A Beeline to Murder

Philippe smiled broadly. “Fascinating. You are the most interesting detective. I like how you detect.”


Abby looked at him curiously. Where are you going with that? She felt relieved when Kat pulled up and parked alongside them. Exiting her cruiser, Kat said, “You’ve got to clear your messages, girlfriend. Your cell is going straight to voice mail. Again. What’s up with that?”

Abby reached for her cell in her pocket.

Philippe extended his hand to Kat. “Officer Petrovsky.”

Abby watched Philippe appraising Kat. His voice sounded sexier than it had all day. For a split second, she felt a twinge of envy, but she quickly reminded herself for the umpteenth time that Philippe was a paying client. She couldn’t let herself feel that way about him.

“Right back at you, Mr. Bonheur,” Kat said.

Abby knew Kat loved to flirt but never in the line of duty. Turning her attention back to her smartphone, Abby exclaimed, “You called four times! Sorry! I must not have turned the ringer back on after shutting down the phone when I got home at dawn.”

“Dawn?” Kat seemed surprised. “So your chickens and bees had to do without you for a night? I hope you can see what this means.” Kat eyed Philippe but directed the question to Abby. “Can you say social life?”

Abby sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“How’s the case going?” Kat asked.

Abby opted for the shortest reply she could think of. “Still looking for a major break.”

“Well, I come with a tidbit,” said Kat.

“Spill it.”

“So, here’s the setup. I have to work the park tonight. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Sheesh . . . Is it that time of year already?” Abby asked. To Philippe, Abby explained, “It’s a major fund-raiser for our local acting troupe and for the park. It also raises the profile of our town.”

Kat looked directly at Philippe. “Your brother got rave reviews for his beautiful dessert creations at the festival last year.” To Abby, she said, “But with Jean-Louis gone, organizers had to pick someone else to make the world-class desserts this year. Guess who?”

Before Abby could say anything, Kat remarked, “Stephen B. Flanders, now at the Baker’s Dozen. Still goes by the name Jean-Louis gave him, Etienne.”

“I’m not surprised,” Abby said. “He wanted more money, and going to a competitor, giving away Jean-Louis’s secrets, could be his ticket.”

“Well, we all want more money,” Kat said.

Abby broke into a wide grin and said, “Must have thought his dough would rise higher somewhere else.”

“Oh, please.” Kat rolled her eyes. “Seriously, look into Etienne’s alibi. In his sworn statement, he said he texted a friend in the middle of the night from his friend’s apartment in San Francisco. However, his car was seen in Las Flores at four thirty in the morning.”

Abby raised a brow, fully aware of the quizzical expression that must have taken over her face.

“Vanity plates,” Kat replied. “Etienne has vanity plates.” Kat filled Abby in on the details.

“Ah.” Abby gazed at Philippe. “You know, suddenly I have an insatiable urge for a pastry.”

Kat pushed her thumbs into her duty belt. “I thought you might.”

Abby reached over and laid her hand on Philippe’s arm. “Feel like taking in a performance of Shakespeare in the park?”

He did not hesitate in his reply. “Park . . . two beautiful women. Bien s?r.”