Chapter 3 The Strained Ex-Fiancé
By the following afternoon, Penny had learned something uncomfortable about herself.
She was terrible at leaving things alone.
Claire had told her to stay out of the investigation.
Detective Patterson had practically ordered her to do the same.
But every time Penny tried to forget the tiny piece of plastic she'd found caught in the piping tip, her mind returned to the same thought.
Someone had been close to her cake.
Someone had potentially put something into it.
And if that was true, then the question wasn't whether George Tillingham had died.
The question was who had wanted him dead.
Penny stood behind the counter at The Frosted Petal, staring at a tray of lemon tarts.
She hadn't sold a single one in the last ten minutes.
Mochi sat on the windowsill, washing one paw.
"You're not helping," Penny told him.
Mochi continued washing.
Penny sighed.
She had spent the morning replaying everything that had happened at the wedding.
George collapsing.
The cake.
Mochi's reaction.
The strange wrapper.
The guests.
The detective.
And then she remembered something she'd heard weeks ago.
Nelson B. Crowther.
George's former business partner.
Penny had never met him personally, but his name had been impossible to miss lately.
George and Nelson had been partners in a development company until their relationship had fallen apart spectacularly.
According to the gossip floating around Magnolia Cove, George had forced Nelson out of a lucrative deal.
Nelson had not taken it well.
There had been shouting at a charity dinner.
Then accusations.
Then lawyers.
And finally, according to one particularly enthusiastic customer, Nelson had stood outside George's office and shouted that he would "make him pay."
Penny remembered another detail.
The day before the wedding, a customer had mentioned seeing Nelson arguing with George outside the country club.
At the time, Penny hadn't cared.
Now she did.
She looked at Mochi.
"What do you think?"
Mochi yawned.
"Exactly."
She reached for her coat.
"I'll be back."
Mochi followed her toward the door.
"No."
He stopped.
Penny pointed toward his favorite chair.
"Stay."
Mochi sat down.
Penny narrowed her eyes.
"That means stay."
He blinked.
She stepped outside.
Three seconds later, she heard the bell behind her.
Penny turned.
Mochi stood in the doorway.
"Oh, come on."
The cat stared at her.
"You are impossible."
Mochi walked past her.
Penny shook her head.
"Fine."
She scooped him up.
"You're coming with me."
The Magnolia Cove Pub sat two blocks from the bakery.
It was a cozy, dimly lit place with dark wooden tables, brass lamps, and framed photographs of the town from decades ago.
Penny had been there only once.
She preferred coffee shops.
Mochi preferred anywhere he wasn't supposed to be.
Penny carried him in a canvas tote bag, leaving his head sticking out over the edge.
She had expected Nelson to be difficult to find.
He wasn't.
He sat alone at the far end of the bar.
A half-empty glass sat in front of him.
His jacket was thrown over the chair beside him, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
He looked exhausted.
And angry.
Very angry.
Penny approached cautiously.
"Mr. Crowther?"
Nelson looked up.
His eyes were bloodshot.
"Who wants to know?"
"My name is Penny Worth."
His expression changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
"The baker."
Penny felt her stomach tighten.
"You've heard of me?"
"Everyone has."
Nelson glanced at the tote bag.
"What have you got in there?"
Penny instinctively pulled it closer.
"Nothing."
Mochi's head rose above the edge.
Nelson stared.
"A cat?"
"His name is Mochi."
"I don't like cats."
Mochi stared back.
Penny sat at the table beside him.
"I wanted to ask you about George."
Nelson laughed bitterly.
"Of course you did."
"I understand you two had business problems."
"Business problems?"
He lifted his glass.
"That's what people are calling it?"
"What would you call it?"
"War."
Penny watched him carefully.
"What happened?"
Nelson swallowed.
"George happened."
He took another drink.
"He took everything."
"Everything?"
"My company. My clients. My investors. My reputation."
His fingers tightened around the glass.
"He destroyed my life."
Penny said nothing.
Nelson stared into his drink.
"He smiled while he did it."
"Did you threaten him?"
Nelson's eyes snapped toward her.
"Who told you that?"
"No one."
It was a lie.
Penny immediately regretted it.
Nelson leaned back.
"You should leave."
"I only want to understand what happened."
"You want gossip."
"I want the truth."
Nelson laughed.
"The truth?"
He looked around the pub.
"Nobody wants the truth."
Penny lowered her voice.
"Where were you yesterday?"
His expression became guarded.
"Home."
"All day?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"I wasn't at the wedding."
Penny studied him.
Something didn't feel right.
"Did you know George was going to be married?"
"Everyone knew."
"Did you go to the country club?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Penny noticed.
She also noticed the small scrape on his right hand.
A fresh one.
"What happened to your hand?"
Nelson glanced down.
"This?"
"Yes."
"Nothing."
Penny raised an eyebrow.
He pulled his sleeve over it.
"Look, I had nothing to do with George's death."
"I didn't accuse you."
"You didn't have to."
His voice was sharp.
A silence settled between them.
Then a bartender walked past.
Penny recognized him from the wedding.
She had seen him carrying trays through the reception hall.
Penny turned.
"You were working the wedding yesterday, weren't you?"
The bartender nodded.
"Yes."
"Did you see Mr. Crowther?"
The bartender's eyes moved toward Nelson.
"Yeah."
Nelson stiffened.
Penny looked at him.
"You said you weren't there."
Nelson's jaw tightened.
"I wasn't at the wedding."
"But you were at the country club."
"I said I wasn't at the wedding."
The bartender frowned.
"You were standing by the kitchen entrance."
Nelson slammed his glass down.
"I wasn't inside."
"You were there," the bartender said.
"For five minutes."
Penny's pulse quickened.
"What were you doing?"
Nelson looked at her.
"Trying to talk to George."
"About what?"
"My business."
"Did you see the cake?"
His eyes flicked toward her.
Only for a second.
But Penny caught it.
"I don't know."
"Did you go near it?"
"No."
"Did you touch it?"
"No."
Penny leaned back.
"Then why didn't you tell me you were there?"
Nelson said nothing.
The bartender moved away.
Nelson rubbed his face.
"I didn't want the police asking questions."
"Because?"
"Because I knew how it would look."
Penny stared at him.
"It doesn't look very good now."
His eyes hardened.
"You think I killed him?"
"I think you hated him."
"I did."
"Enough to kill him?"
Nelson's expression changed.
For a moment, something dark crossed his face.
Then he said quietly:
"He should have died years ago."
Penny froze.
The words hung between them.
Nelson seemed to realize what he'd said.
He looked away.
"I didn't mean—"
"You just said—"
"I said he ruined my life."
"You said he should have died."
Nelson grabbed his jacket.
"Get out."
Penny stood.
"Mr. Crowther—"
"I said get out."
Mochi suddenly hissed.
Nelson stopped.
He stared at the cat.
Mochi's body had gone rigid inside the tote.
His ears were flattened.
His amber eyes were fixed on Nelson.
Penny had never seen him look so hostile.
Nelson took one step backward.
"Keep that thing away from me."
Penny frowned.
Mochi hissed again.
She picked up the tote.
"Come on."
As she walked toward the door, she heard Nelson mutter behind her.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Penny stopped.
She turned.
Nelson was staring at her.
His expression was no longer angry.
It was frightened.
Then he looked away.
Penny left.
The afternoon sun had begun to sink behind the oak trees when Penny walked home.
Mochi was tucked inside the tote bag, unusually quiet.
Penny's thoughts raced.
Nelson had lied.
He had been at the wedding.
He had been near the kitchen.
He had argued with George.
He had a motive.
And he had said the words.
He should have died years ago.
That wasn't proof.
But it was enough to make Penny uneasy.
She stopped beneath an enormous oak tree.
"Mochi?"
The cat poked his head out of the tote.
"What do you think?"
Mochi blinked.
Penny smiled despite herself.
"I know. I know."
She started walking again.
Then she passed the window of the pub.
Nelson was still sitting inside.
He looked out.
His eyes met Penny's.
Mochi suddenly hissed.
Loudly.
People on the sidewalk turned.
Penny tightened her grip on the tote.
Nelson stood.
He stared at the cat.
Mochi hissed again.
Penny hurried away.
She didn't stop until the pub was out of sight.
By the time she reached The Frosted Petal, the sun had disappeared completely.
Penny unlocked the door.
Inside, the bakery smelled like vanilla and warm bread.
Home.
Safe.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
She set Mochi down.
He immediately climbed onto the counter and looked toward the back door.
Penny followed his gaze.
Nothing.
She locked it anyway.
Then she leaned against the counter.
She thought about Detective Patterson.
Stay out of this.
She thought about Claire.
Let the police handle it.
Then she thought about the little piece of plastic hidden in her pocket.
Penny pulled it out.
She stared at it beneath the kitchen light.
Someone had been near her cake.
Nelson had been near the kitchen.
He had lied about it.
He hated George.
And he had said George should have died years ago.
Penny closed her fingers around the scrap.
She had started this day as a baker trying to protect her reputation.
Now something had changed.
She couldn't explain exactly when it happened.
Maybe it was when Nelson lied.
Maybe it was when Mochi hissed.
Maybe it was when she realized that the police might not be asking the questions she needed answered.
Penny looked at her cat.
"I think I'm investigating a murder."
Mochi stared at her.
His tail flicked once.
Penny sighed.
"Don't look at me like that."
Mochi turned away.
Penny smiled faintly.
Then the smile disappeared.
Because deep down, she knew something now.
She wasn't just trying to prove that her cake hadn't killed George Tillingham.
She was trying to find out who had.
And Nelson B. Crowther had just become her first real suspect.