* * *
“Mrs. Beauregard can’t be responsible.” Lilah stood over the sealed entrance, her hands on her hips and a stain of chocolate smeared across her white chef’s coat.
“And she’s certainly not the type to hide things,” Violet added.
“How do you know?” Max piped up from behind her. “She’s your landlady, not your grandmother.”
Lilah and Violet turned at the same time, their eyes flashing. Where Lilah’s gaze was purely defensive, Violet’s held something more. Challenge?
Anxious to diffuse the situation, Cassidy stepped in. “Because she wouldn’t do that to us.”
“And, well—” Lilah broke off. “She’s old.”
Cassidy wasn’t sure age had anything to do with it but had to agree with Lilah that their sweet, twinkle-of-mischief-in-her-eye landlady seemed unlikely to be hiding secrets.
Especially secrets that would lead to danger.
Unwilling to let the jarring impact of the break-in further color her judgment of others—the accusations against Anastasia Monroe already sitting uncomfortably on her conscience—Cassidy held up a hand. “I was already planning on running this month’s rent check over to her during lunch. I’ll ask her about the hole when I go.”
“You can’t go alone.” Violet’s normally calm features were lined with concern. “Especially not about this.”
“Look. I’d already promised her I’d repair that tear in her grandmother’s wedding veil, which I was also planning to bring with me. I’ll use that as my way into the conversation. Besides, someone needs to stay here and wait for the alarm people to come check the system and reprogram a new code.”
“I’ll go with you.”
A small shot of pleasure wove through her at Tucker’s offer before she brushed it off. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to make too big a deal out of it.”
“You already said earlier the woman has matchmaking on her mind. We’ll drop a few hints and make eyes at each other to keep her distracted.”
The image he painted was far more tempting than she wanted to admit, but Cassidy opted for casual nonchalance. “She didn’t get to eighty and remain wily as a coyote because she was dumb and easily played. We’re making too big a deal out of this.”
A slight grunt from the floor pulled their attention to Max, who tossed a wrench into the box by his side. “Damn thing’s shut tight, cemented into place.”
The challenge spurred Tucker into action and he joined Max on the floor, both of them searching the small area for a way to get underneath it. Cassidy didn’t miss Violet’s speculative gaze or Lilah’s breathless expectation as the men went to work attempting to get to whatever lay beneath the concrete flooring.
When they’d made no headway after ten minutes of prodding, tugging and putting their backs into it, the talk drifting to blowtorches and drills, Cassidy finally stepped in. “I’m not comfortable continuing to do this. It’s obvious whatever this space was created for has been sealed over for a reason. We shouldn’t keep prying. I’ll ask Mrs. B. about it.”
“And I’ll go with you.” Tucker gathered up the various tools he’d pulled out for their attempt at the sealed floor and dropped them into his toolbox, then stood.
“I really can go alone.”
“Humor me. You had a big scare this morning and while I believe you when you say your landlady is a sweet woman who is incapable of doing harm, I’d like to see for myself.”
“Tucker’s got a point,” Lilah piped up. A wicked light filled her dark chocolate gaze, and Cassidy fought the blush that crept up her neck, her cheeks going warm. “Distract Mrs. B. with visions of matchmaking and she’ll answer whatever you want.”
When Tucker only shoved his hands in his pockets, a small, impish smile on his face, Cassidy gave in. She’d learned long ago how to put a smile on her face and go with the flow.
She might as well put the skill to good use.
* * *
Tucker followed Cassidy’s directions as he threaded through downtown traffic toward one of East Dallas’s oldest and most well-heeled neighborhoods. The trapdoor Max and Violet had discovered in the floor continued to fill his thoughts. “Have you had any other problems since you moved into the shop?”
“Nothing. We get the same alerts as the rest of the neighborhood when a crime has happened, but for the most part we’ve been left alone.”
“And no one’s happened by or stopped in to casually ask questions? Maybe ask for directions, then start asking about the building?”
Tucker stopped at a light and glanced over toward her. The vivid blue of her eyes turned thoughtful before she shook her head. “No, nothing, but I will ask Vi and Lilah if someone’s come in.”
He didn’t want to scare her but after spending time inside the shop and seeing the destruction with his own eyes, he couldn’t quite chalk it up to a run-of-the-mill burglary attempt.
“I keep playing it over and over in my mind. I make wedding gowns. Why would someone want to destroy that?”
“Which takes us back to a competitor.”
Cassidy let out a hard sigh. “Which doesn’t play for me. I don’t have enemies.”
Tucker knew it wasn’t that simple, but he opted to hold his tongue as she tried to work through the angles.
“And then I come back to the alarm. No one has the code except Lilah, Violet and me.”
“Could either of them have given it out?”
“Nope. Lilah doesn’t even give it to her delivery teams. If she’s sending a cake out with someone else, she meets them at the store.”
“You’ve been in business awhile. There’s no chance she gave it to someone she trusts? Someone who’s been dependable trip after trip.”
“I just don’t see it. In fact, Lilah’s been the one of us who has been the most insistent about not sharing our alarm codes.”
He filed that one away, as well. The bright, happy baker seemed as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but someone that maniacal about giving an alarm code to what he’d expect were trusted employees seemed a bit off. “Yet someone got the code.”
“Yes.”
Cassidy tapped her fingers on her thigh, the nervous motion spearing through his chest. Tamping down on the surprising—and altogether uncomfortable—sensation, he pointed toward an upcoming light. “This is the turn, right?”
“Yes. Left at the light and then a right at the next one.”
Tucker moved through the light and drove toward one of the most elite neighborhoods in East Dallas. The homes were old—some of the oldest in the city—and the structures had great bones. Even more apparent was the fact that the owners in Mrs. Beauregard’s neighborhood took care of what was theirs.
Although he knew he and Cassidy could keep going round and round like this, there didn’t seem to be any answers to their questions. Recognizing this downward spiral, Tucker latched on to the opportunity to shift their focus. “I haven’t been over here before. These homes are spectacular.”
“Swiss Avenue was one of the city’s first Historic Districts, if not the first.” Her gaze drifted from the passenger window toward a home about half a block away. “Each one’s more beautiful than the next, but that one there on the corner is