Tart of Darkness Page 6

  As Dani waited for the water, butter, salt, and sugar to come to a rolling boil, she pondered the possibilities for the remaining dessert of the threesome. Maybe a selection of tea cakes. No! Macarons. Their perfectly smooth and shiny shell was bright and inviting, but the cookies were anything but simple to produce. She vowed to spend the evening browsing the internet for the ultimate recipe.

  Refocusing on her current project, Dani spent the next hour working on the dough for the croquembouche. She had finished piping the pâte à choux onto the parchment-lined baking sheets and was brushing the pastry puffs with egg wash when the kitchen’s silence was interrupted by the doorbell’s clamorous ring.

  Unable to stop what she was doing, Dani glanced at Ivy, Tippi, and Starr and called out, “Can one of you see who that is?” All three girls were engrossed in their textbooks, and when the bell rang three more times in rapid succession, none of them even looked up. Dani raised her voice and repeated, “Can someone get that?”

  “What?” Ivy frowned, then when the bell rang again, she said, “Oh, sure.” Jumping to her feet, she darted into the hall, calling over her shoulder, “Maybe it’s Uncle Spence. He said he’d try to stop by this afternoon or evening.”

  Dani had just popped the completed trays in the oven when a sour-looking middle-age man entered the kitchen with Ivy hard on his heels.

  “Sir.” Ivy tried to grab his arm, but he flicked off her hand as if it were a piece of lint. Her face reddened and she said, “I asked you to wait in the parlor. No one is allowed back here.”

  The man’s unblinking, cold, gray eyes skimmed the messy counter, and his lips pressed together in a disapproving, thin, white line.

  “Ivy, get back.” Dani hastily snatched a rolling pin from the counter, moved around the island to block the intruder’s path, and said, “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Danielle Sloan?” the man barked, seemingly unimpressed with her weapon.

  “Yes.” Dani wasn’t sure why she answered instead of smacking him upside the head. “If you’re here on business, please call for an appointment.”

  The guy grunted and pointed to the seated girls. “Tippi Epstein and Starr Fleming.” When they nodded, he turned toward Ivy and said, “Ivy Drake I presume?”

  He skirted around Dani and headed to the table, walking as if each step was preordained and nothing short of Armageddon would stop him from reaching his intended goal. With his emaciated torso, jerky movements, and cruel expression, the man resembled a Halloween skeleton. Was he some mentally ill homeless guy who had wandered up to the house by accident? But he was awfully clean and dressed really nice for someone living on the streets. And if he were here by chance, how did he know their names?

  “You need to get out of here right now or I’ll call the police.” Dani motioned with her chin to Tippi and Starr, signaling them to keep their distance from the man. He was starting to frighten her. She gestured to the back door. “Leave.”

  The man ignored Dani and pinned Tippi and Starr with his gaze. “You two stay put.”

  Alarmed, Dani glanced back at Ivy. She seemed frozen, and Dani said sharply, “Call 911.”

  As Ivy frantically patted her pockets looking for her cell phone, the man declared, “You were all at the Bourne party yesterday.”

  When he scowled, for just a half second, his features seemed familiar, but Dani couldn’t place him. Had she met this guy before?

  When no one responded, a sneer twisted his gaunt features, and he enunciated each word, “You. Were. All. At. The. Bourne. Party. Yesterday. Correct?”

  “Yes.” What in the world did this creep want? To cover her panic, Dani put on her best don’t-mess-with-me expression, the one she’d perfected working in HR, and asked, “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m Detective Mikeloff.”

  That would explain the suit and tie, but not his bad attitude.

  “May I see some identification, please?” Dani asked, not sure she believed him.

  Mikeloff reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a shiny leather wallet. He flipped it open, displaying a police ID card on one side and a gold badge on the other.

  Ivy stopped searching for her phone and peered over the man’s shoulder. She gazed at the identification, then shot a worried glance at Dani. What had they done to merit a visit from Normalton’s finest? Were they in some kind of trouble?

  “Satisfied?” Detective Mikeloff said, a challenge in his voice. When Dani nodded, he closed the leather folder, returned it to his pocket, and stated, “I understand your company”—he pulled out a notebook and consulted it—“Chef-to-Go, catered Regina Bourne’s party on Saturday.”

  “That’s correct,” Dani answered carefully. Had Regina accused them of something?

  “How well do you know Ms. Bourne?”

  “Not very.” Dani shrugged. “I met her for the first time when she hired me. Why?”

  Detective Mikeloff ignored Dani’s question. “But you did work with her closely this past week? And had several arguments with her?”

  “Regina had some requests that weren’t possible to fulfill on such short notice.” Dani’s stomach clenched. Had one of the guests got caught drinking underage? Knowing Regina, she’d point the finger at Dani’s Jell-O shots. “Why are you asking me about her? Did something happen after we left her party?”

  “What would make you think that?” Detective Mikeloff’s tone implied that Dani was guilty of something. “Do you have a reason to think there would be a problem?”

  “Well.” Dani figured he already knew about the fire. No doubt someone who had been at the luau had been happy to tell Detective Mikeloff all about the incident. “There was an accident with the tiki torches earlier.”

  “At which time”—he consulted his notepad—“you saved the day using a fire extinguisher that you just happened to have handy.” Mikeloff looked like a malevolent raven, particularly when he tipped his head and narrowed his beady eyes. “But Miss Bourne wasn’t as grateful as you expected, was she?”

  “Are you implying that I somehow conspired with the young man who tripped?” Dani’s head had begun to pound. “Why would I do that?”

  “Perhaps to look like everyone’s savior?” Mikeloff’s expression reminded Dani of the Big Bad Wolf after he ate Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. “It had to be infuriating that instead of fawning over you, Miss Bourne demanded you produce another round of desserts.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Dani smoothed her apron, wishing she was dressed for her previous job rather than her current one. Although she hadn’t enjoyed wearing them every day, there was just something about a suit and heels that commanded respect. “I would never endanger people’s lives like that. And it’s absolutely normal protocol for caterers to carry a fire extinguisher when open flames are involved. I’d be violating my insurance policy if I didn’t have one with me.” She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets so the detective wouldn’t see them shaking. “Why would I care about appearing to be a hero?”

  “Let’s see.” Detective Mikeloff tapped his lantern-like jaw with a bony finger. “Perhaps because you lost your high-paying job. And instead of getting a new one, you went into debt in order to open some weird hybrid business. Seems to me you were seeking a benefactor. Someone who would recommend you to all her rich friends.”

  “First,” Dani said, in her stop-screwing-around-with-me voice, “I did not lose my job. I made a decision to leave and tendered my resignation. Second, Chef-to-Go isn’t weird, it’s creative.”

  “But you are in debt.”

  Dani opened her mouth to defend her business plan, then crossed her arms. If she had learned anything from her last job, it was never to miss a good opportunity to shut the heck up.

  “Nothing to say?” Mikeloff gloated.

  “I’m finished talking until you tell me what this is all about.
”

  “We can do this at the police station if you prefer.” Detective Mikeloff glared at her, then added, “And I mean all four of you.”

  “Fine.” Dani refused to back down. “I’ll call my attorney and have her meet us there.”

  “And I’ll call my uncle.” Ivy moved so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Dani. “He’s the head of campus security.”

  “Guess I better call my mom.” Tippi joined them. “She’s a judge.”

  “Well, shoot.” Starr stood up. “My father’s only the thoracic surgeon that saved the mayor’s life, but he’ll want to know what’s going on too.”

  Minutes went by as Detective Mikeloff stared at the four women, and when they didn’t break the growing silence, he blew out an angry breath. “Regina Bourne was found dead yesterday afternoon.”

  “No!” Dani had been prepared for something bad, but not that.

  As she tried to come to terms with the fact that someone she had spoken to less than twenty-four hours ago was no longer alive, Mikeloff turned to Ivy and dropped another bombshell. “I understand Miss Bourne said some nasty things to you before you left her party. What were you doing back at her house later that night?”

  “What?” Dani gaped at her friend. “You told me you were going to the library.”

  “I went there, but as I was studying, I reached for my locket, and when it wasn’t around my neck, I remembered that I had left it in Regina’s kitchen,” Ivy explained. “The chain broke while we were prepping the appetizers and I put it on the windowsill. I went back to get it.”

  “At one in the morning?” Detective Mikeloff jeered. “Why not just text Miss Bourne and ask her to bring the thing to class?”

  “I didn’t want to take a chance on it getting lost.” Ivy’s cheeks reddened. “My first boyfriend gave it to me and he died in a car crash our senior year.”

  “So when Miss Bourne refused to let you in the house, you must have been angry.” Detective Mikeloff checked his notebook. “I understand she had Lazarus Hunter escort you off her property.”

  “Yes, I was sort of mad.” Ivy put her hands on her hips. “But when Laz walked me to my car, he promised to find the necklace and bring it to me. He said he’d text me to get a time that we could meet up.”

  “Really?” Detective Mikeloff’s eyebrows rose. “Funny he didn’t mention that.”

  “That’s—” Ivy started, but Tippi clamped her hand across Ivy’s mouth.

  “She won’t be making any further statements without an attorney present.”

  “Which is your right.” Detective Mikeloff jotted something on his pad. “But don’t think this is finished. You’re on my radar.”

  Dani took a relieved breath. She really should have had Ivy phone her uncle as soon as she heard Regina was dead. Thank goodness Tippi was prelaw and came from a family full of lawyers.

  Still berating herself for her lack of judgment, Dani startled when the detective whirled on her and said, “You used to work at Homestead Insurance.”

  “Yes.” Dani already knew he’d been checking up on her, but why was he bringing up her previous employer? “As I mentioned, I quit many, many months ago.”

  “But not before you figured out a way to ruin someone’s life?” His nostrils flared. “Or did you get the cash you saved the company under the table?”

  Suddenly Dani was even more worried than she had been when she thought Mikeloff was mentally ill. Was the detective referring to the incident that had been the tipping point in her decision to quit? She’d eliminated an entire division specializing in the most difficult claims.

  A woman involved in a particularly complicated case had come forward with proof that the three men working in that department had been threatening her with sexual assault to get her to drop her appeal. They hadn’t touched her but had been calling at all times of the day and night, taken pictures of her through her bedroom window, and put a profile featuring her on an online hookup site.

  Homestead’s CEO was so anxious to cover up what had happened, he had offered the victim twice the total amount of her already substantial claim and promised to fire the men without severance. All she had to do was agree to let the matter drop without bringing in the authorities.

  Dani had been assigned to handle the dismissals. Everyone involved, including Dani, had signed a confidentiality agreement. The lack of explanation had made it appear that Dani was a coldhearted witch who, without any justification, had demolished an entire department, depriving the employees of any compensation.

  Still, she was surprised at the detective’s acrimony and hurriedly said, “I assure you that I didn’t receive any money for any of my actions on behalf of Homestead.”

  “Are you telling me that you quit a high-paying job to cook for people for no good reason?” Detective Mikeloff’s pupils dilated.

  “I’ve learned that money is a crummy way of keeping score, and I did have a good reason.” Dani stepped back. When had the detective moved so close? “Although it might not be one you would understand.”

  “Are you suggesting that I’m stupid?” His fist came down hard on the stainless steel surface of the island, and a large bottle of vanilla extract fell over and broke.

  Dani jumped as the dark liquid splashed on the front of her T-shirt. “No. It’s just difficult to explain why I quit.” She hurried to clean up the broken glass and oozing liquid. “Heck. I haven’t even told my father yet. But cooking makes me happy. My HR job, not so much.”

  “I see.” Detective Mikeloff seemed to be appeased by Dani’s apprehension and he squared his shoulders. “You’re just a Martha Stewart wannabe.”

  “It took me a while to see that a high salary and corporate success aren’t everything.” Dani knew it sounded corny, but it was the truth. “Providing nourishment for people’s stomachs and their souls is a lot more important. Food doesn’t ask you to make difficult decisions between right and wrong. It just asks you to enjoy.”

  Detective Mikeloff snorted, then lobbed another grenade. “Is that why you killed Regina Bourne? She got in the way of your plans to feed the world?”

  “No!” Dani yelped, her knees started shaking. “You’re saying Regina was murdered?”

  “Don’t act so surprised.” His tone was harsh. “Why else would I be here?”

  “But how—” Dani controlled her voice with an effort. “I mean…”

  Tippi released Ivy and clamped her hand across Dani’s mouth. “Either you tell us the whole story, or Dani’s not saying another word until she speaks to her lawyer.”

  “You’re going to hide behind the skirts of a college girl?” Detective Mikeloff’s stare frosted with resentment. When Dani nodded, he unclenched his teeth and said, “I’m sure the old biddy who called the ambulance for the vic has already talked to the newspapers…” The detective trailed off, then as if some switch had been thrown in his brain, his eyes took on a disturbing gleam, and with an air of professionalism that had been absent up until now, he stated, “Miss Bourne was found in a lounge chair by her pool. It appears that sometime between noon and one on Sunday, she’d had an orgy with the leftovers from her party, as well as several boxes of snack cakes, then passed out. When the housekeeper couldn’t revive Miss Bourne, she called 911, and Miss Bourne was pronounced dead shortly after her arrival at the hospital.”

  “Although that’s awful, how do you know it was murder?” Dani bit her lip. “Couldn’t it have been natural causes?”

  “Anytime someone as young as Miss Bourne dies without being under a doctor’s care, an autopsy is performed,” Detective Mikeloff snapped.

  “Oh.” Dani blinked.

  “Especially since while the housekeeper was waiting for the ambulance, she found a syringe on the driveway. She gave it to one of the paramedics and traces of insulin were found. With that information, and the assurance of the housekeeper that Miss
Bourne was not diabetic, the medical examiner was asked to make Miss Bourne’s autopsy a priority.” He flipped several pages in his notebook, and when he found what he was looking for, he read, “The ME performed a serum C-peptide analysis that showed an inappropriate ratio of insulin and C-peptide molecule concentration. When there is a large disparity between serum insulin versus C-peptide concentration, insulin OD is suspected unless another physiological pathology like an insulin-producing tumor is found. There was no such pathology, which led the ME to the conclusion that nothing except a deliberate act could have resulted in such an extraordinarily high insulin level.”

  “Oh,” Dani murmured again. She was surprised that after the detective’s initial reluctance to share information he was telling her so much, but she was happy for the change. Still, her last hope that this was all a mistake was fading when she suddenly realized that there might be a way of clearing herself and the girls. She brightened and said, “If you have the syringe, you can take our fingerprints, and when they don’t match, you’ll realize we’re innocent.”

  “When the housekeeper found the syringe, it was dirty. She wiped it clean before handing it over.” Mikeloff gritted his teeth. “The only prints on it were the paramedic’s.”

  “Crap!” Dani groaned.

  “So”—Detective Mikeloff glanced from Dani to Ivy—“which one of you shot Miss Bourne full of insulin?” His predatory eyes studied each of them for another long moment. And when neither of them spoke, he threatened, “It will be easy to discover if either of you are diabetic or has a close association with someone who is.”

  “That really doesn’t matter.” Starr put her hands on her hips. “You don’t need a prescription for insulin or syringes, so everyone has access.”

  “Did your daddy the doctor tell you that?” The detective’s pasty complexion turned an ugly purple.

  Dani wrinkled her brow. What was up with this guy? It was almost as if he wanted her or Ivy to be the guilty party.

  “I worked in a pharmacy when I was in high school,” Starr answered calmly.