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“Well…”
    Thyme’s mouth dropped open. “I was kidding!
Did you? Another fire?”
    “Another fire,” I said. “Sorry.”
    “Sorry? It’s your shop. If you want to burn
it down so badly, go ahead.”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. I
thought I’d try to bake, but then there were flames. Craig came and
put it out. I spent ages scrubbing the soot.”
    “Oh, your boyfriend showed up? Now it all
makes sense,” Thyme teased me.
    “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said defensively,
“and what makes sense?”
    “Why you keep setting all of these fires.
You want to see the firefighter Ken doll.”
    I laughed. “I’m not setting fires on
purpose, and don’t be mean. He has way more muscles than a Ken
doll.”
    “That’s a fair point,” Thyme said. “Anyway,
I still can’t believe you set the place on fire again.”
    I put my head in my hands. “I’m so
embarrassed. I’m an optimist—I think that one day I’ll be fine with
baking, but perhaps I’ll never be able to bake. Anyway, I don’t
know about Craig. I like him, but I don’t really feel a spark
there. Do you know what I mean? He’s awfully good looking, but
there’s no chemistry. Still, the Millionaire Matchmaker says
chemistry needs time to grow. What do you think?”
    I looked back up and saw that Thyme had
fallen asleep. Her mouth was open and she was snoring softly. I let
myself out and drove back to the cake store, all the while thinking
about Craig. He hadn’t even asked me out, but what would I do if he
did?
    When I got back, I left the ‘Back in 1 hour’
sign hanging on the doorway. There hadn’t been many customers that
morning, and I figured I was safe to have a few more minutes to
clean up before I opened for the afternoon. I threw away the burned
towels, and then tried to clean the charcoal from the cake pan. It
proved awfully persistent, so I scrubbed at it with salt.
    I jumped when I heard the bell above the
door to the front of the store. I was sure I had locked the
door.
    I stepped through the swinging doors, and to
my shock, Alder Vervain was standing in the store.
    “We’re actually closed. I thought that door
was locked,” I said. I hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt, but the man
made me nervous. He was dark and brooding, albeit in an attractive
sort of way. And how did he get in? There was something mysterious
about him, and I’d had an over supply of mysterious since I’d moved
to Bayberry Creek.
    “Hello to you, too.” He looked amused, which
annoyed me for some reason.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Thomas Hale died in your house, did he
not?” His gaze was unwavering.
    I shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Well, no,” I said defensively. “He was on my porch, not in my
house. Anyway, why do you ask? Was he a friend of yours, or
something?”
    “I’m a private detective.”
    I gasped at the disclosure. Sure, and I’d
never make a poker player, but I had not the faintest clue that he
was a private detective.
    “Do you find it strange that one man died in
your shop, and then a man died at your house?”
    “What are you saying?” I didn’t like where
he was going with this. “They found Brant McCallum’s murderer.”
    “You have to admit it’s a strange
coincidence,” Alder said. “Why you?”
    “I don’t have a clue. Look, I’m sorry, but
we’re closed. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
    Alder nodded. “All right. I’ll come back
tomorrow.”
    I crossed my arms. “If you’d like to buy
something, then by all means come back tomorrow.”
    Alder smiled, a thin smile that I imagined a
storybook wizard would smile, as if he knew something I didn’t,
something important.
    Alder left swiftly. There was a strange
stillness to the air after he’d gone, and it made me uneasy.
     
     

Chapter 9

    When I arrived at work the following morning,
Alder Vervain was already there. Part of me was pleased to see him,
and that in itself annoyed me.
    “You’re tenacious,” I said. I held the