Odds Against (Margot and Odds Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 4

  Margot nodded in understanding.

  “Did you ever meet him?” Lara asked. “He boomed with such life that all the customers adored him. He was so funny too.”

  “Because he was clumsy?” Kenny asked, and then fell silent when Margot and Lara glanced at him.

  “I never met him,” Margot rushed to say, “but I was the one who found him when…um…”

  A tear coursed its way down the young woman’s face, and she swiped it away quickly. “Who would do such a thing? I mean I know Mr. Olsen was kind of…”

  “Kind of what?” Margot asked.

  Lara glared at Kenny. “He was clumsy. The man dropped half the desserts he made and had to start over again. I think we could have had a bigger profit if only he were more careful. Then there was the name. A lot of people were turned off by it.”

  “I imagine so,” Margot agreed. “Couldn’t you keep the bakery open and hire someone to help?”

  Again, Lara’s ire rose. “It’s not my call. The bakery passed to Mr. Olsen’s sister, Pamela Olsen, and she doesn’t care anything about baking! All she cares about are her animals.”

  Margot had no idea how to respond to this, but she didn’t need to. Apparently, the woman had needed someone—anyone—to vent her frustrations to and sadness at seeing the dream die. She excused herself to help other customers and returned after a few minutes. Margot assumed they would get down to business with their own ordering, but Lara wasn’t done.

  “I didn’t know it before, of course. I’ve been here five years, and I never met Ms. Olsen. Not once.” She waved a hand. “One time I asked Mr. Olsen if he had any family who could help when we were going through a rough time, and it looked like we might lose the bakery.”

  “What did he say?” Margot couldn’t help asking.

  Dottie had lost patience with this boring conversation and had gone to press her face to the display glass. Kenny went off to stop her.

  “He got this funny look like disgust I guess, and he said his sister works at the animal shelter. She had worked there twenty years, he said, and that’s all she’d ever do.” Lara shook her head. “No help, and then she comes in after he died looking all pale and sick and says she’s closing the bakery!”

  “Well, if she doesn’t have the heart for it, sweetheart, you can’t blame her.”

  Lara looked like this was sacrilege and sniffed.

  Margot had an idea. “Think of it this way, she might be ten times more clumsy than Mr. Olsen.”

  That snapped Lara out of her resentment with a deep breath as if she had narrowly escaped a fate worse than death. She pasted on a bright smile and asked again what they would like. Margot checked the display to find mostly ordinary donuts like plain, custard-filled, blueberry, and chocolate-covered. There was one strawberry shortcake on display as well.

  “In case you’re wondering,” Lara said, pleasantly this time, all traces of her depression gone, “the fancy items are gone. Mr. Olsen made those. They were exquisite.”

  “I have to admit I’m disappointed I missed them,” Margot said. Poor Nancy wasn’t in any danger of competition it seemed.

  Lara tapped her head. “He kept all of his recipes in his head, said they were safer there than on paper.” She giggled and rolled her eyes.

  Margot leaned forward. “Is that right? I had heard he was going to be interviewed for the New York Times.”

  “Yes!” Lara’s cheeks pinked in her excitement, and then her face fell. “I thought it was our big break. Mr. Olsen was excited too. He had come up with a new creation that no one has ever seen or tasted. It was called Banana Magic Dream Cake.”

  “Banana Magic Dream Cake?” Nancy repeated.

  “Oh, yes, he named every one of the desserts he created.” She pointed at the chalkboard on the wall over her head. The words were written in a bold, heavy hand. Spots were clearly erased around the letters where the writer must have made mistakes. “See? Exotic names, some funny, and others mysterious. All of them were like eating heaven.”

  Margot sighed. “Lara, dear, you are cruel to point that out and not have any of them for me to try.”

  “Well.” A mischievous light came into the young woman’s eyes, and she grinned. “I might have one or two items in the freezer that I was saving for myself. I could be convinced to part with one of them.”

  Margot clutched her hands together, and only her tired feet could keep her from bouncing like the young woman. “Which one is it?”

  Lara waved an arm in a dramatic gesture toward the board. “Papa’s Blue Nemesis. That’s one of the funny ones, but I promise it’s light and creamy, sweet and just delicious! A cake, if you haven’t guessed.”

  “I had wondered,” Margot admitted.

  “I’ll let you have it for twenty dollars,” Lara said. “Otherwise, you’re stuck with the donuts.”

  Margot’s hopes dashed. “A-and the other one you have frozen?”

  “No, that one I can’t let go of. It’s got pineapples. I love pineapples.”

  Margot had been thinking if the blue creation was as good as Lara claimed, then she might take it home to see if Nancy could recreate it. However, she had no guarantee the cake would be good. After all, how skilled could Mr. Olsen be from his reputation? As she saw it so far, he was a man given to quirkiness if one went by the odd names given to his creations.

  “I don’t know,” Margot said. “Maybe you should finish with Kenny’s order while I think about it.”

  Lara popped down the counter toward Kenny and Dottie. The little girl jumped up and down, shouting for the biggest chocolate donut. Kenny struggled to get her to calm down, and Margot counted her money. Maybe if she took on a couple more dog-walking jobs. She hadn’t found anything interesting in the paper today.

  “Are you a cake addict?” came Odds’ voice clear as a bell. She thought it should be muffled with him deep inside her bag. Then again, he always spoke inside her head.

  “This is for Nancy.”

  “You want her to know the secret? Devious!”

  “I’m not devious, Odds.” She sighed and peeked at the others in case they overheard her talking to him again. Opening the bag, she looked at Odds. “Nancy will feel justified that the bakery is closing, and when I ask her to use her skills to make the cake better, I know she’ll be excited. See?”

  He squinted his eyes, and she snapped the bag closed. Leave it to Odds to criticize everything she did. Margot made the decision to pay for the cake. Sometimes an old woman needed to treat herself. Besides, if it turned out to be horrible, then she and Nancy could laugh about that too.

  Margot bought the cake, had Lara wrap it up, and she walked home with Kenny. Dottie rode in the wagon with the pastries, dipping her little face into each bag over and over.

  “Stop, Dottie,” Kenny admonished her. You’ll squish them.”

  “Will not,” she argued.

  At home, Margot thanked Kenny for letting her know about the trip. With Lara’s instructions, Margot let the cake defrost. The next afternoon, when the treat was ready, she drew in a deep breath and prepared to head over to Nancy’s apartment.

  “Draaammaaa.”

  “Shush, Odds. There won’t be any drama. Nancy will appreciate me thinking of her, and we’ll have a nice chat.”

  “You’re still trying to buy friendship.”

  “I am not. You be quiet or no going out for you.”

  His yowl of protest went ignored as Margot left the apartment. She pulled the door closed before Odds could get out but then had to go back because the naughty thing scratched so much at the door, she imagined having to pay to get it repaired.

  “Honestly, Odds.”

  “Who’s not going out?”

  She started down to the first floor, but a sound behind her on the next level caught her attention. Standing still to listen, she waited for the sound to repeat. All lay in silence. Margot glanced at Odds, who had stopped when she did. “Did you hear that, Odds?” she whispered.

  �
�No,” he whispered back.

  She glared at him and continued downstairs. Margot’s palms were clammy as she prepared to knock on Nancy’s door. She gripped the cake tighter in her hand and glanced at Odds. He sat down and swished his tail.

  “You’re not going to encourage me at all?”

  Silence.

  “Fine.” She knocked.

  “Commming,” Nancy sang out right away. Margot braced herself, and Nancy opened the door. Back to curlers, Margot assumed, since three hung by a few strands of hair, and two appeared so tight, they might be in danger of imprinting Nancy’s forehead. “Oh, it’s you, dear. Come in! What’s that you have?”

  “It’s called cry cake.”

  “Be quiet, Odds!”

  Nancy peered at the cat. “Did he say something, Margot? Come in and tell me what he’s saying. It must be fun to hear him.”

  “Not at all.” Margot groaned. She walked into Nancy’s living room. “This is a present for you, Nancy. I’m not sure if it’s good or not. I thought you might like it and…”

  Margot lost steam at the stricken look on Nancy’s face and realized the bag the cake sat in was labeled with the bakery’s name.

  “It’s not dirty at all. I visited the bakery yesterday.”

  “You visited?” Nancy asked.

  “Duhn, duhn, duhnnn.”

  Margot felt perspiration in her underarms. “They’re going out of business, you see, and Kenny’s mom sent him on an errand. He couldn’t refuse.”

  “Of course not,” Nancy agreed.

  “We—he—asked if I wouldn’t mind—” She couldn’t lie to her friend. “You know I like my treats, Nancy, to settle my mind.”

  “Yes, of course, but I have pie right here, Margot, and if you wanted cake…”

  “Have I said they’re going out of business?”

  More silence.

  Margot heaved in a deep breath, straightened her back, and headed for Nancy’s kitchen. After all, Nancy had railroaded her plenty of times. She marched in and set the cake on the table to unbag. After she prepared two plates, she cut a slice for her and one for Nancy. Her friend snapped out of her shock and poured them both a cup of coffee. Then they took seats in the living room.

  “While we taste it,” Margot said primly, “I’ll tell you what I learned about Charles Olsen. He was a very clumsy man.”

  Nancy’s face brightened, and she cut a tiny bite of the cake with her fork. “Tell me more.”

  Margot cast a knowing look at Odds, who pretended she didn’t exist. “Well, he dropped half the batter on the floor all the time and had to make more. It’s a wonder he was able to stay in business.”

  “Oh, dear, some people just don’t have the skill for it.” Nancy waved her fork dismissively. “I myself had to practice for months, and you say he’s been in business for over twenty years? That seems impossible.”

  Margot agreed and ate a generous bite of the cake. She froze and looked at Nancy. When she had chewed and swallowed, she spoke to her friend. “I don’t think it was lack of skill that was Charles’ problem.”

  Nancy had gone pale and stared down at the offensively delicious cake. “No indeed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Margot hesitated with her hand on the doorknob leading into the third floor apartment. She had bypassed the one at the top of the stairs, knowing that apartment had been occupied by the neighbor who wasn’t very friendly. Each time Margot or her friends had tried to greet him and get to know the young man better, he had rudely ignored them.

  Margot hadn’t had to deal with ill-treatment in her life. She was perhaps quite blessed in that regard, but she wouldn’t stand for such rude manners from others either. Not that she could do anything other than to quit reaching out to the man. Strange how the Super, Oliver, had claimed the aforementioned neighbor was nice if a bit quiet.

  “Well, I never push where I’m not welcomed,” Margot murmured to herself.

  “That’s funny. You’re about to push yourself into this apartment.”

  Margot stuck a fist on her aching hip, which had started to throb just coming up the stairs. A few more dog-walking days, she continued to tell herself. “No one said you had to come along, Odds.”

  “If I don’t join you, who will entertain me?”

  “Not funny at all.”

  Odds raised a tiny paw to the door as if to say let’s get this over with. Margot ignored him. She knew it was wrong of her to enter an apartment that wasn’t hers. Convincing herself of the fact that no one had yet rented the place didn’t make her feel better. What kept entering her mind was that Nancy had claimed the view from this apartment at night was quite interesting.

  “I enjoy the strange and ghostly,” she said to Odds as she turned the doorknob. “It’s what kept the loneliness at bay when—”

  Margot broke off the last of what she had intended to say because Odds had already accused her of certain actions because of her feelings over Lou leaving her. She would not give the stubborn cat the satisfaction of being right.

  With all her internal musings and delay, Margot nearly cried out when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Swallowing hard, she shoved the door open and darted into the apartment as fast as her feet and hip would allow. Odds scurried after, and she shut the door until just a crack remained.

  “Oh, dear, if we’re caught, Odds, we might get into terrible trouble.”

  His answer was to brush against her leg.

  “Are you afraid?” she asked him. He made no sound, and she could see nothing but his green eyes in the darkness of the apartment. Glancing behind her, she thought she saw a bit of light coming from farther back, but right now, her attention lay more in the direction of the hall.

  Margot opened the door a hair wider and peeked out. Her heart pounded, and she had the unreasonable thought that no one would find her if she had a heart attack here in this empty apartment.

  “Odds, if I pass out,” she whispered, “you must seek help.”

  “Are you on that again?”

  “Yes, promise me.”

  He said nothing. Movement in the hall made her stiffen, and she opened the door wider. As Margot stared in surprise, she watched Zabrina of all people creep into view. The young woman with the white blonde hair, who looked like a model, was the last person she expected to see.

  “All the humans here are sneaky.”

  “Shh, Odds. She might hear you.”

  “You’re the only crazy one that hears me.”

  “Oh…yes…I had forgotten.” Margot felt her face burn in the darkness. She wanted to scold Odds, but he was right. Lately, he spoke a lot more than when he first arrived. Margot didn’t like to consider what that meant.

  Zabrina’s ascent on the stairs was excruciatingly slow. She kept looking over her shoulder and pausing with each resettling of the old building that caused creaks and stirs. At last she reached the top of the stairs, and she turned toward Margot’s direction. Margot experienced a moment of panic when she thought Zabrina intended to head their way.

  “Do you notice?”

  “Notice what?” Margot asked Odds. She waited for him to explain, but he gave no hints to what he thought she should see. Margot prided herself on her skills of observation, and even Peter had praised her. Yet, she wasn’t sure what Odds referred to.

  While the two of them watched, Zabrina pressed an ear to the new tenant’s door and listened. After some time, she seemed to be satisfied that he wasn’t there. Margot’s mouth fell open when Zabrina extracted something from her pocket and began using it on the door locks.

  “What is that?” she asked Odds.

  “Lock pick.”

  “How do you know?”

  He didn’t answer. Soon a low click resounded in the quiet hall. Zabrina opened the apartment door, and disappeared inside. Once she shut the door behind her, Margot sagged against wall, breathing heavily.

  “Oh, dear, I think you’re right, Odds. There is something very strange going on. Why does Zabri
na know how to pick a lock? It seems the type of thing only a criminal would know how to do. Do you think she’s a criminal, Odds?”

  Margot glanced down, but she couldn’t see the reflective eyes.

  “Odds?” she whispered.

  She felt around on the wall for a light switch, and when she found one, flipped it. Nothing happened. Of course the electricity wouldn’t be turned on in the empty apartment. Margot dared to open the door a bit wider. A dull stream of light extended across the hardwood living room floor. Odds was nowhere in sight.

  “Odds Gardner, you better not make me come in there after you.”

  She took a step forward and then stopped. Sure the light gave a narrow path across the living room but not much farther. The apartment might be empty, but as she had been told, there were odd columns here and there in the design of the place. She might smack into one without seeing where she was going.

  “Suit yourself.” She turned back to the exit. “I’ll have to shut the door, and you’ll be stuck in here all night. I won’t return until daylight.”

  Meow.

  Margot glanced down to find the scamp in the hallway looking up at her. His false innocence did not fool her one bit. “I will sell you and spend the money to get a dog!”

  Odds’ yowl of protest gave her satisfaction. Normally, he scoffed at her attempts to match wits with him, and she always felt like she lost in their arguments. This time she had come out on top, and she marched down the hall with her head held high, feeling pretty good about herself.

  “Oh, yes, I think Frankie’s owner said something about how much he has grown attached to me.”

  Odds yowled again, and this time he batted her ankle and took off running along the hall. In a streak of silver fur he disappeared down the stairs and out of sight. Margot put her hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter. When she was done chortling with glee, she started forward only to come face to face with Zabrina leaving the occupied apartment in a hurry.

  They stared at one another saying nothing. Panic tightened Margot’s throat, and Zabrina raised a long slender hand to her blonde tresses to push a few locks behind her ear. Her other hand remained on the doorknob. There was no hiding what she had just been discovered doing.