Case of the Passion Fruit Poisoning Page 6

  The three ladies left the chef's house soon after. First of course, Beatrice grabbed the recipe for the wood fired banana cake, she couldn't wait to make it herself, but once that was concluded, they were gone.

  And with that so was their case. The only lead they had to go on was the unnamed red headed waitress and Fred, who was apparently dead. The waitress didn't work at the café so they couldn’t get her name and Fred, well that one was obvious.

  For the first time ever, Beatrice had no idea what to do next. All she could do, realistically, is wait around for the killer to strike again and hope that she catches him in the act, before he can succeed.

  11

  So, he was cute.” Stella said absentmindedly as the three ladies piled back into the car.

  Her hand on the door handle, Beatrice had to pause as she turned to look at her friend, trying to read her face for a hint of what she was sure must have been sarcasm, but nope, there was nothing. It appeared, however unlikely, that Stella was speaking in complete honesty.

  “Wait one minute, you’re not talking about that man in there, are you?” she said, indicating back toward the house. “That little, froggy man with the sweat covered red face and round belly?”

  “Well obviously, I am,” Stella responded, sticking to her guns. Beatrice rolled her eyes, climbing into the car. “What?” Stella responded, climbing in the back. Sophie was of course relegated to the front passenger seat. “You didn’t think so?”

  “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Beatrice said as she started up the car. “Sophie, are you strapped in?”

  “Ready for take-off,” Sophie responded, saluting as she did.

  “And he liked you too. I could tell. And I’m rarely wrong about this sort of thing,” Stella continued knowingly.

  “OK, stop. You’re starting to annoy me.” If it wasn’t for the fact that they were driving, Beatrice may have kicked Stella out there and then. This whole dating thing was really starting to get on her nerves. She had said yes to one date a week ago, just to ease Sophie. And look how that had turned out. She wasn’t so sure she was ready for another.

  “What? I can’t try and improve my friend's life by adding to her happiness?” Stella said, acting as if she were the one being insulted now. “Well I’m sorry then. I guess I’m just the worst person in the world.” In true dramatic fashion, she threw her hand over her heart and fell back in her seat as if she had been shot.

  “OK, we’ll let Sophie decide this one then,” Beatrice said as she rolled her eyes at her friend. “Sophie, what did you think of the chef back there? Cute?”

  “Chef? What chef?” Sophie asked, her face as sincere as possible. She had been gazing out the window absentmindedly, only to swing her head back with force upon hearing the question.

  “In that house, just… that man baking the banana bread. Whose toilet you just used!” Beatrice said, exasperated. She really didn't make it easy.

  “Oh!” Sophie said cheerfully. “He was a chef? I thought he was the marshmallow man.”

  The two friends looked at Sophie for a moment, complete silence following her statement. She stared back at them, those big glasses slowly inching their way down her nose. Then suddenly, they both burst into laughter, unable to help themselves.

  “I think my point is proven,” Beatrice managed to say through the tears, barely able to keep the car on the road.

  “OK, OK,” Stella admitted, wiping at her eyes. “Maybe I was being a little bit hopeful with that one, but still, you can’t deny that he was flirting with you.”

  Beatrice groaned at her friend. As much as she was used to Stella trying to push random men onto her, this was something else. There was definitely another motive behind her current thinking, and she was going to find out what they were.

  “OK. Enough is enough. If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now I’m going to pull over and kick you out.” Just to prove her point, she began angling the car to the side of the road, as if she truly intended on coming to a stop.

  She looked at her friend in the rearview mirror. Stella had the cheekiest expression she had ever seen smeared across her face. It was like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

  “OK, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to get mad.”

  An impossible promise to make of course and Beatrice had the distinct impression that it was one she wasn’t going to be able to keep. “Stella… what did you do?”

  –

  “Take it down, now!” Beatrice said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, even though she could feel her heart beating in her chest at a million miles a minute. She had never been so angry with her best friend. Never.

  “I really think you’re over exaggerating,” Stella said calmly. She didn’t appear to be the least bit worried about her best friend’s current rage. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it.

  “I’m not kidding, Stella. I want that taken down,” Beatrice repeated firmly. She was now starting to get equally as angry towards Stella’s indifference as she was to the situation at hand.

  “I think you look really pretty,” Sophie said from behind the two ladies. She was sitting in the computer chair, spinning it around and around as she gripped the sides for dear life.

  “Thank you, Sophie,” Stella said. “I chose that photo for that exact reason. You really do look like quite the looker.” She said it as if Beatrice should be thanking her, not scolding her.

  “That’s not really the point, now is it?” Beatrice said, unable to believe what it was that she was looking at.

  From the chef’s house the three members of the Cookie Club had driven straight to Stella’s. The whole way Stella wore a smirk that was positively mischievous. This only added to Beatrice’s worry.

  She tried to work out what Stella could have possibly done to warrant such strange behavior. When they entered the house though and Stella headed straight for her computer… well it didn’t take Beatrice long to put the pieces together.

  Stella had created an online dating account for Beatrice.

  “Why would you think this is OK?” Beatrice asked. She couldn’t fathom what the answer could possibly be either. She had explicitly told Stella how she felt about online dating, and dating in general. The only possible explanation was that she was now, officially crazier than Sophie.

  “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist. Look here.” She directed Beatrice’s gaze to the profile, scrolling through it as Beatrice read.

  Sophie was right at least, it was a very nice photo. It was her in the kitchen, of course, mixing a bowl of some sort of muffin if Beatrice was to warrant a guess. She was smiling and looked truly happy. Probably the happiest she had looked in a while. She then directed her eyes to the information.

  It all seemed reasonable enough, nothing odd or exaggerated. It listed her profession, her passions, hobbies and interests. There was a brief note on her family and even a little section on what she wanted to get out of this website – essentially that she didn’t know what she was looking for, but was willing to take the chance.

  All in all, it was a quaint little profile that looked like, if she had been so inclined, she had made it herself. It was a testament to how well Stella really knew her, but still, all of that didn’t make the situation any better.

  “See,” Stella smirked, clearly very proud of herself. “What did I tell you?”

  “OK, it’s not bad I guess, but that doesn’t change the fact that --”

  “That what? You’re single? You never go on dates and, despite how much you’re going to protest, you’ve been miserable because of it the last few months. Go on, tell me I’m wrong.” Stella stared Beatrice down, as if daring her to argue.

  Beatrice opened her mouth to do just that, before closing it. She then reopened it and closed it again. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t argue with the lady. She had been feeling a little down lately. She tried to tell herself that it was due to other factors, l
ike the investigations and the fact that she hadn’t cooked in days, but even she didn’t believe that. Those were all symptoms rather than causes. Maybe a date was what she needed. One that didn’t end in a premature death.

  “Fine,” She relented to the thrilled applause of Sophie and the very smug expression of Stella. “Leave it up. What do I care?” Really it didn’t matter. If it was there, fine. It didn’t mean that she had to do anything about it. And if anyone she knew saw it and asked, she would just lie.

  “And if a hot young thing happens to want a date?” Stella pressed. It was clear to Beatrice that Stella wasn’t going to drop this until she relented. It also made Beatrice question why she was being so adamant against the concept. Really, the idea that maybe she could find a date soon gave her butterflies, but there was no way she was going to admit that. And besides, what were the odds of a ‘hot young thing,’ as Stella put it, wanting a date with her?

  “If by some miracle that does happen… ask me then and we’ll see.”

  “Oh, believe me I will,” Stella said, still smirking. She could not have looked more pleased with herself if she tried. It was as if she had just won some great victory, which in her mind she most likely had.

  Beatrice didn’t know what to think. She supposed that she was ready to jump back in the pool. Between her husband's brother and Detective Rogers, it really couldn’t get any more intense. And who knows, maybe all those rumors about creeps on the internet were just that? Rumors.

  She guessed that she would just have to wait and see.

  12

  Beatrice shook off the previous events the moment she got home, pushing them to the back of her mind where she hoped that they would stay. She did this for one reason and one reason only -- she felt alive again.

  That little trip to the chef's house had reinvigorated her and reminded her what the point of living was. And for Beatrice that meant to cook.

  Since the attempt on her life, Beatrice hadn't baked a single thing. For three whole days, her kitchen had gone unused. That might not sound like a lot, but for Beatrice it was like not breathing. And what was worse was that she had tried and failed so miserably that she may as well have not bothered in the first place. She was actually at the point where she was all but ready to give up on the game and start buying premade sweets. The worse type of torture she could imagine.

  After her little foray in the chef's kitchen, something had been reignited in her. She could feel it burning in her belly, yearning to be set free. After dropping the girls off and getting home herself, she quite literally threw her things down, rushed into the kitchen and prepared to bake. She didn’t know what it was that she was going to concoct, she only knew that it was delighting the senses as well as rejuvenate her mind.

  There was just one little problem. She had no ingredients. She figured this out within two minutes of getting into the kitchen. The apron was already over her head and the oven was already heating up when she threw open her cupboards to find them empty.

  "Well that's not going to work," she muttered to herself. Even though she was a little annoyed at the situation, she couldn’t help but smile. She was back to her old self again and a quick visit to the shops would all but remedy her empty kitchen.

  The store she bought her supplies at was the same one she always did. It was a Mom and Pop’s style store called 'Baker’s Delights.' She went there for a few reasons. The first was the price; nowhere in town were essential ingredients cheaper. The second reason was that they were known to stock some very rare and peculiar items that the average chef wouldn’t use; but Beatrice always did. And third, Beatrice had a real thing about supporting local business and always did whenever she could. It was a point of honor and one she had stuck to all her life.

  Fifteen minutes into her shop and she was all but done, except for one very vital ingredient that she was having a rather hard time reaching it. It was just ordinary, run of the mill, flour that she needed and although she could see it, sitting innocently in its bag, she couldn’t get it. It was out of reach.

  She hopped up and down, tried using bottles to scoop it over and she even tried climbing the shelves, but still it remained out of her arm’s length.

  "Do you need a hand?" A deep voice that Beatrice recognized instantly, spoke out from behind. "I'll just..." It was Fred, standing right behind Beatrice, so close that she could almost feel him on her. He reached over her shoulder, easily plucking at the bag of flour and dropping it in her basket.

  "Oh, thank you," Beatrice said, trying not to look at him. It was as if looking at him directly might somehow burn her. Instead, she kept her head down and made for the front counter.

  "Hey, wait up a second." He hurried behind her, quickly falling in stride. "So, have you thought about my proposal?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, still not looking at him. He was after all supposed to be dead, although his ability to pick up a bag of flour and drop it in her basket proved otherwise.

  "Sure, you do," he said cheerfully. "About a date. With me."

  "You never said that," Beatrice said, confused. Surely, he hadn't. Although she was crazy, she had to remind herself, so who knows what had gone down between the two.

  "Didn't I? How odd. Well let's reverse that then. What are you doing tonight?" He stepped in front of Beatrice, cutting her off from the counter. She sighed, trying to step around him, but each move she made he only cut her off. It was like it was all some big game.

  What was up with everyone trying to either go out with, or get Beatrice to go out on a date. It was like some sort of mass conspiracy that everyone was in on. "Please, Fred, I need to --"

  "Sure, you don't. Now, what do you say?" He looked so confident and sure of himself. Not like Fred at all.

  It was then that Beatrice had a sudden thought. Why was she saying no to a date with this man? He was obviously real, that much was true. And as far as she knew, he had tried to kill her. If that was true then this might be the only chance she had to get him to confess. If not, he might disappear and she'd never get another.

  The wheels spun and whirred in her head as she tried to make up her mind; weighing the positives and negatives. On the one hand, it was extremely dangerous. Beyond that even. This man was, for all intents and purposes, a lunatic. Anything could happen, but on the other hand, this could be her only chance.

  The sudden desire to start baking again went hand in hand with her belief in herself and her abilities. Beatrice wasn't the kind to sit back and let others do her fighting for her. She was a go getter. It was time to prove that once again.

  "Sure," she found herself saying as she slowly nodded her head. "Tonight?"

  The look of surprise on Fred's face was instantly replaced by a gleeful smile. "Excellent! What's say I pick you up at --"

  "I'd rather drive," she cut in. There was no way she wasn't going in with some kind of exit strategy.

  "Fine by me," he said, still beaming.

  Beatrice couldn't help but smile too. One way or another, this whole ordeal would be over with tonight, once and for all. She just hoped that she came out the other side in one piece.

  13

  This really is the stupidest thing I have ever seen!" Stella all but screamed as she paced back and forth across Beatrice's living room.

  "That you have ever seen?" Beatrice asked in a disbelieving tone. As she asked the question she indicated toward Sophie who was in the corner of the room, sitting on Sylvester's litter box as if she were about to use it. Her pants were still on, but it didn't affect the oddness of the sight.

  "OK, maybe not seen, but it's still the stupidest, most irresponsible thing you have ever done!" She threw her hands in the air as if to emphasize the matter. It seemed to work because right now Beatrice was all but agreeing with her. “And to think you got all in a huff when I mentioned online dating, but this? This is something else entirely.”

  Once she had her date with Fred organized she rushed home and phoned the girls
, telling them to come right over and help her get ready. The baking would have to wait for another time.

  Although the girls were more than happy to help her get ready for a date -- Stella not being able to believe it. Their enthusiasm fell through the floor when they found out who it was for. The only good thing that was to come from it really was the fact that the two ladies no longer thought that Beatrice was making Fred up.

  "In a way, that's even worse," Stella deduced as she helped Beatrice into her dress. "It just means that he is alive and faked his own death for who knows what reason! This man is not stable!"

  "I know that, but it's the only way," Beatrice said, breathing out as the dress closed over her. The outfit was a little snugger than the last time she wore it, but either way, as she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, she had to admit, she looked hot.

  Her hair had been done by Stella. Where it was usually worn out, hanging just above her shoulders, it was now held back with a series of clips and headbands; giving it life and bounce like she had never known it could. Her outfit itself was a long red, sparkling dress that hugged her body. It also covered her arms while opening up at the back. With just the right amount of makeup on and a pair of black heels borrowed from Stella's wardrobe, she looked like a movie star.