Candy knew.
“The garage hasn’t been locked in years. Anyone could have put that bag there. Besides, it seems pretty convenient that no one has ever found drugs on our property until lastnight, when the police came on a ‘leaked’ suspicion.” I put air quotes around
leaked
. “Someone is working very hard to frame Tim.”
“If that’s true—and I’m still of the belief that Tim is a drug dealer, but if he’s not, it certainly seems like a lot of trouble for someone to go to in order to frame him. How do you explain that?” She set her dishes on the closest table, sat down, and tasted her coffee.
“Someone is out to get him.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Most criminals are too lazy to frame someone.” Candy took a bite out of her fruitcake muffin. “Wow, are these good,” she said. “Not only are criminals lazy, but they tend to not be very smart. If—and I say ‘if’ in a very nonbelieving way—if someone is framing Tim, they are not only smart, but one step ahead of Hank and Calvin.” She shook her head. “Frankly, I don’t see how.”
I tilted my head and studied her. “Perhaps the criminal is counting on you to be lazy and not pursue the reasons why anyone else would frame Tim.”
Candy laughed. Her laughter was lovely and loud like ringing bells. “Well, now you have me there.” Candy winked. She sipped her coffee and finished off her muffin. “I guess that means you aren’t going to help me investigate this one.”
“Not this time.” I put my hands in the pockets of my wraparound apron. “It would be awesome if you came up with something on your own, though. Keep me posted, okay?”
“I will. If you will.”
“It’s a deal.” I stuck out my hand. She got up and put her slender, perfectly manicured fingers in mine and gave them one firm shake.
“Deal.” She gathered up her things and waved good-bye. “Remember we shook on it. That means I get first exclusive when Tim confesses.”
“You can’t confess to something you didn’t do. Thinkoutside the box, Candy,” I shouted as she walked out the door into the whirling snow. I shivered and went back into the kitchen.
Meghan worked on cutting out sugar cookies in snowman and Christmas tree shapes. The ovens kept the kitchen warmer than the front with its big windows. It smelled of vanilla and spice and baking yeast breads.
Today Meghan had her black hair pulled up in a beehive bun. Her lips were painted candy-apple red. Her eyes were accented with black liner. Like me, she had short fingernails. Not only were they easier to keep, but they were more sanitary for a baker. We used spoons to taste test, etc., but we rolled out enough dough to know that clean hands free of decoration worked best in our environment.
The only time I missed having a perfect manicure was when Candy was in the room. Her nails were always camera ready.
“The snowmen give us more cookies per batch of dough,” Meghan observed. “I would have thought the Christmas tree would have.” She worked the metal cutters back and forth, cutting one cookie right side up and the other upside down.
I looked over her shoulder. She really was leaving very little scrap dough. I frowned. “Maybe I should get one of those rollers with the cookie cutters on it so that all you have to do is roll over the dough and it cuts with the edges so clean there aren’t any scraps.”
“You could.” She shrugged her white polo-covered shoulders. “I like how organic the cookies feel when you do them like this. It really gives it a home-baked feel.”
“True,” I agreed. “It’s why I originally used the metal cutters. I didn’t want anyone to think they’re getting factory cookies. Unfortunately, it takes more time per cookie.”
“I think people appreciate it when you take time.”
“Yes, I agree,” I said. “But it means there is less time for sleeping.”
“You know Grandma Ruth says there is plenty of time to sleep when you die.”
We both
“The garage hasn’t been locked in years. Anyone could have put that bag there. Besides, it seems pretty convenient that no one has ever found drugs on our property until lastnight, when the police came on a ‘leaked’ suspicion.” I put air quotes around
leaked
. “Someone is working very hard to frame Tim.”
“If that’s true—and I’m still of the belief that Tim is a drug dealer, but if he’s not, it certainly seems like a lot of trouble for someone to go to in order to frame him. How do you explain that?” She set her dishes on the closest table, sat down, and tasted her coffee.
“Someone is out to get him.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Most criminals are too lazy to frame someone.” Candy took a bite out of her fruitcake muffin. “Wow, are these good,” she said. “Not only are criminals lazy, but they tend to not be very smart. If—and I say ‘if’ in a very nonbelieving way—if someone is framing Tim, they are not only smart, but one step ahead of Hank and Calvin.” She shook her head. “Frankly, I don’t see how.”
I tilted my head and studied her. “Perhaps the criminal is counting on you to be lazy and not pursue the reasons why anyone else would frame Tim.”
Candy laughed. Her laughter was lovely and loud like ringing bells. “Well, now you have me there.” Candy winked. She sipped her coffee and finished off her muffin. “I guess that means you aren’t going to help me investigate this one.”
“Not this time.” I put my hands in the pockets of my wraparound apron. “It would be awesome if you came up with something on your own, though. Keep me posted, okay?”
“I will. If you will.”
“It’s a deal.” I stuck out my hand. She got up and put her slender, perfectly manicured fingers in mine and gave them one firm shake.
“Deal.” She gathered up her things and waved good-bye. “Remember we shook on it. That means I get first exclusive when Tim confesses.”
“You can’t confess to something you didn’t do. Thinkoutside the box, Candy,” I shouted as she walked out the door into the whirling snow. I shivered and went back into the kitchen.
Meghan worked on cutting out sugar cookies in snowman and Christmas tree shapes. The ovens kept the kitchen warmer than the front with its big windows. It smelled of vanilla and spice and baking yeast breads.
Today Meghan had her black hair pulled up in a beehive bun. Her lips were painted candy-apple red. Her eyes were accented with black liner. Like me, she had short fingernails. Not only were they easier to keep, but they were more sanitary for a baker. We used spoons to taste test, etc., but we rolled out enough dough to know that clean hands free of decoration worked best in our environment.
The only time I missed having a perfect manicure was when Candy was in the room. Her nails were always camera ready.
“The snowmen give us more cookies per batch of dough,” Meghan observed. “I would have thought the Christmas tree would have.” She worked the metal cutters back and forth, cutting one cookie right side up and the other upside down.
I looked over her shoulder. She really was leaving very little scrap dough. I frowned. “Maybe I should get one of those rollers with the cookie cutters on it so that all you have to do is roll over the dough and it cuts with the edges so clean there aren’t any scraps.”
“You could.” She shrugged her white polo-covered shoulders. “I like how organic the cookies feel when you do them like this. It really gives it a home-baked feel.”
“True,” I agreed. “It’s why I originally used the metal cutters. I didn’t want anyone to think they’re getting factory cookies. Unfortunately, it takes more time per cookie.”
“I think people appreciate it when you take time.”
“Yes, I agree,” I said. “But it means there is less time for sleeping.”
“You know Grandma Ruth says there is plenty of time to sleep when you die.”
We both
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