Chapter 4: The Crime Scene
1273 Words
Jamie arrived at Maison DeMarco the next morning with two goals:
#1: Pretend nothing was wrong.
#2: Avoid thinking about the ominous HE KNOWS note now living under his couch like a monster under the bed.
Unfortunately, goal #1 died the moment he walked into the kitchen.
It looked like a crime scene.
Flour dusted the air like post-explosion snow. Eggshells were crushed into the tiles. A large, glistening puddle of something pink and sticky (strawberry jam? Blood? Both?) sprawled across the counter.
And in the middle of it all stood Giselle, the pastry chef, holding a whisk like a murder weapon.
“Jamie,” she said flatly, “you should see this.”
“I already am seeing this,” Jamie said. “And I think I’ve inhaled enough carbs into my system.”
She pointed to the opposite side of the wall with a message scribbled with black cocoa frosting:
FAKE FAMILY BURNT DOWN
Jamie blinked. “Oh… good. We’ve moved on to dessert-themed death threats. That’s fun.”
****
Moments later, Ricco walked into the scene, the white dust yet unsettled. Giselle, who had been there much earlier, was starting to turn white while Jamie had some specs on his hair.
Ricco's mouth gaped wide open as his eyes swept through the mess. “What the hell happened here?”
“Vandalism,” Giselle said. “Someone broke in before we opened.”
Jamie swallowed. “Maybe it’s… random?”
Giselle snorted. “Sure. And maybe the Pope moonlights as a fry cook.”
Ricco’s gaze shifted to the frosting message. His jaw tightened. “Fake family,” he read aloud. Then, slowly, he turned to Jamie.
Jamie immediately wished he could disappear than to face Ricco's wrath. “Unbelievable mystery, don't you think?”
Ricco didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “My office. Now!”
****
Jamie thought to himself, “This is the right time to start running out.” He followed Ricco to his office, reluctantly.
Once inside the air-conditioned office, an aroma of musk essence introduced a cool slap to his face. Jamie sat up straight in the chair, not sure of what to expect and instantly felt like a criminal brought in for questioning in Police custody..
“Jamie, do you care to explain what's going on?” Ricco asked. “Who are you really?”
Jamie’s brain did a full system reboot. “I’m Jamie Rivera. Freelance playwright. Amateur baker. Former goldfish owner.”
Ricco’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
Jamie was about to formulate another story when… the fire alarm tipped off.
****
Smoke, not flour, thick dark smoke, from one of the ovens, caused the kitchen to erupt once more in chaos.
“Get it out!” someone yelled.
Jamie grabbed an oven mitt and yanked the door open, releasing a wave of burnt air so aggressive it could qualify as chemical warfare. Inside was… a single baking tray with something black and twisted on it.
Ricco pulled it out with a towel, frowning. “This isn’t ours.”
Jamie peered closer. “Is that… paper?”
It was. Charred, but still faintly legible. Someone had baked a note.
In jagged handwriting, it read: LEAVE BEFORE DINNER.
****
Ricco handed it to Giselle. “Call security. Lock down the building.”
Jamie hovered awkwardly. “I feel like maybe the me part of this threat is being overlooked…”
Ricco turned to him, voice low. “If someone is targeting you, you should have told me.”
Jamie hesitated. The smart move would be to confess everything: the lie about being Marco’s cousin, the notes, the mysterious texts.
Instead, his mouth betrayed him again. “I didn’t want to cause drama.”
Ricco gave him a look that could melt metal. “Jamie, this is drama.”
****
While the mess in the kitchen was being sorted out, the Press popped in, oblivious of what was going on, just to ensure that the Tasting Event would take place as planned because they were earlier notified.
Jamie's mind was traveling far, trying to figure out who in the world hated him that much to the extent of baking threat paper for his sake. Ricco cornered him in the storage room, breaking his thoughts midway.
“You’re coming with me tonight,” Ricco said.
Jamie blinked. “Are you planning to kidnap me or give me out in marriage?”
“Neither. A Gala. The Culinary Innovators Awards. Whoever’s behind all of this will definitely show up as well.”
“And what exactly will my job be?”
“Stay close to me. Look confident. Avoid eating anything given to you by strangers.”
Jamie nodded. “Right. Normal Thursday.”
****
That evening, Ricco and Jamie arrived for the Gala in a hotel ballroom, ladened with fancy chandeliers and the wealthy laughing away loudly. They both wore tuxedos that were so sharp and smart.
“This is… fancy,” Jamie whispered, admiring himself.
“Flow with the wealthy. But don't overdo it,” Ricco whispered.
Jamie slightly gave a polite nod at people who looked his way. Once, a couple fixed their stare on him, he started becoming uncomfortable and felt like he was a science exhibit.
“Who’s that young man?” a man whispered to his companion.
“That’s Ricco’s new assistant. I heard, he’s family,” the woman replied, her tone making “family” sound like “a fraud.”
Jamie sipped his champagne. “Totally fine. Not panicking.”
****
Then he saw Trevor.
His ex was standing across the room, looking infuriatingly good in a navy suit, talking to a small cluster of guests. When their eyes met, Trevor’s smile was pure trouble.
Trevor raised a glass of wine to Jamie. Jamie responded likewise. Before Jamie could walk away, Trevor was by his side. “I least expected you here. Are you still posing as someone else?”
Jamie pretended to be unmoved by his statement. “Still mistaking your reflection for a personality?”
Ricco appeared at his side, radiating polite menace. “Trevor,” he said coolly.
Trevor smirked. “Careful, chef. Your new assistant might not be who you think.”
Jamie’s pulse thundered. “Ignore him,” he told Ricco. “He’s just hurt that I broke up with him.”
Trevor gave a hearty laughter that sickened Jamie to his bones. “We shall see how far you can keep up with the act.”
****
The gala night went on smoothly, Jamie handled introductions and admiration from other guests well… until Ricco's phone vibratated.
He took a moment to read the message. He whispered to Jamie. “There’s been a break-in. At my apartment.”
Jamie’s mouth went dry. “Your apartment? As in… where I’ve been staying?”
They took their leave from the Gala.
“Yes,” Ricco said grimly, flagging down a taxi. “The police are already there.”
They hurriedly got into the taxi that took them straight home.
****
Everything in the apartment seemed okay but the wine cellar.
On it was a single plate. And on the plate, a cupcake.
Jamie remembered it immediately.
It was one out of the box of cupcakes he’d delivered on that fateful Monday to the Maison DeMarco Catering. The very day that gave birth to the complications in his life to this day.
In the frosting was a piece of paper with a new message in bold letters:
YOU WERE WARNED BUT YOU REMAINED ADAMANT!
Jamie remained in shock and mystified.
For once, even Ricco was dumbfounded.
- Writer
