Fruit of All Evil Read online

  “Huh,” I said as I stood holding a stack of pies. “It hadn’t occurred to me. To call you, that is. So much has happened, and I’ve been trying hard to pay attention to everything. Sorry about that.”

  Allison smiled. “Well, first of all, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Seeing Madeline Forsyth’s body wasn’t the best moment of my life, but I think I’m more worried about Linda than anything else.”

  “Me, too, but she’ll be fine. They’ll need some time.”

  “The wedding’s postponed.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” I said.

  “True. So, do you want to fill me in on the details now or later?”

  I gave her the condensed version, leaving out my escapade on the ledge. I also didn’t tell her about taking Madeline’s cell phone. If I’d told her about that, she’d get all big-sisterly on me. Her few extra minutes of life had been used against me often enough that I knew better.

  “You don’t think Linda or Drew . . .?” she asked when I finished.

  “I really don’t know for sure but I don’t think so. Maybe Sam will give me some more insight, if I push him.”

  “Sam’s a bit too giving of his information with you, but I suppose that’s what happens when . . .”

  “When what?”

  “Never mind. I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said as she walked away, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.

  “Hi, Becca,” a voice said from the front of my stall. I looked up and saw two of my favorite people, whom I liked for more than their phenomenal baking skills. They were holding their own personal versions of heaven, and I was forced to transform back into Linda’s Number One, even though the job had been all but eliminated.

  Nine

  News of Madeline’s murder might have been spreading, but apparently Mamma Maria and Stella had been too busy baking to pay attention to the news. When I saw their amazing creations, I didn’t want to be the one to tell them about either the murder or the postponement of the wedding, but Allison had left, so I had no choice.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said as I glanced longingly at Mamma’s peach delight and mini banana cream pies, and Stella’s cupcakes. “I should have called you last night. You put so much work into these. Honestly, I didn’t even think about it. I totally forgot you were bringing samples by this morning.”

  “Madeline Forsyth was murdered?” Stella asked, ignoring my apology. “Oh, my gosh.” Stella was round and beautiful, her cheeks always rosy and dusted with a little flour, and her blue eyes bright and happy. Her husband owned a restaurant and they had two teenagers who didn’t act like teenagers, so I enjoyed the whole family.

  “I can’t believe it,” Mamma said. “I didn’t know her or even who she was, but what a horrible thing to have happen. And you saw her body?” Mamma wore tight jeans and a low-cut shirt that revealed massive cleavage. Even though she was tall, gorgeous, and physically perfect, I liked her a lot.

  “I did.” I told them a version of the night’s events similar to the version I’d told Allison, but this time, as I spoke, the idea I’d had when talking to Linda the night before began to take a new shape in my mind. I didn’t allow myself to think it through, but let it roll off my tongue as I shared it with Stella and Mamma.

  “So, what do you think about this? I know that a wedding is probably very inappropriate right now, but Drew is leaving no matter what—he’s definitely reporting for duty.” I didn’t burden them with the fact that if he was arrested he wouldn’t be going anywhere but to jail. “I think he has to report for duty or something like that. Anyway, I know Sam . . . I mean I know the police will be all over this case, and it could be solved quickly. What if it is solved? In the next few days?”

  Stella and Mamma nodded, but they still didn’t understand where I was going.

  “Well, if it is solved, and the killer isn’t either Drew or Linda”—I laughed, but they didn’t laugh with me—“well, I was thinking I might kidnap them and take them to the justice of the peace. But why not bring them here instead? That is, if you ladies could handle some lastminute preparations? What do you think—how much time do you need to prepare? One day, two?”

  “Do you think Drew will want to get married, have a wedding so soon . . . even if the murder is solved? And Linda, too?” Mamma asked.

  I shrugged. “I know, I know, I’m sounding insensitive, but I’m really attempting to be the opposite. Yes, it’s horrible what happened to his mother, but originally he and Linda wanted to get married before he left anyway. It was a rush wedding as it was. If the murder gets solved, and if they’re willing—then why not? Why not have some happiness? As they say, life goes on, right?”

  The more I talked about my idea, the more I liked it. The way I saw it, if Drew and Linda got married before he left they’d both have something good to hold on to while he was gone. I didn’t have either Stella or Mamma convinced, but I thought that might be because they were still recovering from learning about the murder.

  “You’re much more romantic than I’ve ever given you credit for, Becca,” Stella said.

  “I’m not romantic. I’m realistic.”

  Mamma and Stella looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

  “I guess I’m game,” Mamma said hesitantly. “The peach delight was for the rehearsal Tuesday morning, so if you have any sort of rehearsal, just let me know. Linda was going to consider the banana cream pies for a wedding-day luncheon dessert, but I don’t think we should count on that.”

  “Probably not”—I looked at the mini pies longingly—“but at this point, let’s plan on having the rehearsal.” I moved my eyes to the peach delight. “The murder could be solved by Tuesday, and if we rehearse in the morning, we’ll be prepared. It’s kind of crazy, but it might work just fine.”

  “This will be a surprise to Linda and Drew?” Mamma asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you invite them to the rehearsal?”

  “Dunno. We’ll play it by ear.”

  Mamma and Stella looked at each other again. They were warming to the idea, I could tell. Or at least they were becoming less horrified by it.

  “I guess I just need a day’s notice. I’ll bake the cake and have it ready to go, but I won’t frost it until I hear from you,” Stella said. “You can tell me which kind of cake, and take a look at a sketch I did and let me know if you think it will work okay.”

  “Great. Thanks, ladies.”

  “I guess if all the pieces fall into their proper places, it could be very sweet,” Stella said.

  “Absolutely,” I agreed.

  “I suppose we should do something with all these samples. Any ideas, Becca?” She smiled.

  “Yes, but give me one more second.” The early crowd was still light, so I knew I might be able to round up some willing help. I called both Allison and Ian. In an uncanny twist of luck, which made me think it was a sign that my plan was a good one, they were both available. Allison’s managerial moment was over for the time being, and Ian was pulling into Bailey’s from his early installation.

  They both appeared at my stall just as I put a bite of Mamma Maria’s peach delight in my mouth. It was like a cobbler, cake, and crisp all in one, and would make a perfect dessert; it would also be a great rehearsal morning breakfast—fruity comfort food.

  “Yum,” I said with my mouth too full. I swallowed. then told Allison and Ian my plan.

  They were both hesitant at first, but I bribed them with some of the peach delight and mini banana cream pies, and before long they were on board.

  “I guess there’s nothing wrong with being prepared, just in case,” Allison said after a bite of a pie. “I get what you’re thinking, Becca. If Drew really is leaving, and their goal was to be married before he left, if the murder is solved that quickly, and if Drew can get to a good emotional place, then you have a good plan. B
ut there are a lot of ifs in that equation.”

  “Yes, I know. Here, try the peach delight.”

  “This is amazing,” Ian said as he dug into his samples.

  Mamma laughed as she caught my eye. She saw that my plan to conquer my sister and boyfriend was working. “The peach delight will be easy. Sorry about the pies, but we’ll use them for someone else’s surprise wedding. Okay, Stella, I think it’s your turn.”

  I eyed Stella’s box of cupcakes.

  “Okay, first, I need a man’s opinion. Ian, look at this and tell me what you think.” Stella held an open notebook in front of him.

  “Wow, Stella, that’s something,” he said as he set down his fork and took the notebook from her.

  “What?” I nudged my way to his side. “Oh, wow.” Stella had sketched a wedding cake design.

  “I can do the cake in any flavor, or more than one flavor if that’s what Linda wants—or you think she might want, but she was pretty specific about the type of design. This is just my first sketch. If it doesn’t work, I can do more.”

  It was difficult to pull our eyes away from the notebook. The design was simple, yet very elegant. The round cake had three layers; every layer was covered in white fondant, the bottom layer had navy blue stripes, the middle layer was circled with tiny gold anchors, and the top layer had tiny navy blue dots over it. Instead of a couple on the top, there was a navy blue bow of sorts. Somehow Stella had made the cake look both feminine and masculine at the same time.

  “When I talked to Linda, she was very clear that she wanted the anchors and the navy blue. I think Drew’s profession might be a bit clearer to me now, but I still get the feeling I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  “It’s gorgeous, Stella,” I said. “This looks like a lot of work, though. Are you sure . . . ?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” She waved away my concern. “It’s for Linda.”

  “This will be perfect,” Ian said, his artistic eyes registering approval.

  “Good. Try these now.” Stella pointed to the cupcakes. “Decide on a flavor.”

  We tried white, chocolate, carrot, marbled, and raspberry filled. It wasn’t an easy choice, but considering that Linda made fruit pies, we finally decided on the raspberry filled.

  It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning, and we were starting the day on very full stomachs. Once the decisions were made, Stella and Mamma packed up their supplies (but left their remaining samples for us to snack on) and took off to attend to their own businesses. Mamma would be driving to the Smithfield market, and Stella would probably already have a line at her stall. We were surrounded by the pleasant buzz of a building crowd of shoppers. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  I wouldn’t say I thought my plan for a surprise wedding was perfect, but at the moment it seemed harmless enough. The wedding, if it occurred, wouldn’t be lavish by any standards, but it would be perfect in its own way. The preparations weren’t going to be that hard on anyone except Stella, and she seemed fine with it. I attempted to look into the future, hoping to see that it might turn out to be the right thing to do. Of course, it might not to be, but I’d deal with that if necessary.

  Allison patted her stomach. “I’ve got to get to work, for real this time. You need me for anything else?”

  “Yeah, I have a question.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Can you think of any reason that Madeline Forsyth would have called Jeanine Baker yesterday afternoon?” I asked. Jeanine’s stall was down the aisle from mine, but I had yet to see her this morning.

  Allison blinked. “That’s a strange question, Becca, and frankly, it worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea why Madeline would have called Jeanine. You wondering why she did only adds to another issue. Jeanine didn’t show up today. I’ve been trying to reach her all morning. What do you know? How do you know Madeline tried to call her?”

  “It’s a long story, but I looked at Madeline’s phone after we found her body,” I said. “Was Jeanine having any financial issues? Did she bank at Central?”

  Allison looked away from me. It was a quick maneuver, one she normally pulled off without a hitch. She was always very good at being evasive when she needed to be, but something made her hesitate in her maneuver this time.

  “Al?”

  “Barry was supposed to pick her up this morning, but she wasn’t home. It’s very unlike her to not be home, and it’s very very unlike her not to let Barry know that she doesn’t need to be picked up. And she isn’t answering her home phone or her cell phone. I’m really worried now.”

  My first instinct was to drive to her farm and see if she was okay, but I wasn’t in a position to leave Bailey’s. I’d promised to take care of Linda’s customers, and soon I’d have a decent crowd of my own.

  “We’d better call Sam,” I said as I pulled out my cell phone.

  “Becca?” he answered on the first ring.

  “Yeah, Sam. Hey, Jeanine Baker isn’t at Bailey’s today.” Without explaining, he’d realize I’d seen the number on the call list

  “That’s interesting,” he said a few seconds later. “I’m in Bailey’s parking lot. I came by to talk to you and to Jeanine. I’ll be right in.”

  “Why do you need to talk to me?”

  “I have some questions about your trip on the ledge of my building last night.”

  “Oh.”

  “Stay there, Becca. I’ll see you in a minute.” Sam ended the call.

  “What?” Allison said.

  “Uh, well . . . Sam’s here. He’ll check things out,” I said guiltily.

  “Becca?”

  Fortunately, one of Linda’s customers had arrived, and my attention was diverted. Allison went to greet Sam as I waited and helped more customers. I wondered if he was going to make good on his constant threat—was I finally going to be arrested?

  Ten

  My “trip on the ledge of Sam’s building” must have been far less important than Jeanine’s whereabouts. I didn’t see Sam for a long time. He was probably talking to Allison and Barry and whoever else might know more about Jeanine Baker.

  Jeanine had had her egg stall ever since I’d started working at Bailey’s. She was shorter than me, but very strong. I doubted she’d ever worn a stitch of makeup, her hair was cut boyishly short, and she had one of those faces that made her look like she was somewhere between the ages of fifty and seventy. And her farm fresh eggs were phenomenal—until I’d tried them, I hadn’t known the difference “fresh” made when it came to eggs. I didn’t purchase eggs from anyone but Jeanine.

  Jeanine was also paranoid. About everything and everyone. It was rare that she trusted anyone with anything. I knew she admired and trusted Allison and Barry of Barry Good Corn, but they seemed to be the only two people she’d relax around. Whenever she and I had a conversation, I sensed that she was on edge and couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over. I didn’t take it personally; it was just the way Jeanine was. Plus, the entire world trusted Allison. I couldn’t fault Jeanine for keying in on my sister’s strengths.

  I couldn’t begin to imagine why Madeline Forsyth would have called her. I could imagine, though, that such a call—no matter the reason—might send Jeanine into some sort of panic. But what would Jeanine do with that panic—run away? Kill Madeline? Surely not the latter.

  I didn’t know exactly when Jeanine had left Bailey’s yesterday, but usually she brought only enough eggs to last part of the market day. She was the sole operator of her farm, and she had to get home to attend to her chickens and prepare for the next day. The care and feeding of livestock wasn’t something I dealt with. Where I could use my days off or any extra time here and there to create inventory, farmers with livestock had to stick to a schedule.

  Even though I wasn’t looking forward to discussing my activities with Sam, I hoped he’d share something about where he thought Jeannine was.

  I didn’t have much time to ponder,
though, because suddenly business picked up and I went into full work mode. A few customers morphed into a nonstop flow of them; some wanting my jams and preserves, and others in search of the pie they’d prepurchased from Linda. I had to give her kudos for getting the pies done. She knew they loved her pies. If she hadn’t finished them, I’m sure her customers would have understood, but not without having to hide irritation or anger.

  “Hey,” someone said after a twenty-minute rush.

  Ian was suddenly behind me.

  “Oh, hey again,” I said as I turned.

  “I’ve got to head out for another install, thought I’d let you know.”

  “Thanks. I hope it goes well.”

  He squinted. “Becca, you okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Let’s see, it’s been a crazy couple of days. You’ve seen a dead body, now you’re an undercover maid of honor. You have a lot going on. I think we should reschedule the Maytabee’s presentation.”

  “Undercover Number One,” I corrected him. “No, let’s not reschedule. You said they only meet monthly?”

  “Yep.”

  “Even without a murder and a wedding, next month could be crazier than this month. Bailey’s will be really busy. I wasn’t going to work on Monday anyway. We might as well keep it scheduled. And thanks again for getting me the ‘in.’ ”

  “You’re welcome.” Ian squinted again.

  “What?”

  “Becca, you’re not going to ‘investigate’ this, are you? Madeline’s murder, I mean. I know how much you care for Linda, and I know you’d like to pull off this surprise wedding. But you know you need to leave the investigating to the police, don’t you?”

  I wasn’t going to lie to Ian, even if I wanted to.

  “I’m not going to be stupid,” I said. “But I might ask some questions.”

  “The last time you asked a few questions about a murder, you got pretty beat up. I’m concerned the same will happen again.”