Chapter 5: What the Baker Knew and When She Knew It
Dr.
Thorne found me in the hallway pulling on my jacket.
"You need to stay for the follow-up—"
"I need twenty minutes," I said.
"I'll come back.
I promise."
He studied my face for a moment — the bandaged cheek, the set of my jaw — and nodded once.
"Twenty minutes.
Then you come back and I finish the wound care."
The drive to the Texas Hill Country Estate took eleven minutes.
I know because I watched the clock on my dashboard the entire way, forcing myself to breathe at each red light, gripping the wheel hard enough that my knuckles went pale.
The venue's main entrance had two patrol cars parked in front when I pulled in.
Dana met me at the door.
"Rodriguez said you could speak with the baker," she said quietly, taking my arm.
"Her name is Carol Ann Briggs.
She's been waiting in the side room near the catering kitchen.
She didn't want to leave until she spoke with you directly."
Carol Ann Briggs was a small woman in her late forties wearing a flour-dusted apron she hadn't bothered to take off.
She was seated at a folding table with a cup of water she hadn't touched.
When I walked in, she stood up immediately.
"Miss Parker." Her eyes went straight to the bandage on my face and she made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
"I am so sorry.
I am so deeply sorry.
I tried—"
"I know you tried," I said.
"Sit down.
Please.
Tell me everything from the beginning."
She sat.
I sat across from her.
Dana stood near the door.
"Haley came to my studio six months ago," Carol Ann said.
"She'd found me through a bridal fair.
She was — she was very specific about the cake.
More specific than most brides.
She kept asking about the internal structure.
The dowels, the cake boards, the support columns between tiers.
I thought she was just anxious.
Some brides get that way about structural things."
"When did that change?"
"About three weeks ago.
She came in for a final tasting and she brought a small jar with her.
Dark paste inside.
She said it was a specialty flavoring she wanted incorporated into the top tier only — the one closest to the display edge.
She called it a regional ingredient."
My jaw tightened.
"And you used it?"
"No." Carol Ann's hands pressed flat on the table.
"I smelled it.
I know food.
I know shellfish paste from twenty feet away in a kitchen.
I told her I couldn't use it.
That some guests might have allergies.
She said it wasn't for the guests — it was just a small amount in the decorative elements on that single tier."
"What did you do?"
"I told her I wouldn't incorporate any unverified ingredient into the cake.
She smiled and said that was fine and she'd take the jar back.
She seemed calm about it.
Too calm." Carol Ann's voice tightened.
"I thought it was over.
Then two days before the wedding, one of my assistants found a utility knife missing from our kit.
We use them for fondant work.
I didn't connect it then.
I thought it had been misplaced."
The missing knife.
"Yesterday morning, when I was doing the final check on the cake before transport, I noticed the fourth tier — the display tier — had been accessed.
The fondant seal on the back panel was disturbed.
Very slightly.
Most people wouldn't have seen it.
But I see every cake I make."
"You opened it," I said.
"I pulled the back panel.
And I found—" She stopped.
She pressed her lips together hard.
"I found a small cavity carved into the interior cake layer.
There was residue in it.
Dark paste.
And the dowel at that position had been replaced.
The original was a food-grade plastic.
The replacement was a cut piece of metal." She looked at the table.
"I called your mother at the number Haley had listed as secondary family contact.
I told her I believed someone had tampered with the cake and I needed guidance on how to proceed."
"What did she say?"
"She said she would look into it and call me back." Carol Ann folded her hands.
"She never called back.
And an hour later, Haley texted me directly and said that the concern had been addressed and I should proceed with delivery as planned."
The room went very quiet.
Dana moved slightly closer to the door but didn't speak.
"I should have refused delivery," Carol Ann said.
"I know that.
I have been sitting here knowing that since the moment I heard what happened to your face.
I was afraid of being sued.
I was afraid of ruining a wedding.
I made the wrong choice and I will have to live with that."
"You came here tonight," I said.
"You brought the emails."
"Haley sent me a message three weeks ago telling me not to mention the jar to anyone.
That if I did, she would report me to the state food safety board and have my license reviewed.
I kept that message.
I kept all of them." She pressed the folder toward me across the table.
"Rodriguez has the originals.
Those are my copies."
I opened the folder.
The first email was from Haley's personal account to a corporate address.
The domain was mine.
May you like
The name in the sender line was Caleb Marsh.
And the subject line read: *She still doesn't know about the will.*
