Ice Cream Murder (3 page)

Jack shrugged and started working on her other foot. “Not really. I mean, he was pretty old. They were all probably just waiting for him to die. As you can imagine, his kids will inherit a lot of money.”

“But that’s a perfect reason to kill him! Aren’t you going to investigate any further?”

“Nope. We’ve determined there was no foul play.”

“But his kids would benefit financially from his death,” Lexy said incredulously.

“I know, but just because someone benefits from another’s death doesn’t always mean they murdered them. In this case we think it’s unlikely because of his advanced age. He wasn’t going to live much longer.” Jack shrugged.

“I guess you’re right,” Lexy said. “Only a fool would take the risk of killing him if he was going to die on his own soon anyway, right?”

Chapter Four

Lexy rolled over in her bed, pulling the down comforter up to her chin. She snuggled into her pillow, sighing contentedly as a ray of sun warmed her cheek. She jerked her eyes open with a start—she was usually up well before the sun slid its rays through her window.

Rolling over in the bed, she noticed two things. Jack was already gone and the clock read seven thirty.
 

She was late!

Lexy bolted upright in the bed. Sprinkles followed her lead, leaping onto the floor, running in circles and then jumping back on the bed again.

Sliding her bare feet onto the hardwood floor, Lexy laughed at the antics of the little dog.
 

“Don’t worry, Sprinkles, you’ll get to show off in agility class later on today.” Lexy smiled at Sprinkles, whose brown eyes gazed at her adoringly. The dog was full of energy and fast as a whip. Jack had come up with the idea of enrolling her in agility classes to help her work out some of her energy. Lexy didn’t have visions of competing or anything, but it would be a great way to spend more time with the dog and give them both some much needed exercise.

But right now, Lexy had other things on her mind. Like hoping no one accused her of killing Regis Banks.

Grabbing the first tee-shirt and pair of jeans she could find, Lexy hopped into the shower. There was no time to wash her hair, so she coiled it into a ponytail set on the very top of her head, pulled tight so the hair flowed down like a fountain.
 

That doesn’t look too bad for not washing it
, she thought, as she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. She applied a swipe of mascara and some charcoal eye-liner to bring out the green in her eyes and she was good to go … except for shoes.

She grabbed a pair of wedges to add some height to her five-foot-four frame and headed downstairs, Sprinkles following obediently at her heels.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the living room told her that she’d gotten ready in record time. Still, she’d be later than usual getting to the bakery. Good thing it was her assistant, Cassie’s, turn to open and start the baking.

Lexy poured some food into Sprinkles’ bowl, shoved half an
é
clair into her mouth, slung her large tote bag over her shoulder and rushed out the door.

Clip-clopping down the drive-way toward her car, Lexy caught a strange movement out of the corner of her eye.
 

Were the tall shrubberies that lined the side of the driveway moving?

She stopped in her tracks, her heart thudding. Was someone hiding in the bushes? Who would do that in broad daylight?

“Who’s there?” The
é
clair she was still chewing turned to ashes in her mouth when a body in a hooded sweatshirt stepped out from the bushes.

Lexy plunged her hand into her tote bag, her fingers frantically searching for the round canister of Mace.

“Stop right there!” She whipped the Mace out, pointing it at the intruder.

“Hey! Don’t shoot!” The intruder held up both hands and Lexy noticed a pad of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. “Don’t you recognize me? It’s Norman Shea.”

“Norman?” Lexy frowned at him. He pushed off the hood to reveal frizzy, carrot-red hair and a face that was almost completely hidden by large round tortoise framed eye-glasses.

With the hood off, Lexy recognized him. Norman Shea hadn’t changed much since high school—he even still had the ever-present notebook in his hand. Lexy remembered Norman had been a little nerdy, not as popular as Lexy, and seemed to be always writing something.
 

“What are you doing lurking in my bushes?” Lexy asked.

“I’m with the Brook Ridge Tribune,” Norman said pointing with pride to a laminated card hanging from his zipper.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Lexy glanced at her watch. “I’m kind of in a hurry—”

“I was hoping I could get a statement.” Norman cut her off.

“Statement?”

“About the murder?”

“Murder?” Lexy narrowed her eyes at Norman.

“Regis Banks.” Norman looked at her expectantly, his pen poised above the notepad.

“Regis wasn’t murdered,” Lexy bristled. “He died from a food allergy. I should know, I was there.”

“I know.” Norman said with obvious excitement. “I heard you served the fatal ice cream. I’m dubbing you the Killer Caterer—it should make for sensational headlines.”

“What?” The word exploded from Lexy’s mouth. She could practically feel her blood pressure rising and had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from spraying Norman with the Mace—the nerve of him!

Norman didn’t seem to notice Lexy’s fury. He was too busy scribbling in his notepad. “So, you deny it?”

“Deny it?” Lexy fought to compose herself. “There’s nothing to deny. Regis’ death was an accident.”

“Right,” Norman scribbled furiously. “An accident.”

“Are you writing an article?”

Norman nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “This is my big break. That’s why I went to this trouble to get an exclusive with you.”

Lexy stared at him incredulously. Didn’t he realize that his big break could ruin her business?
 

“Norman Shea, I have nothing to say to you! In fact, you better leave right this instant or I’ll tell your mother
you
were the one who put the firecrackers in the school toilets senior year!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Yes, I would.” Even though it had been almost two decades ago, Lexy remembered the incident well. The water pipes had burst, causing a major flood. The school had been evacuated. No one ever discovered the culprit—except Lexy. Her detecting skills had been pretty good even back then. Of course, she’d never told anyone except Norman. She wasn’t a tattle-tale, but she wasn’t above using it as a threat to get him to stop.

Norman’s wide eyes looked from Lexy to his notepad and back again.
 

“Get!” Lexy shouted, pointing to the shrubs Norman had emerged from.

Norman snapped the cap on his pen. “All right. I’ll leave, but you can’t stop me from writing this story.”
 

And then he disappeared back through the shrubs, leaving Lexy fuming in the driveway.

Lexy’s heart sank as she slipped into her car. If Norman made good on his threat to write the article, it could put her out of business. She couldn’t just sit around and hope things blew over.
 

Nope, it was in her best interest to take action to nip this whole thing in the bud and she knew the perfect people to help her—Nans and
The
Ladies Detective Club
.

***

By the time Lexy got to the bakery, she’d calmed down. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought. She didn’t even know if the paper would publish Norman’s article. It was purely speculation and she doubted the paper would want to open themselves to a lawsuit.

Cassie was taking something out of the oven when Lexy arrived and the tart aroma of lemons filled the air.

“Yum. That smells delicious!” Lexy eyed the lemon squares with their gooey, taste-bud puckering lemon peeking out from in-between the crust that had been crumbled on top.

“Hey, nice of you to come in today,” Cassie teased, looking at the clock pointedly.

“Sorry, long night last night.”
 

“I know, John filled me in. It’s terrible what happened.” Cassie’s pierced eyebrows wrinkled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine … except Norman Shea showed up in my driveway this morning and wants to write an article about me. Says he’s going to call me the Killer Caterer.”

“What? He’s a jerk.” Cassie pulled a mixing bowl from the cabinet. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, Nans seemed eager to investigate the whole thing, so maybe she can help prove I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“John said it was just an accident. Regis was old. Maybe he just forgot what bowl to eat from,” Cassie offered. “Plus, I don’t think you have to worry about Norman’s article. There’s nothing really to say and I doubt the paper is going to print something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Lexy chewed her bottom lip. “I’m positive I put the right ice cream in front of him. But if I didn’t, I could have been the one that killed him.”

“Now, don’t go blaming yourself. It was an accident, like you said.”

“Right.” Lexy helped Cassie assemble the ingredients for the chocolate chip cookies they were making. Flour, sugar, vanilla extract, salt, chocolate chips, butter. She absently measured everything out, her mind more on Regis Banks’ death than on baking. When she was done, Cassie pulled her aside.
 

“I can handle things here if you want to go talk to Nans.”

“Oh, no. I feel bad leaving you.”

“It’s no problem. Haley will be in to help with the customers out front. Besides, I think you might do more harm than good here.”

“Why?” Lexy frowned at Cassie.
 

“Because, I was watching you measure out the ingredients and you measured out two cups of salt instead of sugar.”

***

“Lexy, what brings you here?” Nans stood in the doorway of her apartment at the
Brook Ridge Falls Retirement Center
, her brows raised at Lexy.

“For heaven’s sake, Mona, can’t you see she has a box of pastries?” Ida leaned back in her chair at the dining room table and nodded at the white bakery box Lexy balanced in the palm of her left hand. “Let her in.”

“Oh, of course. Come in, dear.” Nans stepped aside and Lexy entered the spacious apartment. As she suspected, Mona, Ida and Ruth were gathered around the dining room table with full cups of coffee and their iPads at the ready. Nans had already brought the large standing whiteboard from the spare room into the dining room so they could use it to write down suspects and clues.
 

“You’re just in time,” Ruth took the box from Lexy and peeked under the lid. “Oh, I love lemon squares.”

Helen pulled out a chair and gestured for Lexy to sit. “Do you want some coffee? We were just discussing the Regis Banks case.”

Lexy sat while the ladies busied themselves refreshing their coffees, getting small plates and selecting lemon squares. Nans put a steaming mug in front of Lexy and she sipped the brew, sighing as the caffeine made its way into her bloodstream.

“So, I take it you’re going to join us in the investigation,” Nans said to Lexy. “Last night, I got the impression you weren’t too sure.”

“That was before Norman Shea threatened to write an article dubbing me the Killer Caterer.”

“What? Who is Norman Shea?” Ruth asked around a mouthful of lemon.

“He’s a reporter for the Tribune and a former high school classmate,” Lexy said. “He thinks this is some sort of big story that will launch his career.”

“Oh, dear,” Nans replied. “That can’t be good for business.”

“No kidding,” Lexy said. “Anna’s already called three times worried about this whole thing. Anyway, I figure it’s best if we get to the bottom of how Regis got the wrong ice cream so I can clear myself of any wrong doing.”

Helen broke off the edge of her lemon square. She’d picked an end piece as she usually did. She took a small nibble from the doughy end. “We haven’t gotten very far … did you learn anything from Jack?”

“He said they didn’t suspect foul play. They’re ruling it an accident and aren’t going to investigate any further.”

“Really?” Nans face puckered. “With all that money involved, I don’t see how they can say that.”

“He said that because Regis was so old anyway, it doesn’t make sense that someone would take the risk of killing him. Odds are he didn’t have much time left.”

“Good point.” Nans rubbed her palms together to rid them of crumbs and stood at the whiteboard, taking a big marker in her hand. “Well, let’s get started with what we know.”

“I scoured the tabloids and there’s not one whiff of a girlfriend,” Ruth said.
 

“So I guess we can rule out a jealous lover,” Ida giggled.

“The next logical place to look is at the family,” Helen said. “I assume his children would gain financially from his death.”

“One would think.” Nans wrote Winston, Lawrence and Olivia on the white board. “Ruth, did you pick up anything interesting on either of them?”

“It seems Winston was cut from the same cloth as Regis. A tough businessman. He is a vice president at
Banks Development
, Regis’ company. It’s said they were tough negotiators and would do anything to win a deal.”

“What does the company do?” Lexy asked.

“Commercial real estate development. Big stuff like malls and office buildings.”

“Go on, Ruth,” Nans prompted.

“Lawrence, on the other hand, was the opposite. Hates big business and is very ecology minded. He opposed a lot of the company’s business plans. He thought they were ruining the planet by turning fields and forests into buildings and parking lots.”

“Interesting,” Nans wrote under Lawrence’s name. “So, do you think he hated what the company did enough to kill his father?”

Ruth shrugged. “Who knows? It’s certainly something to look into.”

“What about the daughter?” Ida asked over the rim of her dainty china coffee cup.

Ruth looked down at her iPad. “She doesn’t seem to be interested in the company too much. Your typical rich girl socialite, going to parties and dressing in expensive clothes. Has the usual upper class hobbies, the latest of which seems to be raising dogs.”