“Unless they think someone else killed Cassie’s vendors and that the murders are unrelated,” Angie said.
“But that makes no sense,” Mel said. “They all have to be connected somehow.”
“I agree, but how?” Angie asked.
“What do the caterer, the driver, and Blaise have in common?” Mel asked.
“They were working Elise’s book signing?” Angie said.
“Why?”
Angie made a face. “Because Cassie hired them, obviously.”
“Why?”
“Mel, I love you like a sister but if you ask me why one more time,” Angie warned.
“Just hear me out,” Mel said. “We know Blaise’s business was centered in the area, just like the driver and the caterer.”
“Meaning what?”
“If they were all the preferred businesses of the Palms neighborhood, then it stands to reason that the person who killed them was someone who used their services who felt betrayed by them,” Mel said.
“You’re thinking Elise got some of her information from these businesses and used what she learned in the book?” Angie nodded. “That makes sense.”
“A photographer would have access to all sorts of behind-the-scenes information,” Mel said. “What if Blaise had been hired to do some skeevy boudoir shoot?”
Angie made a face and said, “Or a driver? Who knows what happened in the backseat of his car while he was schlepping these rich people around town?”
“And Brianna the caterer,” Mel said. “We’ve walked into some weird situations of our own when delivering cupcakes to a party.”
“Do you think Stan is considering this?” Angie asked.
“I’m going to call him and find out,” Mel said. “But I’m betting they’ll find that whoever killed all of the vendors is someone who used all of them and believes that the vendors gave Elise information about them to use in her book.”
“There’s only one problem with this theory,” Angie said. “Blaise wasn’t the sort to gossip. I just can’t see him talking to Elise about another client.”
Mel nodded. Blaise was a good guy, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t accidentally told Elise something and it got back to his client.
“Maybe he didn’t, but the murderer believes he did,” Mel said.
“That I could see,” Angie said. “Especially if this person is operating from a place of rage. Why let Cassie take the fall for it, though, unless they have a beef with her, too?”
“Well, she is publishing the book, so it’s perfect revenge for that,” Mel said. “The murderer is probably thrilled that she’s been arrested and questioned, and if she gets convicted, well, that will work out well for the real murderer, won’t it?”
“You sound pretty sure of this,” Angie said.
“I have to be,” Mel said. “The alternative is that Cassie is the murderer, and that is unacceptable.”
Thirteen
The bakery and last-minute wedding details took all of Mel’s time over the next few days. She checked in with Cassie daily, but Cassie, who had been let out on bail because it could not be proven she was a flight risk, was keeping a low profile. She hadn’t gone to work, letting her staff run the bookstore. She hadn’t even gone home because Steve, her attorney, felt it best that she stay out of the media spotlight.
Instead, she holed up in a townhouse in a gated community that Steve’s law firm kept for just this purpose. When Mel called Steve to thank him for looking out for Cassie, he told her that with Cassie’s fingerprints on the murder weapon and the fact that she would inherit the rights to Elise’s book, the case was going to be a battle.
“But it’s a battle you think you can win, right?” Mel asked.
“I’m going to try,” he said.
Mel was standing in the bakery kitchen, putting the final touches on a batch of marble swirl cupcakes—both the cake and the frosting were swirled vanilla and chocolate. They were the special of the day and she was late getting them out front. Marty had already barked at her twice about it.
“You know, I have a theory,” she said.
“Oh, this should be good.” Steve did not even try to mask his sarcasm.
“Don’t be a hater, it is good,” Mel insisted. “I’ve been reading the book and—”
“Then you know Elise didn’t use anyone’s real name,” he said. “Making it difficult to prove who she was vilifying.”
“Yes, but she did use all of their distinguishing characteristics,” Mel said. “Hair Plugs—”
“Ugh, he was the worst,” Steve said.
“You’re reading the book?”
“My client published it and it’s critical to her case,” he said. “Of course I read it.”
“Past tense? Read it? That fast? Oh my god, you read it before she was your client,” she said.
“What? No, I didn’t,” he protested.
“Oh, come on,” Mel said. “Admit it. The Palms is most of your client base, it’s only natural that you should read it. Oh, no, you’re not in it, are you?”
“Oh, hell no!” Steve said. “I’d never let that happen. I may be an ambulance-chasing dirtbag, but I’m not trashy novel worthy, not yet.”
Mel laughed. “So, how many of your clients were in there?”
“Several,” he said.
“Any of them worth considering for murder?” she asked. “And if so, would that prove to be a conflict of interest for you?”
“No, my clients are the type to ruin you financially, not with a pen to the back,” he said.
“But you’d let Uncle Stan know if you thought there might be someone he should take a closer look at, right?” she asked.
Steve was silent for several seconds. Mel could tell he was carefully debating his answer.
“Possibly,” he said.
“Not a ringing endorsement of your trustworthiness,” she said.
“Client confidentiality,” he said. “It’s a thing.”
“Whatever. I think the moral imperative here is that you don’t let an innocent woman go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit.”
“Mmm.” It was the most noncommittal grunt Mel had ever heard.
“Is there any way I can see her?” she asked.
“No,” Steve said. “If you have information or questions, I’d prefer you go through me. I don’t want to risk having any reporters find her.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “How
