Page 107 of Murder on the Page

Zach was standing there with Bates. Zach’s gun was aimed.

Gratitude and relief caught in my throat. “How did you—”

“The security alerts filter through the station. Yours rang for quite a while. After seeing your text with the photo of the bank envelope, I decided to check this place out, even though you used the proper code to disarm the system. Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

CHAPTER27

“Till this moment I never knew myself.”

—Elizabeth Bennet, in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice

I’d never been inside the police precinct. I’d never even received a speeding ticket. Being debriefed took much longer than I expected, but Zach was as gentle as he could be, and Darcy, confined to his crate, was as patient as a saint. Words of explanation poured out of me. The money. The keys. The key fob. Rick’s dating profile. His being a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company, meaning he’d know about poisons. I mentioned that Rick might have a scratch on his arm. Zach assured me he’d check it out. Skin tissue, he admitted, had been found under one of Marigold’s fingernails.

Tegan and her mother came to the station to support me. Noeline was a bundle of tears, for the loss of her sister, for learning that Rick was the killer, for realizing she’d been bamboozled. After I was released, the three of us went to my house for a much-needed brandy. We didn’t talk a lot other than to discuss Noeline’s plans to cremate her sister tomorrow. The warmth of the gaslit fireplace soothed us. Darcy, free to roam, tiptoed from one to the other, mewling for affection. Tegan and her mother obliged. Tearfully, at midnight, they left.

The next morning, after a few hours of sleep, I managed my orders. I had to do all the baking at home. Dream Cuisine wasoff-limits until the investigative team released it. Darcy, like a sergeant at arms, micromanaged me by pacing outside the Plexiglas door. I assured him I wasn’t in any more danger, but he didn’t believe me. In fact, if he could, he would have barked orders at me to stay in bed.

At the end of the day, the police informed me I was once again allowed to enter Dream Cuisine. I headed there and finalized everything I needed for Marigold’s memorial. While I organized and baked, I couldn’t tamp down how pleased I was that the pall of having an unsolved murder had been lifted. We could celebrate Marigold’s life knowing who had killed her and why. Her friends, customers, and family wouldn’t be suspects any longer.

On Friday, I picked up my gown from Lillian. She hugged me and told me how relieved she was that I hadn’t been hurt. She added how proud she was to know someone who would risk her life to solve the murder. I wasn’t sure I had. On the other hand, whenever I approached the walk-in refrigerator at Dream Cuisine, I shivered. If Rick had prevailed, would I have survived?

At noon on Saturday, I arrived at Feast for the Eyes. Tegan and Chloe helped me wheel in the cart with all my goodies. The three of us had on the same dresses we’d worn to our mini tea. Vanna showed up a half hour later with the items Tegan had assigned her to make. She’d donned an embroidered teal gown with a plunging neckline and a Celtic cross.

“Pretty necklace,” I said.

“I purchased it at the festival,” she replied, touching the charm. “I might not be of Celtic heritage, but I would have liked to be. I really dig the music and the magical aspect.”

I told her what I’d learned as a girl about the migration. “For all you know, you might have some Celtic blood in your veins.”

Her eyes twinkled with delight. “Thank you, Allie. That’s very sweet of you to say.”

I opened my mouth and pressed it shut. Vanna sure was trying hard to be civil to me.

“I’m sorry Mother’s boyfriend trapped you at Dream Cuisine,” Vanna went on. “You must have been frightened to death.”

“It was pretty scary.”

“What a toad he turned out to be.”

A toad was putting it mildly.

“Where should I lay out the petit fours?” she asked.

“On the rectangular table by the book island.”

Chloe had done a bang-up job of decorating the shop. She’d hung the images ofPride and Prejudice,as well as the quotations, everywhere. There was one long table near the book island covered in a white tablecloth and adorned with daisies, tulips, and daffodils—Marigold adored yellow flowers. All the sweets would be served there. By each of the endcaps, Chloe had arranged smaller tables. I intended to place the savory dishes, like the poached salmon and white soup, on those. We would pass the mini quiches. A beverage table was stationed by the sales counter. We’d decided to offer beer, gin, champagne, and a couple of wine selections, including claret, Marigold’s favorite, as all on the list were Regency Era drinks. Of course, tea, coffee, and water were available as well.

Through a speaker, instrumental music was playing softly. We’d discussed having a string quartet, but ultimately nixed the idea. There simply wasn’t room for them and all the guests. I’d sent Chloe a list of titles to queue up.

At one, the four servers I’d hired to help pass hors d’oeuvres and clean up after the memorial arrived.

At one forty-five, Noeline and Helga shuffled into the shop, letting the door swing shut behind them. Noeline looked elegant in a pale yellow gown with a lace neckline and lace overskirt. The train made it quite dramatic. She’d tamed her bobbedhairdo with a hairband made of rhinestones, pearls, and fake leaves. Helga was in her blue uniform—did she ever dress in normal clothes?

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

Noeline forced a smile. “I’ll manage.” She raised the floral Cloisonne urn she was carrying and confided that her sister’s remains were within.

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