Free Dead Pan by Gayle Trent Page A

here shortly after that time.” She noticed someone approaching her register. “We’ll talk more later.”
    I finished arranging the display, and then I went in search of Mr. Franklin to let him know I’d brought the cakes he’d requested. I found him in his office hunched over his desk.
    “Daphne,” he said, standing up behind his desk. “Come on in.” His dress shirt was wrinkled and his tie was stained. I thought—not for the first time—that he needed a wife. He wouldn’t be bad looking if he’d try to be a bit neater with his appearance.
    “I’ve brought the cakes you requested. Juanita and I arranged them on the display table.”
    “Very good.”
    “Is there anything else you’ll be needing within the next couple weeks?” I asked. “I’m trying to coordinate my holiday schedule.”
    “Ah.” Mr. Franklin sat and indicated I should do the same. “Are Christmas wedding bells ringing for someone in Brea Ridge?”
    “Not that I’m aware of,” I said, taking a seat. “However, Belinda Fremont is planning an extravagant New Year’s Eve party.”
    He raised his brows. “This soon after Guinevere’s birthday party? That’s odd.”
    “You mean, Belinda’s New Year’s Eve party isn’t an annual affair?”
    “No. The birthday party is normally the Fremont social event of the holiday season. There typically isn’t another party until Spring.”
    “Does she throw birthday parties for all the guinea pigs?” I asked.
    “Nope. Only Guinevere.” He smiled. “You see, Guinevere’s birthday coincides with Belinda’s.”
    “So, in a way, she’s actually throwing herself a party.”
    “In a way.”
    “Wonder why she decided to host a New Year’s Eve party this year then?” I held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad she is, I just wonder what prompted it.”
    “Maybe it’s something Richard wants.”
    Richard is Belinda’s husband. He seems like a super nice guy—I met him briefly at Guinevere’s birthday party when I brought the cakes. From what I understand, he travels extensively. Maybe Mr. Franklin was right. Maybe the party was for Richard.
    “You could be right,” I said. “Belinda mentioned his sister would be coming and that she’s single again. Richard is hoping she’ll meet someone.”
    “Maureen is single again?” Mr. Franklin asked. “She’s . . . um . . . very sweet. I knew her way back when. Anyway, I’d be delighted if you could work the Save-A-Buck up some Christmas cookies, candies—maybe some fudge, peanut butter pinwheels, haystacks—things like that—some cupcakes and a few more cakes.”
    “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
    “Bring them in as you make them, and let me know what you’ve brought.”
    “Okay.” I smiled, glad I’d anticipated this and bought some cookie and candy trays with lids during my trip to the chef’s wholesale warehouse in Kingsport last week. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
    At Mr. Franklin’s frown, I added, “At the funeral.”
    “I’m afraid not, Ms. Martin. Several of my employees are taking the morning or the day off, and I’ll be needed here. I did send over a pretty peace lily, though.”
    “That was nice.”
    Mr. Franklin nodded in agreement.
    “You know, I was thinking about how you once told me Fred had changed after the car accident,” I said.
    “He did change. You can ask anyone.”
    “Oh, I believe you. But his cousin was filling me in about the accident the other day, and it made me wonder. Do you suppose some of Fred’s anger wasn’t the result of his brain injury but was caused by the fact that the driver who was at fault was never found and punished?”
    Mr. Franklin’s face had turned to flint. “Since I’m neither a brain surgeon nor a psychiatrist, I wouldn’t know.”
    “No, of course not. None of us will ever know, will we?”
    “No.” His face softened slightly. “I hope he’s at peace now.”

Chapter Six
     
    The first thing I heard when I woke up the next