Baby and I stood where we were for several minutes after she left while I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle into place. What did I know?
I paced.
“Chris Russell couldn’t be a witness for Candy because he was a heavy sleeper. Candy could have left the apartment, come downstairs, and stabbed Clayton Davenport. Then, hurried back upstairs and gotten back in bed without waking him up.”
Baby sat up straight and watched me pace.
“But I don’t think she did it. Do you?”
Baby yawned.
“I didn’t think so. Let’s see. Candy had the means. The killer got the knife from the kitchen. Easy-peasy. She had the opportunity. She was right upstairs. She knew about the passage, and she could have used it to sneak over, stab Clayton, and then sneak back upstairs.” I looked at Baby.
He turned his head away and refused to make eye contact.
“I know you like Candy. I like her too, but that doesn’t change the facts. She had means, opportunity, and she had a motive. Clayton Davenport was threatening to take away her independence, her coffee shop, and any insurance money she had left.”
He slid down so he looked like a sphinx.
“I’m not saying she did it. I’m just saying, she could have done it. Who else had a motive?”
Baby lifted his leg and began to lick himself.
“Ugh. You’re not helping. Okay, besides Candy, who else do we have?” I paced. “Carla Lattimore. She had the opportunity and the means, but why would she murder Clayton Davenport? Or Sybil Castleton? They were all in the scheme together. As far as we know, she didn’t have a motive.”
Baby rolled over on his back and wiggled from side to side with his paws in the air.
“Mayor Abernathy was being blackmailed by Davenport. So, he had a motive. He was at the winery, so he had the means and opportunity to kill Sybil Castleton. I don’t know if he had the opportunity and means to kill Davenport. I suppose anyone could have gotten in here, but why on earth would they?” I froze and stared at Baby. A chill went up my spine. “Whoever killed Davenport must have lured him here. They wanted him found here at Baby Cakes. They wanted me or someone close to me to be accused of the murder.”
Baby barked his approval.
“Sometimes it takes me a while, but I catch up eventually, boy.” I scratched Baby’s ear until his leg jiggled.
“I can’t focus on that for now or I’ll freak myself out. I need to think about this objectively, like Sherlock Holmes.”
Baby nudged my hand until I continued scratching him.
“Abernathy . . . blackmail is a really good motive for murder. I wonder what Davenport had on him? Whatever it is, it must have had something to do with his time in the military.”
As if on cue at the mention of the military, my phone vibrated, and the Admiral’s face appeared. I debated answering, but I knew resistance was futile.
“Hi, Dad.”
The Admiral was apologetic. He didn’t mean to make me feel bad. He loved me. Blah. Blah. Blah. I truly believed that my dad cared about me. He just wasn’t equipped to express himself. Maybe if my mom had lived, he wouldn’t have buried his feelings. Maybe he would have learned to talk things through. To show his feelings in ways that didn’t involve money. Regardless, being away these past few months, running Baby Cakes, learning to bake and take care of Baby, had taught me that I was capable of making good decisions, and even if I was impulsive from time to time, that was okay too. I would simply have to live with those decisions. Unlike my dad, if I made a bad decision, no lives would be lost.
Thinking of lost lives led me to thoughts of Clayton Davenport.
“Hey, Dad. I need a favor.”
He immediately went to money by asking how much I needed.
“No, I don’t need money. Baby Cakes Bakery is doing well. The renovations are done from the fire, and we are ready for the grand reopening. I was thinking about the man who was murdered. His name was Clayton Davenport. Apparently, he was a very wealthy investor.” I took a few minutes and filled him in on the little I knew about Davenport’s business dealings. “I think he might have been in the military.”
The Admiral’s estimation of people always went up when he found out they served their country. His opinion dropped a few notches when I told him Davenport was in the Army instead of the Navy.
My next move was tricky. “Dad, I had no idea the Army had ships.”
The Admiral spent the next couple of minutes telling me about the history of ships in the various branches of the military and then finished with a bit of trash talking about why the Navy was superior when it came to sailing. That was good. I had him right where I wanted him.
“That guy who was murdered in the bakery, Clayton Davenport, was stationed on one of those Army ships. I saw a picture, and I think it was of the mayor, Jackson Abernathy, with two other men.”
The Admiral spent a minute talking about the importance of military service and how the discipline you learned there prepared you for life.
“Right, so I think there may have been some type of . . . oh, I don’t know, negative stuff that happened. I don’t suppose you could find out what happened. I mean, that was the Army, and you’re just in the Navy, so if you can’t find out, that’s fine. Maybe I should talk to Michael. He was in the Army, and he may have more connections—”
Bingo! My dad was not about to concede that anyone, especially anyone in the Army, was capable of doing something that he couldn’t. The fact that he was still testy over the tongue-lashing he’d gotten from Michael, a lowly Army vet, was still in his mind. There’s no way my dad was going to accept that there was anything he, and consequently the Navy, couldn’t do faster and better. If I knew my dad, he was already tapping away on his computer. He’d have an answer soon.
I remembered April’s comments that Clayton Davenport had been in the military too. “Hey, Dad. Can you run a couple of other names while you’re at it? I’m just curious.” I gave him the names of all of the men I knew that had any connection to Mayor Abernathy regardless of age, including Paul Rivers, Bradley Elliott, Tyler Lawrence, Chris Russell, Clayton Davenport, and Michigan State Trooper Robert Roberts. That should keep him busy.
“Sure. I understand you need to go. I’ll talk to you soon.” I glanced at Baby and held up my hand. “High five.”
He raised his paw and touched my hand, just one of the many tricks Aunt Octavia had taught him.
My phone rang again. This time it was April.
“I talked to Al Norris—”
“Who’s Al Norris?” I asked.
“You call him the Pillsbury Doughboy.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Two things. First, I suggested he get Clayton Davenport’s suitcases from the Carson Law Inn and search them. As his next of kin, I authorized the search. Anyway, guess what? He found a flash drive in his suitcase.”
“Really? Were they able to open it?”
April sounded giddy with excitement. “It was password protected, but you’ll never guess what the passcode turned out to be.”
“Hmmm, your birthday?”
“Close. Our anniversary.” I could hear the smile in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway, Clayton had been investigating someone in New Bison. I think it was him.”
It took me a few moments to connect the dots. “Him? You mean the guy who wanted Clayton to trade you in a business deal?”
“Yes. I’m almost certain. CJ didn’t name him. He just referred to him as Nemesis. Just like that Miss Marple movie we watched a few weeks ago. You remember?”
I absolutely remembered, and a chill ran up my spine. “I don’t understand.”
“Me either, but it looks like CJ figured out who he was, and whoever it is, he tracked him to New Bison.”
I ignored the fact that April no longer seemed repulsed by her late husband and focused on what she was saying. “Plus, there’s some shady real estate things going on. It’s weird, and I don’t understand everything. Trooper Bob has it. He’s going to send it to Lansing for tests and deciphering.”
“That’s a lot to process. Good job.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out. You be careful. Whoever this Nemesis is, he’s dangerous.”
I hung up and looked at Baby. “That’s a scary twist. What’s the likelihood that Clayton Davenport’s nemesis could be in New Bison, Michigan?”
Baby shook his head.
I mulled over everything April said. The shady real estate dealings sounded similar to things Aunt Octavia had mentioned in one of the videos she’d left. She’d ordered special reports about the land, but if she’d received them, I hadn’t found them, yet.
I paced and tried to make sense of everything.
I wasn’t surprised when my dad called back less than ten minutes later.
“Hey, Dad.”
He had the scoop. I expected him to be pleased with himself and maybe the slightest bit cocky that the Navy got an answer before the Army. Yet, I hadn’t expected the anger.
“Wait, hold up. Are you sure it’s the same Jackson Abernathy?” Geez, how many of them could there be? It has to be the same one.
“Dishonorably discharged?”
According to the Admiral, not only was Jackson Abernathy on the ship, but so were Clayton Davenport and Chris Russell. The Admiral was thorough if nothing else.
“Wow. That’s . . . wow.” I had no words. Of course, my dad had plenty of words. Most of them were only four letters long, which was a definite indication of his frustration. No matter how angry he was, my dad rarely swore in front of me. I needed to stop the flood of expletives and think. “Hey, Dad. Thanks for the information, but I have to go, someone’s coming in the bakery. I’ll—”
The Admiral wasn’t about to disconnect without a warning for me to be safe.
“I promise. I will be careful. Now, I have to—”
Just when I thought my dad could no longer surprise me, turns out I was wrong.
“Wait. You’re coming where? Here? To New Bison?” Holy macaroons. “Of course, I want to see you. I just thought you’d be busy. I mean—yes. I have a pencil.” I fumbled through my purse to find a pencil and something to write on. Eventually, I gave up and put his flight information into my phone. “Great. Yes, I have it. I’m looking forward to seeing you too.”
Boy, was this going to be a disaster. Admiral Jefferson Augustus Montgomery was about to invade New Bison, Michigan.
