I don’t know if I was more shocked by Leroy’s courage or his revelation. How did I not know he’d been in jail before? Did Aunt Octavia know? Either way, I didn’t have long to recover. Within minutes, there was a knock at the door.
Daisy and Baby woke up at the sound of the knocking, and Michael and I had our hands full containing the mastiffs. It took both of us to convince them to ignore the person knocking and to follow us into the bedroom. By the time we returned, I was sweating. Leroy and Trooper Bob were gone, and April was standing in the kitchen with tears running down her face.
April didn’t want to talk. Instead, she said she just wanted to be alone and went downstairs.
“We’ve got to do something,” I said.
“You will. We will.” Michael stifled a yawn. “Give your little gray cells a rest tonight, and tomorrow we can figure out what to do.”
One glance at the time showed me that it was after three in the morning. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until that point. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
“You’re right.”
We said our goodnights, and Michael headed to the door.
“Umm, where do you think you’re going?” I asked.
He turned. “I was going home, but if you want me to stay . . .” He winked.
I ignored the insinuation. “What about Daisy? I can’t keep two English mastiffs. Baby is more than enough for me. Besides, Daisy doesn’t know me. She knows you.”
He walked back to the bedroom and opened the door. In the short time that we’d been gone, Daisy and Baby had curled up in my bed.
“Daisy, come.”
Daisy lifted her head, stretched, and then hopped down. She trotted over to Michael and followed him out the door with barely a backward glance.
I thought Baby would object, but he merely sat up and stared after them. When they were gone, he yawned big and added vocals. It sounded like a wail.
“She’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”
He gave another vocal response, this time without the yawn.
“I know, but it’s just for a few hours. It’s already three, and I’ll take you to Michael’s first thing and you can see your buddy.”
He turned his sad brown eyes and stared at me.
“Besides, I don’t know if I can handle two big dogs. Three months ago, I didn’t think I could handle one English mastiff.” I scratched his ear. “Now, here you are.”
I climbed into bed and picked up the remote to turn off the television. I always turn on the television to keep him company when I leave. When I grabbed the remote, I dropped it, and the VCR started.
Three months ago, I didn’t know what a VCR was. Another first. Aunt Octavia used to record messages on them. She’d recorded a message for me that her lawyer, Chris Russell, played when I first arrived in New Bison. Since then, I’d located two more that she’d hidden around the house. Aunt Octavia believed someone in New Bison had been up to no good. She believed someone had been out to get her. A spy in the camp. That’s what she called it. Turns out she was right. At least, partially. Someone had been up to no good. Although, if there was a spy in her camp, I never figured out who it was.
When Octavia’s voice came from the VCR, Baby’s head snapped toward the television. He stared for several seconds and then slid down like a sphinx and laid his head in my lap.
I stared at Baby, and tears ran down my face. “I’m sorry, boy. All the women in your life keep leaving, don’t they? First Aunt Octavia. Now Daisy.” I leaned down and hugged him. “Well, I won’t leave you. And I’m going to figure out a way to bring Daisy here too.”
I had no idea if he understood me or not, but together we watched the last tape I’d found of Aunt Octavia. She was talking about a master criminal . . . a Moriarty who was manipulating things in New Bison. Elections. Land deals. Everything. She didn’t know who it was, but she felt it was someone in her inner circle. A spy in the camp.
When she finished talking, Baby moaned. I picked up my phone and sent Michael a text that I’d pick up Daisy tomorrow.
I knew it. LOL
#Liar
#Softie
We sent a few other messages, but nothing related to dogs. When I heard Baby snoring, I put my phone down to charge and tried to join him. As I drifted off to sleep, I made a mental note of tasks that I needed to do.
First, I needed to post that Baby Cakes would be closed. I didn’t have time to think about baking, especially with Leroy in jail.
Second, I needed to call Chris Russell and get him to represent Leroy. Maybe he could get him out on bail. Although, I didn’t know how that worked when you confessed to murder. I suspected bail wouldn’t be an option, but Chris Russell would know.
Third, I needed to assemble the Baker Street Irregulars. We had to find out who killed Clayton Davenport and Sybil Castleton, in a hurry, and get Leroy out of jail.
Fourth, I needed to enter something in the Spring Festival Baking Contest.
Fifth, I needed to find out what Leroy had gone to jail for.
I tossed and turned and eventually grabbed my phone. I took care of items two and three with a couple of text messages. The last two couldn’t be completed with a text or social media post. One post to social media and the first item would be taken care of too, but I waffled. Do responsible business owners close their businesses when they have trouble? Or do they press through? If I close down too many times, will people decide they’d be better off with the Belgian chef that Clayton Davenport hired at his bakery? Speaking of which, I made a note to find out what happened to that bakery. Would it open? Would Marjorie know?
I typed the social media post, and my finger hovered over the button that would post it on all of our social media sites. Just because I am down one employee doesn’t mean I need to close. What if Chris Russell can’t get Leroy out quickly? We have plenty of baked goods. I could just sell what we have until we run out. I deleted the message. Word travels fast in a small town. People would hear about Leroy and flock here to find out whatever gossip they could. Would they think I was disrespectful NOT to close the bakery?
I retyped the message. Before I pressed Send, I got another text from Michael.
Will drop off Daisy and Grandma Hannah in the morning.
I decided it was a sign from God. I deleted the message about closing and responded to Michael.
I lay in bed and let the thoughts of doubt and confusion drift around me. What if my head baker is convicted of murder? What would happen to him? What would happen to Baby Cakes? My last thought before I drifted to sleep was, I wonder if Aunt Octavia knew about Leroy’s past? Is there a possibility that he was the spy in the camp?
