Baking is Murder (A Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mystery) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 1) (5 page)

Jessie stood to go shake his hand. She supposed he was a tough leader to his officers, but there was something incredibly comforting about his presence.

“Bee said you were upset about this business. I thought I’d better come and speak to you.”

Jessie nodded, turning away. Did the entire town know that she’d been rattled by Clarice’s arrest?

“She told me in confidence after I guessed something was wrong,” he said, reading her mind.

His reference to Aunt Bee reminded her that she had somewhere to be. She glanced up at the antique wood clock on the wall. She rushed to the door. “I should get back to the café. It was lovely to meet you chief, but Aunt Bee will be busy closing up.”

The chief grinned. “She told me you’d say that. She also told me to tell you not to be crazy. She’s been running that place since you were in diapers.”

Jessie shook her head in disbelief. “I worry about her, is all.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it or not, but it seemed like there was a glint in the chief’s eye. “You shouldn’t worry about her. She has a lot of people who care about her.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Chief, Jessie just spoke to me about taking care of Ms. Jackson’s animals.”

The chief smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Jessie. I’ll ask her. Why don’t you walk with me to the station? I’ll do my best to put your concerns to rest.”

At first, she didn’t think anything of his comment about Aunt Bee having a lot of people who cared for her. But as they walked across the grassy square that separated Main Street from State Street, something clicked into place in her mind. She looked up at the chief’s genial face and smiled to herself. It made so much sense she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen it before.

She said nothing, walking the rest of the way with a serene smile on her face.

***

“I’ll just check with her and make sure she’s okay with you looking after the animals. I shouldn’t think she’d object.”

Jessie nodded and watched with a shiver as the chief was buzzed through to the secure area at the back of the police station. She’d never been in the back of a police station before, so her imagination raced with prison scenes from movies and she couldn’t help but feel another pang of sympathy for Clarice. The woman seemed more comfortable with animals than she did with other people—someone like that was bound to have a hard time in prison.

She didn’t have much time to reflect, though, because the reinforced door buzzed open and the chief was back a couple seconds later.

“She wants to see you,” he said gravely.

“Really? Can I do that? I thought—”

He glanced around behind him. “Usually no,” he said quietly. “But I don’t see the harm seeing as you’re Bee’s niece. She’d like to tell you about the different pups and their routines. Their medications. When you’re done I’ll give you a ride over there and give you the keys.”

Jessie followed the chief, her heart racing in her throat. The police station was a bright cheerful place—until they walked through that door. She shuddered.

***

“Hi,” Jessie said, taking a seat at the rundown table. “Chief Daly said you wanted to see me.”

Clarice looked even more washed-out than usual. Her eyes were red and puffy—she had obviously been crying. She swallowed. “Yes. He told me you offered to care for my babies. Thank you.”

Jessie shook her head. The knot in her throat had grown so large that she didn’t trust herself to speak. She stared down at the table, avoiding Clarice’s eyes.

“That’s no problem,” she said quietly. “You wanted to tell me about their routine?”

She noticed the other woman’s hands begin to shake again as she spoke. “I didn’t do this, Jessie. Have you spoken about it with your aunt?”

Jessie shook her head. “I can’t… I’m not an attorney. There’s nothing I can do to help. I’m sure if you tell the cops…”

Clarice’s hands were shaking violently now. She snorted—it was the most wretched sound Jessie had ever heard; a mix between cynicism and total desperation. “I’ve already told them. According to them, the murder weapon was found at my home with my fingerprints on it. They’re not interested in anything I have to say when there’s proof like that.”

Jessie forgot her pledge to stay neutral. She put her hands on Clarice’s in a bid to stop them shaking. “Look, please. Don’t work yourself into a state. I’m sure if you—”

Clarice laughed bitterly. “Oh, dear child. I’m not hysterical.”

Jessie clasped her hands. They were still shaking violently. “It’s okay. I’m sure this has all been a mistake. It’s okay to be scared.”

Clarice stared at her mutely.

“I’m sure there’s a counselor who can come and help?” Jessie said. She knew she was grasping at straws, but she hated seeing anyone like this.

Clarice pulled her hands away. Jessie couldn’t help but stare at them the tremors were so bad. Her heart contracted.

“Or maybe a sedative or something?” she whispered. She wished there was something she could do to make things better, but what could she do? She was an insurance professional—all she was really qualified to do was shuffle paperwork and sit in boring meetings. But Clarice had been kind to her and now she felt compelled her to help. She reached across the table for Clarice’s hands.

“It’s a medical condition,” Clarice snapped, not meeting Jessie’s eyes. “My hands shake all of the damn time.”

“Oh,” Jessie said. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry.” She pulled her hands away slowly, feeling foolish. “Look, there’s one thing I can help with. And that’s making sure your puppies are taken care of until you get out.”

“I’m not getting out,” Clarice said hoarsely.

Jessie had never witnessed such hopelessness. But she believed what she’d said—the only way she could help Clarice was to remember her instructions as accurately as possible and care for those puppies like they were her own.

Jessie let herself into the kennels and looked around. She stopped. She’d been there before, but she couldn’t help but pause to take in the plush surroundings. Her first time there, Jessie had steeled herself all the way there knowing that she’d have to see the dogs in tiny cages. Clarice’s kennels were nothing like that. There was a narrow corridor that ran the length of the building and one large, spacious enclosure that led onto an outdoor area with security mesh on the roof which looked like it was there for the dog’s protection rather than anything else. There was even a bone-shaped pool in one corner, and more toys than she’d ever seen in her life.

This is more like some kind of doggy guesthouse
, she thought.

There were eight dogs in all, not counting Toby, who Mayor Stevens was still taking care of. Jessie made a mental note to ask him if he’d like her to take care of him with the others. The poor little pup must have missed his brothers and sisters, although Jessie had a feeling he was being extremely well taken care of.

“Let’s get you little darlings fed and watered,” she crooned, closing her eyes and trying to remember everything Clarice had said. It was hard to concentrate when the pups were clambering all over each other. One pug was adorable. Four puppies together was the cutest sight Jessie had ever seen. The puppies were eleven weeks old now, and each had developed their own distinct personality.

Jessie felt a pang of sadness. She remembered Clarice saying she waited until her pups were twelve weeks old until their new owners could collect them. She just hoped Clarice got out in time to see the five pups before they left.

Jessie shook her head and told herself to get on with the job at hand. She opened the storage room and looked around. Clarice had said there was an open bag of kibble. She saw it in the corner and grabbed it.

A strange feeling washed over her. There must have been enough food in there for several months. She hoped she wouldn’t need to ask Clarice about how to replenish her supplies.

***

Back at Bee’s Bakehouse, the entire building was buzzing with excitement. Aunt Bee looked exhausted.

“I swear this murder has brought everything out of the woodwork. And there I was thinking it’d cut tourism to Springdale. If anything, it’s increased it. I’m sure I’ve seen a lot of these folk in Dukefield.”

Jessie shrugged. “Business is business, right?”

“Not if it’s chasing my regulars away,” she said unhappily, leaning her elbows on the counter.

Jessie felt a pang of guilt. “I shouldn’t have left you here by yourself. I just wanted to check in on those poor dogs. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I can finish up here.”

Aunt Bee looked like she’d just been struck.

“I’m serious. When’s the last time you took the afternoon off?”

“About a month back. I went and got my hair done at Mysty’s.”

“Well, then,” Jessie said, darting to the back to get her aunt’s coat. “I think you’re due another afternoon away from here.”

Aunt Bee grudgingly took her coat. Jessie felt sure she saw the shadow of a smile underneath her aunt’s surly expression.

“You’ll remember to lock the door, won’t you? And empty the trash. If it’s still here in the morning there’ll be one hell of a stink.”

Jessie nodded patiently. “Of course I will, Aunt Bee. You’re forgetting Melanie and I were coffee shop workers extraordinaire when we were kids.”

“More like trouble extraordinaire,” she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “The chief was in earlier.”

“Oh re
ally
,” Jessie smirked. She’d completely forgotten what she’d learned what with all of the drama in the town. “I wonder what he wanted.”

Aunt Bee wagged a finger in her face. “Still got that smart mouth, I see. Anyway, he told me they’d found the murder weapon at Clarice’s.”

Jessie nodded. “I know. She told me.”

“She
what
?”

Jessie explained how the chief had allowed her to visit Clarice in the station, lowering her voice in case any of the tourists nearby happened to be reporters. The last thing she wanted was for her aunt’s boyfriend to get in trouble for breaking protocol. She appreciated the help he’d given her in trying to look after those gorgeous little dogs.

“Ah yes,” Aunt Bee said with a gleam in her eye. Jessie remembered how she and Melanie had teased their aunt for being the town gossip queen back in the day. “But they only released details of the murder weapon this afternoon.”

Jessie hated that her curiosity was piqued by something so morbid. “What was it?”

Aunt Bee’s eyes widened. “A fence post driver.”

“A
what
?”

Bee shook her head. “I’d never heard of it either. Apparently it’s something they use on farms to hammer posts into the ground.”

Jessie shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t help but picture the back of Clarice’s property, where there were several fenced areas for walking and training the dogs.

***

Something was niggling at the back of Jessie’s mind as she wiped down the tables after she’d closed up the café. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Something buzzed in the background. She dropped her cloth and moved through the café into the kitchen. The dishwasher cycle had finished. Usually, they got rid of used dishes during the day as they went—Aunt Bee had a local girl who helped out on holiday weekends and in summer. But they hadn’t expected this rush, so there was still another load that needed to be washed before Jessie could leave.

Jessie pulled up the top and began to empty the tray, shifting the steaming hot plates between her hands in a vain attempt to keep from getting burned. She lifted the pre-loaded tray of dirty plates and cups into the machine and reached up to slam down the lid.

“Where was I?” she mumbled.

She turned and stared at the dishwasher in confusion. It had taken all the strength she could muster to pull it down because she’d accidentally pushed it all the way up. She’d barely been able to budge it. And something about that was odd.

She shook her head.
No. Not odd.

She gasped. It was like a veil had been pulled away from her eyes. She was thirty-seven; reasonably fit and healthy. And she’d struggled to pull down that lid because of the way it had been positioned. In fact, there was a lingering dull pain between her shoulder blades from the exertion. How on earth had Clarice, with her slight build and debilitating health condition, managed to kill a grown woman with a piece of heavy farm equipment—Jessie had googled the term and seen how large and unwieldy those things were.

It took every ounce of self-control that Jessie possessed to stop herself from rushing out of the café and running to the police station. She had promised Aunt Bee that she’d close up, after all. She hated to think how Bee would react to her just leaving this mess. And for what—a hunch? Chief Daly and his men were trained police officers with years and years of experience. The closest Jessie had come to law enforcement was playing Clue with her cousin during those long summer nights of her childhood. She shook her head, walking back out to the counter and turning her attention to the coffee machine.

What is it with you? Move to a small town and get carried away with conspiracies?

But as she shuffled back and forth to the kitchen, cleaning out the coffee grounds and rinsing the filter, she felt more and more unsettled. This was no longer a feeling she had in her gut; an irrational soft spot for a fellow dog person. No, this was different. Jessie had reached a logical conclusion, she knew. Clarice had barely been able to lift her hands—how on earth would she have been able to use a heavy weapon against a woman who was physically bigger and stronger than she was?

“I’ve got to tell Chief Daly,” she said, tying a tight knot in the top of the trash bag.

She bustled through the kitchen and opened the back door, which Bee had a habit of leaving open despite her caution about security. Jessie bustled down the steps to the dumpster and heaved it open. The same feeling of unease returned. She knew she wasn’t being crazy. She also knew what that meant—if Clarice hadn’t done it, the real killer was on the loose.

She shivered and ran up the steps, taking care to twist the deadbolt after she’d locked the door.