Not too many people my age knew how to do that. “Anyone who makes a good buttercream knows what they’re doing. Go ahead.”
“I have a hard time believing we can relax the killer into a confession.” Wickham moved closer to Mathis and lowered his voice. “You can’t think of a reason anyone in the band might’ve killed Alex, can you?”
Mathis shook his head as he measured powdered sugar, vanilla, and lemon extract. “Well, I’ll tellyou this, after you two left to go on your date, we finished loading the van, then everyone left. So Alex must’ve gone back alone for some reason. He may have wanted to meet up with someone, or he may have forgotten something.”
“Yes, Bradley mentioned that he’d gone back, but not why. Maybe he walked in on something he shouldn’t have,” I suggested as I sprinkled a pinch of sincerity dust into the dough. We’d thrown so many theories around, it was difficult to keep track of them. But none of them held any merit, anyway.
The kitchen door jingled again, and Zoe let herself in from the side alley. “Hi, everyone. Wickham’s text said to go ahead and come right in. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“The more, the merrier.” I smiled.
Zoe didn’t make me as uncomfortable as Harley. She came across as someone who presented herself to the world with no pretenses.
“There’s a coatrack there,” I said. “Want to help Mathis with the frosting?”
“Sure, yeah.” She shrugged like she wasn’t quite sure why she’d even come.
I glanced at Zoe as she settled in, her copper and deep-purple aura swirling, restless and afraid—understandable. Her short platinum-blonde hair gave her an edgy vibe. She smiled but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“Thanks for organizing this,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been a nervous wreck since I found out.”
“Understandable. At least there’s safety in numbers,” Wickham said. “So it's good you’re here. Ernesto’s busy with Anne, so Tim’s the only person we haven’t heard from yet.”
I exchanged a glance with Wickham. “Hopefully, they’re doing alright.”
We finished setting everything up well before eight p.m., so we only had a few last-minute touches to complete. Harley and Zoe plugged in strings of white lights. Mathis checked the mic. Kitty helped me set pastries, tea, and gelato out on the sideboard, and Bradley and Wickham set up rows offolding chairs.
“You sure word’s out about the open mic?” Wickham asked Mathis, watching for any guests to arrive. The bakery glowed with warm lights. All of the wrought iron French café tables were outfitted with white tablecloths and candles. The back wall had been turned into a makeshift stage with fairy lights, a few standing plants on the sides, a microphone, and speakers. Though the display cases were cleared out for the evening, we topped the counters with drinks and snacks.
“Yeah, give it a minute; we put it up on our socials. Any devout fans will be aware of the event.” Mathis nodded, pulled back a white gossamer curtain, and glanced outside.
Ernesto and Tim arrived just before the crowds.
Tim’s face was scruffier than usual, and his sandy-blond hair disheveled. “Hey, y’all. Sorry I couldn’t help with the setup. I had a bunch of stuff to take care of today.”
I wondered what was so important and why he looked like he hadn’t showered in the last forty-eight hours.
Ernesto nodded. “Anne needed help preparing for a gala she’s performing at. But I appreciate you setting this up.”
“You’re good, man.” Wickham gave them each a high-five-handshake-like greeting.
At least Ernesto had a reason for why he couldn’t come help. I’m sure my expression toward Tim wasn’t as welcoming as it could have been. I wasn’t so much suspicion, but annoyed at his lack of communication. Though if I suspected anyone, it might be Tim. I leaned on the bakery counter, eyeing him as everyone else got back to work. "I'm glad you made it, Tim. Did you know Alex very well?"
Tim followed suit, leaning on the counter as well, next to me. He raised his eyebrows at me as he spoke. "Alex didn't deserve to die the way he did. But he wasn't such a nice guy, Lydia. I'm sure Wickham's filled you in on him. The accumulation of money consumed him and left little in the way of humanity."
I blinked at Tim's blunt response. "Wickham's told me a few things. Is that why you didn't want to help today?"
Tim shook his head. "No. I really had some things going on. I show up for the Grey Doors unless there's something else I can't get out of."
"I'm sure they appreciate that. It seems like you all work well together." I tried to keep Tim talking as everyone else took care of the finishing touches, tested equipment, and straighteneddisplays.
He nodded. "Alex sure rode Wickham hard. I think he saw his potential and wanted to push him. He pretty much ignored me, Bradley, and Ernesto. But he was surprisingly kind to Zoe and Harley."
"He treated the girls better then?" I asked.
Tim scratched behind his ear. "Alex made sure Harley had whatever she wanted, and he worked on lyrics with Zoe. Sometimes I suspected he wanted to break up the band and create his own group that he could control more with the girls. He probably would've wanted Wickham too, if he was easier to manipulate."
"Wickham won't have any of that," I chuckled and it dawned on me, that while I found Wickham very handsome, that wasn't what attracted me to him most. Even before I got to know him, something about his aura told me our souls belonged together. We were a perfect match.
