Truffle Me Not: Baker by Day ,Sleuth on the Side (Cupid's Catering Company Book 2)

by M K Scott

  As the rain-slicked car pulled up behind hers, gravel crunched under the tires, and the blue headlights bathed Della in an eerie light. Cue the music from a sci-fi show as an alien disguised as a perfectly average person popped out of the vehicle.

  “You okay?” A masculine voice called out as the owner, attired in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, emerged from the vehicle. The interior lights didn’t do much to illuminate him besides showing he had his hood up.

  Oh my! Della pushed her hand over her heart as she considered the implications. Who wore their hoods up? Well, it was raining and winter, which meant anyone who had any sense. What if the person had evil intentions? Wouldn’t the hood hide his face? The figure moved into the headlight beams, revealing a man a little shorter than average height with an honest face, along with wide-set eyes and a clean-shaven chin. There was nothing unusual about him and he appeared to be a nice guy. Nevertheless, didn’t people say that about every infamous criminal or at least the ones who became well known?

  “Ah,” she stalled, wondering what she should say. Admitting to car problems would make her a sitting duck. Still, if she could borrow her possible Good Samaritan’s phone, she could be in the tub a great deal sooner. “Could I borrow your phone?” She forced a laugh. “Mine died. Just need to make one call.”

  “Sure. Let me go get it.” Instead of returning to the car to retrieve his phone, he unzipped his sweatshirt and handed it to Della. ‘Why don’t you put this on? You’re soaked.”

  She took the proffered outerwear and slipped it on, appreciating the body warmed cloth that carried a whiff of coffee with an underlying note of woodsmoke. Lucky man. He must have a fireplace or a wood-burning stove. He was probably only minutes away from enjoying a cup of coffee in front of a toasty fire. On the other hand, he could have been burning evidence or something else. The thought finally unfroze her muscles. She hopped into her car and locked the doors.

  When the man returned with his phone, she powered down the window and took the phone. Normally, if it wasn’t night, raining, or in a desolate part of town, she might have stood outside her car. The poor man waited with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets as Della punched out the number to the auto service. Fortunately, they answered promptly, listened to her predicament, and gave her an ETA of seventy-five minutes, which made Della groan.

  “Is everything okay?” Her helper shivered as he tried to act nonchalant about standing in icy rain at the start of winter. No doubt he regretted his impulsive desire to help.

  “Not really, but I will be. Here’s your phone back.” She handed him his phone. “Let me give you your jacket. It’s a little wetter than it started out. I appreciate it and all.” She wiggled out of the jacket, balled it up, and held it out.

  He donned it, pulling the hood up over his damp curls, which only made him appear younger. He might not even be thirty. He pointed to the back of her car. “You know you have a flat tire, right?”

  “Kind of why I called the auto service.” This had to be a no brainer because he probably heard her conversation.

  “I thought so.” He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “If you have a spare, I can change it and send you on your way.”

  That sounded super appealing. While Della might not have packed her portable charger and Tony shredded her car charger, she did have a spare tire. If her father drilled nothing else into her, he did succeed in stressing the importance of an aired-up spare. “Wow! You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure. Part of the reason I stopped. My father used to be a cross country truck driver. Back when truck drivers were known as the knights of the highway because they often helped stranded travelers. I’m no truck driver, but I know enough to change a tire.” He pointed back to himself with his thumb. “By the way, I’m Guy.”

  She nodded. “Della.” She opened the car door, exited, and moved around to the trunk to find the spare and jack.

  Not wanting to weigh the car down with her weight, she stood outside, shuffling her feet to stay warm. Guy, kneeling beside the flat tire, glanced back at her. “Why don’t you jump in my car to stay warm?”

  Now that sounded like something the spider might say to the fly. She hesitated, although a warm car did tempt her, especially since her fingers were starting to stiffen up. It might be just the thing he wanted her to do.

  Guy cleared his throat. “You can lock the doors, sit in the driver’s seat, and run me over if I do anything serial killer like.”

  “I didn’t say anything about, huh…”

  She stopped trying to figure out a way to sound less paranoid. Still, women needed to look out for themselves. She edged closer to his car, pulling the door open and allowing the dome light to illuminate the interior. There was no room for hidden henchmen in the compact car. Board games crowded the passenger and back seats. Guy must really like his board games.

  Her mind made up, Della climbed behind the wheel and closed the door. The few seconds before the interior went black gave her time to study the inside. The board games could mean he liked to play games or was a board games salesman, although the latter might be a trifle unlikely since everyone tended to order everything online. A saxophone wailed startling Della until she realized it was the radio. Smooth jazz played—the type of music you’d expect at an upscale shop or trendy restaurant. A coffee cup snugged into the beverage holder explained the coffee smell on his jacket.

  The moment before she closed the door, she noticed an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. Instead of the ubiquitous pine tree, he had a small cardboard engine that read: Check Engine Light. It was unusual and demonstrated a sense of humor unless they were out of pine trees like he really wanted or he really needed to check the engine light.

  The engine ran, as did the heater, blowing out glorious heat and keeping the small car cozy. As far as Della could see, there was no glowing red check engine light on the dashboard. Guy did have a sense of humor as well as compassion. Normally, she’d be brushing away any offers to meet nice, young men since the possibility for things not working out loomed ever-present. It wasn’t like Della had a history of great romances. Her hand went to her wet hair. Well, she knew the man didn’t stop because her bedraggled appearance had instantly smitten him. He was just a kind person. Sometimes, she forgot people like him existed.

  A tap on the glass brought her attention to Guy outside the window. “Car’s done.”

  Della’s gaze went to the back tire rim that no longer rested on the pavement. The spare might be a little smaller, but it would get her home tonight. She pushed the window button to answer. “So, it is. What can I do to repay you?”

  He held up a grimy hand and wrinkled his nose. “Don’t expect thanks or payment. Someday, you’ll run across someone who needs help. All I ask is that you help that person.”

  “Sounds fair,” she answered as she opened the car door and stepped out. “Thanks, Guy. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

  “Not exactly a lifesaver, but possibly a time saver.” He chuckled and held up a hand in goodbye.

  Della returned to her vehicle, started her car, and checked her rear-view mirror before pulling out onto the road. Slightly bemused by her impromptu knight of the desolate stretch, she almost forgot to cancel the road assistance. Thankfully, she did remember and called road service back as soon as she got home. They would have charged her for the call even if she had left before they arrived, which they should. Leaving after calling for help rated as a jerk move, not something she wanted as part of her rep. Instead, she wanted to be a bit more like Guy.

  His words about helping someone who needed help kept replaying in her mind, and she spoke out loud. “I really should have done something nice for him.”

  Then she realized she didn’t know Guy’s last name. He could be a local, an alien disguised as a human, or possibly a figment of her imagination. Maybe she didn’t even have a flat tire. The last scenario she’d check out in the morning. At the moment, the thought of a bubble bath sang its siren song.


  Chapter Eight

  A SOFT BREEZE wafted off the ocean, cooling Della’s sun-warmed skin. Perfection. She turned in her lounge chair to reach the fruity punch drink an efficient cabana boy just delivered. Her fingers wrapped around the icy glass, and she smiled with amusement when she noticed Guy. An open mystery novel rested on his stomach. A straw fedora shaded his face, while a soft sound, a cross between a grumble and a purr, emitted. The poor darling was asleep. It was not surprising since the flight from Owens and the winter weather included not one, but two layovers. No matter. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  In the distance, steel band music played Christmas songs. On the way to the beach, they’d passed the oversized shelter that housed not only the musicians, but also a huge buffet of glistening fruits and decadent desserts, along with barbecued meat. They had hurried to the beach, not willing to miss one minute of the precious tropical heat. There was plenty of time to eat once the sun dipped behind the horizon.

  The band segued into “Up on The Rooftop,” but instead of the tap-tap of reindeer hooves, Della would have sworn she’d heard a bird whistle—a rather loud, strident sound. Using her flattened hand as a sunshade, she peered up at the palm trees, hoping to spot her feathered visitor. Nothing. The familiar bird call sounded again. As she tried to place the song, it stopped, as did the steel band. The sunlight dimmed, and the cold drink in her hand vanished. She blinked and reached out for Guy but encountered nothing more than a feather pillow.

  Della grumbled, “Figures it was a dream.”

  The bird call sounded again just as insistently as before. Her sluggish mind recognized it the third time as her mother’s ringtone. Initially, Della picked the ringtone because she thought it was cheerful. She might change her mind about the cheerful bit, especially since it interrupted a perfectly good dream.

  A close-eyed reach for her phone on her bedside table proved fruitless. Cracking one eye open, she squinted in the glow of her bedside clock. The silhouette of a water bottle and a tissue box loomed in the semi-darkness, but no phone. Della tried to remember what she had done with it when the bird call sounded again in the distance. Oh yes, she had deliberately not brought it into the bedroom to enable a late morning.

  Red threes, one right after the other, glared back at her from her glowing clock. What in the world could her mother want at this time of night? A roll brought her into a half-seated position as her eyes brought the room into focus. No one ever called Mabel a night owl, a fact that birthed a hiccup of panic. Della pushed off her bed and dashed into her tiny kitchenette, turning on lights as she went. She answered the phone on its fifth ring before it dropped into voice mail. “Are you okay?”

  Even Della recognized the rising hysteria in her voice. Her father’s sudden death due to a heart attack wasn’t anything she’d expected. With him gone and as an only child, all she had was her mother and a few cousins scattered across the country. What if something happened to Mabel? Maybe she was calling from an ambulance. The need for an ambulance and a casual phone conversation didn’t fit, but her mother tended to be an original.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” A pause stretched. “It’s Vanessa I’m worried about. Those goons are back. Sitting outside her house. Casing the place. Surely, they know by now Vanessa hardly goes anywhere. Not sure what they expect to bag in her house. The market for gnome salt and pepper shakers must be non-existent. Then there’s her collection of all the state spoons plus Guam and Puerto Rico.”

  Della’s heart slowed as she considered her mother had woken her out of a delicious dream to talk about her neighbor’s spoon collection. “Mom! Tell me you didn’t call to talk about Vanessa’s spoon collection including the US territories.”

  “I didn’t say she had the full collection. I think she’s missing American Samoa, possibly St. John’s. That’s one of the U.S. Virgin Islands.”

  Her mother tended to go off on tangents. While this habit had amused her father, it could sometimes be hard to rein her in. Della took a deep breath before speaking. “Mother, it’s three in the morning and then some. Why are you even up?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “You drank the coffee?”

  “It’s so delicious,” her mother cooed.

  “You knew it was morning blend.”

  “Not at first.”

  True enough. “So, you just happened to be staring out the window, hoping to see your neighbors up to something?”

  “Goodness, no. That would make me a nosey parker. Since I was gone so long, I felt bad not spending time with Tony. As a rescue dog, he’s probably used to being ignored. I certainly didn’t want him to think I’m that type of person. Also, there’s a Rock Hudson movie marathon going on right now. Tony and I settled in with popcorn for me and a rawhide bone for him. Suddenly, he’s barking like crazy. The last time he did that, Prince Purrfection was caught on my fence. Didn’t want to take a chance on a repeat. I checked the windows. Even turned on the lights. No kitty cat in sight, but when I glanced through the front curtains, I noticed the truck.”

  “A truck on its own isn’t that unusual. People have trucks. Someone could have just bought one. Maybe someone has a relative in town.”

  Her mother gave a dismissive sniff. “Don’t go treating me like I don’t know what I saw. Your father not only taught you observational skills, but he made sure I noticed details, too. The truck I noticed previously has a crumpled bumper and a swath of bare metal that’s starting to rust. Couldn’t see the rust in the dark, but I could see the bumper and the two guys sitting in the front seat.”

  Only the blue glow of televisions illuminated the neighborhood homes after ten. Most were tucked snug into their beds. Her father used to call the subdivision his sanctuary of serenity. He prided himself that no police calls ever came from there. Well, none resulting in any convictions. Occasional calls happened when someone spotted a non-resident in the area or someone called to report a missing pet. Often, her father helped with the search for the missing animal. Two guys sitting in a strange truck would be a little off.

  “How do you know it was the same guys? You know teens like to sit in cars and talk.”

  An indecipherable grumble sounded. “Excuse me, you’re trying to talk me down, and I know what I saw. When I saw them the first time, they not only looked out of place, but reminded me of Lennie and George. One guy was big and buff while the other guy was small and wiry.”

  “Who?” Della couldn’t recall anyone by those names.

  “Of Mice and Men.”

  Sometimes, she believed her mother talked in code. “What do mice have to do with it?”

  “Ah, Della. I know you had a few teachers who considered themselves trailblazers and abandoned the classics, but I can’t believe you’ve never read John Steinbeck’s novella Of Mice and Men. Anyhow, in the novel, Lennie is super strong but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He ends up killing things because he’s unaware of this own strength.”

  “Mom!” Della swung her head from side to side, searching for her tote and keys. She fisted the keys and belted her robe as she asked, “You don’t think there’re killers outside your front door?”

  “No, no. I was telling you the story behind the book you should have read. Truthfully, I’d feel better if they’d head on their way. I’m sure murderers would be much quicker. After all, they don’t want to be caught.”

  Della assumed not wanting to be caught would be true of most criminals. Still, the mysterious truck guys did sound suspicious. “Call the police for a drive-by. As the widow of the city’s premier detective, you deserve a courtesy service. If you don’t do it, I will.”

  The suggestion relaxed the tightness in Della’s shoulders. If someone was up to mischief, a glimpse of Owens’ finest should change their mind and location. Thinking her suggestion inspired caution, her lips tipped up. She could head back to bed and possibly dreamland and Guy.

  “Okay, sweetie. Who knows? I might get to talk to one of the newbies. They usual
ly make the new guys pull the third shift. How about dating a man in uniform?”

  Della squeezed her eyes shut. Why did her mother turn everything into a matchmaking opportunity? Oh yeah, now she remembered. Her mother wanted to see her daughter married and happy, somehow thinking one couldn’t occur without the other.

  “Mother, please don’t talk to the patrol officer. If you do, don’t ask if he’s married.”

  “Della, sometimes you treat me like I don’t have any sense. If I meet anyone with potential, I’ll run him past the dispatcher. She’ll know the lowdown. Don’t worry so much. Go back to bed.”

  It was not so easy when you had a matchmaking mother. All the same, she would try. “Let me know if you find out anything more about the men.”

  “Will do. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mom.” Della ended the call, grateful for Tony, the rescue dog whose bark belonged to a much larger canine.

  Chapter Nine

  A RADIO ANNOUNCER chattered about possible snow as Della and Stephanie readied the bakery for the morning crowd. Outside, the skies remained dark and snow-free. A tinge of rosiness at the edge of the horizon hinted at the coming dawn. The aroma of coffee perfumed the air, along with cinnamon, orange, and bacon. Since the morning rush consisted mainly of women, Della decided to insert some breakfast sandwiches into her inventory, hoping to entice the construction workers on the city’s first apartment building in forty years. Plenty of women might rationalize a bacon and egg sandwich over a harvest muffin as well. If nothing else, the leftovers could be frozen and taken home.

  Stephanie straightened the chairs around each table, making sure none had more than four while Della placed laminated cards advertising monthly specials and the amazing savings of taking home a dozen of the delicious treats. While some did take her up on the boxed goodies, the biggest profit came from those who insisted on buying pastries one at a time. Her bottom line depended on selling more any way she could. Immersed in the finances of the bakery, she may have missed Stephanie’s first inquiry.