“Sounds amazing,” he said enthusiastically.
Of course it did. All my ideas (at least all of my pastry-related ideas) were amazing. I continued, encouraged, “Hey, we just wanted to pick your brain.”
His voice immediately put up walls. “You know I can’t tell you anything that’s not already public information.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to,” I said. “We’re more looking for vibes.”
“Vibes?”
Vibes?Gabe mouthed at me, mystified.
How were they not familiar with vibes? Vibes were how I made most of my decisions. “Just, like, the general feeling around the department,” I said breezily. “No concrete information. No secrets. I’m worried about my friend Vienna. Do they really think she did it?”
Caleb was silent for a moment. If they were just doing their due diligence in clearing her, he’d say so quickly. Which didn’t bode well. After way too long, he said, “No comment.”
Meaning, yes. Crap. It had to be the earring, though I couldn’t help but flash back to that tense conversation between Vienna and Conrad I’d overheard at the very beginning of the night. Maybe somebody else had overheard it too. Still. “I mean, the earring could’ve gotten there in so many ways,” I said. “Maybe it fell out and Conrad Phlume, a good upstanding citizen, picked it up so that he could return it later.”
Caleb sighed. “Sure. Maybe.” He was silent for a moment again. “Your friend, like the rest of your crowd, has the best lawyers and lots of money to donate to the campaign of whatever well-placed official will advocate on her behalf. You don’t have to worry about her unless she did it.”
“But she couldn’t have done it,” I said. “Vienna would never kill someone. What if it was some waiter? Conrad Phlume probably yelled at a bunch of waiters that night.”
“The entire catering and venue staff were seen on the lower floor or in the basement cleaning up around the time of the murder,” Caleb said.
“Then what about his wife? You know she hissed at him in the middle of his speech and stormed out, right?”
“Yes, I have heard that,” Caleb said. “But you know, it’s not the earring alone that points to your friend, it’s all the…” He stopped himself short. I let out an exasperated breath.
“All the what?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Pom.” He sounded as exasperated as I did.
“Come on, you can’t hint like that and thennottell us.”
“It wasn’t a hint. I didn’t even say anything.”
“Sounded like a hint to me,” I said. “Just give us one more tiny hint. Point us in the right direction.”
“I have to go.” Booooo. “Have a good day, Pom. Not you, farthead.”
He hung up without even saying goodbye, like he was worried I’d wheedle the information out of him. I probably would. I was exceptionally good at wheedling. It was basically how I’d solved the last murder.
Speaking of which. “Oh no,” Gabe said.
“What?” I said innocently. My eyes were as big and doe-like as those of the vintage cat clock on the kitchen wall, the one whose tail swung with every tick.
“I see that look on your face.”
“What look on my face?”
“What was it?” Gabe asked. “Vienna being in trouble? The articles saying that you’re stupid and that you blundered into solving your grandmother’s murder? The risk of nobody coming to your next gala?”
I shrugged. “All of the above?”
“You do remember what happened last time we investigated a murder, right?” Gabe said. “You were almost stabbed to death with a shoe.”
Honestly, that hadn’t even been the most traumatic part. I’d thought Opal was my best friend, for goodness’ sake. I’d also gone through most of my family members as suspects. There was nothing like making you question a relationship you’d always taken for granted like thinking—or ultimately finding out—that they were a murderer. It was hard to get close to anyone now, thinking what they might be hiding.
What if someone close to me was the killer again? I didn’t know if I could take it.
