Chapter 8
Fold, Don't Overmix
Recipe Tip: Stop when you see the last streak of flour.
By Friday afternoon, Tessa had decided that if one more person asked her about Garrick Thorne, she was going to move to another state.
Possibly another country.
Possibly somewhere without knives.
She was considering this while carrying a twenty-pound bag of flour into the Harvest Festival committee hall.
"Careful."
Dani pushed the door open with her shoulder.
"I am careful."
"You nearly dropped that."
"I did not."
"You tilted."
"Tilting is not dropping."
Dani smiled.
"You've become defensive."
"I've had a difficult week."
"You've had a murder."
Tessa stopped.
"Please don't say it like that."
Dani's expression softened.
"Sorry."
"It's just..."
Tessa looked toward the hall.
People were already gathering inside.
"I don't want everyone looking at me like I'm part of it."
"You aren't."
"I know."
Dani squeezed her arm.
"Then act like it."
Tessa took a breath.
She could do that.
She could walk into a room.
She could smile.
She could discuss festival pastries.
She could pretend her life hadn't become a murder investigation involving forged knives, secret allergies, a missing injector, and a cat who apparently had better investigative instincts than the police.
She opened the door.
The room erupted into conversation.
Tables were covered with paperwork, decorations, vendor lists, maps, and half-eaten sandwiches.
At the front stood Desmond Hale.
He spotted Tessa immediately.
"There she is."
His smile was warm.
Genuine-looking.
Comforting.
Exactly what Tessa needed.
"How are you holding up?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
Desmond's expression said he didn't believe her.
"You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not."
"Good."
He took the flour from her.
"Let me."
"I can carry it."
"I know."
He smiled.
"But let me."
Tessa released the bag.
"Thank you."
Desmond set it down.
"You've got enough on your shoulders."
Something about the sentence made Tessa uncomfortable.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was exactly the sort of thing a friend said.
And she'd begun distrusting kindness.
Fiona Marsh arrived five minutes later.
She wore a green wool coat and an expression that could curdle cream.
She glanced at Tessa.
Then at Desmond.
"Still here?"
Tessa smiled.
"Still here."
Fiona dropped her folder onto the table.
"Good."
Dani whispered, "I hate her."
"You say that every week."
"Because every week she gives me a reason."
Fiona heard.
"Nice to know the flower shop has standards."
Dani smiled sweetly.
"We do."
Desmond cleared his throat.
"Let's begin."
Everyone sat.
Tessa took a chair near the back.
Pretzel was in a canvas tote beside her feet.
She had brought him because he'd refused to leave the bakery.
And because, after everything that had happened, she didn't particularly trust leaving him alone.
Pretzel's enormous head poked out of the bag.
Dani glanced down.
"He's going to cause trouble."
"He always causes trouble."
"That's why I like him."
Tessa frowned.
"You like him?"
"I like that he's rude to people I dislike."
"That's not a personality trait."
"It is for cats."
At the front, Desmond unfolded the festival schedule.
"First, the food stalls."
He began reading assignments.
Tessa took notes.
Pie contest.
Cider tent.
Craft market.
Children's games.
Live music.
Then the charity auction.
Tessa looked up.
"What's the auction supporting?"
"The historical society."
Desmond smiled.
"Garrick donated to it every year."
Tessa's fingers tightened around her pen.
"Garrick?"
"Yes."
Fiona snorted.
"He donated knives."
Desmond nodded.
"Several."
Tessa remembered the ledger.
Serial numbers.
Auction lots.
Knives Garrick had made.
And knives he hadn't.
Her stomach tightened.
"How many?"
Desmond glanced at the list.
"Six this year."
Tessa looked at him.
"Six?"
"Yes."
"From Garrick?"
"That's what the paperwork says."
Fiona leaned forward.
"The paperwork says a lot of things."
Desmond's smile faded slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you should check it."
"I did."
"Apparently not carefully enough."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Desmond's voice remained calm.
"Fiona."
"What?"
"This isn't the time."
"Then when is?"
Tessa watched them.
There was something underneath the argument.
Something old.
Desmond folded his hands.
"Can we finish the meeting?"
Fiona looked away.
"Fine."
The room settled.
But Tessa's attention had shifted.
Six knives.
Charity auction.
Forged records.
The ledger.
She wrote six numbers in the margin of her notes.
Then another thought occurred to her.
Who authenticated the knives?
She looked at Desmond.
He was already speaking.
Twenty minutes later, Tessa needed air.
She slipped out into the hallway.
Pretzel followed.
Or rather, Pretzel escaped.
One second he was in the tote.
The next, the tote was empty.
"Seriously?"
Tessa looked under the chairs.
Nothing.
She checked the hallway.
Nothing.
"Where did you go?"
A gray tail disappeared around the corner.
"Of course."
She followed.
The corridor led toward the coatroom.
Festival volunteers had piled jackets, scarves, bags, and umbrellas onto racks.
Tessa pushed the door open.
"Here, kitty."
Nothing.
"Come on, Pretzel."
A hanger rattled.
Tessa looked up.
Nothing.
Then she heard voices.
She froze.
They were coming from the room beside the coatroom.
Desmond.
And Fiona.
"You can't keep doing this," Fiona said.
Tessa stayed still.
"Doing what?" Desmond asked.
"Using the auction to cover your mess."
There was a pause.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Lower your voice."
"Why? Afraid someone will hear?"
Tessa's heart began to beat faster.
She leaned closer.
"The lots have numbers," Fiona continued. "Someone is going to compare them."
"They're legitimate."
"No, they aren't."
A chair scraped.
"Be careful."
"Is that a threat?"
"No."
"It sounded like one."
Desmond's voice dropped.
"You need to stop."
"And you need to fix it."
Tessa held her breath.
Then a door opened somewhere behind her.
She ducked into the coatroom.
Footsteps passed.
She waited.
Nothing.
Slowly, she looked toward the floor.
Pretzel was sitting beneath a rack of coats.
His eyes were enormous.
"You."
He stared at her.
"Come here."
He didn't.
"Please."
Pretzel walked toward her.
Then stopped.
His attention shifted to something beneath a bench.
He reached under.
His paw disappeared.
Tessa sighed.
"Whatever you've found, leave it."
Pretzel pulled something out.
Blue.
Small.
A flash of color between his teeth.
"Give me that."
He backed away.
"Come on."
Pretzel darted between two coats.
Tessa followed.
He dropped the object.
She grabbed it before he could reclaim it.
"What is this?"
She looked at it for barely a second.
A small blue plastic cap.
Nothing she recognized.
She glanced toward the hallway.
Voices were approaching.
Tessa's instincts took over.
She slipped the object into her coat pocket.
"Later."
Pretzel looked offended.
"You can have it later."
The door opened.
Dani appeared.
"There you are!"
Tessa jumped.
"Don't do that."
"I've been looking everywhere."
"I'm fine."
Dani glanced at Pretzel.
"What did he steal?"
"Nothing."
Dani raised an eyebrow.
Tessa touched her pocket.
"Nothing important."
Before Dani could respond, Desmond appeared in the hallway.
His expression was calm.
Almost too calm.
"Everything okay?"
Tessa smiled.
"Yes."
Desmond looked at Pretzel.
"Trouble again?"
"Always."
He chuckled.
"I suppose some things never change."
Fiona appeared behind him.
She looked at Tessa.
Then at Pretzel.
Then at Tessa's coat pocket.
For a moment, her expression changed.
Only slightly.
Then she walked away.
Tessa watched her.
Desmond smiled.
"Coming back to the meeting?"
"In a minute."
He nodded.
"Don't stay in here too long."
He followed Fiona.
Dani waited.
"What was that about?"
"Nothing."
"Tessa."
"I said nothing."
Dani studied her.
"You've become a terrible liar."
"I'm learning."
They returned to the meeting.
Tessa sat quietly.
Desmond continued discussing the festival schedule as though nothing had happened.
Fiona didn't speak.
But Tessa couldn't concentrate.
Her fingers kept touching the small blue object in her pocket.
She didn't know what it was.
She didn't know why Pretzel had taken it.
She didn't know why Fiona had looked at her like that.
And she certainly didn't know what Desmond and Fiona had been arguing about.
But she knew one thing.
The festival auction wasn't as clean as it looked.
And somewhere in her pocket, Pretzel was carrying another piece of the puzzle.
Tessa closed her notebook.
She looked down at the tote.
Pretzel was asleep inside it.
Completely innocent.
At least, he looked innocent.
Tessa touched the blue object through her coat.
She almost pulled it out.
Then decided against it.
Not here.
Not yet.
She would wait until she was alone.
She would examine it carefully.
And she would figure out why the cat had wanted it.
Because lately, Pretzel had a habit of stealing exactly the things Tessa needed.
Even when she didn't know she needed them.