Chapter 2 - The Garage Door Opens
Evan took a step back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His face shifted from irritated arrogance to a sick, hollow gray. Beside him, Melissa’s hand flew to her collarbone, her knuckles whitening as her fingers twisted into the fabric of her silk blouse.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evan sputtered, his voice cracking slightly before he forced it down into an assertive register. “I’m a contractor. I have upholstery staples, framing nails, drywall screws—I have half a hardware store in my garage. That doesn't mean I put metal into my sister’s birthday cake. That’s insane.”
Detective Laura Kim didn’t blink. She was a woman built like a marathon runner, composed and cold, with dark eyes that seemed capable of dissecting a man’s conscience in real time. Behind her, two uniformed officers stood with their thumbs hooked into their tactical vests, blocking any possible exit onto the manicured front lawn.
“We didn’t say you put it in, Mr. Bennett,” Detective Kim replied evenly. “We asked if you knew what was inside her wound. But since you brought it up—who else had access to your locked garage between four o'clock yesterday afternoon and the start of the party?”
Evan looked toward his wife, searching for a lifeline. “Melissa has a key. But she didn't touch anything. Look, the cake came straight from Sweet Delights Bakery on 63rd Street. If there was metal in the frosting, you need to go arrest the baker, not harass me in front of my neighbors.”
“We already visited Sweet Delights this morning,” Detective Kim said, taking a deliberate step across the threshold. “The owner, Mrs. Higgins, was remarkably cooperative. In fact, she provided us with her shop’s high-definition security footage from yesterday at two p.m.”
Melissa gasped, a sharp, choked intake of air that made both officers shift their stances.
“What does the bakery footage have to do with us?” Evan demanded, his voice rising, betraying the sheer panic clawing up his throat.
Detective Kim pulled a tablet from her leather portfolio, turned the screen toward them, and pressed play.
On the screen, Evan was visible standing at the counter. But the box handed to him wasn't the towering, finished strawberry-and-cream masterpiece that had sat on the dining table last night. It was a plain, uniced three-tier vanilla sponge cake.
“Mrs. Higgins stated you specifically ordered a naked, undecorated base, claiming your wife wanted to pipe the custom buttercream herself to save money,” Detective Kim said, her eyes boring into Evan’s skull. “You took that unfinished cake home at two-fifteen. The party didn't start until six. Where was the cake during those four hours, Evan?”
Evan’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow spasms.
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Behind him, Melissa took another step back, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror. “Evan... you told me the bakery did the frosting,” she whispered, her voice trembling violently. “You told me it was already decorated when you put it in the garage fridge!”
Detective Kim turned her gaze slowly from Evan to Melissa. “Nobody said anything about a garage fridge, Mrs. Bennett. How did you know it was kept in the garage?”
