Chapter 4
Cardamom
Recipe Tip: Grind it fresh. Pre-ground is a ghost.
By Thursday morning, Second Rise Bakery had developed the atmosphere of a funeral parlor.
Not literally.
Tessa hadn't put out black flowers.
She hadn't dimmed the lights.
She hadn't even burned anything.
But the customers were whispering.
And whenever customers whispered, Tessa knew exactly what they were whispering about.
Garrick Thorne.
She stood behind the counter, grinding cardamom pods with the little brass mortar her grandmother had given her.
Crack.
Grind.
Crack.
Grind.
The fragrance rose immediately.
Warm.
Citrusy.
Sharp.
Alive.
Tessa closed her eyes for half a second.
Pre-ground is a ghost, Grandma used to say.
Fresh cardamom tells you exactly what it is.
Tessa wished people were that simple.
She opened her eyes.
The bakery was empty.
Completely empty.
At ten-thirty, there had been six customers.
At eleven, three.
At noon, one.
Since then?
Nothing.
Not even a person looking for coffee.
Tessa stared through the front window.
Across the street, Dani was arranging flowers in her shop.
She caught Tessa looking.
Dani pointed at the empty bakery.
Then made a dramatic throat-cutting gesture.
Tessa frowned.
Dani mouthed:
Dead.
Tessa mouthed back:
Helpful.
Dani grinned.
Tessa returned to the cardamom.
The silence pressed against her.
She had always loved quiet mornings.
Now every quiet moment reminded her of a dead man in a forge.
She glanced toward the door.
She could still hear Wes's question.
Who else knew you were delivering bread?
She had thought about it all night.
Dani knew.
Desmond knew.
Perhaps Garrick knew.
Maybe someone at the festival committee had heard.
She didn't know.
And she hated not knowing.
Tessa reached into her apron pocket.
Her fingers touched the torn piece of ledger.
She pulled it out.
Numbers.
Rows and rows of numbers.
Some were crossed out.
Some were circled.
Others had tiny marks beside them.
She couldn't understand what they meant.
But they bothered her.
Because Garrick had been a knife maker.
And the numbers looked suspiciously like serial numbers.
The front door opened.
Tessa quickly slipped the paper beneath the counter.
A man entered.
He looked around.
Tessa straightened.
"Good afternoon."
He smiled nervously.
"Hi."
"What can I get you?"
He looked at the pastry case.
"Do you have anything without nuts?"
Tessa froze.
Her mind went instantly to Garrick.
Then she forced herself to breathe.
"Yes."
She pointed.
"Blueberry scone. Cinnamon roll. Plain shortbread."
"Banana bread?"
Tessa's stomach tightened.
"We're out."
She wasn't.
There were three loaves behind her.
But suddenly she didn't want to sell one.
The customer nodded.
"Shortbread, then."
"Of course."
Tessa reached for the tongs.
A gray blur shot across the counter.
Pretzel landed between them.
The customer jumped.
Tessa closed her eyes.
"Sorry."
Pretzel sat beside the shortbread case.
His expression suggested that the customer had personally offended him.
"He's friendly," Tessa said.
Pretzel hissed.
The customer stared.
Tessa sighed.
"He's selective."
Pretzel reached out and hooked one claw around the man's shoelace.
"Stop that."
The cat refused.
The customer took one step backward.
Pretzel followed.
"I think I'll just—"
"No."
Tessa scooped up the enormous cat.
He immediately wrapped himself around her shoulders like a furry scarf.
"He's going through something."
Pretzel purred directly into her ear.
The customer accepted his shortbread and fled.
Tessa watched him through the window.
Pretzel licked her cheek.
"You're destroying my business."
He purred.
"Again."
At one o'clock, Dani arrived.
She didn't knock.
She never did.
"Your cat just terrorized a man."
"Yes."
"Good."
Tessa stared.
"Good?"
"People are talking."
"They're already talking."
"Exactly."
Dani placed a paper bag on the counter.
"I brought lunch."
Tessa peeked inside.
"Soup?"
"And bread."
Tessa looked at it suspiciously.
"It's normal bread."
"Thank you."
Dani leaned against the counter.
"I learned something."
Tessa immediately knew the tone.
"What?"
"The anonymous tip."
Tessa stopped.
"What anonymous tip?"
Dani's expression changed.
"The one that apparently made the police look harder at you."
Tessa's stomach tightened.
"How do you know about that?"
"Flower shop."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"My customers talk."
"You have a flower shop, not a surveillance network."
Dani gave her a look.
"You'd be amazed."
Tessa waited.
Dani lowered her voice.
"Fiona Marsh made the tip."
The name landed hard.
Fiona.
Her bakery rival.
Fiona owned Sweet Fern Bakery three streets over.
She made excellent pastries.
She also believed Tessa had stolen her customers.
Which wasn't true.
Probably.
"Why would she do that?"
"Because she doesn't like you."
"That's not enough to accuse someone of murder."
"No."
Dani paused.
"But it is enough to make someone nervous."
Tessa folded her arms.
"What exactly did she tell the police?"
"That you'd had a grudge against Garrick."
"I did."
"And that you'd been seen arguing with him last year."
"I had."
"And that you had access to the festival kitchen."
"So does Fiona."
"I know."
Dani leaned closer.
"Which is why I'm telling you."
Tessa stared at the soup.
Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.
"Do you think she killed him?"
Dani looked offended.
"No."
"Good."
"I think she would have chosen something less complicated."
Tessa raised an eyebrow.
"That's comforting."
"Fiona likes dramatic things."
"Like?"
"Burnt meringue."
Tessa almost smiled.
Then the bakery door opened.
A man in a brown jacket walked in.
He looked around.
"Coffee?"
Tessa nodded.
"Sure."
She reached for a cup.
The man looked toward the pastry case.
"Banana bread?"
Tessa's hand stopped.
"Sold out."
Pretzel's ears perked.
The man frowned.
"I can see it."
Tessa looked behind her.
Three loaves.
Damn.
She smiled.
"Those are for the festival."
"Oh."
The man looked disappointed.
Pretzel jumped onto the counter.
His eyes fixed on the stranger.
The stranger took one step closer.
Pretzel's fur rose.
Tessa stared.
"What?"
The cat hissed.
The man stepped back.
"Okay."
Pretzel stared harder.
Tessa picked him up.
"I'm sorry."
"Your cat doesn't like me."
"He doesn't like most people."
"Why?"
"He's a professional."
The man left.
Tessa watched him go.
Dani leaned closer.
"He's getting worse."
"He's probably stressed."
"Or he knows something."
Tessa looked down at Pretzel.
Pretzel blinked innocently.
"Don't start."
At three, Mr. Bell arrived.
He was Tessa's landlord.
He was seventy-two, wore suspenders, and had the unnerving habit of appearing precisely when she least wanted to see him.
He stepped inside.
"Tessa."
"Mr. Bell."
He glanced around.
"Quiet."
"Yes."
"Very quiet."
"I know."
He nodded.
"Rent is still due Friday."
Tessa's jaw tightened.
"Of course."
"And your lease renewal is coming up."
"I know."
"Good."
He looked toward the empty tables.
"I just want to make sure we're not going to have problems."
Tessa stared at him.
"Problems?"
"The bakery has had a difficult week."
She almost laughed.
"That's one way to put it."
Mr. Bell adjusted his suspenders.
"I'm not threatening you."
"It sounds like you're threatening me."
"I'm reminding you."
"About the lease."
"Yes."
Tessa looked toward the window.
Her bakery had been her second chance.
She had poured everything into it.
Money.
Time.
Pride.
Hope.
She couldn't lose it because a dead man had eaten her bread.
Mr. Bell softened.
"I like having you here."
Tessa looked at him.
"Then don't make me nervous."
He smiled.
"Pay your rent."
"I will."
He nodded.
"Good."
Then he left.
Dani appeared from the back room.
"Was that about the lease?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to be okay?"
Tessa looked at the empty tables.
"I have to be."
At closing time, Tessa locked the door.
She flipped the sign to CLOSED.
Pretzel sat on the counter.
She carried the ledger corner into the kitchen.
Dani watched.
"What is that?"
"I don't know."
"Where did you get it?"
"At the forge."
Dani's eyes widened.
"Tessa."
"I know."
"You can't just take evidence."
"I didn't take it."
"Then what happened?"
"Predatory cat."
Pretzel flicked his tail.
Dani stared at him.
"You stole evidence?"
Pretzel yawned.
Tessa spread the paper flat.
The numbers ran down the torn edge.
Some were short.
Some longer.
All had the same format.
She grabbed a pencil.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking."
"At numbers."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about them."
Dani pulled up a chair.
Tessa copied the first number onto a sheet of paper.
Then the second.
Then the third.
She stared at them.
Something clicked.
"Knives."
Dani frowned.
"What?"
"The serial numbers."
"How do you know?"
"Garrick stamped every knife."
Tessa remembered seeing them in his forge.
Tiny numbers.
Precise.
Permanent.
She copied another.
Then another.
She opened her laptop.
"I need to know what these mean."
Dani leaned over.
"Can you search them?"
"Maybe."
The first number brought up nothing.
The second produced an old photograph.
Tessa clicked.
Her breath caught.
There was a knife.
Long.
Elegant.
Dark handle.
The caption read:
Thorne Forge — Custom Chef's Blade.
Tessa stared.
She copied the next number.
Search.
Another knife appeared.
Then another.
She checked the ledger.
Every number corresponded to a knife.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Dani whispered, "What are you seeing?"
Tessa didn't answer.
She kept searching.
Some numbers led to knives Garrick had sold.
Others led to knives that didn't exist in his public records.
One had been listed as a charity auction item.
Another had supposedly been donated to a restaurant.
Another had been sold privately.
Tessa looked back at the torn paper.
There were dozens of numbers.
She whispered:
"These aren't just knives he made."
Dani leaned closer.
"What are they?"
Tessa swallowed.
"Knives Garrick sold."
She pointed at another line.
"And knives Garrick never sold."
Silence filled the bakery.
Pretzel jumped onto the table.
His paw landed directly on the ledger corner.
Tessa looked at him.
Then at the numbers.
The suspicion she'd been trying to ignore finally took shape.
Garrick had been keeping records of something.
Something worth hiding.
Something someone might kill to protect.
Tessa folded the paper carefully.
"I'm going to find out what these numbers mean."
Dani stared at her.
"You're investigating a murder?"
Tessa hesitated.
She looked toward the darkened window.
Then toward Pretzel.
Then down at the ledger.
"I think I already am."
And for the first time since Garrick's death, Tessa wasn't thinking about proving she hadn't killed him.
She was thinking about finding out who had.