As Long As There's Cake Page 6

  All three of them said they couldn’t identify the man who came in with the gun and took the money. He wasn’t wearing a mask, but they didn’t recognize him even so.

  “I remember that part,” Jerry mused, still writing down what Cookie had told him. “I was still a patrolman back then and I wasn’t involved in much of this case, but you’re right about it being a sensational case in the news. So, imagine the heat I’m getting now from the mayor and the governor and the Feds, too.”

  Cookie smiled at him. She knew that he liked the pressures that came with this job, and of being the man in charge of it all. Kind of like she enjoyed the thrill of a mystery, even when it was interrupting her personal life. She sighed, because here she was again, in the middle of a mystery whether she liked it or not.

  The rest of the story was familiar to both of them. An ending worthy of a blockbuster summer movie. The robber, running from the bank into a waiting car that he’d stolen from Sam Fairbanks over on Clover Lane. Driving like a maniac to that old barn where he’d stashed his single-prop plane, and then taking off for what should have been an easy getaway.

  When that plane crashed just on the outskirts of Widow’s Rest, not even a mile from where it took off, the getaway had come to a fiery halt. The picture of the fire department putting out the flames before it could destroy an entire two acres of planted corn had made all the papers and had even been in a Time magazine. It was a global sensation for a while before fading away into the obscurity of a cold case file at the back of a drawer here in the Widow’s Rest Police Department.

  Now it was going to be back in the headlines, front and center. Cookie was surprised that Jerry had kept it quiet for this long.

  “All I can do is contain it for now,” Jerry said as he scribbled out the last of what Cookie had told him on the notepad. He’d filled three pages so far. “There’s no way a story like this stays quiet forever. So. Graham wants us to think one of these people helped commit this robbery. That’s the card he’s had up his sleeve. Well, well, well. So what do we know about them?”

  These people were Cookie’s friends and neighbors. That’s what she knew about them. Granted, she had never known Ed very well, but everyone in town knew who the local bank manager was. She really didn’t have much to say about him that everyone else didn’t already know.

  “Ed still lives over on Risley Street,” was actually all she could come up with.

  Jerry nodded. “I know him. I have some dealings with him from time to time because he runs the bank and we talk about security for the building as well as for when the money gets transferred to and from the building, that sort of thing. I don’t really know him, I guess.”

  “Me either,” Cookie agreed. “That’s what I was just thinking. I knew Rosalyn. We used to visit at each other’s houses and such. She was a good person. I went to her funeral when she died. Her daughter still lives in town. Mara, the hairdresser. You know her.”

  “Sort of.” Jerry made more notes. “I usually just go to Ralph the barber. I didn’t know her mother at all, I don’t think. I don’t know the other teller Pauline, either. Do you?”

  “Oh, sure. She retired from the bank last year. I think she’s actually living at the Cedar View Retirement Home with her husband.” She waited a moment for him to stop writing, and then added, “That’s sort of my point.”

  “Hmm?” He looked up at her, the pen poised in midair. “What point?”

  She leaned across his desk and tapped one of the yellow pages full of his notes. “How can you suspect any of these people of being involved in the robbery? Ed has kept at the same job for more than twenty years after it happened. Pauline is living in the retirement home and as nice a place as that is, who would live there if they had thousands and thousands of dollars in stolen bank money to live on?”

  “It was more than that,” Jerry argued. “According to the department’s records the bank heist netted more than two million dollars. Split that between the robber and an accomplice, and that was a real fortune back in those days. In fact, it wouldn’t be too shabby now.”

  “Yes, but all of that burned up in the plane crash, didn’t it?”

  Jerry flipped back through his notepad, rereading what he had written, even though this part was from the case file, not what was in front of him. “There were some singed corners of twenty-dollar bills, yes. The rest of it could have turned to ash I suppose. That was the working theory back then, anyway. I don’t think the old chief even bothered to look for the serial numbers of the stolen money to turn up anywhere. As far as he was concerned it was just gone in a blaze of glory. Except, fast forward to today, and according to our prisoner Mister Jonathan Graham that money’s still in town. The accomplice had it the whole time. What was burned up in the plane was just for show.”

  Cookie kept her opinion of what Mister Jonathan Graham had to say to herself. “So he says the money is still here, and he thinks one of these three has it?”

  “One of these two,” Jerry corrected. “Rosalyn is dead. He’s not going to have any kind of leverage if the accomplice is dead, so he must mean one of the two employees who are still alive. Pauline Wallace, or Edward Mayes.”

  “I suppose we should go talk to them, then,” Cookie said sweetly.

  “Oh, really?” Setting his notepad aside, Jerry picked up his sandwich again and took another big bite. He chewed it back, watching Cookie the whole time. “Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about? Me and my officers will go talk to them. We’ll get their statements and compare them to the ones they gave back when the robbery happened… oh, now I get it! You read the file, didn’t you? That’s how you knew about all of this.”

  Cookie didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t want to get Loretta in trouble, either, so she just shrugged.

  “Okay, all right.” Jerry ate the last of the sandwich and brushed his hands clean against each other. “I see I’m going to have to have a discussion with Officer Loretta Hill about keeping our confidential files confidential. Still, you’re not going to interview anybody with us on this case. This is a police matter. All right? You have to leave this one alone, Cookie. I trust you, and I love you, but this one is going to be a big snarl of trouble with everyone’s eyes on me and the media coverage that will descend on this any time now. Not to mention the Feds watching my every move. It’s going to be even worse if I have to testify that I let my wife help me investigate.”

  He was right. She was admittedly a little disappointed, but he was right. This wasn’t a matter for a woman like her to get in the middle of. All these bad things that she didn’t want to have any part of kept happening around her and like she’d already said, she just wanted to live the nice, normal life of a normal baker.

  Well, here was her chance. She would leave the rest of it to him.

  It was hard, though. After all, she’d snuck her way down here with those lunches just so she could see what was going on with the investigation, and maybe contribute in some small way. Which was just what she had done. She had given Jerry the information he needed to start looking into what Jonathan Graham was telling them, and she had done it before Graham could use it to his advantage. Well, that was something, at least. She should be happy with that, and just let the rest of it go.

  Then again, she might know another way to help. She might know someone who wasn’t on the suspect list, but who just might have some firsthand information about the whole thing. Rosalyn Fobare might have died three years ago, but her daughter Mara was still here. It would mean making an appointment to get her hair done at Mara’s salon, but that was for the best anyway. She didn’t much like this new style she had tried out. She needed to go back to wearing her hair the way it used to be. It was just more comfortable being herself.

  “How’s Clarissa?” Jerry asked her suddenly.

  Cookie blinked away her thoughts of haircuts and mysteries and bakers who didn’t know when to quit. “Clarissa? Oh, my granddaughter jumped right in with both feet this morning.
The customers love seeing her again and she’s got just such a good head on her shoulders.”

  It was true. The way Clarissa had smiled at everyone while serving their orders and making change for them showed she was a natural when it came to this sort of business. Although, she wasn’t so sure that ‘good head on her shoulders’ was completely accurate, considering what had brought her granddaughter here in the first place.

  As if Jerry could sense the turn in her thoughts, he asked her, “So the personal stuff that she’s dealing with, the stuff with her and her boyfriend… is that getting any better?”

  Cookie honestly didn’t know. She had hoped to avoid this part of the conversation while she was here but like she’d said, Jerry was too sharp for that. “I think,” she said, “getting her and Rick to work at the bakery is a good start. With some time, and some effort, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  At least, she hoped so.

  Jerry tapped his pen against the pages in front of him. “We’re really calling him Rick now?”

  “I know, I know. It sounds silly to my ears, too, but if it’s what he wants, we’ll just have to respect it.”

  “What does Clarissa say about the whole name change thing?”

  “Not much. Besides, it’s just a different short form of his middle name. Well. I suppose I should get back to the bakery and check on things.” She stood up from her chair, and Jerry did the same, coming around to give her a quick hug. “I don’t want to leave Clarissa alone at the bakery for too long. Not until she’s worked there for a few days.”

  “You know,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “you will have to think about retiring sooner or later.”

  “So will you, Mister Chief of Police,” she teased him. “I’ll retire when you do. Deal?”

  He laughed softly. “I suppose that’s fair. I tell you what, though. Days like this make me think I should have retired years ago.”

  She searched his deep hazel eyes, trying to tell if he was serious or not. She’d never thought of it much back when she and Jerry were just dating, but it was sort of scary knowing he was a police officer and he was expected to throw himself headfirst into dangerous situations when the need arose. She liked that he was a cop. The way he always tried so hard to do the right thing by his community made her proud. But, maybe there was a part of her that would be happier knowing he was retired and used to be a cop. Having her man home and safe every night would be just fine by her.

  She chuckled to herself on the way out of the office. She was one to talk, considering she was about to involve herself into this old robbery case whether Jerry liked it or not. She was hardly in a position to complain about her husband doing the same.

  They made a good team, her and Jerry. She desperately loved him. She knew he loved her just as much. That was the sort of love she wanted Clarissa to have with Rick. She’d had it once with him. Could they find it again, with this addiction ruining their lives?

  Love was the key. Love could cure anything. That was what it was going to take to fix her granddaughter’s life. Love.

  Chapter 4

  The bakery was scheduled to be open until seven o’clock today. Some days Cookie closed up sooner, but this was the first day that she’d been open since her honeymoon trip. She didn’t actually serve meals, although she had several items like ham and cheese turnovers that people liked to grab when they didn’t have time for supper. For the most part, her customers started to trickle off right after five o’clock when everyone was headed home.

  As soon as the clock struck seven, she turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and she and Clarissa began tidying up. They made small talk about the day, and the business, and whether they would need to make more apple puffs for tomorrow since they went so quickly today. People had been very happy to see her again, and the way they bought out her goodies it was like they hadn’t had anything sweet to eat the whole time she was gone.

  The two of them did not talk about anything else. Not about why she had gone to the police station, and certainly not about her and Rick. Cookie tried to bring Clarissa’s fiancé up a couple of times, but each time she did Clarissa would deflect to another subject. Finally, she gave up. There would be time to talk about it later, she supposed. Right now, she had something to do.

  “Will you be all right here for a few hours by yourself?” Cookie asked after everything was set, and the chairs were up on the tables, and the display cases were all cleaned out. “I made a late appointment at my hairdresser’s while I was on my way back from the police station. Thankfully Mara works out of her home. She’s always willing to take people in at odd hours.”

  “Sure, Grandma,” Clarissa said, taking off her apron. “I’ll get started on making some things for tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that would be very helpful, dear. You remember where the recipes are, don’t you?”

  “Of course! I haven’t been gone that long.”

  “You could also take some time and call your mother,” Cookie suggested. “You do need to let her know about the change in your circumstances. I mean all of it, young lady. Not just that you’re staying here now, but all of it. She’s your mother. She deserves to know.”

  Clarissa grimaced at the thought of having to explain all this to her mother. “I know, Grandma, but can’t it wait a day until me and Rick both get settled here? It will be much easier to explain it if I can say that we’re okay, and we’re with you and you’re helping us, and stuff. You know?”

  “Things often seem easier when you put them off, but that only makes it worse in the end.” Cookie pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but this is something you need to do. You and Rick will work through your problems, I have no doubt, but in the meantime, you need to own up to your mistakes. Starting with a phone call to your mother.”

  Her granddaughter twisted the apron in her hands, but she nodded. She knew all of that was true. It was going to be hard for her, but she was tough. Cookie knew she could do it.

  Cream came trotting out from the kitchen, nosing the door open just enough to squeeze himself through. He knew he wasn’t allowed in the bakery during business hours. It would be a serious health code violation if he did. But after hours, like now, he came out to be with Cookie while she did her nightly cleaning up tasks. Her customers were usually aware that she had a dog friend, but none of them every complained if they caught a quick glimpse of him. She was meticulous about keeping her shop clean, too. Not a single person had ever found a dog hair in their pastries. Or one of her hairs, either!

  She bent down low to pat his head and scratch under his little chin the way he always liked. “You be good for Clarissa, okay? You keep her company until I get back.”

  He gave her an arf and lifted one paw, tilting his head to the side.

  “No, you can’t come with me this time,” Cookie told him gently. “I’m just going to get my hair done. I’ll be right back.”

  Cream sneezed at the very idea.

  Cookie chuckled. “All right. You can come with me, I suppose. Mara likes dogs, as I recall. Just you remember which one of us is getting our hair done, okay?”

  He yipped happily, starting for the door before Cookie could even remind Clarissa to lock the doors after her. He was so used to being with her wherever she went, and she had to admit, she liked having him with her.

  She followed him out back of the bakery to where her car was parked. It was a robin’s-egg blue Volkswagen Beetle, small and cramped but with a lot of character. There was plenty of room for her and Cream, though. He jumped into the backseat and immediately put his paws up against the edge of the window, ready for a drive through town.

  The trip to Mara Kelsey’s beauty shop was a short one, just a few minutes. She wasn’t in a hurry, but she did want to be back at the bakery before Jerry got home from the police station. Then again, he had those interviews to conduct, and who knew where that would lead him, so he might be a while. Her appointment would probably take an hour or two, which would put her back at
the bakery in plenty of time.

  “You’re going to be a good dog in here, right Cream?”

  He snuffled at her, as if to say that was a silly question.

  “It might get a little boring, watching me get my hair done. You can just curl up and take a nap, if you like.”

  Gorsey Avenue was a little residential area in the middle of Widow’s Rest, lined with widely spaced homes and neatly mowed lawns and mailboxes standing proudly at the curb. It was a quiet street that went unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t actually from here. Everyone who lived in town knew about Mara’s shop, though. It was the place to go for everything from a trim to a color. She had a wooden sign on a post out in her yard, with a pair of scissors, a comb, and the smiling silhouette of a woman over the words “Mara’s Hometown Hair.”

  The lights were on inside the huge addition Mara had built onto her home to use as her hair salon, but there were no other cars in the little parking area off to the side of her short driveway.

  “I guess it’s just us,” Cookie told Cream. He hopped into the front seat beside her and popped his head up over the dash, whuffing to confirm what she had said. She chuckled at him and rubbed the fur around his neck.

  Cookie didn’t expect there to be any other customers at this time of night. In fact, she’d been planning on it. There were some questions she wanted to ask Mara, of the sort that were better asked in private. Mara was always good about accepting call-ins and accommodating her customers at most reasonable hours.