Killer Sweet Tooth Page 17

  “Then I’m giving half my fee back to you,” I said. “Your parents will never know the difference.”

  “I cannot let you do that,” she said.

  “You can and you will. Besides, by allowing me to make this quinceañera cake, you’ve done me a huge favor. I can add this cake to the gallery on my website. It’s the closest thing I have to a wedding cake so far, and people will be impressed with it.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Positive.”

  “My parents,” she said. “They are not bad people.”

  “Of course they’re not,” I said. I tried to sound convincing, but I was angry with Juanita’s parents for treating her the way they had.

  “They did the best they knew how to do,” she said.

  I nodded.

  We both looked at the cake for a moment.

  “It really is lovely,” Juanita said.

  “Thank you.” I began dismantling it and boxing it back up. “I truly appreciate your business.”

  “And I appreciate your friendship, Daphne.”

  AFTER JUANITA LEFT, I sat down on the sofa in the living room and called Ben at the paper.

  “Will you help me figure out if Dr. Bainsworth was dealing in something shady?” I asked.

  “By the tone of your voice, I’d say you’ve already got a theory,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Remember the jewelry photos Myra found in Dr. Bainsworth’s lobby? I think he smuggled the jewelry across the Mexican border.” I pressed my lips together, waiting for Ben’s reaction.

  “How did you make that leap?” he asked. “I thought we’d deduced that the jewelry was his and that he was planning to sell it.”

  “Well, Scottie came by today with the brochure information, and I told him Myra’s theory that Dr. Bainsworth had gone to Nuevo Laredo and become involved in smuggling drugs,” I said. “Scottie agreed that the town has become rough these days and said that it was possible Dr. Bainsworth had encountered some members of a drug cartel while he was there.”

  “So what if he did, Daph? You’re still not explaining how you got jewelry smuggling from photographs in the lobby combined with the suggestion that Dr. Bainsworth ran into some cartel in Nuevo Laredo.”

  “Have you heard rumors about Juanita and how she came to America?”

  “Bits and pieces. I dismissed them, though, because they were either gossip or idle speculation—neither of which is reliable,” he said.

  I grinned. “Spoken like a true reporter. Still, when Juanita came by the house today to look at the quinceañera cake, she filled me in about the man who’d brought her from Mexico to America and agreed to marry her when she was fifteen. She said she couldn’t be certain, but she thinks one of the EIEIO members is that man.”

  “And she didn’t recognize him before now? I mean, her boyfriend is a member, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he’s only been with the group for a month or two,” I said. “But she thinks she saw the guy at the EIEIO meeting the other day whom she was supposed to marry and who scammed her parents. Doesn’t it stand to reason that the same man who swindled a young girl’s family—in Mexico—might be the same one who killed Dr. Bainsworth? What if the dentist also ran afoul of this guy in Mexico?”

  “You don’t think the guy wanted to marry Dr. Bainsworth, do you?” Ben asked with a chuckle.

  “No,” I said. “What I think is that if a man has been involved in one type of shady affair, he’d be a likely suspect to participate in another. Myra and I have suspected an EIEIO member ever since the Sunoco woman reported selling a Coke to an Elvis with blood on his sleeve minutes after the murder. You don’t think those dots require connecting?”

  “Possibly,” he said. “But the fact remains that the EIEIO will be leaving town in a couple days. If we can’t provide solid proof that this man—or any of the other EIEIO members—is guilty of Dr. Bainsworth’s murder, then the police have to let him go. They have no reason to hold him. And you can be fairly certain that he’ll never come back to Brea Ridge.”

  “I know. Still, I think I’m onto something. . . . Don’t you?”

  “I do, sweetheart,” said Ben. “But it’s a stretch to think that a man who conned a young girl’s family has graduated to jewel smuggling within a few short years.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “A bad seed will either reform or become a worse seed. And I’m convinced Dr. Bainsworth was being manipulated. When Myra and I helped clean his office, I noticed there was a photograph of Angela on his desk. I think he still loved her. I mean, I met a married man once who asked me out but said he was devoted to his wife. His excuse was that he liked variety.”

  “If he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have been cheating on her,” Ben said. “Besides, you don’t even know that this man set out to swindle Juanita and her family. After all, he did bring them to the United States as promised.”

  “But then his so-called girlfriends showed up just before the ceremony,” I said. “Don’t you think that was terribly convenient for the groom-to-be?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You think my theory is stupid,” I said, letting my head drop against the back of the sofa.

  “I think the part of it concerning Juanita is. She was a child who got manipulated into a situation by the adults in her life. But your idea about the smuggling might not be so far off base.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Do you really think so, or are you just patronizing me?”

  “I don’t think it’s out of the question,” he said carefully.

  I sighed. “Maybe I am grasping at dandelion fluff here, but it makes sense to me. Dr. Bainsworth meets someone in Mexico who asks him to smuggle a few pieces of stolen jewelry into the country. Dr. Bainsworth either agrees or is forced to comply somehow, but then he double-crosses the thief.”

  “Why would he do that?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he got a conscience, or maybe he decided to sell the jewelry and cut the smuggler out of the deal. But then the night Myra and I arranged to meet Dr. Bainsworth at his office, the smuggler got to the office ahead of Dr. Bainsworth with the intention of finding the jewelry. When Dr. Bainsworth came in and caught him, the thief killed him.”

  “If Bainsworth smuggled jewelry into the country two months ago, why hadn’t he sold it before now? And why is the thief only coming after it now?”

  “I’m thinking maybe Dr. Bainsworth didn’t fence the jewelry right away because he knew the authorities would be looking for it,” I said. “I mean, he knew it was stolen. And I believe he was too smart to behave rashly.”

  “Bainsworth? Too smart to behave rashly?” he asked. “Yeah. Run that one by his divorce lawyer.”

  “All right then, maybe he was trying to find someone who would melt it down or remove the diamonds and gemstones and sell the pieces that way. Finding someone to do that and keep quiet about it might take time.”

  “And the thief?” asked Ben.

  “Maybe the thief came to Brea Ridge at a time when it was convenient for him or at a time when he was supposed to be here anyway. Maybe he came when he knew he’d have a pretty solid alibi.”

  “Like when the EIEIO was coming to town.”

  “It makes sense,” I said. “The EIEIO does mission work all over—including Nuevo Laredo—and Dr. Bainsworth was killed the night the group came to town.”

  “I know I mentioned this the other night—mostly in jest—but do you think it could’ve been Scottie?”

  “No. I don’t think he’s the type,” I said. “Besides, Juanita said her guy’s name was George or Jorge.”

  “That name could be one of many aliases he uses. Contrary to your belief, I think Scottie is perfectly the type. You were right in thinking that might’ve been why he hired you in the first place. He saw you and Myra arrive at the dental office. He knows you found Bainsworth’s body, and he hired you to keep informed about the investigation.”

>   “But Juanita has seen Scottie before, and she didn’t freak then,” I pointed out.

  “Just because he isn’t the villain in Juanita’s story doesn’t mean he isn’t a villain in this one,” Ben said. “Just be careful around him. That’s all I’m asking. I need to get back to work. May I buy you dinner tomorrow night?”

  “I’d like that. I have to go by and set up the EIEIO cake first. Would you like to pick me up here after I’m finished, or would you prefer to meet at the restaurant?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up at home? Just give me a call when you get back.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  After we hung up, I realized Ben had pointed out something I hadn’t considered before. The killer probably had seen Myra and me going into the building. He had to have seen my car at the very least.

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  THE NEXT morning, I got up, took a bath, and got ready to start my day. A cup of café au lait and a biscotti would help to clear my brain fog. I prepared my single-cup coffeemaker, poured a fourth of a cup of skim milk into my mug, and waited. Naturally, the phone rang.

  “Daphne’s Delectable—”

  “Hi, it’s me, Myra.”

  “Good morning,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Have you got a few minutes?” she asked. “I’d like to come over and talk with you.”

  “Come on over,” I said. “I’ll have a cup of hot coffee ready.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You’re a doll.”

  When Myra got to my house, she was wearing her overcoat, boots, and pajamas. She deposited her coat on the hook by the back door and her boots on the rug.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, aghast at her unkempt appearance. That was so unlike Myra.

  “Yeah, I reckon. I’ve just got stuff on my mind.” She slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

  I handed her a cup of black coffee along with some creamer and sweetener. I set the biscotti on the table, retrieved my café au lait, and sat in the chair across from Myra. “Spill.”

  “It’s this Elvis thing,” she said. She put creamer and sweetener into her coffee and stirred. “They’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “I thought you were prepared for that.”

  “I thought I was too,” she said. “But I believe one of those Elvises killed Dr. Bainsworth, and we have to figure out which one it was before they leave here sticking you and me with the blame.”

  “I know.” I sighed and took a drink of my café au lait. “Ben says there’s not enough evidence to prosecute us for killing the dentist. And while I believe that, I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Neither do I,” Myra said. “I figure we go to that banquet hall early and weed out the fat and skinny Elvises and see who we’ve got left.”

  “Ben thinks it’s Scottie,” I said.

  Myra’s jaw dropped. “He does?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know if he really believes Scottie is guilty, but he made some pretty good arguments yesterday about Scottie being our guy. He believes Scottie saw us arriving at Dr. Bainsworth’s office and that he invented the need for a cake in order to stay close to the investigation.”

  “He’s not fat, and he’s not too skinny,” Myra said. “Wonder if he’d meet us out at the Sunoco.”

  I nearly choked on the drink I’d just taken. “What? You want me to call Scottie and ask him to take part in a lineup?”

  “Hey, that’s even better,” she said, warming even more to her idea. “We’ll go to the Sunoco and call Scottie after Hot Lips comes on duty. We’ll tell Scottie that you’ve had a wreck and your car is on its side. We need him and some of the other Elvises—who are in good enough shape—to come and turn your car upright.” She smiled smugly.

  “Yeah, there are several problems with that plan,” I said. “What if Hot Lips has the night off? And what will we do when the Elvises arrive and the car isn’t on its side? And no, we are not somehow turning the car on its side. Furthermore, if the Elvises arrive and Hot Lips is on duty, then how would we get the Elvises to go inside and possibly be identified by her?” Before Myra could speak, I held up my hand. “And this last one’s the kicker—I have to deliver the cake to the convention hall at five thirty.”

  “Well, there goes that perfect plan,” she said glumly.

  We sat in silence for about one entire minute. “I’ve got it,” Myra said, her face brightening. “I’ll go with you to the convention hall to deliver the cake and to help set everything up. Then we’ll mingle with all the Elvises—particularly the ones who fall within Hot Lips’s description—and we’ll talk about dentistry to see if any of them act like they’re uncomfortable.”

  “If we talk about dentistry, everyone will be uncomfortable,” I said. “I mean, how do you work that into a conversation?”

  “I lost a filling, remember?” she asked. “I can talk about that.”

  “I guess it’s worth a try,” I said. I was thinking there had to be a better way. I just hadn’t come up with one yet.

  LONG AFTER MYRA had left, I was still trying to figure out how to draw out the guilty Elvis. I decided to talk with China. She’d helped me think things through before. Maybe she could again.

  I phoned China, and she answered on the first ring.

  “You sound worried,” she said.

  How I could sound worried saying only “Hi, China,” I’ll never know. But she was right. “You’re right. I’m worried about who killed Dr. Bainsworth and the possibility that the killer will leave town without ever being caught.” I explained to her about the jewelry photos Myra found in Dr. Bainsworth’s office and how Angela said they weren’t taken for insurance purposes because she wasn’t into jewelry.

  “And you think the killer went there to find the jewelry?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I laid out my theory about Dr. Bainsworth smuggling the jewelry across the border for thieves and then double-crossing them in some way. “What do you think?”

  “I reckon anything is possible. And that makes a lot more sense than you and Myra clubbing the poor man with a giant toothbrush and a plastic molar.” She snickered. “Any jury that knows Myra would realize she’d have never hurt Dr. Bainsworth—at least, not until after he’d fixed her tooth.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “But I doubt that it would get that far.”

  “Oh, they just don’t have any viable suspects to investigate right now. But if you’re thinking the killer has an eye for antique jewelry, then come on over to my house. I might have just the thing that would draw him out.”

  WHEN I ARRIVED at China’s modest gable-front house, I set off a cacophony of barking. At least five fairly large dogs jumped up on the back fence to “say hello,” and I could hear the yaps of one or two smaller dogs as well.

  China came to the door. “Don’t mind them! They’re loud but not vicious!”

  I smiled and walked down the narrow sidewalk to her front porch. China’s house was white, and she had navy blue metal furniture on the porch. There was a glider and two rockers, one on either side of the glider. The fact that it was sunny today—albeit cold—reminded me of how nice it must be to sit on this porch during the spring and summer evenings.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  Though clean and smelling of lemon furniture polish, China’s living room was cluttered with magazines. There were crime and detective magazines on the coffee table, cooking magazines overflowing from a basket beside a large burgundy recliner, and entertainment magazines stacked at one corner of the sofa. I sat on the uncluttered section of the sofa as a large orange tabby came into the room, gave me the once-over, and then hopped onto the basket beside the recliner and began licking its paws.

  China retrieved a box from a tall table in the hallway and brought it to me. “Here. See if you think this might work to draw out your jewelry thief.”

  I opened the red vel
vet box and gasped. Inside was a large teardrop pendant. The outside of the pendant had a row of tiny diamonds followed by a row of blue sapphires. The next row was filigree leaves, and there was a large diamond dangling in the center of the row. It appeared the chain was platinum. The necklace looked very old and very delicate. I was afraid to touch it.

  “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I said.

  “Thanks. It was my mama’s.” She shrugged. “As you can tell, I’m a bit of a tomboy myself. I never went in for much fancy jewelry. But I figure I can live off this necklace for a few months if push ever comes to shove.”

  “For a few months?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. The last time I had it appraised, it was going for fifteen thousand dollars.” China reached over and gently tapped my chin. “Close your mouth, dear. You look like a fish. Do you have a low-cut blouse you can wear this with?”

  “I can’t wear this, China! What if something happens to it?”

  “It’s insured,” she said, dismissing my concern with a wave of her hand. “And if you don’t wear this necklace, how else are you gonna draw out the thief?”

  “We don’t even know there is a thief,” I said. “I’m just jumping to conclusions.”

  “It seems like a fairly logical conclusion to me,” said China. “Besides, if there’s no thief, you can bring the necklace back to me tomorrow and we’ll at least know we tried.”

  I looked at the necklace again. “But what if there is a thief? And he somehow manages to steal this necklace?”

  “Then we’ll catch him.”

  “How?” I sighed and glanced around the living room, once again zeroing in on the detective magazines. “Mark Thompson, Dr. B’s private detective—”

  “Mark? What about him?”

  “You know Mark Thompson?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Call and see if you can get him to come over here. Tell him I’ll pay whatever he charges.” I hoped I could afford it.

  China called Mark, and he came right over. By the time he got there, she and I were already putting together ideas.