I smiled back at him. “I told Ruby I would do what I could because she’s my friend. I’m not a private detective and if you need one, you should hire one.”
“You don’t like me,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know you well enough yet to decide.”
That made him laugh again. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen and then put it away again. “What would you like to know?” he asked. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”
Somehow I doubted that was true. “Did you know who Kassie really was?” I asked. “That she was Sean Sullivan’s daughter?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“You hired her as a favor to her father.” It was a guess, but a pretty easy one to make. I slipped the strap of my messenger bag off my shoulder and set the bag between my feet.
“I did.”
“Were you in the kitchen the night Kassie was killed?”
“You know that I was. I’m guessing you know they found my fingerprints on an otherwise clean table. I went to get a cup of coffee.” He adjusted his cuff again.
I wondered if Elias had already practiced the answers to these kinds of questions with his attorney.
“Kassie was there.” Another guess, but from the way his mouth tightened for a moment, a good one.
“Yes she was,” he said. “She was upset over an argument she’d had with someone. She wouldn’t say who it was.”
It was probably the conversation I had overheard between Kassie and Richard earlier in the day. I shifted the strap of my bag from one hand to the other.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” I said. “Why didn’t you sign in at the back door?”
Elias waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a pain in the ass. This is my project. I got a master key from Thorsten—we go way back—so I could come and go as I please.”
I studied the way he was standing, the expression on his face. There were no little tics to suggest he was being evasive.
“I’ve been using a space up on the second floor as an office so I can get away from the chaos down here—another perk of knowing Thorsten.”
I’d guessed that, since the second floor was supposed to be off-limits to the show.
“So you didn’t hear me when I was yelling for help.”
“I have a desk in the production office but it’s a busy spot. I didn’t see or hear anything that night because I was a floor away. I’m sorry. And I didn’t say anything to the police about being in the building because I knew it looked bad.”
The expression on his face told me he knew how ill advised that had been.
I picked up my bag. “I don’t have any more questions and Eugenie is waiting for me,” I said. “Like I said, I’ll help Ruby any way that I can.”
He smiled. “Helping her will probably help me,” he said.
I nodded. “I know that.”
“Which means I’ll be in your debt.”
This time I was the one smiling. “I know that, too.”
Eugenie and I ran Peggy through the details of what would happen on Saturday on the set. Peggy was ready. She was familiar with all the bakers and their backstories, and there was already an easy camaraderie between her and Richard. Russell put a hand on her shoulder and pulled a tiny foil-wrapped bee from behind Peggy’s ear. “It’s a new bee,” he said solemnly as he handed it to her.
Eugenie groaned and shook her head at the bad pun, but Peggy and I laughed, and in the end we all decided Russell should try the same bit during filming.
I didn’t have to be at the library until one thirty. Susan was covering the extra hour for me, and Levi was working because the kids had the day off for teacher development.
About twelve thirty I went outside to eat on the same bench where I’d had lunch the day before. I needed to figure out what I was I was going to do next. How did I start trying to figure out who had killed Kassie Tremayne?
I could hear my mother’s voice in my head saying, “Start at the beginning; proceed through the middle; and when you get to the end, stop.”
But where was the beginning?
I took a bite of my grilled chicken and pepper sandwich. Caroline had given me some of her bread to try and I had used two slices for my lunch. It was made with whole-wheat flour, flaxseed and molasses, she’d explained. It was delicious. Rebecca’s honey-sunny bread was going to have some serious competition from Caroline.
Maybe what I needed to do was talk to everyone who had been a possible suspect before the police and the prosecutor decided Elias was the culprit. Marcus had said that he had pretty much eliminated all of the crew. That left Richard, Eugenie and Russell and the rest of the bakers, minus Rebecca because I remembered Marcus saying she had an alibi.
I looked at my watch. I had enough time to head back over to the community center. Richard had been trying on shirts. He might still be around and I could find out why Kassie had threatened him.
I drank the last of my coffee, folded my sandwich wrap and put it in my bag and stood up. When I turned around I saw Charles coming across the grass toward me. He raised a hand in acknowledgment. I smiled in return.
“You got a second?” he asked as he reached me.
“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”
He gestured at the bench. “Mind if we sit for a minute? I’ve been on my feet all morning making bread.”
“It’s fine with me,” I said, sitting back down. Charles joined me, leaning back against the wooden slats and stretching his muscled arms along the top of the bench.
“How many loaves of bread have you made in the last week?” I asked. I knew Rebecca had made four, maybe five.
“Six,” Charles said. “Seven if you count the loaf that didn’t rise right. That one didn’t make it into the oven.”
“How do you keep making the same thing over and over again? Don’t you ever want to throw something out the window in frustration?”
Charles laughed. “What do you think happened to that loaf that didn’t rise right?”
I grinned.
His expression grew serious. “You’re a librarian, right?”
I nodded. “I am.”
“How do you go to work and put the same books back on the shelf day after day?”
I propped my arm on the back of the bench and thought about his question for a moment. “First of all, there are thousands of books in the library so I’m not putting the same ones away all the time. And even more importantly, I love books.” I leaned toward him. “Don’t tell anyone, but I like some books more than I like some people.”
Charles smiled. “It’s the same for me. There are thousands of recipes to try and tinker with and I love cooking probably the same way you love books.”
“I’ve tried your cooking,” I said. “You should try my library.”
“You don’t have to sell me on the library,” he said. “How do you think I learned to cook?”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. I grew up with a single mother who hated to cook. The only way I was going to get anything other than canned spaghetti and Ding Dongs was if I learned to make it myself. So I did.”
I smiled. “I’m impressed.” I meant the words. Charles was a very creative cook. When the judges had surprised the bakers with bison as their mystery ingredient he had created a spicy orange bison filling for his meat pie.
Charles swiped a hand across his mouth. “Well, I guess I’ve stalled enough. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go ahead,” I said. I had a few more minutes before I needed to be at the library.
“I heard Rebecca say that you and the police detective that arrested Elias are a couple.”
“We are.”
Charles nodded as though that was the answer he’d been looking for. “There’s something I need to tell the police.”
“Okay.” Russell had made the whipped cream and, it appeared, sanitized the kitchen. Elias had a master key so he could come and go as he pleased. What was Charles about to confess to?