“Here.” Elin lowered the now soiled kerchief from her face and handed it back to her twin.
Tonya curled her lip and recoiled. “Ew. You keep it.”
Elin rolled her eyes again and shoved it in her own apron pocket. “Whatever.” She turned to Peter. “Frank’s not the only one who had it out for us.” She jerked her chin toward a group of bakers near the pantry shelves across the tent.
SUSPECTS
An older woman who, judging by the copious wrinkles on her dark skin, looked to be in her eighties, stood sandwiched between two young people, their arms hugged around her. Despite her age, she sported a lavender fauxhawk, a muumuu embroidered with flowers, and polka dot cat glasses. I grinned in spite of myself at her colorful look. Made my uniform of jeans, vintage band tees, and dark jackets seem downright drab.
“That’s Mimi Moulin.”
Peter followed Elin’s gaze. “The older lady with the purple hair?”
The sisters nodded, and Elin went on in hushed tones, as though sharing a big secret. “Mom worked for her at her bakery when she was a teenager, and Mimi claims Mom stole her famous sourdough bread starter.”
I glanced at the old lady and back to Elin. “Did she?”
The blond placed a hand on her chest and scoffed. “Of course not. But whatever, it was like decades ago, but Mimi’s never forgiven her.”
Peter and I exchanged significant looks again. I turned to the sisters.
“And today was bread day, right? Were you using the starter Mimi thought was hers?”
Tonya nodded. “It’s our signature loaf.”
“Uh-huh.” I ran my tongue over my teeth and turned to Peter. Yeah, as cute as the old lady was, that made her another prime suspect.
Peter perused his notes. “Anyone else you can think of who might have wanted to harm your mother?”
The sisters exchanged a look, then both pointed straight behind us at the golden bleachers where the audience sat. Peter and I both turned.
“See that man in the navy suit, with the beard?”
I scanned the crowd for a moment. Many people were gathered in little groups, being interviewed by police officers, but quite a few people still sat on the metal benches. I spotted him and nodded.
Elin huffed. “Greasy-looking, with way too much jewelry on? Tacky.”
Peter and I both nodded at the girls, then turned back to look at the guy. He stared down at his hands, playing with the many gold rings on his fingers. He looked about Polly’s age, in his early seventies, and though he was sitting, I’d guess he was quite a bit shorter than our victim. Also a lot tanner in an unnaturally orange sort of way, which made his slicked-back white hair look even whiter.
He looked up, frowning, and scanned the crowd until he spotted me, Peter, and the girls all staring at him. He startled, jerked his head up, then rose and slid down the row and scuttled down the bleachers and out of sight.
I smirked at Peter. “Totally innocent behavior there.”
He fought a grin and turned back to the twins. “Who is that?”
Tonya sighed. “Vince Dupont. Mom’s ex-boyfriend.”
Elin shot us a flat look. “He’s got a bit of money—runs some laundromats and small businesses—but he acts like he’s some big shot.” Her expression darkened. “Plus, he’s a cheater. Mom dumped him after she caught him. They were together about a year before that.”
I frowned. “What happened after that?” And why was he in the audience at a baking competition?
Tonya hugged herself tighter. “He went and did his own thing for a while. Mom didn’t hear from him for months.”
Elin smirked. “We think he ran off with the other woman but probably got dumped recently.”
Tonya nodded. “A few weeks ago he showed up at the bakery, out of nowhere, and tried to get her back. She said no, but he’s been trying ever since. Mom just kept rejecting him.”
Elin’s mouth grew pinched. “You’d think he’d get the point.”
Peter nodded. “We’ll make sure to question him.”
I bit my lip, thinking this over. Had Polly’s ex come here to show support? Or did he have murderous intent?
I looked to Tonya, who seemed the more level-headed one. “Did your mother have any interest in Vince?” I shrugged as I remembered the victim’s impeccable makeup, hair, and dress. “She looked dressed to impress.” Which seemed a bit odd for a baking competition where she’d be likely to get covered in flour and dough bits. Then again, my idea of dressing up was wearing my least-wrinkled tee, so that could just be me.
Tonya shook her head. “Mom didn’t want anything to do with Vince. She generally dressed nicely.”
Elin shot her sister a pointed look. “You finally seem to be taking notes from her.”
Tonya’s shoulders tensed, but she just raised her chin, her tone tense. “In any case, Mom was a little extra fancy since she knew royalty would be attending.” Her shoulders slumped back down, and the corners of her mouth sagged with sadness. “Mom wanted to look her best for the royalty.”
“Babe! Babe!” We all turned to see a tall, good-looking guy striding toward us, waving a muscular arm. His broad shoulders seemed to barely fit in his shirt, which had been unbuttoned low enough to glimpse his toned chest. A diamond stud glinted in his ear, and his jeans looked so tight, I wondered if it took a spell to get in and out of them.
He headed straight for Elin, and she collapsed, sobbing, into his arms. As they embraced, he looked at Tonya, who glared back and turned pointedly away. I pressed my lips together—alrighty. There was a story there.
Elin, teary, leaned away and pressed her hands to the dude’s chiseled chest. “Oh, it’s so awful.” She sniffled, and he rubbed her back.
Peter lifted a thick brow. “And you are…?”
“Oh.” He chuckled, a low, good natured sound. “I’m Lorenzo Cass.”
Elin fawned over him. “My fiancé. We got engaged earlier this week.” She held her hand out to me, presumably
