38. Harper
CHAPTER 38
Harper
Garrett’s visit earlier in the day had left me jumpy. Did a coaster left on my car mean someone had been in the house? Or was it just a weird coincidence?
Did it mean I was in danger?
SPS members had been walking the block around the bakery, like soldiers on patrol. There were usually two, walking in opposite directions, and they’d stop in front of the bakery together, come in to check that all was well, then resume their circuit.
I felt a little bit ridiculous about it all. Was this necessary? Or was Sheriff Cordero right and Garrett was letting the case get to him?
Still, I was glad they were there. I didn’t think they could stop my bad luck curse from striking—nothing could—but maybe they’d keep things from escalating. I could live with random bad luck. Burnt cookies, even if they did set off the fire alarm, were nothing compared to being targeted by a killer.
I went back to the kitchen to check the cookies I’d made for the SPS guys. They were cooling on a rack while Mila did some clean-up .
“Hey.” I went to the island where my cookies were cooling and put my hand over them to feel how warm they were. “Are you about ready to head home?”
She didn’t answer. Just kept washing something in the sink.
“Mila?”
Turning around, she popped an earbud out of one ear. “Were you speaking?”
“Right, headphones. I was just wondering if you’re ready to head home.”
“Almost.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help today.” I pointed to her headphones. “What are you listening to? I don’t mean to be nosy, I’m just curious.”
“True crime podcast,” she answered in that odd monotone voice she had.
“Huh. We have a customer who’s really into true crime.” And might actually be a serial killer. “He likes to tell people about the cases.”
“Oh.”
She turned back to the sink.
She wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but at least she was a good baker.
“To each her own,” I mumbled to myself.
The cookies were cool enough to box up, so I grabbed a couple of to-go boxes and started packing them.
“What are those for?” she asked as she dried her hands.
“Oh, the SPS guys.”
“Who are they and why are they continually pacing around the block?”
Sugar cookies, how did I answer that question? I didn’t know Mila well enough to confide in her, and ‘my boyfriend thinks a killer might be after me and wants to make sure I’m never alone’ sounded… a little off.
“Well, they like to keep an eye on the squirrel population. I guess they’re focusing their efforts on our block for now.” I shrugged. “I don’t know, they’re super sweet, so I like it when they’re around.”
Her expression—or lack thereof—didn’t change, so I had no idea if that cleared anything up. “Oh.”
“It’s a Tilikum thing.”
She finally—finally—cracked a little smile. “I like this town.”
“Me too.”
The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “I hope my work was satisfactory today.”
“Yeah, it was great.” Satisfactory? She was so weirdly cute. “You’re doing a great job.”
She gave me a crisp nod. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Have a nice evening, Mila.”
Closing the lids on the boxes, I took them out front. I only had to wait a few minutes before this afternoon’s SPS patrol members, Stan Albert and Russell Haven—apparently a distant Haven relative—appeared in the front window and came inside.
“Hello, gentlemen.” I went around the counter with the boxes. “I have a little something for you to thank you for your time.”
They each took a box. Stan opened his and his eyes widened. Russell brought his up to his nose and inhaled.
“What a treat,” Russell said. “Thank you, Miss Harper.”
“You’re quite welcome. It’s the very least I can do.”
“We don’t mind a bit. But I won’t lie, fresh cookies make it an even more enjoyable task.”
Those two were so delightful. “We’re closing soon, and I won’t need to stay late. So you can get back to your regular lives.”
“No rush,” Stan said. “Just let us know when you’re leaving. Deputy Haven was very clear that we needed to see you all the way to your car. ”
“And make sure you leave safely.”
“Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”
I went to the kitchen while they went back to their patrol, cookies in hand. That made me happy. At least I felt a little less guilty about them giving up their free time to watch the bakery.
“I’m out of here.” Beth hung up her apron and took her purse down from a hook. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bye, Beth. Have a good night.”
There wasn’t much time before closing, but I’d whipped up a couple of batches of experimental cookies that afternoon. Stress baking again? Probably. I had one in the oven—a dozen fig and feta cookies with honey. Maybe a little out there for my Tilikum customers, but they smelled good.
I’d just put the other batch—blackberry almond thumbprints—in the other oven when the front door opened. I set my two timers and went out to the front to greet my customer.
A man in a suit—jacket but no tie—was standing just inside the door. His shirt collar was unbuttoned and he had neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair.
“Hi, there. Can I help you?”
He gave me a friendly smile. “Harper?”
“Yes.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Phillip. I know Garrett.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Do you work in the sheriff’s office?”
“I’m with the prosecuting attorney’s office. But we work closely with the sheriff and his crew.”
He kind of had a lawyer vibe. Sleek and professional. Well-spoken.
“So, Harper, I have a bit of a bone to pick with you.” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and there was a hint of humor in his voice.
Still, something made my stomach twinge a little .
“Oh?”
“People keep bringing goodies from your bakery into the sheriff’s office. Half the time when I go in to meet with someone, I’m greeted by the scent of your cupcakes or cookies.” He put his hands on his middle. “It’s killing my waistline.”
I smiled. “I guess, sorry not sorry?”
“That’s fair. You’re just doing your job. It’s not your fault you do it so well.”
“Thank you. At the risk of killing your waistline a bit more, do you want anything while you’re here?”
His eyes held mine for a few seconds and that twinge in my stomach was back. Was that a pregnancy thing, or were my instincts telling me something?
I was so jumpy with everything that had been happening, I didn’t know. It felt like anyone could make me nervous at that point.
“Yes, I’d absolutely like something.” He broke eye contact and started perusing the pastry case.
The back of my neck tingled and the hair on my arms stood on end. A chill ran down my spine. Was it cold? Maybe the air conditioning had just turned on.
“So, how has Garrett been lately?” he asked, his gaze still on the case. “I talked to Sheriff Cordero a bit ago and he said Garrett is taking some leave.”
“He’s taking a few days off, yeah.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. He’s been working too hard.”
“Yeah. Big case and everything.”
“Right, the Joyner cold case. So much scrutiny. The whole town has been buzzing about it.” He looked up. “Will the intrepid detective catch a killer?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Indeed. A guy like that? We don’t want him on the loose.”
“No, definitely not. ”
He pointed to a row of double chocolate chunk cookies. “How about one of those.”
“Is that going to be all, or would you like more than one? I’m just wondering if I should get you a box or not.”
He put his hands on his middle again. “I’m afraid I need to pace myself. One will have to do. For today, at least.”
I put a double chocolate chunk cookie in a bag and handed it to him, then rang him up. He gave me cash and as I was taking out his change, the door opened again. And in walked Matt.
My eyes widened and my already jumpy stomach did a leap. It was the weirdest thing. He looked so… nondescript. Not even that, he was almost bumbling. Maybe the contrast between him and Phillip was so stark—the sleek lawyer versus the rumpled awkward guy who drove a white van—it made it more apparent. But could I really believe Matt was a savvy thief? An expert at breaking and entering, and possibly responsible for much, much worse?
Phillip took his change and glanced over his shoulder. Was that a flicker of frustration in his eyes? Even anger?
Maybe I was the one who was getting paranoid.
He turned back to me. “Make sure Garrett takes those days off. I think he needs the break.”
“Yeah,” I said absently, looking toward the front window, hoping to see Stan and Russell circle around the block. “He was just going to follow up on a lead, then he’ll go home. Take a break.”
A timer went off in the kitchen. I’d set the one on my phone, but it wasn’t chiming. Why did my bad luck love to mess with timers so much? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked. Sure enough, the timer wasn’t even running.
Oh well, that was why I always used more than one. I set it on the counter. “Excuse me, I have to run back to get something out of the oven. ”
“No problem. It was nice to finally meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
Another chill ran down my spine. I glanced between him and Matt, then out the window. Still no Stan or Russell.
“Be right with you,” I said to Matt and ducked into the kitchen.
The scent of figs and honey filled the air and I hoped the feta would be a nice counterpoint to the sweetness. I took the perfectly browned cookies out of the oven and set them on the island. At least I hadn’t burned them.
But I still had to deal with Matt.
Wishing Phillip hadn’t left, or that Stan and Russell would come back, I went out front. Matt stood in front of the pastry case, hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans. His beard was slightly less scraggly than usual, but his hair was matted down on top, like he’d been wearing headphones.
I pondered for a second while he looked over the selection. Garrett and I had wondered if Matt was behind everything. But him? Was he an expert lock-picker? A man with an uncanny ability to blend in, go unseen, and get in and out of someone’s house without leaving a trace?
He scratched his backside. I was really starting to wonder.
Although, for all I knew, the guy I was seeing was an act, and all those true crime stories weren’t things he’d heard on a podcast. They were stories of things he’d done.
“What are those?” He pointed to the case.
His voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Um, chewy pistachio cookies.”
“Did you make them?”
“Actually, no.”
He glanced up in surprise.
“We have a new baker. She made them earlier today.”
His eyebrows drew together and he took a deep breath, as if this were a very difficult decision. “Okay. I’ll try one.”
I got one out and put it in a bag, then rang him up .
“I don’t know if anything can be as good as the stuff you bake, but maybe.”
“Trust me, she’s very good.”
Stan and Russell finally appeared in the window. They looked in and I tried to make a subtle get in here gesture. Fortunately, Matt didn’t seem to notice. He was busy pulling out his cookie and inspecting it, like he’d never seen one before.
They came into the bakery and shared a glance, like they weren’t sure what to do next. I mouthed, it’s okay, just wait here . They nodded. Apparently they understood.
Because what did I really want them to do? Ask Matt to leave? He hadn’t done anything. He was just taking his time, sampling his cookie. He hadn’t tried to get me to leave with him in his van. He hadn’t even told me any new crime stories.
That was a relief.
Hopefully, if Matt had anything nefarious in mind, just having other people around would be enough.
He took a bite of the cookie and as he chewed it, his expression brightened. “Wow. I’m sorry, Harper, but this might be my new favorite.”
“That’s great. No need to be sorry. We just want happy customers.”
“This makes me very happy.”
I couldn’t help but smile. If I hadn’t been concerned that he might be a secret serial killer out to murder me, I could have found him awkwardly endearing.
“See you later,” Matt said out of the blue and turned around, still eating the rest of his cookie, and left.
That had been anticlimactic.
“That was him, right?” Russell asked. “The one we’re supposed to look out for?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Harper. We’ll stick around in case he’s lurking about. ”
A white van drove by the front window. “I think that was him leaving, but thank you.”
They sat at one of the bistro tables by the window as I busied myself with getting ready to close. I’d be so relieved when I could finally go home.
Paul and Marlene’s home, to be specific. Which I didn’t mind. But it was a reminder that all was not well.
I just hoped whatever lead Garrett was following would give us some answers. Maybe even all the answers.
And that no one was waiting to ambush me when I went out to my car. Matt might not have looked like a cold-blooded killer, but he was a lot bigger than me. I glanced at Stan and Russell. They weren’t exactly spring chickens. Maybe between the three of us, we could ward off an attacker.
But as I’d heard Garrett say before, whoever was behind all this was good. Very good. I had a feeling he couldn’t be underestimated.
And it might take a lot more than a couple of sweet, good-hearted SPS volunteers to keep me safe.