Evening Bags and Executions(36)

“Let’s give Paige some room to work,” Belinda said, and walked out the back door into the alley. I followed.

“I don’t mean to question your word,” I said. “But this cake is a big deal. It absolutely has to be great, and it has to be delivered on time.”

“Sheridan Adams. Yeah, I know who she is,” Belinda said. “Another one of her charity events. Yellow Submarine cake. Something to do with the Beatles, right?”

I was relieved that Paige had brought Belinda up to speed on what was happening at the bakery—and with my order, specifically.

“Big parties,” Belinda went on. “Lots of food, a memorabilia auction, A-list guests. I know all about it.”

Belinda didn’t strike me as the kind of gal who’d have the inside info on this kind of event, but maybe she’d heard Lacy talk about them. Or maybe she read about them in People magazine.

“Look,” Belinda said. “Your cake will get handled. Don’t worry about it.”

I gave her an I-don’t-know shrug and said, “When I spoke with Darren, he told me he wanted to close the bakery.”

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t exactly what he told me. But I figured my comment would enrage Belinda and she’d blurt out something I could use to solve Lacy’s murder.

“Close the bakery?” Belinda demanded. “Uh-uh. No. Never going to happen.”

“Darren seemed adamant,” I said. “He was pretty annoyed at having to come down here and settle Lacy’s affairs.”

Belinda rolled her eyes. “Everything annoys Darren.”

“It sounded to me as if he had a legitimate complaint,” I said. “He’s got his hands full trying to take care of his parents, paying for the meds, their care, plus running his business.”

“Like Darren should complain about it.” Belinda huffed. “He’s still got the first dime he ever made. That cabinet shop—which his dad gave him—makes a fortune, but he’s too cheap to spend it.”

Okay, this was something I hadn’t heard before.

“Darren has been trying to dump his parents into a care facility for years,” Belinda said. She started to fidget, like maybe she needed a cigarette. “Now that he’s getting some of Lacy’s life insurance money, he’ll probably do it.”

My spirits lifted. A huge chuck of money was definitely a motive for murder. Plus, I wasn’t liking Darren so much right now.

“Lacy must have left something for you, too,” I said.

“Of course she did,” Belinda said, and looked away.

“Doesn’t Lacy have children who’ll collect the money?” I asked. “A husband or boyfriend? Someone?”

Belinda nodded toward the doorway to the workroom. “Lacy was married to this place.”

“She didn’t have any close friends?” I asked.

“She wasn’t exactly Miss Warm-and-Fuzzy,” Belinda said.

Apparently Belinda believed Lacy had left most everything to Darren, which seemed right since he was her brother, with bequeaths to her and maybe other family members. That left the bakery—an extremely lucrative business—up for grabs.

I’d gotten the impression from Darren that he expected to inherit the bakery, yet Belinda acted as if she were an heir also. Darren had complained that she was sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. Maybe, unknown to Darren, Lacy and Belinda had gotten past their teenage argument over those concert tickets—I was still going to have to find out what a Dave Clark Five was—and had grown close. I had no way of knowing the truth unless I saw Lacy’s will, and that didn’t seem likely.

Belinda’s already hard face hardened further.

“Makes me wonder about Darren,” she said. “He has a lot to gain with Lacy’s death. Especially if he thinks he can sell the bakery and get a chunk of that insurance money.”

It made me wonder about Darren, too. Had everything he told me just been for cover? Was he driving around in the bakery delivery van to make everyone think he was hard up for money?

He claimed he’d just arrived in Los Angeles, but how did I know if that was true? He could have come sooner, murdered Lacy, and spun that whole story to throw suspicion off of himself.

Belinda glanced back into the workroom, then leaned a little closer to me and lowered her voice.

“Paige seems awfully anxious to keep the business going,” she said. “It makes me wonder about her.”

Huh. Darren had said the same thing about Paige. Was she really out to get the bakery for herself—no matter what it took?

Belinda glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Look, you don’t need to worry about your cake. I know how things work with Sheridan Adams and her kind. It will get handled,” she said, then dashed back into the workroom.