I think we as a society give them too much weight. The truth is, people do what they do for a wide variety of reasons. I’ve seen people in absolutely terrible circumstances turn out to be gentle and kind, and I’ve seen people from good homes turn out to be soulless murderers. To some extent, obviously, where you come from matters. But… in the end it’s individual choices that shape who we are.”

  “Maybe so. But every person has insecurities and weaknesses. I think I just accidentally hit on Mia’s that first day, and she snapped. I certainly don’t think her punching me makes her a murderer.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Scott said. “Her punching you doesn’t make her a murderer. But a history of violent behavior is an indicator, and I can’t ignore it.” Catching himself, Scott said, “But look here: I’m not supposed to talk about this. Can we change the topic?”

  “I suppose so.” Rachel sighed. “Something’s gotta give, right? You have clues: the cloth fragment we found at the fire, the poisoned bundt cake, some fingerprints, the missing library records...”

  Scott nodded, but didn’t reply. Instead, he asked. “So have you thought about when you’d like to shift?”

  Rachel froze. Honestly, with everything that had happened, she hadn’t thought about it. She remembered guiltily that she’d tossed the key into a drawer full of odds and ends, in an attempt to hide it from herself.

  “Rach? You ok? You have a kind of a deer-in-the-headlights look, right now.”

  “Yeah.” Her lips were suddenly very dry.

  Scott, with an expertise born from years of interrogating suspects, wisely stayed silent and waited for her to speak first.

  “So much happened last night...” Rachel said. “With the library records, then Emily—”

  “Library records?” Scott frowned. “So it was you. You figured that one out, didn’t you? I thought it strange that Annie was at the library alone that time of night.”

  Rachel gave him a sheepish smile. “Not me. Tricia figured it out; smart cookie. We met Annie at the library, then discovered Gina’s files were missing. Annie said she’d rather speak to you alone, and I... well... I didn’t want to be caught meddling.”

  Scott grinned. “Too late. I’ve caught you red-handed now.”

  “I tried to stay out of it, really. It’s just…” Rachel shrugged. But Scott kept his eyes on her face.

  She thought she’d changed the topic, till he said, “I know you well, Rachel Rowan. I can tell when you’re trying to dodge a question. Have you thought about moving in with me?”

  “Stop being so pushy,” Rachel found the words flying out of her mouth. She could see Scott’s shoulders stiffen.

  “Oh.” Scott’s chin went up in a defensive gesture, and Rachel sighed. “I mean... just... Can’t we discuss this later? I need time to think, and there’s so much to think about. Plus with Gina’s death...”

  “You know, it’s okay if you need time to think, but it’s kind of cowardly to use Gina’s death as an excuse,” Scott’s voice was brisk.

  “Excuse me? Did you call me a coward?”

  “I’m just saying: tell me the truth flat out. If you don’t want to move in, say no.”

  “See? This is what I was afraid of.” Rachel found her hand clenching the table hard. “You just don’t understand...” She found herself feeling angrier with him than she ever had before. Why couldn’t he just understand and drop it?

  “We’ve been dating each other nearly a year, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m ready to take it to the next level,” Scott said. “If you’re not, that’s okay. But tell me flat out. Don’t try and lead me around the—”

  He was interrupted by a short burst of static from the radio at his hip. Within seconds of listening to it, Scott’s demeanor changed. His face hardened, and his eyes became cold.

  “I have to go,” he said, his voice wooden. “There’s been another murder.”

  *****

  Chapter 15

  Oh, Emily

  Rachel tried texting and calling Scott several times that night, to no avail. Either he was angry with her or so busy with the murder that he didn’t have time to pick up. Rachel suspected a bit of both. Either way, she didn’t sleep well, as horrible images kept flashing through her mind.

  Never before had Swaddle seen such a rash of crime, and it scared Rachel. She’d been no stranger to crime when she lived in San Francisco, but in a big city, it was easy to tell yourself that crime would never be at your doorstep. Here, Rachel felt as though the killer had cast a shadow over everything she had taken for granted, like late night walks with Scooter, or the fact that little Ollie played in the backyard by himself. Rachel kept imagining the killer popping up, knife in hand and maniacal laughter spreading across their face…

  Finally, she’d had enough, and jumped out of bed to try and get on with her day’s work. But even here, she was met with little upsets. She accidentally poured too much baking soda in one batter, and a strawberry cake she was making collapsed in the middle.

  There was a knock on the door, and Rachel gave an impatient grunt as she swung it open.

  “Ethan Wood,” Emily said, her face grim, holding out a cup of coffee from the café.

  Rachel didn’t have to ask any more—she knew.

  “Tilly was working alone in her office last night. She came home late and found him in their living room.” Emily shuddered. Her eyes were blank, and she moved past Rachel and into the kitchen. “It’s horrible. I don’t know what’s happening to our sweet, safe Swaddle.”

  “I...” Rachel had no words for it. The events of the last week, one after the other, were hitting her like a wave. “What can we do to help?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

  “I called up Annie, and we’ve decided to make enough food to last Tilly a few weeks. Casseroles and such. It’s all I can think of.”

  “I wan
t to help,” Rachel said immediately.

  “Great. We’re meeting after work today,” Emily said. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about...”

  “It’s Scott, isn’t it? Did he talk to you?”

  “Scott?” Emily looked baffled. “No? What happened?”

  “Oh… never mind. What was it you wanted to say?”

  “No. Don’t never mind me; what happened? You two have a fight?”

  Rachel pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear. “Not exactly. Well, maybe a little.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “It feels so stupid now, especially since Ethan is… Do you know how it happened?”

  “I heard he had his head bashed in.” Emily shuddered. “But Rachel, we’ll have to meet Tilly and deal with that soon enough. Right now, all I want to hear about is you and Scott.”

  “We... I... He wants me to move in with him,” Rachel managed.

  “That’s awesome!” Emily sprung up from her chair and hugged Rachel tight. “Oh, this is big! My commitment-phobic older brother is finally making a move toward marriage! Oh, I want three kids from you two—and all girls. I’m sick of being surrounded by boys, and—”

  “And you’re freaking me out, Emily!!” Rachel managed.

  “Ok, sorry, sorry.” Emily sat back down. “I just can’t help thinking I’ll be an awesome aunt, and you two will be awesome parents. Look how well you take care of Scooter.”

  “I’m not ready,” Rachel managed to squeak out. “I’m barely ready to be an aunt, forget a parent. As for Scooter, he takes care of me just as much as I take care of him. So it’s different. And anyway, none of that matters because we fought, okay?”

  “You fought?” Emily looked confused. “Why?”

  “I don’t know why.” Rachel sighed. “You ever find yourself in the middle of a fight with Jay wondering what on earth you’re doing?”

  “All the time. The trick is to keep looking confident.” Emily grinned. “And hoo boy, arguing with a lawyer is tough. Jay tries to zoom in on every single loophole in my arguments, and I’ve had to take a few years to educate him out of the habit.”