Chapter 4 #2
After removing her coat, she primly brushed the wrinkles from it before leaving it on the rack. Her dark eyes darted nervously around the room, and I couldn’t tell if she was worried about something serious or she simply had little interest in getting her hands dirty while working in the kitchen.
“Thanks for planning this,” Bradley said to no one in particular, still clutching his phone and occasionally peeking at it. “We’re all pretty devastated about Alex.”
“Of course. Truly tragic.” Wickham gave them both a quick hug. His aura, now ocean green, held steady, but a stormy bolt streaked through the edges.
“What have you been up to for the last couple of days?” Bradley asked hesitantly, tucking his phone into his back pocket.
“Trying to lie low. The police have already interrogated me. This is confusing,” Wickham replied casually, but his expression flattened.
“Didn’t you two find Alex’s body?” Bradley’s eyes narrowed, not in a way that made me suspect he was accusing Wickham, but more that he was trying to make sense of the situation.
Wickham’s jaw clenched, and he glanced at me. “Are you okay if I share what happened?”
I nodded, unsure why it would bother me, but appreciating his courtesy all the same. I pulled baking soda and vanilla from the cupboard. “It was very traumatic for both of us. Thank heavens we were together.”
“We stopped at the amphitheater after our date. Found him there, electrocuted,” Wickham said quietly. “Sorry I wasn’t quick to text everyone about it. It’s been a whirlwind.”
Harley’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t realize that’s how he died. How horrible.”
“Do you know how he got electrocuted, like did he put his finger in a light socket or something? I know the police say it was murder. What’s your take?” Bradley asked.
Wickham didn't mind the interrogation. “Someone must’ve struck him with a live cord, but he’d removed his shoes and was in a puddle on the floor. How they accomplished that is beyond me. Did you see anything weird that night?”
Bradley paused and shook his head. “We left just after you two. Alex left as well, but he mentioned he needed to go back for some reason.”
“Did he say why?” I didn’t suspect Bradley, or at least I had no reason to, but something was off about him. “You know what the removed shoes and water make me think of? Maybe he was changing out of a pair of wet boots.”
“He probably was. But Alex was the last thing on my mind that night, so I didn’t question why he was going back. I had a date planned and wanted to get out of there,” Bradley replied as he read over the ingredients.
“Interesting. Too bad he didn’t say.” I set a copy of the recipes we’d need to follow on the counter in front of him.
“He didn’t tell me why either,” Harley said apologetically. She stared blankly at the ingredients and recipe on the worktable.
“How strange. Here, we can blend the butter and sugar together in the mixer. Make sure you wash your hands and put on a hairnet. They’re not the cutest, but it’s better than the alternative.” I showed them where everything was and opened a few packages of butter.
“Well, we’re all suspects,” Harley said quietly. She had put her hair up, washed her hands, and started on the rest of the butter packages.
Bradley turned his attention away from washing his hands and stared at her. “I’d be surprised if anyone in the band hurt Alex. The guy was a jerk, but no one wanted to kill him.”
Harley shuddered. “What if it was some deranged fan? How will we even know?”
“I don’t see why a deranged fan would go after the band manager.
” Wickham wasn’t trying to make her feel stupid, but I could tell he thought it was a dumb hypothesis.
“Most murders come down to a few things: money, jealously, power, covering something up, right? Even fear. He inherited much of his wealth. I keep wondering if the next person in line had a motive. We don’t know a thing about his family. ”
“Or someone wanted his job,” Harley suggested. Her delicate voice made me wonder how on earth she’d found herself in a rock band. “Either way, we should all probably watch our backs.”
I dumped several scoops of sugar into the large mixer and showed Wickham how to operate the industrial-sized machine while I added more ingredients.
“Were any of you very close to Alex? We’re hoping the open mic might draw some of the crazies out of the woodwork.
We have almost nothing to go on yet,” I said.
“Alex had other business ventures aside from the Grey Doors. That’s another angle to consider,” Wickham noted. “None of us spent more time with him than we had to. But yeah—avoiding being alone is probably smart for now, in case someone is after the band members.”
The bell on the back door jingled as Mathis arrived.
His amber aura glowed warm and steady like autumn sunlight.
He was the tallest band member, and aside from Wickham, probably the one all the fangirls were in love with.
Originally from Haiti, his French Creole accent rolled smoothly off his tongue as he greeted everyone.
“What’s been happenin’?” he said, slapping Wickham’s hand warmly, then turning to me.
His gaze held a kind of honest curiosity, as steady as his aura.
“Ernesto said he won’t be able to come by until later.
He’s helping his girlfriend with something. I haven’t heard from Tim though.”
“Tim’s not the most reliable,” Harley muttered so softly I barely made out the words she’d said.
“We’re speculating about Alex’s death,” I said simply. “No one seems to have known him very well.”
Mathis nodded, and took a seat on a barstool, still wearing his tight-fitting, brown-leather jacket and motorcycle gloves. “This is serious stuff.”
I studied everyone in the room. Tangled emotions swirled through their auras—fear, guilt, sorrow, and secrets that no one wanted to voice aloud.
“That’s what they say.” Wickham agreed, but there wasn’t much else to say. “We’re getting the food ready, but we’ll need someone to set up the sound system, some lights or something. We’ve done these before. You know the drill.”
After we finished doling out assignments, I figured it would take a few hours for people to shop, drive around town, and pick things up.
“Since the bakery floor is open and we have guests coming in and out, we’ll need to make sure we only set up the corner for now.
If everyone helps gather supplies, we can have everything prepared to finish setting up once we close. ”
Bradley’s phone buzzed sharply again. He glanced at it with a flash of worry, but when Wickham asked if he was okay, he muttered, “Family stuff.”
“Well, I like to cook,” Mathis said, removing his motorcycle gloves and turning to Harley and Bradley. “So, I’ll stay here and help in the kitchen. Do you two want to get the electronics set up?”
Harley was all too pleased to leave the flour-covered kitchen and grabbed her jacket. “We can do that. Are you good to come with me to pick up all the equipment, Bradley? I agree that being alone isn’t the best idea at the moment.”
Bradley glanced up from his phone and nodded. “Yeah, either way. I do know how to bake, too, but we actually still have a bunch of stuff we can use in the van. We’ll need to switch out our cars and get it. Well, we might need to stop at the hardware store for a better extension cord.”
The pair were out the door before we discussed anything further.
Mathis got off his barstool to look at the ingredients I’d spread over the baking surface. “You have high-quality vanilla; that’s good. What’s the lavender for? I’ve never eaten that. Does it taste like lotion?”
I laughed. “No, this is culinary lavender from France. We just use a little.”
“Ah, I see. We’ll relax the killer into a confession.” Mathis grinned.
I saw why everyone liked him.
Mathis picked up the lemon extract to smell it. “Lemon’s always a delicious choice. I can mix up a nice buttercream if you two want to work on the dough.”
Not too many people my age knew how to do that. “Anyone who makes a good buttercream knows what they’re doing. Go ahead.”
“I have a hard time believing we can relax the killer into a confession.” Wickham moved closer to Mathis and lowered his voice. “You can’t think of a reason anyone in the band might’ve killed Alex, can you?”
Mathis shook his head as he measured powdered sugar, vanilla, and lemon extract.
“Well, I’ll tell you this, after you two left to go on your date, we finished loading the van, then everyone left.
So Alex must’ve gone back alone for some reason.
He may have wanted to meet up with someone, or he may have forgotten something. ”
“Yes, Bradley mentioned that he’d gone back, but not why. Maybe he walked in on something he shouldn’t have,” I suggested as I sprinkled a pinch of sincerity dust into the dough. We’d thrown so many theories around, it was difficult to keep track of them. But none of them held any merit, anyway.
The kitchen door jingled again, and Zoe let herself in from the side alley. “Hi, everyone. Wickham’s text said to go ahead and come right in. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“The more, the merrier.” I smiled.
Zoe didn’t make me as uncomfortable as Harley. She came across as someone who presented herself to the world with no pretenses.
“There’s a coatrack there,” I said. “Want to help Mathis with the frosting?”
“Sure, yeah.” She shrugged like she wasn’t quite sure why she’d even come.
I glanced at Zoe as she settled in, her copper and deep-purple aura swirling, restless and afraid—understandable. Her short platinum-blonde hair gave her an edgy vibe. She smiled but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“Thanks for organizing this,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been a nervous wreck since I found out.”
“Understandable. At least there’s safety in numbers,” Wickham said. “So it's good you’re here. Ernesto’s busy with Anne, so Tim’s the only person we haven’t heard from yet.”
I exchanged a glance with Wickham. “Hopefully, they’re doing alright.”
We finished setting everything up well before eight p.m., so we only had a few last-minute touches to complete.
Harley and Zoe plugged in strings of white lights.
Mathis checked the mic. Kitty helped me set pastries, tea, and gelato out on the sideboard, and Bradley and Wickham set up rows of folding chairs.
“You sure word’s out about the open mic?
” Wickham asked Mathis, watching for any guests to arrive.
The bakery glowed with warm lights. All of the wrought iron French café tables were outfitted with white tablecloths and candles.
The back wall had been turned into a makeshift stage with fairy lights, a few standing plants on the sides, a microphone, and speakers.
Though the display cases were cleared out for the evening, we topped the counters with drinks and snacks.
“Yeah, give it a minute; we put it up on our socials. Any devout fans will be aware of the event.” Mathis nodded, pulled back a white gossamer curtain, and glanced outside.
Ernesto and Tim arrived just before the crowds.
Tim’s face was scruffier than usual, and his sandy-blond hair disheveled. “Hey, y’all. Sorry I couldn’t help with the setup. I had a bunch of stuff to take care of today.”
I wondered what was so important and why he looked like he hadn’t showered in the last forty-eight hours.
Ernesto nodded. “Anne needed help preparing for a gala she’s performing at. But I appreciate you setting this up.”
“You’re good, man.” Wickham gave them each a high-five-handshake-like greeting.
At least Ernesto had a reason for why he couldn’t come help.
I’m sure my expression toward Tim wasn’t as welcoming as it could have been.
I wasn’t so much suspicion, but annoyed at his lack of communication.
Though if I suspected anyone, it might be Tim.
I leaned on the bakery counter, eyeing him as everyone else got back to work.
"I'm glad you made it, Tim. Did you know Alex very well? "
Tim followed suit, leaning on the counter as well, next to me.
He raised his eyebrows at me as he spoke.
"Alex didn't deserve to die the way he did.
But he wasn't such a nice guy, Lydia. I'm sure Wickham's filled you in on him.
The accumulation of money consumed him and left little in the way of humanity. "
I blinked at Tim's blunt response. "Wickham's told me a few things. Is that why you didn't want to help today?"
Tim shook his head. "No. I really had some things going on. I show up for the Grey Doors unless there's something else I can't get out of."
"I'm sure they appreciate that. It seems like you all work well together." I tried to keep Tim talking as everyone else took care of the finishing touches, tested equipment, and straightened displays.
He nodded. "Alex sure rode Wickham hard. I think he saw his potential and wanted to push him. He pretty much ignored me, Bradley, and Ernesto. But he was surprisingly kind to Zoe and Harley."
"He treated the girls better then?" I asked.
Tim scratched behind his ear. "Alex made sure Harley had whatever she wanted, and he worked on lyrics with Zoe.
Sometimes I suspected he wanted to break up the band and create his own group that he could control more with the girls.
He probably would've wanted Wickham too, if he was easier to manipulate. "
"Wickham won't have any of that," I chuckled and it dawned on me, that while I found Wickham very handsome, that wasn't what attracted me to him most. Even before I got to know him, something about his aura told me our souls belonged together. We were a perfect match.
"Nope." Tim's mouth turned up. "No one's going to push Wickham around."