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“They’re cute.”
Jazz wasn’t just wearing her glasses, but also a pair of black yoga pants, a slouchy gray sweatshirt, and her dark hair was in a crazy messy top bun.
“Okay, let me at the pie,” she said. “I need sugar if we’re going to dissect this.”
I went to the fridge and pulled out the one pie tin covered in aluminum. I’d consolidated the leftover pie into one dish. I handed it to Jazz and then gave her a fork.
“So, tell me why you think Kurt is sabotaging you,” she said as she plopped onto the couch.
“I met the woman who had the shop caddy corner to the bakery. She had to close her business.”
“Go on.” She forked in a mouthful of flaky pie crust.
“Damn, that looks really good,” I murmured.
“Baby’s got a sweet tooth.”
“Apparently.” I shook my head. “Anyway, her name is Ella Alcott. Are you ready for this? She started having issues with her suppliers, her insurance went up and with the street torn up the way it is, she no longer had enough foot traffic to keep the business going.”
Jazz frowned and nodded slowly.
“We’ve had a health code violation.” I put violation in quotation marks. “A broken window, our van screwed with—”
“The bank loan payment issue. Yeah, okay. I’m on your wavelength.”
“I had a flat tire, too.”
“I’d forgotten about that. It was right before Slash bought you a new car, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I thought it was bad luck, but I don’t think it was.”
“No, I don’t think so either,” she said slowly. “Too many coincidences.”
“I asked if Ella knew Kurt and she said she didn’t.”
“Did you get the name of her landlord?”
“No. I totally forgot,” I realized. “But we did exchange phone numbers.”
“Text her,” she said. “And ask about the landlord. We can do some snooping.”
“Snooping like Brielle did snooping about Kurt? We need some heavy hitters to come to bat if we’re going to figure this out.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Well, there’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Ask your dude.”
“Ask my dude what?”
“Ask him to do some digging.”
“And you think I’m the one that’s crazy?” I raised my brows. “I’m not asking Slash. I’m not even telling Slash.”
“Why not?”
“Remember what he did when the window was broken?” I asked.
