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Authors: Nancy J. Parra
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me, sipping her coffee and drawing
my attention back into the room.
“What? No.” I shook my head. “His cowboy hat covered his head. I thought he was blocking
out the sun.”
“Hey,” Officer Emry shouted. “No talking until you’re interviewed.”
I rolled my eyes at Candy. She grinned.
Outside, the crime lab guys showed up. They wore dark jackets with CSU on them in white letters. They took pictures and got out fingerprint dust and dusted
the trough and the bakery windows. I could have told them they were wasting their
time. I mean, it was pretty clear the guy had been spray painting. Why would he have
touched anything?
“You know, you’ll have to go down to the station and get fingerprinted,” Candy said
low, her eyes sparkling. Her golden-brown hair was the color of soft caramel. Her
heart-shaped face held fine features and a smattering of freckles across the nose.
A little shorter than me, Candy was thin but curvy and had married a doctor. They
had the perfect marriage and the perfect family of two kids, a boy and a girl. I would
have loved to hate her, but she was such a sweetheart she kind of deserved what she
had.
“Why would I need to do that?”
“They’ll need your fingerprints to determine which ones are yours and which ones belong
to the victim and the killer.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered. My prints would be on file for all the world to see. Now,
I know I sound paranoid, but if they took your fingerprints, wouldn’t they run all
future crimes against your prints? I mean, there’s something creepy about the idea
that you could be innocently opening a door to a bank one day and suspected of being
a robber the next. I shuddered and knew I had Grandma Ruth to thank for my morbid
imagination.
Speaking of which, a crowd had formed around the cops outside my bakery. Rocky continued
to eat up the photo opportunity and snapped shots right and left. Grandma Ruth was
front and center in her scooter. Her brown fedora smashed down wisps of orange-and-white
hair. She took careful notes of the action.
“Hey,” I said to Candy, “looks like you have competition.” I pointed to Grandma, who
was currently grilling a young kid in a cop uniform.
“She may have the outside scoop,” Candy winked, “but I have the insider info. Right?”
I did a quick head count of the crowd. There must be twenty people out there. It would
be great if I could get them in here to buy baked goods or a cup of coffee at the
least. I was certain the police wouldn’t mind. In a small town everyone knew everyone.
It might even be better to have a wall between the crowd and their crime scene. I
grabbed my cell phone off the counter and speed-dialed Grandma.
“Hey, kiddo, I’m kind of busy here,” Grandma Ruth said.
“I know, I can see. Listen, could you do me a favor?”
“Will it interfere with my story?”
“I don’t think it will,” I said.
“Then name it.”
“Could you mention to the crowd of lookie-loos that the view is better from inside
the bakery? It’s also warmer in here and there’s coffee and baked goods?”
“Oh, you’re inside?” Grandma scanned the windows. I waved when she spotted me. “Is
that Candy with you?”
“Yes, Candy got here when the police did.”
Candy gave Grandma a thumbs-up.
“Darn it,” Grandma muttered. “Okay. How do you plan on getting these folks inside?”
“Tell them to come around back. I’ll have the door open.”
“Will do, kiddo.” Grandma hung up and used her megaphone voice to announce the bakery
was open for anyone who wanted coffee and a better view. All they had to do was go
around to the back entrance.
People surged toward the alley. I felt success bloom in my heart. “Candy can you watch
the front for me while I open the back door?”
“Sure.” Candy settled in on the stool behind the counter. I rushed to the back and
opened the door, letting everyone in.
By the time
my attention back into the room.
“What? No.” I shook my head. “His cowboy hat covered his head. I thought he was blocking
out the sun.”
“Hey,” Officer Emry shouted. “No talking until you’re interviewed.”
I rolled my eyes at Candy. She grinned.
Outside, the crime lab guys showed up. They wore dark jackets with CSU on them in white letters. They took pictures and got out fingerprint dust and dusted
the trough and the bakery windows. I could have told them they were wasting their
time. I mean, it was pretty clear the guy had been spray painting. Why would he have
touched anything?
“You know, you’ll have to go down to the station and get fingerprinted,” Candy said
low, her eyes sparkling. Her golden-brown hair was the color of soft caramel. Her
heart-shaped face held fine features and a smattering of freckles across the nose.
A little shorter than me, Candy was thin but curvy and had married a doctor. They
had the perfect marriage and the perfect family of two kids, a boy and a girl. I would
have loved to hate her, but she was such a sweetheart she kind of deserved what she
had.
“Why would I need to do that?”
“They’ll need your fingerprints to determine which ones are yours and which ones belong
to the victim and the killer.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered. My prints would be on file for all the world to see. Now,
I know I sound paranoid, but if they took your fingerprints, wouldn’t they run all
future crimes against your prints? I mean, there’s something creepy about the idea
that you could be innocently opening a door to a bank one day and suspected of being
a robber the next. I shuddered and knew I had Grandma Ruth to thank for my morbid
imagination.
Speaking of which, a crowd had formed around the cops outside my bakery. Rocky continued
to eat up the photo opportunity and snapped shots right and left. Grandma Ruth was
front and center in her scooter. Her brown fedora smashed down wisps of orange-and-white
hair. She took careful notes of the action.
“Hey,” I said to Candy, “looks like you have competition.” I pointed to Grandma, who
was currently grilling a young kid in a cop uniform.
“She may have the outside scoop,” Candy winked, “but I have the insider info. Right?”
I did a quick head count of the crowd. There must be twenty people out there. It would
be great if I could get them in here to buy baked goods or a cup of coffee at the
least. I was certain the police wouldn’t mind. In a small town everyone knew everyone.
It might even be better to have a wall between the crowd and their crime scene. I
grabbed my cell phone off the counter and speed-dialed Grandma.
“Hey, kiddo, I’m kind of busy here,” Grandma Ruth said.
“I know, I can see. Listen, could you do me a favor?”
“Will it interfere with my story?”
“I don’t think it will,” I said.
“Then name it.”
“Could you mention to the crowd of lookie-loos that the view is better from inside
the bakery? It’s also warmer in here and there’s coffee and baked goods?”
“Oh, you’re inside?” Grandma scanned the windows. I waved when she spotted me. “Is
that Candy with you?”
“Yes, Candy got here when the police did.”
Candy gave Grandma a thumbs-up.
“Darn it,” Grandma muttered. “Okay. How do you plan on getting these folks inside?”
“Tell them to come around back. I’ll have the door open.”
“Will do, kiddo.” Grandma hung up and used her megaphone voice to announce the bakery
was open for anyone who wanted coffee and a better view. All they had to do was go
around to the back entrance.
People surged toward the alley. I felt success bloom in my heart. “Candy can you watch
the front for me while I open the back door?”
“Sure.” Candy settled in on the stool behind the counter. I rushed to the back and
opened the door, letting everyone in.
By the time
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