Evening Bags and Executions(47)

“The door wasn’t damaged?” I asked.

“Nope,” Paige said. “In fact, it was locked when I got here. Thoughtful of the robbers, huh?”

So someone had found a way to access the crawl space above the bakery, dropped in through the ceiling, helped themselves to whatever they wanted, then left through the back door, making sure to lock it behind them.

Weird.

“How about the other businesses?” I asked.

“The police asked around, but I don’t think any of them had their stuff stolen,” Paige told me.

Weirder still.

I mean, jeez, what kind of criminals were these? They could have gotten into the liquor store and made a real haul, but didn’t?

Paige seemed to read my thoughts. “Yeah, it must have been kids.”

I don’t think Paige read my next thought. Whoever had been here last night might have used their key to simply walk inside, knocked out a ceiling panel for cover, taken what they wanted, and left.

Paige had a key, and Darren most certainly had Lacy’s key. I wondered if Belinda had one as well, or that guy I’d seen here a couple of times baking the cakes. The landlord would have a key, along with the janitorial service. And as far as I knew, only Darren and Belinda had any interest in the stuff that was taken.

Or, it really could have been kids.

“I sure hope this isn’t going to make Darren decide to close the bakery,” Paige said.

The uniformed officers were heading back to their patrol cars. I saw Detective Madison walk away from Darren. I didn’t want him to see me here—not that I was doing anything wrong, but still.

“I need to make a quick call,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

It took me all of three seconds to decide the liquor store would be the best place to hide out—and not just to get away from Madison.

A little bell jangled over the door when I walked in. The place was small and crowded with merchandise. Refrigerator cases lined the rear wall. The counter was near the door, backed by racks of cigarette packs.

The man on duty stood beside a spin rack of kids’ toys sealed in little plastic bags, gazing outside. He looked nice in khaki pants and a pale green shirt. He had a head full of graying hair, which surprised me since most everything else about him suggested he’d already seen his fiftieth birthday.

The impromptu memorial of artificial flowers and candles outside Lacy Cakes had been left by a casual friend or acquaintance, probably someone who worked here in the strip mall. I figured whoever it was had more than likely bought those items here in the liquor store.

“Scary, huh,” I said, and nodded toward the police activity in the parking lot.

“It’s not good for business, either,” he said.

“Especially after what happened at the bakery,” I said.

He winced. “Poor Lacy.”

He seemed genuinely upset—more upset than I would have expected from a guy who happened to own a business in the same strip mall as Lacy. Then I realized that the two of them had probably known each other for years, maybe saw each other in the alley, patronized each other’s businesses.

“You were friends?” I asked.

He nodded. “A little more than friends.”

My spirits lifted. Surely I’d get some good info from this guy.

“This must be tough on you,” I said. I offered my hand. “I’m Haley. I work for L.A. Affairs.”

“Donald,” he said, and we shook.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to get to know Lacy very well,” I said, which was really true but still kind of misleading, which was okay with me. “How long had you two known each other?”

“Two years,” Donald said, and the weight of those memories seemed to cause him to slouch a little.

I could see he was truly upset about Lacy’s death and probably didn’t want to talk about her, but I had a murder to solve.

I mean that in the nicest way.

“You probably knew her pretty well,” I said, trying to get him talking.

“Lacy didn’t let a lot of people into her life,” Donald said.

“Good thing she had you,” I said, and smiled.

He managed a little smile also.

“And Belinda, too,” I said.

“Belinda?” he asked.

“Lacy’s cousin,” I said. “Good thing Lacy had Belinda. She lived here in L.A. They were close.”

Donald shook his head. “You must be mistaken. Lacy wasn’t close to her family. They all lived up north somewhere.”

Okay, that was weird. Belinda had made it sound like she and Lacy were not only cousins but best buds. Maybe Donald wasn’t as close to Lacy as he’d led me to believe.

Then I remembered the story Darren had told me about Lacy turning on Belinda after the blowup they’d had over concert tickets back when they were teenagers.