“No!” Mel insisted. “No, you were right before. Think of all the great events we’ve done where people have been so happy. I refuse to believe that our paranoia got Blaise killed. It’s just a coincidence, a horrible, horrible coincidence.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Angie asked.
“Because you’re overly emotional right now,” Mel said. “Blaise was your friend and this is a shock and you’re getting married in a week and of course it’s too much to take in.”
Mel looked at Angie and forced herself to maintain eye contact. She was lying. Something felt wrong about this situation, really wrong.
Their appointment was written on his chalkboard. It was clear to the whole world that they were to be here in this place at this time. Was Blaise’s death planned for when they arrived, or was Mel the one being paranoid?
She had to be. It had to have been a random happenstance. Like a burglary gone wrong. Although, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would rob a photography studio, never mind harm Blaise.
From what she knew of him, he was a great guy. Quick with a smile and a joke and he was a heck of a photographer—he knew how to make portraits intensely personal. Her gaze moved over the engagement shot of Angie and Tate. It was heartbreakingly perfect.
“I just don’t understand,” Angie said. “Why Blaise? How could this happen?”
Feeling utterly useless, Mel shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Mel. Angie.” Uncle Stan charged into the studio with the ferocity of a lion protecting his pride.
He didn’t slow down but barreled across the room. He reached for Mel and hugged her close, as if that was the only way he could be certain she was okay, and then he scooped up Angie for the same. His hug grounded Mel in a way nothing else could.
Ever since her dad, Charlie Cooper, had been called to the all-you-can-eat catfish fry in the beyond, Uncle Stan had taken over his role of doling out the bracing hugs. Mel was ever so grateful. She watched as Angie hugged Uncle Stan back, and she could tell that she felt the same way.
“You’re good?” Uncle Stan asked Angie, swiveling his head to include Mel in the questioning.
They both nodded, despite the fact that their red-rimmed eyes made liars out of them.
“We got here maybe twenty minutes ago,” Mel said. “The door was open, no sign of anything being disturbed. Blaise didn’t answer our greeting, so we checked his office and found him—”
“Strangled with a camera strap,” Lisa finished for her. She crossed the room to stand beside Stan. “If you could come this way, Detective, I’ll show you the scene.”
Uncle Stan glanced at Mel and Angie and they both nodded, letting him know they were fine.
“I’ll have Officer Kelley come back out and take your formal statements,” he said. “There’s no reason for you two to linger here.”
“Thanks,” Mel spoke for both of them.
Lisa and Stan disappeared into the office while Cupcake sat just outside the door like a sentinel, and Mel felt her stomach twist, knowing the scene that would greet Uncle Stan. He was a pro. If anyone could handle it, it was him.
The door was yanked open and Tate hustled inside. He looked wrecked and Mel felt her heart pinch. Angie jumped up from her seat and launched herself at him. Tate caught her close and hugged her hard, then he set her on her feet and cupped her face, checking to make sure she was all right.
“I’m okay,” Angie said. She knew him well enough to know he needed to hear it.
Tate nodded and glanced past her at Mel with the same seeking expression.
“I’m okay, too,” Mel said.
Tate nodded and hugged Angie close again. When he released her, he kept his arm about her and Mel wondered who was anchoring whom.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
Mel and Angie exchanged a look, and then Angie said, “It’s pretty bad. Oh, Tate, he was strangled with his own camera strap.”
Tate’s eyes went wide. “I have to see him. I have to know—”
Mel understood. This was his friend, and there was some sort of code or loyalty that meant Tate couldn’t flinch away from seeing what his friend had suffered.
“Uncle Stan is in there,” she said. “He’ll need you to give him Blaise’s mother’s name and number if you have it. He’s going to have to go and break the news to her.”
“I’ll do it,” Tate said. “Or at the very least I’ll go with Stan when he does it.” His voice wobbled a little. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Mel said.
Tate gave Angie one more quick squeeze before he strode across the room to join the police. Tate was tall and thin with thick unruly brown hair. A former money magician, he had left the world of corporate investment to work full time on the bakery’s franchise operation. So far, they had opened up bakeries in Nevada, Connecticut, California, and Florida, and were currently looking at opening one in Washington State.
It was still new and scary for Mel, but with Tate at the helm, things had been going smoothly and the money had been crazy good. Mel was still trying to adjust to having discretionary income, i.e. mad money. With Tate’s plan for world domination with cupcakes in full swing, she figured she’d best get used to it.
“Poor Tate,” Angie said. “He looks wrecked. I don’t know how he’s going to be able to face Blaise’s mom. Blaise was her only child; he was her whole world.”
Mel blew out a breath. She couldn’t imagine. She knew how her mother felt about
