Page 28 of Murder and Marzipan in Las Vegas
Sherry’s eyes narrow as she considers this, her mental wheels visibly turning. “Now that you mention it... no. He looked upset for sure, devastated even, but not shocked. More like...” She struggles to find the words, her hands gesturing helplessly. “Like someone confirming bad news they already suspected might be coming.”
Ray-Ray suddenly rights himself, his spectral form almost vibrating with excitement. “Hot diggity dog! I just remembered something!” He floats closer, nearly passing through my head in his enthusiasm and causing a mean shiver to ride through me. “Jolene called me—first time in years just a few days before I passed away. She was all fired up about something she’d discovered. Said it was gonna change everything.”
“Did she tell you what it was?” I ask, forgetting momentarily that Sherry can’t hear half this conversation.
“Excuse me?” Sherry looks confused.
“Sorry, just thinking out loud,” I recover quickly, hoping I sound less crazy than I feel. “Did Jolene have any other enemies that you know of? Anyone else she might have been blackmailing or threatening with exposure? Because it sounds like she had a real talent for making people uncomfortable.”
Ray-Ray answers before Sherry can. “That security fella with the teeth so white they could double as emergency flares. Pacy something. He and Jolene had history—the naked kind, if you catch my drift.”
My mouth falls open.
Sherry shakes her head, apparently interpreting my expression as surprise at her answer. “Not that I know of, but then I’m not from around here. I stick to the baking circuit and try to avoid the drama that seems to follow some people.”
“What about Dirty Joe Tuggle?” I ask, trying to sound casual while my brain processes the bombshell Ray-Ray just dropped about Pacy and Jolene’s romantic history. “Did Jolene have any connection to him that you know of?”
Sherry shakes her head again. “The Elvis impersonator who died? Not that I’m aware of. Why would a baker have anything to do with an Elvis tribute artist? Different worlds entirely.”
“Just trying to connect the dots,” I say vaguely, and those dots are starting to form a picture that’s more disturbing than I’d like.
Ray-Ray, however, is practically doing ghostly backflips, his excitement causing small showers of pink and blue stars to rain down around us. “Joe! That two-timing, hip-swiveling thief! He was supposed to be keeping an eye on my Jolene for me—like a supernatural security system—but instead, he was bleeding that detective friend of yours dry over some pile of money that was big enough to cause serious problems.”
I nearly choke on air. “What pile of money?”
Sherry gives me an odd look as if she’s starting to worry about my mental state. “Are you okay? You keep asking questions and then reacting toinvisible answers.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m fine.” I wave her off, trying to look like someone who hasn’t just learned potentially explosive information from a dead Elvis impersonator. “Just remembered something important about my grocery list. You know how it is with Mom brain—random thoughts just pop up at the worst possible moments.”
“Important enough to make you turn whiter than buttercream?” she asks skeptically.
“It’s sort of a hazard of daydreaming about sweet treats,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
“I can see why.” She gives a little laugh. “So when are you due?”
“Due for what?” I give a quick blink, genuinely confused.
“Your baby.” She motions to my slightly distended belly. Okay, fine. It’s totally distended to the size of a beach ball. You’d never know I had the twins. Ate them maybe, but nothadthem.
Her eyebrows shoot up in a panic. “Oh no! You’re not pregnant, are you? Please tell me I didn’t just put my foot in my mouth so hard I need a surgical extraction.”
“I was pregnant.” I give a little shrug and hold my belly as if the boys were still in it, purely out of habit. “But I had twin boys just over a month ago. I guess you could say I’m not exactly snapping back into shape like those celebrity moms who seem to pop back to pre-baby weight before they’ve even left the hospital.”
“Oh, I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole,” Sherry moans with her face turning as red as her hair. “Could you ever forgive me? I should know better than to ask questions like that. My mother taught me better manners, I swear.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I assure her with genuine warmth. “I’m shocked I don’t hear it more often, honestly. And with my luck and current body situation, I probably will. Maybe I should just start telling people I’m due any minute now and see how that goes.”
Before Sherry can respond, Charlie appears at my side balancing two plates piled precariously high with enough food to feed a small nation—or one stress-eating baker.
“You’re missing the buffet bonanza of the century,” she announces, thrusting one plate toward me as if she were delivering emergency medical supplies. “I grabbed you some of everything, plus extra mini quiches because I know how you get when your bloodsugar dips into the danger zone and you start making questionable choices that don’t involve food.”
“Wow, thank you. You’re my hero,” I say, accepting the food mountain gratefully. The scent of perfectly seared steak and buttery mashed potatoes makes my stomach growl loud enough that even Ray-Ray looks startled and impressed by my digestive system’s vocal abilities.
Charlie shoots me a look that assures me she realizes I’ve chosen to interrogate a suspect instead of loading up on free fancy food. Hey? Maybe I’m finally developing some impulse control. Or just prioritizing my obsessions—murder before food, but only by the narrowest of margins.
Sherry looks between us with a bemused expression. “You two are either twin sisters or have known each other way too long.”
“Both,” Charlie and I say in unison.
