Dying for Devil's Food Page 12
The scene snapped the tension between Tate and Dwight, who looked less likely to brawl now. Lianne and Brittany each took ahold of Dwight and led him to the back of the room. It was an obvious attempt to keep him away from Mel, for which she would be ever grateful.
At the front of the line, Mel expressed her sympathy to Cassidy’s mom. The woman had no idea who she was, so that was a blessing. She then hugged Megan, who looked pale and exhausted, and told her how sorry she was. Megan nodded, but didn’t look like she had any words to offer. Mel understood and squeezed Megan’s hands one more time before moving on to Dan.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
That was all she got out before Dan folded her into a hug.
“Me, too,” he said. “Thanks for coming. I know, well, I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy, but I appreciate it. It’s good to see a genuinely friendly face in the crowd.”
“If you need anything . . .” Mel let her offer trail off.
“Thanks, but I’m doing all right. I’m sorry about Dwight,” he said. “If he bothers you at all, let me know. He has no business coming after you like that.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” she said. “This is about you, not me. You handled Tucker really well.”
“He was right,” Dan said. He took Mel’s arm and pulled her away from the others. “I wasn’t a very good husband to her. We wanted different things—I wanted a family and she didn’t—and we were making each other miserable. She deserved better than that. We both did.”
Mel put her hand on his arm. “I really am sorry.”
“Thanks, Mel,” he said. “I know you’re getting married soon. Make sure that guy is worthy of you.” Mel nodded, even though it was Joe she was marrying and she was already absolutely positive.
The woman in blue who had been handing out programs approached to talk to Dan.
Mel glanced behind her, hoping for Tate to join her but he was still talking to Cassidy’s mother. Mel had no choice but to move forward. Next stop: the casket. Her stomach cramped. She could feel the stares of everyone in the room on her as she made her way to the big white, glossy, flower-covered casket. It was an open casket, of which she was not a fan. She glanced around for Angie and found her in conversation with Lori, the singer. There was no help for her. She was going to have to look down at Cassidy alone. Oh, man.
Mel wiped her palms on her dress. Was she supposed to pray? Say something? Gaze at Cassidy’s body with deep sadness? What? She’d never had to deal with an open casket for a person she didn’t get along with before.
She decided that bowing her head was the way to go. Still, she walked slowly, hoping that either Tate or Angie would catch up to her. No such luck. Even dragging her heels, she ended up beside the casket by herself.
Cassidy looked peaceful. Her hair and makeup were on point. She was even wearing the only shade of lipstick she’d ever worn, that particularly bright shade of pink. The same one she used to write Mel’s name . . . nope, Mel wasn’t going to go there right now.
She would never know what Cassidy had been about to write in the bathroom. Mel knew it most likely would have hurt her feelings. That’s what Cassidy did. But no more. It was strange to have her childhood tormentor silenced. It was not something Mel had ever really thought about before. This was the woman who had made her life a misery and now she was gone. Despite her moment at the reunion the other night, there was so much more Mel wanted to say to her arch enemy and now she’d never have the chance.
Mel glanced at Cassidy and realized that this was her lone opportunity to let her have it. She could say anything she wanted and get it off her chest once and for all. She could call the other woman out for making her life so bloody miserable. She could even call her all of the names she’d thought of over the years or hit her with all of the zingers she’d wanted to zap her with, the comebacks that had always come to her hours after Cassidy had humiliated her. She opened her mouth to let it out but instead, what came out surprised her.
“I wish things could have been different for both of us,” Mel said. Her voice was a gruff whisper and she was filled with sadness. Not for Cassidy as much as for what could have been. They both could have been different. Their lives could have been different or at least not as difficult.
Feeling overly emotional, Mel headed for a side door. She needed to get it together, to regroup, to stop crying. She wound up in the kitchen. It wasn’t very large, but it had all of the necessary implements to make coffee, tea, or to heat up a casserole or a cake. She wanted cake right now. Or at the very least a sustaining shot of frosting. A nice gob of buttercream would get her through until she could drown her sorrows in a cupcake or two at the bakery.
Maybe there was some canned frosting around here. Yes, it was against everything she believed in but, hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers. She began to forage through the kitchen. There was nothing to satisfy except a box of very hard sugar cubes. She had never been a straight sugar sort of gal. She liked the smooth texture of frosting. The granules of sugar just wouldn’t do it. Plus, she had to consider, what the hell was she doing?
She was in a mortuary at the funeral of her lifelong nemesis and she was foraging through the kitchen like a raccoon sifting through a garbage can. She needed help. Seriously, like an emergency therapy session or, yeah, a cupcake.
She glanced out the side door. There was a small meditation garden out there. She would text Angie and Tate to meet her when they were done, because there was no way she could go back into that room and face their old classmates again. She was done.
Mel pushed through the door and stepped outside. It was a beautiful sunny day in central Arizona. The air was cool, the sun warm, the rose bushes were getting ready to burst into bloom. She figured if she wandered to the far corner of the garden, she could sit under the pergola until her friends collected her.
She could just make out the top of the structure over the tall bushes on either side of the path. It reminded her of the highly manicured gardens she had seen when she’d traveled in Europe. The paths were enclosed in foliage, offering privacy and shade.
She was texting Angie and Tate to meet her, when she heard the low murmur of voices. She was about to turn around and go back, not wanting to run into anyone, most especially Dwight, when she recognized Dan’s voice. Mel paused. She should turn around. She knew that and yet she didn’t.
She stepped around a thick rose bush and there, standing under the pergola she’d been planning to escape to, were Danny and Megan. They were embracing, and it wasn’t a friendly embrace, either. This was a full-on, making-out, spit-swapping lover’s clinch. Mel felt her face heat up in embarrassment and she slid back behind the shrubbery. She was mortified that she’d caught them, but then remembered that they were at the funeral for his wife and her best friend. The scandal!
Eleven
Mel raised her phone and quietly snapped a picture. These two had some explaining to do and she was betting Uncle Stan would be more than a little interested to see this picture. She heard the door behind her open. Someone else was coming. What to do? Did she let them get caught by someone else? She thought about Danny, the boy she had tutored, and Megan, who had never been cruel to her, not really. Both had been caught in Cassidy’s web. Was it any wonder that they were seeking solace in each other?
She coughed, loudly, and then strode back the way she had come. This was the best she could do to help them; now they were on their own. She hurried back to the building. Thankfully, the people who had come out to the garden were not people that she knew, so she could smile and nod and keep going. She needed to get out of here. Pronto.
Tate and Angie were coming out the door as soon as she entered it. She jerked her head in the direction of the garden gate and said, “Let’s go. As in, now.”
“What happened?” Tate asked.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Mel said.
“That’s my man,” Angie said.
“No, no, no,” Mel said. “We just need to leave. Quickly.”
“All right,” Tate said. “But you’re killing me here.”
“Bad choice of words,” Mel said.
“Sorry,” he said.
He hustled them out of the garden and down the side path toward the parking lot. Before they got to the car, he unlocked the doors and they all jumped in as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime. As they were getting ready to pull out, they heard a shout. Mel glanced back and there was Tucker. He was waving.
Mel knew he was trying to wave them down but she pretended he was waving good-bye and raised her hand and waved in return.
“Do not stop, do not slow down,” she said. “I need to talk to you two and it has to be just the three of us.”
“Whoa, okay,” Angie said. She raised her arm and waved at Tucker, too.
Tate merely nodded and kept driving. It was a short drive to the bakery and Mel didn’t want to talk about what she’d learned in public so she made quick work of it in the car. She told them about going to the garden to get some air and then turning the corner and seeing Danny and Megan in an embrace.
“No way,” Angie said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he was just comforting her and it looked weird,” Tate said. “Maybe it was just the angle.”
“It wasn’t the angle,” Mel said. “There is no angle where mouths accidentally open and hands grab butts.”
“You’re positive?” Tate asked.
“I have a picture,” Mel said.
Both Tate and Angie were silent, taking in this shocking bit of news. It was just as well. They had reached the bakery and they had to go back to work with their game faces on.
“What are you going to do?” Angie asked.
“I’m going to give the picture to Uncle Stan,” Mel said. Because she knew this was the right and proper thing to do. “After I talk to Megan.”
“What?” Tate asked. “Are you crazy? If she and Danny murdered Cassidy, you are going to be next on their hit list.”
“He’s right,” Angie said. “Joe will freak out when he hears about this.”
“No, he won’t,” Mel said. “I’m going to bring him into the loop and I’m sure he’ll back me up on this. I don’t really believe that Danny and Megan are capable of killing Cassidy. I need to give Megan the opportunity to explain this before I go to the police.”
“Well, you’re not going alone,” Tate said. He glanced at his wife. “And you’re not going with her. It’s my turn.”
“What do you mean?” Angie huffed.
“You always get to ride shotgun. I’m going to be the backup this time,” Tate said.
“Well, that’s totally uncool,” Angie said. “You know just because you’re my husband doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”
“I would never,” Tate said. He glanced at Angie meaningfully. Then he reached across the seat and rested his palm against her abdomen. “Remember it’s not just about you anymore.”
Mel went bug-eyed. She rocketed forward, sticking her head in between them. “Are you—? No way! And you didn’t tell me—? Angie, a baby!”
“Hold up there, I’m not,” Angie said. “At least I don’t think I am, but I might be, because—”
“We’re trying,” Tate said. “So, Angie is not doing anything risky because there could be a lot more at stake if she gets hurt.”
“As soon as you know, you have to tell me,” Mel said. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Angie said. She put one hand up. “I swear.”
Mel spent the rest of the day thinking about her best friends becoming parents. She was so excited she could barely stand it. They were in their thirties, however, and she knew it might take them a little bit longer to get pregnant. She wondered if she and Joe should start trying as soon as they were married. She hadn’t really gotten on top of the wedding plans as yet. And they were still adjusting to having a cat and a dog.
Captain Jack and Peanut had come a long way in cohabiting but there were moments when they acted up, like when Captain Jack opened the kitchen cupboards and Peanut went to town on her baking supplies, getting flour all over her kitchen. Joe had said it was clearly an accident but when Mel looked at Captain Jack, he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a sassy swish to his tail and she couldn’t help thinking he had tried to get Peanut in trouble.
The other problem was her personal case of wedding post-traumatic stress disorder. She felt as if they’d tried to get this thing done so many times that perhaps less planning would be better. She hadn’t told Joe yet, but she was thinking maybe they could just go to city hall and tie the knot and then throw the church wedding and the big party. She thought the wedding might be less stressful and less likely to be jinxed if they were officially married before they attempted to get married. Of course, there was her mother to deal with and Joe’s parents, who wouldn’t consider them married if it wasn’t in the family church. And, of course, she had to find a dress and pick flowers, a first dance song, bridesmaid dresses—okay, and now she was done. Her brain was shutting down, so she pictured Angie with a baby in her arms and her peace was restored. For the moment.
* * *
Mel called Megan early the next morning and scheduled an appointment to see her at her office. Megan sounded tired, which Mel supposed could be from the grief of losing her childhood friend—or maybe the guilt from murdering her. Either way, she fully intended to badger it out of Megan when she stopped by her office.
She tried to dress more the part of a businesswoman than an old high school acquaintance. It was important to be on even footing with Megan during the interview. When she emerged from her closet-sized office, dressed in a suit jacket and skirt, both Tate and Oz stopped what they were doing to stare at her.
“What?” she asked. She ran her hands over her narrow pale blue skirt and then checked that her white blouse was neatly tucked in and not showing too much cleavage. A strappy pair of low-heeled silver sandals and a matching silver bangle bracelet on her wrist completed the outfit. She had even upped her game and put on makeup, but having them stare at her was not helping the fact that she felt like an imposter. “Seriously, what? Am I untucked? Is a tag hanging out? What?”
“No,” Oz said. He frowned. “You look like a grown-up.”
“Oh.” Mel blinked. She looked at Tate. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, just unexpected,” he said.
“I was thinking that if I’m going to lull Megan into trusting me, then I need to look like someone in her world,” Mel said. “You know, build a rapport, that sort of thing.”
“Well done,” Tate said. He glanced down at his own Ramones T-shirt and cargo shorts. “Since I’m just waiting in the car, I did not dress up.”
“Good thing,” Oz said. “You don’t have the legs for skirts.”
Tate gave him an outraged look and Oz shrugged.
“Come on,” Mel said. She gave Tate a gentle push toward the door. “I have to be there in ten minutes.”
“Fine,” he said. They headed to the door and he said over his shoulder, “I have better legs than some people for skirts.”
“Yeah, not really something you want to bicker about,” Mel said. “Besides, anyone can see Oz has better legs than you.”
“What?”
“He’s younger than you and he skateboards,” Mel said. “What do you do?”
“I . . . I’m . . . You know what? That’s ageist,” he declared. The door banged shut behind them and Mel was pretty sure she could hear Oz laughing.
“It is not ageist,” Mel said. “He’s more th
an ten years younger than you; of course he’s more fit and has better legs. Besides, what do you care? You’re going to be a dad soon, and then it’s sympathy cravings and weight gain.”
Tate hugged his belly and looked at his reflection in the car window. He turned from side to side. “I think I’d be cute with a little pudge.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He unlocked the car and opened the door for her. Mel climbed in and they headed to the building where Megan’s office was located. It was just north of Old Town, in a swanky new building that had been made to look mid-century modern, with loads of glass and edges, and accent colors of lime green and cobalt blue.
When they got there, Tate parked around back and then took out his phone. “Okay, how do you and Angie do this?”
“I call you, you answer the call, but don’t hang up,” Mel said. “You’ll be able to listen in on the conversation and if I get into trouble you can charge in and rescue me or call the police. Did you download that recorder app? If you turn that on and put your phone on speaker, maybe we could get a recording of the conversation, too.”
“You’re scary clever,” Tate said.
“Well, I am Stan Cooper’s niece,” Mel said.
“Did you ever think about being a cop?” Tate asked. “You have a real knack for outing bad guys.”
“Nah,” Mel said. “There are too many rules on the force. Plus, I’d miss baking. Besides, I don’t think Joe is marrying me for my investigative skills.”
Tate laughed. “Yeah, he’s definitely marrying you for your cupcakes.”
“Was that an innuendo?” Mel asked. “Because it sounded like double speak.”
Tate blinked at her, the picture of innocence. Mel shook her head.
“I’m calling you now,” she said. She hit his name in the contacts and when his phone rang he answered the call. Mel turned down the volume on her phone so that if Tate made any noise, Megan wouldn’t hear it come from her phone.