Free Ice Cream Murder by Leighann Dobbs Page B

at Lexy. “Aren’t you the caterer from Regis’ birthday party?”  
    Lexy fought the urge to turn and run. Of course, running would have been impossible with the vise-like grip Nans had on her elbow.  
    “Yes. I’m the dessert caterer. I’m very sorry about the whole thing,” Lexy squeaked out.
    Cora looked sharply at Nans, Ruth, Ida and Helen. “And who are you?”
    Nans introduced them and then held up the bakery box. “This is for the office. Lexy makes the best cookies.”  
    Cora took the box, the frown still evident on her face.
    “I wonder if we could have a moment of your time …” Nans ventured.
    “Me? What for? I’m very busy straightening out Mr. Banks projects for the hand-off.”
    “I’m sure you must be. But this is important.” Nans leaned closer to Cora and lowered her voice. “It concerns Mr. Banks.”
    Cora stared at Nans skeptically, but something in Nans’ tone must have piqued her curiosity. “Oh, all right then. Follow me.”  
    Cora turned and walked toward a hallway. The women followed her. Lexy couldn’t help but check out her shoes—her love of footwear drove her to it. She felt a pang of envy. Cora wore a pair of purple suede designer pumps with steel-tipped heels.  
    Cora stopped in front of an office suite and Lexy blurted out, “I love those shoes.”
    Cora glanced down, then frowned, bending to hurriedly wipe off a smudge on the tip of one of the shoes.  
    “Thanks, they’re Manolo Blahnik,” she shot over her shoulder continuing into the offices.
    The outer office was plainly furnished with a desk, bookshelves and two filing cabinets.  
    This must be Cora’s office , Lexy thought, looking at the clean surfaces. No messy papers or books. No signs of personal mementos either, except a small framed photo of a gnarled old oak tree against a sunset landscape on the windowsill. The office was neat as a pin, the only mess being a large amount of wet-nap packets all torn open and laying in the trash.  
    One wall had an impressive set of double doors that opened into a much grander, mahogany furnished office. The former office of Regis Banks was now filled with cardboard boxes. The bookshelves were half-empty. The filing cabinet drawers sat open, their contents in the midst of being transferred into cardboard storage.
    Cora turned to them. “Now that Mr. Banks is gone, his son, Winston, will take this office. I’m just packing up the stuff Winston doesn’t want.”
    “Will Winston keep you on?” Nans asked.
    Cora shrugged. “I don’t know what his plans are. We haven’t discussed it.”
    “Do you even want to work for him? I heard he had some … problems,” Nans said.  
    Cora’s sharp dark eyes assessed Nans. “Like what?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just say I hear he’s not as good with money as his father.”
    Cora looked away. “Yes, that’s true.”
    “You didn’t notice any tension between Winston and Regis lately, did you?” Ruth cut in.
    “Tension? You mean like as if they were fighting?” Cora worked at untying the pink string that Lexy had used to secure the bakery box.
    “Yes. Maybe at the party … or before it?”
    Cora narrowed her eyes. Lexy thought she saw a ripple of emotion cross her face for a split second before she composed it into a stony mask. “Now that you mention it, Winston did seem rather nervous … edgy.”  
    “Any idea why?”
    “No. I don’t meddle in family business.” She crossed to a row of cabinets and retrieved a large round platter, then came back to the desk and started to arrange the cookies on the platter.
    “So, they weren’t close?” Ruth asked.
    Cora looked up from her cookie arranging. “Close? No, I wouldn’t say so.”  
    “But Regis left him in charge of the company,” Nans pointed out.
    “Yes, so it seems.” Cora kept her attention focused on the cookies. “But I can’t help but wonder if maybe Regis was having second thoughts.”
    Lexy felt her heart rate pick up speed. If