Caramel Crush Page 4

  Mel approached the unmanned front desk, hoping to find someone who could tell her where to find Mike. She really didn’t want to give him his cupcakes in front of everyone. Even if that would make Diane’s day, it was not part of the agreement and it would make Mel feel petty and mean.

  “Hello?” she cried. There was no answer. She stood awkwardly in front of the desk, hoping someone would appear. The moments ticked by and she heard Diane’s voice bark out of her phone.

  “What’s going on?” Diane demanded. “Where is he? Did you give them to him yet?”

  “There’s no need to yell,” Mel said. “I’m right here.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing,” Mel said. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone at the front desk. Is that normal?”

  “How should I know?” Diane asked. “It’s not my business. I don’t know their SOP.”

  Mel blew out a breath. Again with the acronyms; this one for standard operating procedure. How appropriate. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

  “Deliver the cupcakes.”

  “Fine. Where is Mike’s office?”

  “Do you see the door behind the front desk?”

  “The one that reads Personnel Only?” Mel asked. “Yeah, I see it.”

  “Go through that,” Diane said. “It leads to the offices and the warehouse in back. It could be that they’re having a meeting in a conference room or something.”

  “This is making me really uncomfortable,” Mel said. That was an understatement and a half.

  “Buck up. I think we both know how “uncomfortable’ I made myself in order to save your behind. Yes?”

  “Yes. All right. I’m going into the back.”

  Mel closed her eyes, trying to channel her patience. Had Diane always been this manipulative or was she just seeing it more clearly now that she was on the receiving end of it?

  She walked around the vacant desk and into the back. Juggling her purse, her phone, and the cupcakes made it tricky, as the last thing she wanted was to drop the cupcakes and ruin Diane’s revenge, thus keeping her debt alive and well. No, no, that sucker needed to be paid in full.

  The door to the back was a swinging door. She pushed it open, fully expecting an alarm to sound because she wasn’t an employee. Quite the opposite, it was eerily quiet as she walked down the carpeted hallway. Office doors were open but no one was about. She noticed that the offices got bigger the farther she got away from the front, so she slowed down to read the name plaques beside each office, hoping she would find Mike’s.

  “Diane, something isn’t right,” Mel said. “There is literally no one here. It’s creepy.”

  “Have you reached Mike’s office yet?”

  Mel glanced at the nameplate on the second-to-last door. “I’m standing in front of it now.”

  “Oh, goody,” Diane squealed. Mel was pretty sure she heard her clap, too. “Go ahead in and make sure I can hear him when he reacts to the cupcakes.”

  Mel heaved a sigh. She shifted the cupcakes and rapped her knuckles on Mike’s door. There was no answer. She tried the knob. It was unlocked. Desperate to get out of there, she pushed it open, hoping to find Mike, deliver the goods, and scram. The door swung open and she glanced inside.

  “It’s empty,” she said.

  “What?” Diane asked. “Where is everyone?”

  “Not here,” Mel said.

  “Go into the warehouse,” Diane ordered. “I bet they’re having a meeting. You can surprise him in front of everybody. It’ll be even better that way.”

  “Better for who?” Mel asked.

  “Whom.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Just go.”

  Mel turned and left the office. She hoped with all of her might that the door to the warehouse was locked. It made sense that they must all be in there but the idea of humiliating Mike, a stranger, in front of all of his employees made her stomach cramp. Mel wasn’t a fan of confrontations unless she was confronting a really big piece of chocolate cake with a fork.

  Unfortunately, the door opened with a solid push. Mel stepped into the concrete cavern, expecting to find a crowd of people. Instead, it was as empty as the offices had been.

  “Hello?” she called out. Her voice echoed against the large metal shelving units.

  At a glance, she saw everything a party planner could ever hope for in their professional life. There were dunk tanks, photo booths, margarita machines, piñatas in every shape imaginable, glassware, tablecloths in every hue of the rainbow, pergolas, plastic flowers, pedestals, tables—truly, the warehouse seemed to go on and on and it was stuffed from floor to rafter with party supplies. Mel was immediately relieved that Angie had not come with her, because it would have caused her to second-guess every single thing she had chosen for her wedding thus far.

  “Hello?” she called out again.

  There was no answer, not even from the giant blow-up clown in the corner, although honestly he looked a little deflated. Mel could relate.

  “Diane, seriously, there is no one here,” Mel said. “I could throw a cupcake across the warehouse and not hit a living being. It’s a ghost town in here.”

  At the word ghost, a shiver wiggled up Mel’s spine and she shuddered. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous.

  “There has to be someone there,” Diane argued. “The front door was unlocked. Would they really risk having all of their merchandise ripped off by not locking the doors?”

  “I can’t really imagine who is going to run off with a bunch of deflated bounce houses,” Mel said.

  “Maybe they’re in the back of the warehouse,” Diane said. “Just do a walk-through so we know for sure that no one is there. You know, if you don’t find him now, you’re going to have to wait for him or come back later.”

  Mel grimaced and clenched her fingers around her phone, pretending it was Diane’s neck. Then she cleared her throat.

  “Or I could just leave the cupcakes in Mike’s office for him to find whenever he gets in,” she said.

  “No, that is completely unacceptable,” Diane said. “I have to hear his reaction to the realization that I am dumping his ass.”

  “Okay, come clean,” Mel said. “I get that you’re miffed because you found out he is marrying you for your money, but this gesture seems, I don’t know, angrier than that.”

  “Maybe that’s because I thought I’d finally found the one,” Diane said. “I really thought he and I had something special and then I find out that it’s just my bank account. I . . . I . . .”

  Her voice trailed off and Mel heard genuine hurt in her voice. Given that franchising the bakery sucked up every bit of free cash she, Angie, and Tate had at this point, she couldn’t really imagine what it was like to have a flush bank account. When she thought about Joe, however, and imagined being loaded with money, she knew it would devastate her to find out Joe was only after her bottom line, as it were. Suddenly, being broke seemed not so bad.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll walk the warehouse,” she said. “I’ll find him and you’ll get your epic breakup.”

  “Thank you, Mel,” Diane said. “You’re the best!”

  “Yeah, yeah, says the woman who is getting her way,” Mel grumbled, but it was without real complaint.

  She strolled down one wide aisle, looking for someone, anyone, who could tell her where Mike was. Tanks of helium were stored by enormous bins of balloons in every conceivable color. For a second she thought about doing the inhale-helium-and-talk-in-a-squeaky-voice thing, but good sense prevailed and she turned around and went down the next aisle.

  She was halfway down when she noticed a portable ball pit. It had clear sides of thick Plexiglas and was full to bursting with bright colored balls the size of baseballs. Even more tempting than the helium, Mel had to fight the urge to jump in feetfirst.

&n
bsp; “Did you know they have a portable ball pit?” she asked Diane.

  “Yes, we set it up for a party once,” Diane said. “It was totally fun until some drunkard threw up in it. So gross.”

  Mel frowned at the ball pit. Vomit would be a buzzkill. Then she felt her breath catch and the blood drained from her head in one big swoosh, making her dizzy. She blinked as she staggered, but there was no denying what her eyes were seeing. Pressed against the clear side of the pit was a man’s hand, clutching a bright yellow ball.

  Five

  “Uh, Diane.” Mel’s voice sounded high-pitched and panicky even to her own ears. “There’s a hand.”

  “What?” Diane asked. “A hand? What are you talking about?”

  “In the ball pit,” Mel said. Her voice was definitely wobbly now; in fact, her whole body was wobbly as she began to shiver and shake. “Help.”

  That last part hadn’t been for Diane but for anyone who might be somewhere in the warehouse, hearing her have a complete and total meltdown.

  “Help? Mel, what is going on?” Diane’s voice was a cross between irritated and alarmed, for which Mel really couldn’t blame her.

  Mel took a steadying breath. Maybe she was panicking prematurely. It could be that one of the guys who worked here was inordinately fond of the ball pit. Perhaps he had just climbed in to play, and while in there he had fallen asleep and was taking a nap. There was no reason to assume the worst.

  “Mel, what the hell is going on?” Diane snapped. “You aren’t making any sense.”

  “There’s someone in the ball pit,” Mel said.

  “Is it Mike?” Diane asked. “That would be just like him. He’s so immature. If it is, make him get out and look at the cupcakes and switch over to video on your phone so I can see his face.”

  “Hang on,” Mel said. “I need to put the cupcakes down.”

  She glanced around the area and saw some shelf space nearby. She put the box of cupcakes and her purse on the edge and then returned to the ball pit.

  She stood by the hand that was still clutching the yellow ball and knocked on the glass. She braced herself for the person inside to jump when they heard her knock. There was no movement. Mel felt her stomach twist. This was not good. So not good.

  Maybe the person was listening to music and didn’t hear her. Joe did that all the time. He put in his earbuds, and she didn’t see them and then discovered she’d spilled out her whole day to him while he listened to music and heard none of it. They’d had a few discussions about it, which now led to her always starting the conversation with, “Do I have your full attention?” and making sure he answered before she launched into her daily tirade about whatever, although lately it was usually Angie and “the wedding.”

  “What’s happening?” Diane demanded.

  Mel ignored her and rapped on the glass again, harder this time. The fingers didn’t move, not so much as a twitch. Mel glanced over the side of the ball pit, which sat as high as her nose, causing her to stand on tiptoe to look inside.

  She could just make out a tuft of brown hair visible between the balls. The rest of the person was buried—oh, bad choice of words—deep in the pit.

  Mel reached over the side, but she couldn’t reach the person. She knocked on the glass again. Nothing. She kicked the side of the pit. The balls jiggled a bit in response but the person didn’t move.

  There was no other choice. She was going to have to go in.

  A ladder, like the sort used to climb into an aboveground swimming pool, was perched on the far side of the ball pit. Mel walked around, hoping the person would move before she had to climb in there. They did not.

  “Diane, I don’t want to alarm you, but the person in the ball pit is not moving,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Diane asked.

  Stress made Mel’s temper short. “What do you mean what do you mean? Did I stutter? There’s a freaking body in the ball pit!”

  “A body?” Diane’s normally bossy tone was downgraded to one full of concern.

  “Yes, a body,” Mel said. Now she sounded like she was on the verge of tears, which was not inaccurate. She could feel the sobs welling up just beneath the surface.

  “What are they doing in there?” Diane asked. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Mel said. “Look, I think I have to climb in there and see if they’re okay.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  “Says the woman who does not actually have to go in there.”

  “Don’t take it out on me,” Diane said. “It’s not my fault you found a body.”

  “Really? Because I’m thinking if I wasn’t here on this vindictive errand of yours, I wouldn’t be here right now, climbing into a ball pit with a body.”

  “Maybe they’re napping,” Diane said.

  “Huh.” Which was the nicest grunt Mel could come up with as she hauled herself up the ladder with one hand.

  The ladder was wobbly and rickety and she felt like it would snap under her weight at any second. If ever there was a ladder that was built for children, this was it.

  Mel stood on the second-to-top step and leaned over the edge. She reached out a hand to see if she could grab any part of the person in the pit, but her reach was too short and she couldn’t see through the balls. She was going to have to dig.

  “Diane, I’m putting you on speaker,” she said. Then she tapped the screen to do just that and tucked the phone into the front of her tank top.

  Once the phone was secure, Mel used both hands to scoop away some of the balls so she could see the body. A black polo shirt was revealed. Much like the hand she’d seen through the side had been big and square like a man’s, so was the torso that was revealed. She went up another step on the ladder and leaned farther into the pit so she could follow one of the arms until she found the wrist.

  The skin was cold to the touch and she shivered. She put her fingers on the pulse point just above the snazzy silver band of the man’s wristwatch. She couldn’t feel anything. She started to panic but then remembered she’d never been very good at finding her own pulse, never mind anyone else’s.

  She climbed up onto the edge of the ball pit. She had to find the guy’s face; that was the only way she’d be able to tell what was happening. Mel lowered her feet into the pit, hoping she wasn’t stepping on some part of him she couldn’t see.

  “What’s happening?” Diane asked. She sounded worried.

  “I’m trying to dig him out,” Mel said. “Hang on.”

  Mel shoved aside armfuls of the happy-colored balls. They poured back, filling the void, making the whole process a bit maddening. The tears Mel had pushed aside now felt like they were roaring back, ready to spill over her eyelids at any provocation. Also, her nose was starting to run.

  “Damn it,” she cried.

  She began to shove armfuls of balls over the side of the pit. The only way she could dig out the body was to get rid of them. She grunted with effort as she sent dozens of balls spilling across the warehouse floor. Finally, she was able to see more of the body, which was angled so that the head was facing up but was lower than the rest of the body.

  Mel scooped up armfuls and tossed them again and again until her fingers brushed something sticky and wet. She turned her hands up and noticed that they were covered in blood. A yelp came out of her throat and then a sob. She glanced down and saw that the face had finally been revealed, what was left of it anyway, and it belonged to Mike Bordow. The Party On! owner had clearly jumped into his ball pit for the last time.

  Before she could stop it, Mel’s breakfast staged a rebellion and just like any kid hopped up on too much junk food and too much time spent playing in the ball pit, she barfed all over the brightly colored balls and Mike Bordow’s black polo shirt.

  “Mel? Mel? Are you there?” Diane cried. “What’s happening?”
>
  Retching, Mel staggered through the balls to the side of the pit. Her hands were shaking as she hauled herself up and out of the ball pit and collapsed onto the cold concrete floor in a heap. Mike Bordow was dead. Deader than dead. And she had found him. Why? Why her? Why? Why? Why?

  The snot and tears came out like an avalanche. She was shaking and her teeth were chattering and all she could taste was the bile in her mouth. All around her, at odds with her state of crisis, brightly colored happy plastic balls littered the floor.

  “Mel!” Diane was screeching now. “Answer me!”

  Mel pulled her phone out of her shirtfront. She used the hem to wipe the tears and snot from her face.

  “Hang up, Diane,” she said. “Hang up and call 9-1-1. I found Mike and he’s dead.”

  Silence came from the phone.

  “Diane, did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.” Her voice was faint. “Are you . . . su—sure?”

  “Yes.” Mel pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead. “I need to call my uncle and you need to call the Scottsdale Police Department. Do it. Do it now.”

  “Uh . . . okay,” Diane said. Her voice was shaky and Mel realized that she had just told her friend that the fiancé she had so looked forward to breaking up with was dead.

  “I’m sorry, Diane,” Mel said.

  “Me, too,” she said. She ended the call.

  Mel scrolled through her contacts until she found her uncle Stan’s name and number. He was her late father’s younger brother and had been a member of the Scottsdale Police Department for as long as she could remember. He’d been working as a homicide detective for over a decade and Mel had never been more grateful for his line of work than she was right at this moment.

  “Cooper,” he barked into his phone after the second ring.

  “Uncle Stan, it’s Mel,” she said. Relief swept through her at the sound of his familiar gruff tone.

  “So the caller ID said. What do you need, kid?” he asked.

  He sounded unhappy and Mel knew that he still blamed her for the departure of his last partner, Manny Martinez, who had relocated to Las Vegas just a few weeks ago. It wasn’t Mel’s fault that he had fallen head over heels with Holly Hartzmark, the former showgirl turned baker, who had opened their first Fairy Tale Cupcakes franchise on the Strip, but there was no talking Uncle Stan out of his annoyance with her. Still, she needed him.