Bake Sale for Murder

by Harper Lin

  Last but not least, visit my website for my blog and a complete list of all my books, organized by series.

  Thanks and much love,

  Harper

  Excerpt from “Sugar and Scandals”

  “You look adorable.” Lila Bergman was a foot taller than Amelia and at least ten years older. Her hair color was boxed as Fire Engine Red, and it matched her manicured nails. “Look what I had made for Beatrice.”

  “Well, thanks for the compliment. But I don’t know if I like you bringing gifts for our new assistant and none for me.” Amelia chuckled.

  “Ta-da!” Lila held up a lovely cotton button-down blouse in hot pink with the words The Pink Cupcake across the back.

  “That is perfect for her.” Unlike Amelia and Lila, who were happy in T-shirts and jeans, Beatrice Mooch had proven to be more than the best baker’s assistant in the world. She was also weird.

  “I’ve told the girl a dozen times she doesn’t need to dress so formally for the food truck,” Lila said, “but she insists that it has an effect on her baking. Sloppy dress equals sloppy desserts.”

  “That sounds like Beatrice.” Amelia giggled. “That is a really great shirt. I love the black buttons down the front. If we ever start a bowling league, these would be perfect.”

  “Well, I didn’t get a shirt for you. But”—Lila reached into her purse—“I did get one for Meg. I thought she’d get a kick out of it.”

  “Lila, that was so sweet of you,” Amelia gushed. “I know what she’ll be wearing to school tomorrow.”

  The ladies bustled around the truck, getting the ovens preheated, dropping the hot-pink paper cups into three dozen cupcake tins, and getting the coffee brewing.

  Right on time, Beatrice pulled up in her Smart Car and bustled up the back steps into the truck.

  “There were nothing but godless heathens on the road this morning,” she gasped, her lips pulled down at the corners in a frustrated frown. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “You aren’t late, Beatrice.” Amelia smiled as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver urn. “You are right on time.”

  Lila wasted no time giving Beatrice her new company blouse.

  “I eyeballed your size, so I’m hoping it will fit,” Lila said. “But we want all of our senior employees to be part of the team.”

  Beatrice stood still, holding the blouse up and staring at it.

  “This is the most beautiful article of clothing I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes filled with tears. Lila looked worriedly at Amelia, who was shocked at Beatrice’s response.

  “Are you all right?” Amelia asked.

  “I’m just honored. Miss Harley, Miss Bergman, you’ve been so good to me.”

  “Trust me, Beatrice. We’re the ones who are lucky. You showed up like an angel from heaven. We couldn’t be more thrilled to have you on board.”

  Beatrice wiped her eyes with stubby fingers then gave Amelia and Lila a quick, tight hug.

  “Now go into the corner and slip that on. We’ve got another interview today. We all want to match the truck.” Lila smiled and gave Beatrice a gentle nudge. In the corner between the front seats and the ovens, there was a small corner with no windows. Beatrice turned her back to them modestly, slipped out of her usual white blouse that always ended up multicolored by the end of every day, and emerged like a pink butterfly.

  “It fits perfectly,” she gushed, smoothing down the sides.

  “Well, Beatrice.” Lila smirked. “That certainly does highlight your curves. Why don’t you unbutton that top button? There’s no harm in giving a peek of what the Lord gave you.”

  “Miss Bergman!” she gasped. “I’m a professional baker.”

  Quickly, with bright-pink cheeks, Beatrice began to gather her ingredients for the new chocolate pumpkin spice cupcakes, slipped her apron over her head, and began to work.

  After the Pink Cupcake had made it through another busy morning, the ladies found themselves happy to be interrupted by the columnist and her photographer from Food & Wine Magazine.

  “Wait. Bonnie Paffenberger?” Amelia scratched her head as she looked at the blond woman in the blue blouse. “Didn’t you used to go to McCaughly High School?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I thought you looked familiar.” Amelia smiled and took Bonnie’s hand in both of hers. “We had a biology class together.”

  “Amelia? Oh my gosh! This is so weird!”

  The ladies hugged and flashed back to a few trivial high school benchmarks before they sat down to have a nice chat.

  “So, you are a columnist?” Amelia said, offering Bonnie and her photographer a cup of coffee. They took a seat at the picnic tables not far from the truck, and it felt like high school all over again.

  “Freelance. My husband is a jewelry designer. He makes a pretty penny, but there is something to be said about carving out a little niche for yourself. You obviously feel the same way.”

  Amelia bragged about her business and the support of her kids. A little slipped about the divorce, but her underlying motivation wasn’t lost on Bonnie.

  “Sometimes, we need that fire underneath us.”

  “That is exactly right,” Amelia replied.

  The photographer walked silently around the area, snapping pictures of the van and of Amelia and Bonnie as well as a few quickies of a grinning Lila with a grimacing Beatrice.

  “Amelia, I am so glad we had this chance to reconnect,” Bonnie said.

  “Me too. Now that you know the way, come by anytime. You’ll get the high school friend discount. Don’t leave before you and your photographer take a chocolate pumpkin spice cupcake with you for the road.”

  “You know, speaking of high school friends, did you hear about Spencer Randall?”

  “Yikes! There’s a name I haven’t heard in a good long while. Didn’t he have a rather explicit nickname?”

  “Randall the Handle. Yeah. I swear he gave that to himself.”

  Amelia laughed. “He fancied himself quite a ladies’ man in high school. But I haven’t heard anything about him in years. What have you heard?”

  “He died.”

  “Recently?”

  “Yeah. Yesterday. It was in the newspapers.”

  “What was I doing yesterday that I didn’t read the paper?” Amelia scratched her head. “Oh, wait. I don’t really read the papers anymore. What happened?”

  “Someone found him dead.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Off the hiking path that wound up over by Main Street and Carlisle Avenue.” Bonnie’s eyes twinkled with morbid glee.

  “Bonnie, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were a little too happy about this situation.”

  “Let’s just say his reputation as a player didn’t stop after high school. I ran into him at a fundraiser. I’m not trying to sound like a snob, but my husband’s profession opens quite a few doors. So many men looking to outdo the Joneses when it comes to jewelry for their wives, so he meets lots of influential people.” Bonnie shrugged modestly. “You can imagine how shocked I was to see old Randall the Handle walk in to one of the crowning jewels, no pun intended, the Great Legends of Football fundraiser. The tickets were ten thousand dollars a person.”

  “Wow.”

  “Personally, I’d rather write a check and stay home watching television, but it is good for my husband’s business.” She shrugged. Amelia totally understood. How many events had she suffered through with John before the divorce? Too many.

  “So, I see him, and in typical Spencer Randall style, he pretends he doesn’t recognize me until I turn to walk away. Then he snaps his fingers and is like, ‘Oh, yeah. I remember you. You had brown hair back then,’ as if anyone looking at me can’t tell I dye my hair.” She rolled her eyes.

  “So I asked him what he was doing at the fundraiser, and he told me his date brought him. Well, Spencer, who is your date? I mean, I know these people. I’d have heard if anyone mentioned the name Spencer Randall.
”

  Bonnie took a sip of coffee.

  “He tells me he’s with Florence Carmichael. I nearly choked on air.”

  “Who is Florence Carmichael?”

  “She’s a woman in her late fifties. Look up the definition of cougar, and you’ll find her picture. She was married to a distant cousin of a Kennedy who died after six years, leaving her a very wealthy widow.”

  “Oh, I see.” Amelia nodded.

  “Right. He likes the older ladies.”

  “He was like that in high school. I remember him going out with that other girl from our senior class.” Amelia snapped her fingers as she tried to remember. “Amy Overby. She fell for him, too.”

  “That’s right. Until she found out that he had been getting a lift home with that really snooty junior who had a BMW. What was her name?”

  “I can’t remember, but I remember the drama. That was like those scripted World Wrestling Federation rivalries. They were ready to go toe to toe over him. Was he really that good looking?” Amelia asked.

  “When I saw him, I hate to say it, but he aged well. I mean, really well. But the story doesn’t end there.” Bonnie stopped to tell her photographer, who had finished packing up, to go ahead, that she would meet him at the office.

  “Candace Rosenbaum,” Bonnie continued. “She’s this socialite philanthropist who never did a day of real work in her life. She and Florence are always all over the NUVO paper and those glossies that list the expensive real estate and new restaurants. They cover every gala in town. I’ve met her more than once, and I don’t like her. She comes across very snooty. Well, she and Florence now have a bit of a rivalry going on. It didn’t exist until Spencer Randall showed up.”

  “That’s exactly what a man like him needs.” Amelia chuckled. “Two women fighting over him. He’s got to be loving that.”

  “That night he did. I saw him sneak off with Candace while Florence was chatting up some congressman. Then I saw him acting rather inappropriately with one of the servers hired for the event. She couldn’t have been a day over twenty.”

  “Who has that kind of energy?” Amelia laughed.

  “I know I don’t,” Bonnie replied. “But if this is how he behaved at a formal event, I can only imagine how he acted on your average Tuesday. I’m not surprised he was found dead.”

  “Gosh, I didn’t even ask. You said he was found at the hiking trail? What did he have? A heart attack?”

  Bonnie shook her head slowly. “He was beaten to death. He still had chalk on his hands. Apparently he liked to climb the rocks down that path.”

  “Really?” Now it was Amelia who looked a little too eager for all the gory details. “Do they have a suspect?”

  “That’s going to be interesting. I guarantee the police are going to have quite a long list of scorned women to sift through. Now is the time I wish I had some connections to the police department. I’d love to be a fly on the wall to hear the details from all those women they’re going to have to question.”

  “You’re telling me.” Amelia didn’t say anything more. Instead, she let Bonnie wrap up the interview. She told Amelia it would be a glowing review, even if they hadn’t known each other in high school. Then just as quickly as she arrived, Bonnie Paffenberger was gone.

  “So, how did it go?” Lila asked.

  “I went to high school with that woman.”

  “Great. That means she’ll give you a good write-up?”

  “That’s what she said. She also gave me an earful of gossip about one of our classmates. Sounds like someone suffered foul play.”

  “Really? Amelia, did you ever stop and think how weird it is that these kinds of life events, or maybe I should say death events, fall into your lap?”

  “If I wanted to freak myself out, I’d focus on it. But I’d rather think I am just in the right place at the right time.”

  “I read a study that every normal person in the United States will cross paths with at least seven serial killers in their lifetime and not know it,” Beatrice piped up.

  “You are a font of knowledge, Bea,” Lila replied. “Scary knowledge but knowledge nonetheless.”

  Beatrice smiled as she turned and stuck a fresh batch of cupcakes into oven number three.

  “That’s a creepy thought,” Amelia replied.

  “That creeps you out, but yet you’re going to actively snoop around this classmate’s death for fun?” Lila teased.

  “I don’t think it’s fun.” She pouted. “I just think it’s fascinating. Plus, Dan is always involved in these things, so it would be rude not to take an interest in his work.”

  “Speaking of Detective Walishovski,” Lila continued, “how are you guys doing?”

  “We’re doing fine. At least, I’m doing fine. I think I better call him and see how he’s doing. Especially if he is investigating the untimely demise of my classmate Spencer Randall.”

  Amelia pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Dan Walishovski, senior detective on the Portland Police Department.

  Sugar and Scandals is available everywhere