Trouble You Don't Knead: A Laughing Loaf Bakery Mystery (The Laughing Loaf Bakery Mysteries Book 3) by Victoria Kazarian

Author:Victoria Kazarian [Kazarian, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fog Hollow Books
Published: 2023-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Now if you had moved your pawn like this—”

As we drank tea and split a caramel apple tart to tide us over before dinner at Beck’s, I’d agreed to play a game of chess with my father.

My father put a finger on one of my white pawns and slid it ahead one square on the chessboard, till it was next to my toppled king.

“You could have blocked my advance with this. You could have delayed checkmate by a few moves.”

“But, Dad, it wouldn’t have made any difference. You win every time.” I laughed, as I took a bite of my half of the tart. “I was more interested in ending my misery.”

“You could win, but you didn’t want it badly enough. Most of the game is up here.” My father tapped his head. “Have your moves lined up. Think of what I will most likely do and be ready to counter it.” He gave me a reproachful look. “I can always predict what you’re going to do, dear.”

I rolled my eyes, as my dad angled his fork into his tart half and sliced off a bite. He savored the combination of buttery crust and spicy apple.

“This is very good, Gracie. I’ll give Beck my compliments tonight.”

After we finished our tarts, I’d tell my dad about my conversation with the chief today. I wanted to share my relief with someone.

“The photo of me,” I started in. “The chief didn’t tell anyone about it. I watched interviews with him on the news. I read the River Grove Gazette this morning. He didn’t mention it at all.”

That was enough to stop my dad from taking the next bite of tart. He set his fork down.

“Why would he not talk about it? Wasn’t that the only thing the young man had on him?”

“The chief said he was warned by someone not to do it.” I picked crumbs of tart crust off the plate with my finger and ate them. “It could have been the local contact who’s monitoring us in River Grove. The one LaValle and Piccelli told us about.”

“Do you have any idea who that local contact is?” My father frowned, deep in thought.

“At first I thought it was the chief. He could be putting up a good front, but the chief is easy to read. He looked worried when I asked about the local contact and shut down the conversation pretty fast. I don’t think it’s him.”

“What about Brad Castro?” My dad said hopefully.

“I don’t think he’s got the discretion or the experience to do it.” I tried to think of anyone else I could. “I suppose it could be—maybe someone like Mayor C.”

My dad wiped his hands carefully on his napkin, then began carefully putting the chess pieces back into their velvet-lined case. “Now that makes sense. She’s one tough lady. I could picture her working with the feds,” he said, sounding less like a professor and more like a crime boss.

I agreed. “Corinne would be better at keeping a secret than the chief.

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