Chapter 5 A Theory Frosted
By Monday morning, Penny had developed a theory.
A very good theory.
At least, she thought it was good.
The kind of theory that made every strange detail suddenly click into place.
She stood behind the counter at The Frosted Petal, staring at the little notebook she'd started keeping beneath the register.
Three names were written inside.
Nelson Crowther.
Daisy Finch.
Francine Wainwright.
Penny tapped her pen against the page.
Nelson had motive.
Daisy had opportunity—or at least, possibly.
But Francine?
Francine had something the others didn't.
Heartbreak.
And sometimes, Penny thought, heartbreak could turn into something much darker.
She had heard about Francine on the morning of the wedding.
A woman had been seen crying outside the country club.
Someone had said she was George's former girlfriend.
Another person had claimed she'd been begging him to talk to her.
Someone else had insisted she'd threatened to ruin the wedding.
By lunchtime, the story had grown into something much bigger.
Francine Wainwright had loved George.
George had left her.
George was marrying Melanie.
Francine had appeared outside the wedding.
George had died.
Penny stared at the words in her notebook.
It was almost too perfect.
Almost.
She closed the notebook.
"I'm going to talk to her."
Mochi was stretched across the windowsill.
He didn't move.
"You could at least look concerned."
One amber eye opened.
Penny smiled.
"Fine."
She slipped the notebook into her handbag.
"I'll handle this myself."
Mochi yawned.
Francine Wainwright lived in a garden apartment on the other side of Magnolia Cove.
The complex was older than Penny expected, but charming.
Brick walkways wound between flowering bushes and small magnolia trees. White rocking chairs sat outside several apartments.
Penny knocked on the door marked 14B.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
A voice called from inside.
"Who is it?"
"Penny Worth."
The door opened.
Francine stood there.
She was younger than Penny had expected.
Perhaps late thirties.
Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her face was completely free of makeup.
She looked tired.
Not dangerous.
Just tired.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to bother you."
Francine crossed her arms.
"Then why are you here?"
Penny hesitated.
"I wanted to talk about George."
The woman's expression hardened.
"Of course you did."
Penny noticed something immediately.
Francine's eyes became glossy.
"You loved him."
Francine laughed bitterly.
"Is that what everyone is saying?"
"People saw you outside the wedding."
"I was."
"Why?"
Francine looked away.
"Because I was hurt."
"Because he was marrying Melanie?"
"Yes."
Penny felt a surge of confidence.
She had been right.
"I heard you were crying."
"I was."
"And that you confronted him."
"I wanted to speak to him."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he never came outside."
Penny frowned.
"But you were there."
"Yes."
"During the wedding?"
"No."
Francine's answer was immediate.
"I left before it started."
Penny studied her.
"You didn't go inside?"
"No."
"Not even briefly?"
Francine shook her head.
"I had no reason to."
Penny reached into her handbag.
She didn't pull out the notebook.
Instead, she said, "George died shortly after the cake was brought out."
"I know."
"You must have been devastated."
Francine's eyes hardened.
"I was devastated before he died."
Penny paused.
"That's fair."
Francine sighed.
"Look, I loved George. I won't pretend I didn't. But loving someone doesn't mean you want them dead."
Penny felt a tiny crack appear in her theory.
"What if he had hurt you badly enough?"
Francine stared at her.
"He did."
"But you still wanted revenge."
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Francine gave a short, humorless laugh.
"You came here expecting me to confess."
Penny said nothing.
"I can see it on your face."
"I just want the truth."
"No."
Francine shook her head.
"You want a simple answer."
Penny felt herself stiffen.
"I want to know what happened to George."
"Then ask the police."
"They're investigating."
"Good."
Francine stepped back.
"You should let them."
Penny was about to respond when Francine suddenly reached for a purse sitting on a nearby table.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I think this will help."
She handed it to Penny.
Penny unfolded it.
Her eyes widened.
A receipt.
At the top was the name of a medical clinic.
Below it was the date.
The date of the wedding.
The time.
9:14 a.m.
Then another time.
11:06 a.m.
Penny stared.
"What's this?"
"My appointment."
"Your appointment?"
"Doctor's appointment."
Penny looked up.
"I was across town that morning."
"You said you were outside the wedding."
"I was."
"When?"
"Before my appointment."
Penny frowned.
"You came to Magnolia Cove Country Club, cried outside, then went to the doctor?"
"Yes."
"And your appointment lasted until?"
"Eleven."
Penny looked at the receipt again.
The reception hall was already being prepared by then.
But the wedding itself hadn't begun.
Francine continued.
"After my appointment, I went home."
Penny's theory was collapsing.
"How do I know this is real?"
Francine pointed toward the bottom.
"There's the clinic's phone number."
Penny looked.
"Call them."
Francine opened the door wider.
"Or don't."
Penny folded the receipt carefully.
She felt embarrassed.
She had arrived convinced she was about to expose a murderer.
Instead, she had found a woman with a doctor's receipt.
"I believe you."
Francine's expression softened slightly.
"Thank you."
Penny turned to leave.
Then Francine said quietly, "For what it's worth..."
Penny looked back.
"George wasn't afraid of me."
"What?"
"He was afraid of Melanie."
Penny froze.
"Why?"
Francine shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Did he tell you that?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"I saw it in his face."
Penny stared at her.
Francine closed her eyes.
"I haven't seen George in months."
She opened them again.
"But the last time I did, he wasn't the man I remembered."
Penny wanted to ask more.
But something in Francine's expression stopped her.
She wasn't hiding something.
She was grieving it.
"Goodbye, Penny."
"Goodbye."
The door closed.
Penny stood on the walkway.
Her notebook suddenly felt heavy inside her handbag.
She pulled it out.
Under Francine's name, she drew a thick line.
Then she crossed it out.
Her triumphant theory was gone.
On the walk home, Penny replayed the conversation.
Francine had been heartbroken.
She had been outside the wedding.
She had every reason to hate George.
But she hadn't killed him.
At least, Penny couldn't see how.
Her detective work had lasted approximately forty minutes.
And it had ended with her being completely wrong.
She groaned.
"I'm terrible at this."
The tote bag hanging from her shoulder shifted.
Mochi poked his head out.
Penny looked down.
"Don't."
Mochi blinked.
"You know what I mean."
He stared at her.
"You didn't like Francine."
Mochi yawned.
Penny frowned.
"Actually, you didn't care about her at all."
She thought about it.
At the time, she'd been so excited about her theory that she'd barely noticed.
Mochi hadn't hissed at Francine.
He hadn't stiffened.
He hadn't hidden.
He hadn't shown the slightest interest in her.
Now, as if to make his opinion perfectly clear, he noticed something fluttering above a nearby flower bed.
A moth.
Mochi's head snapped toward it.
Before Penny could react, he scrambled out of the tote.
"Mochi!"
The cat landed on the grass and immediately began chasing the moth.
Penny stared.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Mochi pounced.
The moth escaped.
He chased it again.
Penny watched him disappear beneath a shrub.
For the first time, she laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the tired, embarrassed laugh of someone who had just realized how ridiculous she'd been.
She had been so determined to find a murderer that she'd convinced herself every piece of information pointed to Francine.
Meanwhile, Mochi had been completely uninterested.
Penny's smile faded.
Maybe she should have paid more attention.
Mochi hadn't reacted to Francine.
He had reacted to Nelson.
He had reacted to the cake.
He had reacted to the strange piece of plastic.
And he had been unusually affectionate toward Daisy.
Penny frowned.
Perhaps Mochi wasn't always right.
But he noticed things she missed.
Things humans overlooked.
She called softly.
"Mochi."
The cat emerged from the bushes with no moth and no regrets.
He sat down and began washing his paw.
Penny shook her head.
"You're impossible."
She picked him up and placed him back inside the tote.
"Come on, Detective."
Mochi looked offended by the title.
Penny started walking.
Her theory was gone.
Francine was innocent.
Nelson was suspicious.
Daisy was... complicated.
And Melanie?
Penny couldn't stop thinking about what Francine had said.
George was afraid of Melanie.
Why?
Penny reached The Frosted Petal and unlocked the door.
She stepped inside.
The familiar smell of vanilla surrounded her.
Usually, it comforted her.
Today, it reminded her of the five-tiered wedding cake.
She set Mochi down.
Then she pulled out her notebook.
Three names stared back at her.
She crossed Francine off completely.
Two remained.
Nelson Crowther.
Daisy Finch.
Penny stared at them.
Then she added a fourth name.
Melanie Rutledge.
She sat back.
Maybe she had been asking the wrong question.
Maybe she shouldn't be asking who hated George.
Maybe she should be asking what George had known.
Because people didn't always kill for what they wanted.
Sometimes they killed to keep something hidden.
Penny closed the notebook.
She had started the day believing she'd solved a murder.
Now she was back at square one.
And somehow, that felt worse than before. :::