She gave him a flat stare and then laughed.
“You’re right.” Angie hugged him again. “I’ve always liked you, did you know that?”
Manny grinned at her and Mel was pleased to see the camaraderie between them. For a while, Angie had been less than thrilled with Manny’s interest in Mel, not surprising since Joe was Angie’s brother. It went without saying that Angie was and always would be Team Joe.
Manny was tall and built and had a killer grin. There had been a time when Mel and Joe were on a break that she’d thought about giving Manny a chance, for about a nanosecond, but Joe had won out. Which was just as well since Manny had found true love with the owner of the first Fairy Tale Cupcakes franchise, a former Vegas showgirl named Holly Hartzmark and her daughter, Sidney. Mel couldn’t be happier for him.
“It’s great to see you, Manny,” she said.
“But?”
“No but,” she said. “I just need to talk to Uncle Stan.”
“About the arrest he just made?” Manny asked.
“How do you know about this?” she asked.
“Please, the whole station is buzzing about it,” he said. “They were taking bets on how long it would take you to get here, although Lopez said he thought you’d bring cupcakes, so I think he’s disqualified. Plus, I used to be Stan’s partner, so he clued me in.”
“You are not working this case,” Mel said.
Manny raised his hands in the air. “In an advisory capacity at most.”
“Cassie Leighton did not murder Elise Penworthy,” Mel said.
“You don’t know that,” a voice said from behind Mel.
She spun around to see her uncle Stan standing there. He looked as if he hadn’t slept, and she felt bad that this case had blown up on him. The media presence alone was making this investigation a misery. He certainly didn’t need Mel showing up and causing a fuss, but if she didn’t, who would look out for Cassie?
“I do know it,” Mel said. “The pen could have been taken from the signing. Cassie was in charge of the pen and the books, so of course her fingerprints were on it.”
“There’s more to it than that, Mel,” Stan said. “And I’m not going to discuss it with you, so don’t ask.”
Mel raised her hands in the air. “There is no way Cassie would have murdered a photographer, a driver, and a caterer. None. She had nothing to gain by doing that. I am telling you, someone set her up as a last-minute fall guy and my money is on Hair Plugs.”
Uncle Stan glared at her. “You’ve been reading the book.”
“Yes, and it reads like a who’s who of people who wanted to murder Elise Penworthy.”
“Mel, you have Angie’s wedding to focus on,” Stan said. “Why don’t you take care of that and let me run my investigation my own way.”
It was a curt dismissal and Mel wanted to argue, but Uncle Stan’s eyebrows had knotted themselves together in a severe frown, so she knew arguing with him about this would be pointless.
“Fine,” she said.
Manny cringed and Mel knew he was thinking that when a woman says fine, she is anything but. Uncle Stan did not seem to care until Mel looked him right in the eye and said, “I guess I’ll just have to ask Joyce what she thinks about all of this.”
Uncle Stan’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“Watch me,” Mel said. She turned and spun on her heel. She nodded at Manny as she swept from the station, leaving Angie following in her wake.
“Bye, Uncle Stan. Later, Manny,” Angie called. “See you both at the rehearsal dinner, right? Tell Holly to call me!”
Mel stepped outside and sucked in a breath. Angie paused beside her and studied her face.
“That was a bluff, right?” she asked. “You’re not really going to talk to your mom, are you?”
“Oh, yes, I am,” Mel said. “Just as soon as I get today’s baking done.”
• • •
“So, Mom, have you read The Palms?” Mel asked.
“That overwritten, bloviated novel of suburban intrigue?” Joyce asked. “Every word.”
Mel laughed. She was sitting at the counter at her mother’s kitchen. There was a tub of snickerdoodle cookies open in front of them and Joyce had just poured Mel a hot cup of coffee.
“She wasn’t very subtle with her descriptions of people, was she?” Joyce asked. “No wonder someone tried to kill her.”
Mel was about to take a bite out of her cookie, then she put it down. “They did more than try, Mom.”
Joyce met her gaze over the edge of her mug. “What happened?”
“Elise passed away early this morning,” Mel said. “They believe it was complications from her stabbing, but they haven’t confirmed it yet.”
“Oh, dear.” Joyce bit her lip and looked regretful. “I feel awful for trashing her writing just now.”
“No need,” Mel said. “The writing is not good but the subject matter is compelling. I was up all night reading.”
“Did you get to the part about the man she nicknamed Baby Doll?”
“The one who enjoyed wearing kitten heels and baby doll outfits?” Mel asked. “Oh, yeah, she really enjoyed skewering him.”
“He’s a real estate agent,” Joyce said. “I play Bunco with his wife. I don’t know how I’m going to look her in the face.”
“I wouldn’t mention the whole baby doll thing,” Mel said. “And don’t wear kitten heels.”
“As if I would,” Joyce said. She picked up a cookie and broke it into halves, then quarters.
Mel watched her as she stuffed one quarter of the cookie in her mouth and then another. “What are you doing? Portion control?”
Joyce broke another cookie in half. “No, I’m just anxious. I always play with my food when I’m anxious.”
It was true. Many a family dinner had been spent watching Joyce move her mashed potatoes around her plate like they were prized building materials and her fork was a backhoe.
“What’s bothering
