Chapter 10 A Crumbling Trust
Mia Rossi had spent the night telling herself that everything would make sense in the morning.
It didn't.
Morning came anyway.
The sunlight spilled across the front windows of The Honeycomb Bakery, turning the glass jars on the shelves golden. The ovens warmed the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread slowly replaced the stale scent of yesterday's worry.
It should have felt comforting.
Instead, Mia felt tired.
She had barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the same things.
Harrison Finch lying beside the dessert counter.
The overturned spice jar.
The threatening note.
The broken evidence locker.
Greg sitting in his car across from the sheriff's office.
And the question that refused to leave her alone.
Who was trying so hard to hide the truth?
Mia stood behind the counter and rubbed her temples.
"Gingersnap?"
The ginger tabby was sitting in his usual window spot.
He looked at her.
"I don't know what we're doing anymore."
Gingersnap blinked.
Mia sighed.
"That's not very helpful."
The cat yawned.
"Yes. I know."
She turned toward the kitchen.
She needed to work.
Work was predictable.
Recipes were predictable.
People weren't.
She pulled a bowl from the shelf and began measuring flour.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes landed on the recipe book.
The old book lay beside the mixing bowl.
Inside it was the napkin fragment.
Or rather, it had been.
Mia frowned.
She opened the book.
The napkin was still there.
She touched it carefully.
October 14.
7:30 P.M.
She still didn't know what the date meant.
But she knew it mattered.
Someone had broken into the sheriff's office to steal it.
That alone made it important.
Mia closed the book.
Then she heard the bell.
Chloe walked in.
"Morning."
Mia looked up.
"Morning."
Chloe smiled.
"You're here early."
"So are you."
"I couldn't sleep."
Mia nodded.
"Me neither."
Chloe walked behind the counter and placed her bag down.
Gingersnap immediately jumped from the window seat.
He approached Chloe.
Mia watched.
Normally, Gingersnap greeted Chloe without hesitation.
He rubbed against her legs.
Purred.
Demanded attention.
Sometimes he even followed her into the kitchen.
This time was different.
He approached slowly.
He sniffed Chloe's shoes.
Then her legs.
He sniffed again.
His ears tilted sideways.
He backed away.
Mia frowned.
"Gingersnap?"
The cat stared at Chloe.
He wasn't hissing.
He wasn't growling.
But he wasn't purring either.
He looked confused.
Chloe noticed.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know."
Gingersnap took another cautious step forward.
He sniffed Chloe's apron.
Then backed away again.
Mia felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach.
"That's strange."
Chloe laughed nervously.
"Maybe he doesn't like my perfume."
"You aren't wearing perfume."
"Then maybe he woke up grumpy."
Gingersnap sat down.
He stared at Chloe.
Mia watched him.
She couldn't explain why, but the cat's uncertainty bothered her.
"Are you okay?" Mia asked.
Chloe looked at her.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"I'm fine."
Mia nodded.
She wanted to believe her.
She really did.
They worked quietly for the next hour.
Chloe prepared the dough.
Mia made the cream.
Neither mentioned the murder.
Neither mentioned Greg.
Neither mentioned the stolen evidence.
Eventually, Chloe reached for something inside her apron.
A small bottle dropped onto the counter.
It landed with a soft glass clink.
Mia looked down.
Her heart stopped.
The bottle was small.
Dark glass.
A little cork at the top.
And a handwritten label.
NUTMEG OIL
Mia stared at it.
Chloe noticed.
"Oh."
She picked it up quickly.
Mia didn't move.
"What's that?"
"Nutmeg oil."
"I can see that."
Chloe gave a nervous laugh.
"I've been experimenting with a new recipe."
"What recipe?"
"A spiced honey cake."
Mia looked at the bottle.
"You've been carrying it in your apron?"
"I was going to use it today."
"Why?"
Chloe shrugged.
"Because I need to measure it."
Mia's mouth went dry.
She remembered the spice jar.
The nutmeg.
The possibility that Harrison had been poisoned.
Then another memory surfaced.
Beatrice's garden shed.
The day Gingersnap had led Mia to the hidden recipe box.
Mia had seen a small bottle there.
The same dark glass.
The same shape.
The same handwritten label.
She looked at Chloe.
"Where did you get that?"
Chloe's expression changed.
"I bought it."
"Where?"
"At a specialty shop."
"Which one?"
"Why are you asking?"
Mia couldn't answer.
She was staring at the bottle.
It looked exactly like the one she'd seen in Beatrice's shed.
"Chloe."
"What?"
"I've seen that bottle before."
"Where?"
Mia swallowed.
"In Beatrice's garden shed."
Silence.
Chloe stared at her.
"What?"
"I saw one just like it."
"Mine?"
"I don't know."
"Then how can you say it's the same?"
"I can't."
Chloe put the bottle down.
"Mia, you're scaring me."
"I'm sorry."
"Do you think I stole it?"
"No."
"Do you think I killed Harrison?"
"No."
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
Chloe noticed.
"You hesitated."
Mia's heart sank.
"I don't know what to think."
Chloe stepped back.
"After everything?"
Mia closed her eyes.
"Chloe, someone used nutmeg—or something connected to nutmeg—to kill Harrison."
"We don't know that."
"Gingersnap found the spice jar."
"The cat found a jar."
"A jar of nutmeg."
"So?"
"So someone broke into the sheriff's office and stole the evidence."
Chloe stared at her.
"And now you think I have something to do with it because I have nutmeg oil?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Mia looked away.
She hated this.
She hated the suspicion.
She hated the questions.
Most of all, she hated questioning Chloe.
Chloe had been there from the beginning.
When Mia first rented the bakery.
When the first oven broke.
When Mia nearly gave up.
When customers stopped coming.
When the first good review appeared.
Chloe had been there through all of it.
She was family.
Or at least Mia had thought she was.
"I trust you," Mia said quietly.
Chloe's eyes softened.
"Then act like it."
Mia looked at her.
"I want to."
"Then do."
Mia reached for the bottle.
Chloe immediately pulled it away.
"Don't."
Mia stopped.
"I just want to see it."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Chloe held the bottle tightly.
"You've been investigating this case for days."
"Yes."
"And now you're looking at me like I'm a suspect."
"I'm trying to understand."
"No."
Chloe shook her head.
"You're trying to find someone to blame."
Mia flinched.
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
The question hung between them.
Gingersnap stood nearby.
His eyes moved from Mia to Chloe.
He looked just as uncertain as Mia felt.
Chloe put the bottle back into her apron.
"I'm going home."
Mia watched her.
"Chloe."
She stopped.
"I'm sorry."
Chloe turned.
"For what?"
"For not knowing what to believe."
Chloe's expression broke.
"You should believe me."
Then she walked away.
The bell chimed as the door closed behind her.
Mia stood completely still.
The bakery felt enormous.
And empty.
Gingersnap slowly approached her.
Mia looked down.
"You don't know either, do you?"
The cat didn't answer.
He sat beside her.
Mia lowered herself onto the stool.
She felt tears gathering in her eyes.
She blinked them away.
"Everyone has a secret."
Gingersnap stared at her.
"Greg lied."
She swallowed.
"Julian had a motive."
Another breath.
"Beatrice had a whole history with Harrison."
She looked toward the door.
"And Chloe has nutmeg oil."
Mia rubbed her face.
"This isn't supposed to happen."
Gingersnap nudged her hand.
She stroked his head.
"I just wanted to bake."
The cat purred softly.
Mia smiled sadly.
"You're the only one I know I can trust."
Gingersnap looked toward the kitchen.
Mia followed his gaze.
The empty doorway.
The mixing bowls.
The bottle of vanilla.
The flour.
The ordinary things that suddenly didn't feel ordinary anymore.
She remembered Beatrice's words.
Some things are better left in the past.
She remembered Greg's anger.
Julian's charm.
The threatening note.
The stolen evidence.
And now Chloe.
Mia had spent the last few days trying to find the person responsible for Harrison Finch's death.
Instead, the mystery was tearing apart every relationship around her.
She stood slowly.
Her eyes fell on Chloe's empty workstation.
The friendship bracelet hanging from the hook.
The apron she'd left behind.
The little things that had once made the bakery feel like home.
Mia's chest tightened.
What if Chloe had lied?
What if the nutmeg oil wasn't for a recipe?
What if Beatrice's bottle really was the same one?
What if—
Mia stopped herself.
She didn't want to think it.
But the doubt was already there.
And doubt was dangerous.
Because once trust began to crumble, every innocent thing started looking suspicious.
Mia looked toward the door.
Then at Gingersnap.
The cat stared back at her.
Neither of them knew what to believe.
And for the first time since the murder, Mia felt completely alone.
She had thought the hardest part of solving a murder would be discovering the truth.
She was beginning to realize it might be surviving what the truth did to the people she loved.
Mia stared at the doorway where Chloe had disappeared.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She whispered the words she was afraid to admit.
"I don't know if I can trust anyone anymore."
She looked down at Gingersnap.
"Not even her."
And somehow, saying it aloud hurt more than she expected.