Chapter 18 The Confrontation
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Mia Rossi stood with her finger pointed directly at Beatrice.
"You killed Harrison Finch."
The words seemed to hang in the bakery air.
Beatrice stared at her.
Then she laughed.
It was a small laugh.
Almost gentle.
Almost amused.
"Oh, Mia."
She shook her head.
"You've been baking too long."
Mia lowered her hand.
"I wish I were wrong."
Beatrice turned toward Sheriff Briggs.
"Are you going to let her accuse me like this?"
Briggs didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Mia.
Then at the evidence spread across the table.
"Let her finish."
Beatrice's smile disappeared.
Mia took a breath.
"Everything we've been looking at has been pointing in different directions."
She picked up the napkin fragment.
"At first, I thought this was about Julian."
She held it up.
"The date and time made me think Harrison had arranged a meeting."
Julian shifted in his chair.
"But I was wrong."
Mia looked at Beatrice.
"The date was October 14."
Beatrice said nothing.
"The anniversary of your father's death."
A flicker crossed Beatrice's face.
Mia saw it.
"So I started asking why Harrison would have written down that date."
She placed the napkin on the table.
"Then I remembered something."
Mia looked around the room.
"At the festival, Harrison mocked your father's legacy."
Beatrice's jaw tightened.
"He made a cruel comment about the jam."
"I don't remember that."
Mia shook her head.
"You do."
Beatrice looked away.
Mia continued.
"And you were furious."
"It was an argument."
"It was more than that."
Mia's voice softened.
"That recipe wasn't just a recipe to you."
She touched the old jam recipe.
"It was your father's life's work."
Beatrice looked at the paper.
"He was a difficult man."
"Who?"
"Both of them."
Mia frowned.
"Your father?"
"Harrison."
Beatrice's voice became bitter.
"He always thought everything belonged to him."
Mia felt the tension in the room rise.
"And that's why you hated him."
"I didn't kill him."
Mia nodded.
"Then let's talk about how he died."
She picked up the overturned spice jar.
"Gingersnap found this beside the dessert counter."
Beatrice looked at the jar.
"Nutmeg."
"Yes."
"Every baker uses nutmeg."
"Not every baker uses enough to poison someone."
Beatrice shook her head.
"You're making assumptions."
"Maybe."
Mia looked toward Sheriff Briggs.
"But the laboratory results will tell us whether Harrison was poisoned with nutmeg."
Briggs nodded.
"We're waiting for the final confirmation."
Mia turned back toward Beatrice.
"But even without it, there are things we can establish."
She lifted the bottle of nutmeg oil.
"This was found in Chloe's apron."
Chloe sat silently.
Mia continued.
"You gave it to her."
Beatrice nodded.
"I did."
"Why?"
"I told you. I wanted her to try a recipe."
"Then why did you ask her to keep it hidden?"
"I didn't."
Mia placed the note on the table.
"Your handwriting says otherwise."
Beatrice stared at it.
"I never wrote that."
Chloe spoke.
"You did."
Beatrice looked at her.
Chloe's voice was steady.
"You gave me the bottle."
"I gave you many things."
"You told me to keep it until after the festival."
Beatrice shook her head.
"That doesn't prove anything."
"No," Mia said.
"It proves you had access to the oil."
She paused.
"And it gave you a way to make Chloe look guilty."
Chloe's eyes hardened.
"I trusted you."
Beatrice looked away.
Mia felt a pang of anger.
"That's what you counted on."
Beatrice turned sharply.
"What?"
"You counted on everyone trusting you."
The bakery went silent.
"You were the festival organizer."
Mia began counting the pieces on her fingers.
"You knew where everyone was."
"You knew the bakery."
"You knew Harrison."
"You knew my recipes."
"You knew Chloe."
"And you knew the police would suspect someone else if you gave them the right evidence."
Beatrice shook her head.
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
Mia picked up the photograph of the dead rat.
"Then explain this."
Beatrice stared at it.
"You brought the rat to my kitchen."
"I found it."
"And the threatening note?"
"I found that too."
"Inside my bakery?"
"I was going to give them to Sheriff Briggs."
Mia shook her head.
"You weren't."
Beatrice looked at her.
"You were going to plant them."
"I wasn't."
"You wanted the sheriff to believe I had threatened myself."
Beatrice's expression hardened.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you needed another suspect."
Mia's voice grew stronger.
"First Chloe."
"Then possibly me."
"Anyone who could take the blame while you walked away."
Beatrice looked around the room.
Her eyes settled briefly on Greg.
Then Julian.
Then Chloe.
Mia noticed.
"You were building a maze."
Beatrice frowned.
"What?"
"You planted clues pointing in different directions."
Mia gestured toward Julian.
"The vineyard."
Then Greg.
"His argument with Harrison."
Then Chloe.
"The nutmeg oil."
"And me?"
Mia held up the threatening note.
"You wanted me frightened enough to stop asking questions."
Beatrice's face was pale now.
Mia continued.
"But I didn't stop."
She looked at Gingersnap.
"And neither did he."
The cat was still sitting near Beatrice.
Watching.
Mia smiled faintly.
"Gingersnap found the spice jar."
Beatrice's eyes moved toward the cat.
"He found the hidden recipe."
Beatrice's expression tightened.
"And he found the note in Chloe's car."
Chloe nodded.
Beatrice looked at Gingersnap again.
This time, something changed.
Her face softened.
Only for a second.
But Mia saw it.
Guilt.
Pure guilt.
Beatrice looked away quickly.
Mia felt a chill.
She knew.
Beatrice had just given herself away.
Mia stepped closer.
"You knew what that cat had found."
Beatrice shook her head.
"No."
"You looked at him like you remembered."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do."
Beatrice's breathing became uneven.
Mia's voice softened.
"The whole time, Gingersnap kept finding pieces of your past."
The old toy.
The jam logo.
The recipe.
The nutmeg.
He had been following the scent of things Mia couldn't see.
Beatrice looked down at him.
Gingersnap stared back.
His expression was almost eerily calm.
Beatrice swallowed.
Mia continued.
"And then there is the most important piece."
She looked toward Sheriff Briggs.
"The opportunity."
Briggs nodded.
Mia turned back to Beatrice.
"You were the one who found Harrison's body."
Beatrice shook her head.
"So?"
"You were close enough to him."
"I found him after he collapsed."
"And nobody can account for what happened before you found him."
"I was with the festival committee."
"For part of the evening."
Beatrice opened her mouth.
Mia continued.
"You had access to the bakery."
"I was the organizer."
"You could move around without anyone questioning you."
"That doesn't make me a murderer."
"No."
Mia took a breath.
"But it gave you the opportunity."
Beatrice stood.
"This is absurd."
Sheriff Briggs looked at her.
"Sit down."
She slowly sat.
Mia looked at the evidence.
"The motive."
She touched the recipe.
"The means."
She touched the nutmeg jar.
"The opportunity."
She looked directly at Beatrice.
"And the attempt to frame Chloe and me."
She paused.
"Everything leads back to you."
Beatrice shook her head.
"You have no proof that I poisoned Harrison."
Mia looked at Sheriff Briggs.
"Not yet."
Beatrice smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
Briggs reached into his evidence folder.
"Actually..."
He placed a photograph on the table.
Beatrice stared at it.
It showed the inside lid of the nutmeg jar.
A set of fingerprints.
Sheriff Briggs looked at Beatrice.
"We had the jar processed again."
He pointed to the photograph.
"We found fingerprints on the inside of the lid."
Beatrice didn't move.
Briggs continued.
"They belong to you."
The bakery went completely silent.
Beatrice's face drained of color.
Mia looked at her.
There was nowhere left to hide.
Beatrice slowly lowered her eyes.
And Gingersnap was still there.
Sitting directly in front of her.
Watching.
Beatrice looked down at the ginger tabby.
For one brief moment, the mask completely disappeared.
Her eyes filled with something Mia had never seen there before.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Guilt.
Pure, unmistakable guilt.
Then Beatrice looked away.
But it was too late.
Everyone had seen it.
Mia exhaled slowly.
The final piece had fallen into place.
Sheriff Briggs stood.
"Beatrice, I think it's time you told us what really happened."
Beatrice said nothing.
The clock above the kitchen door ticked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Beatrice closed her eyes.
And Mia knew the confession was coming.