Muffins & Murder (Sweet Bites Book 3) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) Page 2

  I nodded. “You should think about changing your career, Jack. Forget this whole paramedic, saving-lives thing and become a hair stylist instead.”

  “No way. You just want me to stop poking needles in you. The best way to prevent that is for you to stop getting yourself hurt, you know.” He nudged my elbow on the bistro table.

  “Hey, it’s not like I do it on purpose! And I’m staying out of this investigation. Absolutely out.” Yeah, I know, famous last words, right?

  He smiled and took another drink, holding my gaze.

  When he finally left half an hour later, my heart was a lot lighter and I was able to go back to work on the cake without a hint of shakiness left.

  1 cup brown sugar

  1 cup granulated sugar

  1/2 cup butter

  3/4 cup peanut butter

  2 eggs

  1 tsp vanilla

  1/2 tsp baking soda

  1/2 tsp salt

  1 1/2 cups flour

  2 1/2 cups oats

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  Cream the butter, brown and granulated sugar and butter. Add peanut butter and vanilla and mix well. Add the salt and baking soda to the flour and then add to the batter. Stir in the oats and mix until well blended.

  Form into walnut-sized balls and bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or until they are just barely begin to brown. Makes about 4 ½ dozen cookies.

  All day, the shop had been filled with a succession of customers dressed as witches, vampires, flappers and poodle-skirted teens. It seemed like the whole town of Silver Springs took Halloween to a new level of seriousness, and I was glad I’d let Honey talk me into wearing my cupcake costume. Okay, so maybe it was a little predictable, but that’s not always a bad thing.

  Lenny rocked the Danny Zuko getup, and Kat’s Scooby-Doo Daphne was flawless—and whether they’d planed it that way or not, both suited their personalities to a T. Though business had been picking up as time passed, we were slammed with curious people who heard I had found Francine the previous night—proving again that local gossip traveled at twice the speed of light.

  The bell rang over the door again and I let out a sigh before pasting on a smile and turning to find Honey on the other side of the counter, her three children in tow. “Ah, my favorite munchkins!” I said as I came around to snatch three-year-old Zoey out of her mom’s arms, giving her a tight hug. “How are you guys?”

  “Good, me hearties!” Chance said in a terrible pirate voice. “If ye don’t give us some cupcakes, we’ll make ye walk the plank.”

  I set Zoey on the floor, held up my hands in pretended fright, and backed away again. “In that case, I better make sure you’re all sugared up before you start trick-or-treating.”

  “Right, because they might face an evening without sugar if you don’t help them.” Honey rolled her eyes a little and tugged her Afro-wig back into place. Her hundred-plus tiny braids were no doubt pinned up on her head in a flat bun so the wig would fit. It went perfectly with her orange-and-yellow disco costume. I told her just to do her own hair in an afro—her hair had the tight kinkiness required, but she complained that putting it back in cornrows was way too time consuming.

  “We definitely can’t have that sugarlessness!” I leaned back behind the case, pulling out a cupcake for each kid as he or she pointed out their favorites.

  “Give me the baby,” Kat demanded, reaching for Zoey.

  “Not a baby!” Zoey insisted, even as she leaned toward Kat.

  I grinned, Kat was so cute with Honey’s kids.

  Honey shooed them all over to a table, grabbing a booster seat for Zoey. Then she came back and I passed over the pumpkin cupcake I knew she wanted, even though she hadn’t mentioned it yet. “You didn’t call me last night,” she said. “I drove out here after I got the kids settled down—finally.” She grinned and her eyebrows lifted. “I saw you and Jack in here, holding hands, looking all snug. I decided not to stop after all.” Her voice was low, so as not to draw the attention of the two geriatric ladies at the table in the corner. “I wanted to come in first thing this morning, but it’s been crazy. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the half-hour Jack had spent in my shop. “He stopped by to make sure I wasn’t too rattled. It was sweet.”

  “You and Jack are up to hand holding?” Kat asked, joining us at the counter. “Since when?”

  “Hmmmm.” Honey didn’t say anything else about it as she peeled back the wrapper from her cupcake. “I wonder if he would have gone out to check on any ol’ person in your situation.” Her eyes said no. Kat’s agreed, shooting me a pointed look.

  Despite not being very impressed when I first met Jack, I’d since learned he was thoughtful and considerate with everyone—and he was the cutest dad, which couldn’t be undervalued. “He was just being a friend,” I said, hoping I was wrong. My feelings for him had been growing in the past months and I really wanted to see if we could have something more than friendship.

  “Right. What did the two of you talk about?” Honey asked.

  “Stuff.” I shrugged lightly, not ready to discuss everything yet.

  “Hey, quit standing around here giving away our merchandise,” Lenny said, nudging me out of the way as he brought over a fresh tray of piña colada cupcakes from the kitchen. “It’s never been so busy here before.” He glanced toward the other side of the display and sighed. “Did we really sell out of those jack-o-lantern cookies already?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. And I pulled everything from the back, so that’s it for the day,” I said. The cupcakes were the last batch we had planned to bake and trick-or-treaters would be out en force soon. “I guess you’re done as soon as we clean up the kitchen.”

  “Great.” Lenny adjusted the chef’s jacket on his skinny frame and finished shifting the baked goods around and then joined us, going onto the customer side of the counter so he could slide an arm around Kat’s waist. “While you were setting up the wedding cake this morning, I had a few people in here wondering if you were going to assist Detective Tingey with the investigation. It seems some people doubt his ability to take down the murderer without your help.”

  I breathed on my fingers and buffed my nails against my chef’s jacket. “Well, I am pretty amazing.” I chuckled because though I had worked hard to find out the truth in the previous two murder cases, I hadn’t exactly done it by myself. “With a little help from my friends, I can do amazing things.”

  “So, are you going to look into it?” Honey asked.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I folded my arms over my chest. “It’s not like Tingey is incapable of doing his job. He’s a good detective. He detects... stuff all the time.”

  “He’s not exactly an expert in homicide, and you solved the previous two, not him,” Honey pointed out a little gleefully—she’d enjoyed helping me track down the killers. “Besides, he already decided it was Mary Ellen Perkins because of the quilted table runner that was wrapped around Francine’s neck. And she couldn’t possibly have done it.”

  I stared at Honey. “How do you know these things? Aren’t they keeping it quiet right now?”

  “Of course, but when I stopped to gas up on my way here, I overheard Officer Mitchell talking about how they were searching Mary Ellen’s house for the fabric swatches used in the runner.” She popped the last of her cupcake into her mouth, wadded the wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the garbage can behind the counter.

  Lenny’s brows furrowed and he leaned against the display case. “Wouldn’t the killer consider it sweet revenge if Francine had made the runner herself and it was done from quilt blocks that were very similar to the patterns she’d stolen from Mary Ellen?”

  “That’s terrible,” Kat reprimanded him.

  “I don’t have a problem with Francine, I was thinking from someone else’s point of view,” Lenny defended himself.

  “I suppose so. But I still don’t think Mary
Ellen would have done it.” When he turned and gave me a look of disbelief, I huffed a little. “I know she’s a snob who treats you like she’s afraid you’re going to mug her, but you didn’t exactly make a good first impression—nor have you tried to improve her opinion of you since. And that doesn’t mean she’s a murderer.”

  I was downplaying the bad impression he’d made the first day he arrived in town. He was a total mess after driving straight here from Chicago, smelled like an ashtray, and his several tattoos had been displayed for everyone to see. Any one of those things would have put him on Mary Ellen’s list of people to avoid, but combined, they made a dangerous combination. She wasn’t the most tolerant person around. I was surprised she still shopped here.

  “Some people need to keep their—”

  I cut off his sentence, putting my hand up to his face so it nearly covered his mouth. “We have customers in the store, and little children around. Watch your language.”

  He glared at me, then let it go. “So if it wasn’t Mary Ellen, who do you think killed Francine?”

  “I don’t know.” I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, however.

  More customers came in and Honey and Kat sat at the table with her kids while Lenny went back to the kitchen, muttering something about making mums for an anniversary cake next week. I focused on the newcomers, but even while I bagged and rang up their orders, my mind wouldn’t stop turning over the possibilities. There must be someone else who had a grudge against Francine besides Mary Ellen. I tried to remind myself that I’d been surprised by people in the past and I shouldn’t completely discount her from my suspect list until I knew more.

  After the customers were seated, Chance came up to talk to me. “Auntie Tess, are you going to find out who killed Miss Clark?” His dark brows furrowed and his expression was uncharacteristically serious. “Mom said you aren’t.”

  “Sweetie, I don’t have a reason to investigate. Detective Tingey will figure it out.”

  His brows lowered. “No he won’t. You’re the smart one; everyone says so. Besides, he thinks the quilt lady did it. That’s stupid—she’s too nice for that.”

  I smiled. Mary Ellen liked kids a lot, but she was still single and childless. It was impossible not to like a kid as adorable as Chance, so she was very good to him. “She is nice, isn’t she?”

  Lenny snorted from the doorway to the kitchen. I shot him a quick glare, then returned my attention to Chance.

  “So you have to find out who hurt Miss Clark,” he insisted. “Please? She’s my favorite teacher and whoever hurt her needs to be caught.” Tears swam in his eyes.

  My heart nearly broke watching how upset he was about it. Dang it. How could I let him down? Especially when I agreed with him. “Fine. I’ll look into it.”

  “Really?” His whole face lit up and a dimple formed in his left cheek.

  “Yes. But don’t tell everyone, okay? I want to check things out in secret.” I lifted the pass-through flap into the customer area and scooped him into a hug, which he eagerly reciprocated.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he said in a stage whisper, which any of the customers in the store could hear. “Thank you, Auntie Tess!”

  “Hey, no promises okay? But you’re welcome.” I smiled as he rushed to tell his mom.

  Honey came over a moment later, smirking a little. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she jumped in as though she had been waiting for me to cave. “You know the Thanksgiving pageant Francine was organizing? Connie Larabee was pretty mad that her daughter got some minor part instead of the lead. She’s always pushing Jasmin into dancing, singing and acting and all of those kinds of things. Seems to think Jasmin is going to be a TV star someday.” Honey rolled her eyes. “If I had a nickel for every parent who is sure their kid is going to be famous. She goes totally overboard, like Jessica Grizzle with her son’s baseball teams this summer. He’s only eleven for heaven’s sake.”

  “It beats the alternative,” Kat said. “Not enough to do just means they’re more likely to get into trouble.”

  “What’s wrong with a happy medium?” Honey asked.

  “So, Connie’s cut from the same cloth as Jessica, huh?” I’d known a few people like that over the years. “You think she might have been mad enough to kill Francine? I don’t know, blaming her for stunting her daughter’s progress?” I didn’t know Connie, but almost anyone was more likely than Mary Ellen.

  Honey shrugged. “No idea. But she was there last night—she dropped off the cupcakes, remember?—and she looked pretty put out when I saw her from across the room.”

  I nodded, thinking. “Now to figure out how to approach her without making her think she’s a suspect.”

  Honey considered for a moment. “Madison is in the dance class the hour before Jasmin on Monday. Connie always stays for the whole class so she can work with her during the week, track her progress and get after the teacher if she thinks Jasmin’s talents aren’t being used well enough.”

  The thought of Mary Ellen wrongly suffering for Francine’s murder cemented my promise to Chance. I wasn’t going to dig hard enough to get me killed, just to find out some details. I tipped my head. “Don’t you think you could use a hand getting Madi to class Monday? I mean, you’re going to be terribly busy dealing with that one client.”

  She caught on right away. “Oh yes. I’ll be tied up in a conference call all afternoon. I really do appreciate you agreeing to help me out.” Her white teeth flashed against her café au lait complexion.

  That was settled, but it was still two days away, and I didn’t want to wait for the opportunity to land in my lap. I decided I’d have to check into other possibilities in the meantime.

  Cupcakes

  2 eggs

  1 cup sugar

  1 1/2 cups pumpkin

  1/2 cup milk

  1 tsp salt

  2 tsp baking soda

  2 tsp cream of tartar

  1/2 tsp nutmeg

  1/4 tsp cloves

  1 tsp cinnamon

  1/4 tsp ginger

  2 cups flour

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  Cream the butter, sugar and eggs until smooth. Mix in cocoa and then the milk. In another bowl mix the salt, baking soda, cream of tartar, spices and flour, then add slowly to the wet ingredients, mixing as you go. Spoon the batter into cupcake liners so they are about 2/3 full.

  Bake for 18-20 minutes. The recipe makes about 2 dozen cupcakes.

  Frosting

  1/3 cup butter or shortening, softened

  1/4 cup milk

  1 tsp vanilla

  1/4 to 1/2 tsp ground ginger (to taste)

  2 1/2 cups powdered sugar

  Mix the butter, milk and vanilla, add the ginger and powdered sugar and whip until smooth. You may want to use more or less powdered sugar. I like to use fresh ginger. I keep some in a baggie in the freezer so I have it on hand whenever I need it. Wait until the cupcakes have cooled completely before spreading the frosting on them.

  The heart of downtown Silver Springs could almost be mistaken for Mayberry. It had mom-and-pop storefronts, old-fashioned signs and light posts, and a quiet, one-way street with most of the store parking around back. My own building was brick with a big picture window sporting a half-circle of glass on top. The second floor was my residence and though the top held a widow’s walk, the roof curved down the sides with a distinct European flare. A semi-walled courtyard around back completed the picture and offered me privacy when I had time to relax outside. The building flowed seamlessly into the neighborhood.

  Off the highway, however, was a bustling commerce center with big-box stores, major restaurant chains and more. Most of the residents from surrounding communities came here, and I sometimes take my Outlander, complete with the magnetic signs for my bakery, down to the parking lot to find a spot with good visibility to leave it for a while. Sunday afternoon I decided a quiet walk would help me think, so I positioned my Outlander in the huge parking lot an
d crossed over to the park.

  The weather was cool, and I shivered a little as I put on a light jacket and headed for my regular stroll through the park near the shopping center. The leaves had mostly fallen already, but clumps of yellow and orange still clung to trees here and there, and the tall evergreens pierced the blue sky, releasing their pine or spruce scents. I stopped by the fountain in the middle of the park and tossed in a few coins, making foolish wishes for terrific holiday sales in the next two months, and enjoyed the hour of peace despite the occasional pedestrian passing by me. I always closed on Sundays and stayed out of the kitchen unless I had a major project for Monday delivery—a girl has to have at least one day free to catch up on laundry and otherwise relax.

  My Outlander was on the far side of the parking lot and I ambled back to it while I watched people around me. I walked past the office supply and electronics store as a man came out wearing the green and yellow polo shirt indicating he was an employee. I paused to let him in front of me and realized the slightly balding man came into my shop sometimes. “Cole, I didn’t know you worked here.” I gestured to the store.

  He turned to me, his eyes red and puffy, and stared for a second before he blinked in recognition. “Hi, Tess. Yes. I’ve worked here for a few years. Just making a living until the pros recognize my talent.” His smile was wan and disappeared much faster than usual.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. He was wide-shouldered with narrow hips, muscular arms and the grace of a dancer. I knew from previous encounters that he had been the high school quarterback—he made sure everyone heard about his glory days, when he took the Silver Springs High Falcons to the state title. A decade earlier.

  He nodded, but didn’t appear the least convincing. “I just heard about Francine. I didn’t know. I was at the lake and I didn’t know.”

  “Were the two of you friends?”