Kayla gave me a little nod. “You rock.”
Yeah, maybe I did. But, jeez, Vanessa was right—I hate it when other people are right. I was barely muddling through Sheridan Adams’ party prep.
I absolutely had to pull this off.
In my office, I reviewed everything that had been put in place for Sheridan’s event, made calls to double-check things, and managed to calm down. Everything was in good shape with the caterer, the tribute bands, and the decorations, for now, anyway. Something could always go wrong later.
I knew Mike Ivan would come through for me on the gift bags. I still had to figure out what to do about stuffing them, plus get the Cirque du Soleil performers here somehow.
The thing that worried me most was the Yellow Submarine cake. It would be the centerpiece of the dessert buffet. It absolutely had to be ready on time, and it had to look fabulous.
Even though both Paige and Belinda had assured me the cake would be ready, I didn’t feel good about it. Their promises, though well intended, wouldn’t make any difference if Darren decided to give the cake an oh-well and close the bakery.
He’d made no secret of his feelings about Lacy, and that he resented having to come here and handle her affairs. I figured he’d be anxious to get back home, and that might mean cutting things short by simply selling the bakery.
I decided I’d better talk to Darren again and see where he stood on Lacy Cakes.
I sat at my desk thinking, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything about Sheridan Adams’ party. I took care of a few more things, then left.
I drove to the Best Western where I’d met Darren before, but I didn’t see the Lacy Cakes delivery van in the parking lot. I doubted he’d used it to tool down to Disneyland or anything, so I drove to the bakery, thinking he might be there.
I spotted the van when I pulled into the parking lot along with—yikes!—cop cars. I slid into a space near the liquor store and walked down.
The bakery’s front door was propped open, and police officers in uniform were milling around. I spotted Detective Madison inside talking to Darren, and a chill ran through me. I hoped this didn’t mean someone else had been murdered.
I glanced down at the floral and candle memorial someone had placed beneath the window right after Lacy died, and I hoped there wouldn’t soon be another one alongside it.
I craned my neck and rose on my toes, hoping I’d see Detective Shuman here also. I really wished he could start to get over Amanda’s death, and going back to work might be just the thing, but I didn’t see him.
Paige was inside the bakery amid a flurry of people. She saw me through the glass and came outside. We moved a short distance away.
“What’s going on?” I asked, and was almost afraid to ask more. “Did someone else get killed?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Paige said. “The bakery was broken into last night. I saw what had happened when I got here this morning and called the cops.”
The detectives and crime scene investigators had already taken the computer, fax machine, and other office equipment when they’d been here after Lacy was murdered. What was left? Cake pans? Icing bags and decorating tips?
“You’re kidding,” I said.
Paige gave me an I-don’t-get-it-either shrug. “Some of the baking supplies were taken, and some of the stuff Darren and Belinda had put aside for themselves.”
“Oh, great,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Paige said, and nodded toward the bakery display windows. “Darren isn’t liking any of this.”
“Is Belinda here?” I asked.
“I called her, but she didn’t pick up,” she said. “She’s probably at work.”
For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that Belinda had a job somewhere.
“Where does she work?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She’s some kind of housekeeper, I think.” Mom flashed in my mind, and for about a half second I considered asking Belinda if she’d work for her, but I couldn’t picture her following Mom around the house all day refilling her wineglass.
“So what do the cops think about the robbery?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Paige said. “Those uniform guys who showed up first called the detectives after I told them about Lacy getting murdered here. I guess they thought it might be connected. I don’t see how. The stuff that was taken wasn’t really worth much.”
Breaking into a business, running the risk of getting caught and prosecuted, hardly seemed worth it for some baking supplies and used household items.
“Maybe it was kids,” I said.
“Maybe,” Paige agreed. “The cops think whoever broke in climbed up on the roof and got in through the ceiling. One of the drop panels in the workroom was broken and lying on the floor. That’s when I first realized something was wrong.”