CHAPTER TWENTY
Grisham's Bakery sat on a quiet corner in a modest strip of shops about fifteen minutes from the center of Richmond.
The storefront had a cheerful yellow awning and large windows that displayed hand-painted signs advertising daily specials.
Kate could see through the glass that the interior was decorated with pastel colors and vintage baking equipment mounted on the walls as decoration.
Small round tables with mismatched chairs filled the seating area, and a long display case ran along the left wall.
When Kate and Sloane walked in, a bell chimed above the door. The smell of sugar and butter hung in the air, though the bakery was clearly past its busy morning rush. Only one customer sat at a corner table, an elderly woman nursing a cup of coffee while reading a paperback novel.
Behind the display case, a woman in her late thirties was wiping down the glass with methodical strokes. She had blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and wore a white apron over jeans and a pink t-shirt. She looked up when they entered, her expression shifting from neutral to wary.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
Kate pulled out her credentials. "Jennifer Grisham? I'm Agent Kate Wise with the FBI. This is Agent Sloane. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Jennifer set down her cleaning cloth and studied them for a moment. "This is about those murders, isn't it? The Second Act Success women."
"Yes," Kate said. "We're speaking with several people connected to the program, hoping to find some answers."
"Because of my Facebook comments, yeah?" Jennifer's tone was flat, resigned. "I figured someone would show up eventually."
Sloane stepped forward. "You posted some pretty harsh criticism of the program and its graduates. Can you tell us about that?"
Jennifer sighed and glanced toward her lone customer, who seemed absorbed in her book.
She didn’t bicker or argue, but she still didn’t look too happy to be revisiting that part of her life.
"Look, I was frustrated when I wrote those posts.
I'd had my first month with a financial loss, and seeing those women getting all this attention and success while I was barely keeping my doors open just got to me.
I said some things I probably shouldn't have. After I was kicked out of the group, I emailed the administrator to apologize but I never heard anything back.”
"You suggested the program was rigged," Sloane said. "That Crawford was playing favorites."
"Well, it felt that way at the time." Jennifer picked up her cloth again, folding it with precise movements. "But honestly? I've heard about what happened to those women. It's terrible. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, no matter how bitter I was about their success."
Kate noticed that Jennifer seemed more bothered by the questioning itself than by the fact that two women had been murdered. There was a defensive edge to her posture, but not the kind of nervous tension Kate would expect from someone who felt genuine fear or remorse.
"So did you get no attention or promotion at all?" Sloane asked.
Jennifer's jaw tightened; it was the first true sign of distress she’d shown since the agents had arrived.
"At first, I got a lot of it. I was the main event for a week or two.
But then, out of nowhere, Crawford said my business plan wasn't focused enough.
He wanted me to specialize more, to find a niche market instead of trying to do custom cakes, cookies, pastries, everything.
But that's how bakeries work. You have to offer variety or people go somewhere else. "
"And you disagreed with that assessment," Kate said.
"Of course I disagreed. I've been running this place for eight years.
I know what my customers want." Jennifer gestured around the bakery, her expression shifting from defensive to proud.
"You know, since you're here, let me show you what I've built.
Maybe then you'll understand why Crawford's advice didn't make sense for my business. "
Before Kate could redirect the conversation, Jennifer had already moved out from behind the counter.
"This display case is original to the building, from the 1950s.
I had it completely refurbished when I took over the lease.
And these tables? I found them at estate sales and refinished them myself. Each one is unique."
Sloane shot Kate a look that clearly said is this really happening? Kate gave a slight shake of her head, deciding to let Jennifer talk. Sometimes people revealed more when they were comfortable and off guard.
Jennifer led them past the seating area to a doorway that opened into the kitchen.
"This is where the magic happens. Commercial ovens, all top of the line.
I saved for three years to afford this setup.
And I do all the baking myself… along with a few employees, of course.
Every cake, every cookie, every pastry. I don't use mixes or shortcuts. Everything is from scratch."
The kitchen was spotless, stainless steel surfaces gleaming under bright overhead lights. Cooling racks lined one wall, currently empty. A large mixer sat on a counter, its bowl cleaned and ready for the next batch.
"I get up at four every morning to start the baking," Jennifer continued. "By the time we open at seven, I've got fresh croissants, muffins, danish, you name it. The custom cake orders keep me busy too. I did three wedding cakes last month alone."
"That's impressive," Kate said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "But I'd like to return to the question of the program. When you posted those comments about the graduates—"
"I was venting," Jennifer interrupted. "That's all.
I was frustrated and tired and feeling like no matter how hard I worked, I couldn't get ahead while these other women were getting all this free publicity and mentorship.
But I didn't do anything about it. I just complained online like everyone does. "
Kate pulled out her phone and opened the app where she'd been taking notes. "In one post, you wrote that the overwhelming majority of the graduates didn't deserve their success. That they were being handed opportunities on a silver platter while real business owners struggled."
"And I stand by that," Jennifer said, crossing her arms. "Those women got a lot of help that the rest of us didn't get. But that doesn't mean I wanted them dead. That's a huge leap from complaining to murdering someone."
"Maybe, but we have to follow every lead," Sloane said. "Two women are dead, and both of them graduated from the program you criticized."
Jennifer's expression shifted to something closer to understanding. "You think the killer is eliminating competition. That's why you're here. You think I might be scared enough of these women succeeding that I'd kill them."
"We're considering all possibilities," Kate said carefully…neither conforming nor denying.
"Well, you're wasting your time with me.
" Jennifer walked back toward the front of the bakery, and Kate and Sloane followed.
"If someone is killing these women because they see them as competition, then you're looking for someone who's actually threatened by them.
Someone who's failing and desperate. I'm not failing.
Look around. My bakery is doing fine. Not great, but fine.
I'm paying my bills, keeping my doors open.
I don't need to eliminate anyone to survive. "
Kate had to admit the logic made sense, even if Jennifer's confidence felt almost inappropriate given the circumstances. "What about your safety? If the killer is targeting program graduates and business owners, aren't you concerned?"
Jennifer reached under the counter and pulled out a compact pistol, setting it on the glass surface between them. "Concealed carry permit. I keep this with me at all times. If anyone comes after me, I'll be ready."
Kate felt her eyebrows rise, alarmed that the woman had so flippantly pulled out a gun. She hadn't expected that response. Beside her, Sloane looked more annoyed than surprised, her jaw tightening slightly.
"You feel you need to carry a weapon," Kate said.
"I'm a woman who works alone in a business that handles cash," Jennifer replied. "Of course I carry. It's just common sense. And if there is some psycho out there killing business owners, I'm not going to be an easy target."
Before Kate could respond, Sloane’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and said, "Excuse me, I need to take this.”
Kate watched as Sloane turned her back to them while taking the call. She obviously only heard one side of the conversation but she could tell it was not a good one. Sloane’s posture went tense as she said, “Yes. Okay… where is that? Got it.”
She turned back to Kate and said, “We have to go. That was Demarco… and there’s another body. The same weapon used. This one's in Shockoe Bottom."
Kate felt her stomach drop. “Okay… let’s go.” She then turned back to Jennifer and said, “Thank you for your time and cooperation.”
“Sure. But… Jesus, a third victim?”
“Looks that way,” Sloane said. “But if you could keep that quiet for now, it would be much appreciated.”
Jennifer nodded as Kate and Sloane headed for the door, the cheerful bell chiming again as they left. Once they were outside, Sloane turned to Kate with frustration clear on her face.
"That was a waste of time. And did you see how casual she was about everything? Two women are dead and she's giving us a tour of her bakery."
"She was defensive," Kate said as they walked quickly toward their car. "And overconfident. But I don't think she's our killer."
"Because she has a gun?"
"Because her business is stable enough that she doesn't feel threatened.
The killer we're looking for is someone who feels desperate, not someone who's annoyed they didn't get into a mentorship program.
" Kate unlocked the car and got behind the wheel. "But more importantly… did you see her apron? It was practically coated in flour and icing. She’s been at the bakery all day… I bet you anything. And if this is a recent victim…”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying.”
At the car, Sloane climbed into the passenger seat, already pulling up the GPS coordinates DeMarco had given her.
Kate started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Another victim meant the killer wasn’t nearly done… and that they were running out of time to stop whatever was happening before more women died.