Gum Drop Dead: Cupcake Truck Mysteries

by Emily James

  Now I sounded paranoid even for me.

  Still, I couldn’t leave my real name and phone number. They’d check me out and learn I wasn’t connected to Donald Wells at all. Or, worse, they’d find out Isabel Addington didn’t exist, and I’d end up as their next exposé. No, thank you.

  I hung up.

  I needed a new plan. The Michigan Daily definitely had a story brewing. They didn’t seem able to go forward with it at present, but they were also protective of it. They weren’t obligated to tell the police about it, and a lot of reporters took it as a note of pride that they wouldn’t reveal their sources no matter what. Even threats of obstruction wouldn’t make them budge.

  Perhaps, though, a reporter would do a favor for another reporter? Assuming I could convince the only reporter I knew to help me. Again.

  16

  The next day, I took the cupcakes I’d set aside from the batches I’d prepared to sell to my lunch crowd and headed for the building that housed the Lakeshore Daily. I didn’t have to check the building directory, even though I’d only visited the offices once. The memory was seared into my mind.

  They hadn’t updated the clear glass door with the letters embossed on it. Inside, the set-up could have been pulled frozen from a time capsule. Same metal desks. Same extra wide aisles for Alan Brooksbank’s wheelchair.

  Alan would probably be able to work at the Lakeshore Daily for as long as he wanted to. His Positivity Project column had been growing in popularity. I’d even seen it mentioned online and heard it talked about on the radio. People enjoyed reading something that they knew would have a happy ending. It was why I read it. His column helped me remember that there was good in the world and good people.

  I glanced around the room and spotted Alan’s shaved head and bulky shoulders next to his desk. If it were possible, his muscles strained his black t-shirt even more than they had the last time I’d seen him a few months ago. The man really should participate in some sort of wheelchair sport with arms like that.

  My stomach suddenly felt full of rocks. This was stupid. Alan Brooksbank had no reason to help me, and my cupcakes were nothing more than an obvious bribe.

  But I didn’t have any other option if I wanted to find out what Donald Wells had been doing that might have gotten him killed and now me threatened. And, more importantly, by extension, was a threat to Janie.

  I crept forward until I was standing next to his desk. “Alan?” The word came out high-pitched.

  He looked up with his double-wide smile on his face even though he couldn’t have possibly recognized my voice—and wouldn’t have had a reason to smile if he had. He was just that kind of nice person who smiled naturally.

  His gaze hit my face, and his eyebrows rose slightly. “Isabel.” The surprise in his voice was palatable. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “The feeling was mutual.”

  The words slipped out before I could stop them, another sign of how overly comfortable I’d become in my new world. I couldn’t talk that way to men who weren’t Dan.

  Before I could cringe or apologize, Alan threw back his head and laughed.

  “What brings you here? Did you sideswipe another vehicle?”

  The way he said it and looked at me sidelong made me certain he knew I hadn’t actually sideswiped any vehicle. Back when we’d first met, I’d used that ploy to convince him to get me information on Dan and Claire’s cousin Blake. I’d suspected Blake of killing their grandfather. He hadn’t. In fact, Blake turned out to be one of the nicest people, and he doted on his wife and children.

  I set the box down on his desk. “I brought you cupcakes. Two of every flavor we made today.”

  Alan opened the box. The muscles on his arms bulged as he did. Could you eat cupcakes and have arms like that?

  “Thank you.” He took out one of the cherries jubilee. “I’ll take the rest home. You just made two little boys very happy.”

  I hadn’t thought about Alan having a family. I glanced at the hand holding the cupcake. Sure enough, he wore a simple gold band. It might have been there when we met the first time, but I couldn’t remember.

  A fleeting thought went through my head that Alan’s wife was a lucky woman.

  He was watching me with an expression that said he was still waiting for the real reason I’d come.

  Without his help, I was at a dead end. Whoever left that rock would know where I lived, and there’d be nothing I could do about it.

  I already knew Alan craved stories that ended well. Now I knew he was a family man too.

  “The article you wrote about me and the little girl who I saved from the allergic reaction. She’s part of my family now. I need your help to keep her safe again.”

  I gave him only the details he needed to know to want to help me. I didn’t tell him I was trying to solve Donald Wells’ murder. What I told him was that someone seemed to think I knew something about his murder, and they’d threatened us. I wanted to know who might have had a reason to kill Donald Wells so that I could pass those names along to the police. At the very least, I needed to know what Wells had been up to so the police could resolve this before whoever was behind it decided to hurt Janie.

  The story was true. It was just abbreviated. Once I had the names, or even possible motives, I was going to hand them over to Dan.

  Alan laced his hands behind his head and leaned back slightly in his chair. I felt as if I needed to stay still the way I would have had I been undergoing a medical scan. Instead of looking for a tumor or a lesion, he was looking for lies.

  He sat up again and took a bite from his cupcake. “What, exactly, were you hoping I’d do?”

  17

  It’d been a long time since I felt so in-control around a man. Not dominant. But as if I didn’t have to be limp and allow things to happen to me.

  Dan grabbed our water bottles from the side of the gym and handed mine to me. “That should cover any way someone tries to grab you, but we need to move to what happens if he manages to take you to the ground.”

  My brain felt like it collapsed into a small ball. It curled around my sense of self to protect it the way I used to curl up to protect my internal organs. I knew what happened when a man took me to the ground. Choking, punching, and other things I didn’t want to remember.

  My phone rang from where I’d left it on the bench next to Dan’s gym bag. “I need a minute to even get my mind calm enough to try this. Let me get that.”

  Dan nodded.

  I scooped up my phone. Elijah’s number glowed on the screen. I slid my finger along the bottom to answer.

  Elijah rarely jumped straight to the point. It was almost as if he felt it would be impolite. Each time he called me, he asked about my day and what I was doing. Taking so much time to talk to me wasn’t efficient, but he seemed to actually want to know.

  “I took your advice about the animals,” he finally said once I finished talking about the women’s self-defense lessons I was taking. I didn’t have the courage to tell someone I’d met so recently that my sessions were one-on-one with a friend because I couldn’t handle the pace or the male instructor in the regular class.

  “What animals?”

  “We’re partnering with the local humane society. Once I learned more about the situation and how many healthy animals are euthanized each year, I knew it was a project we should be a part of. We’re sponsoring a voucher system to allow people to spay and neuter for a minimal cost, and we’re also looking at helping them build a bigger building.”

  A smile climbed over my lips. I hadn’t expected him to actually look into it. “That’s great.”

  “So I need you to start thinking about cupcakes that look like dogs and cats.”

  What had started as a simple “provide cupcakes for client meetings” had turned into something much more upscale. I’d been improving my techniques with fondant, gum paste, and modeling chocolate for weeks because Elijah kept calling and texting with special requests. The last o
ne had been for a cupcake decorated to look like a beehive with a tiny bee on it. They needed something to donate for the silent auction the Save the Bees foundation was hosting.

  Dan motioned to me that we should start up again. The main class would be winding down soon, and then we’d need to leave the gym.

  “Do you have any specific colors or breeds of dogs and cats that you’d like me to model the design after?” I asked.

  Elijah made a thoughtful mmm noise. “Allow me to get back to you on that.”

  We disconnected the call, and I rejoined Dan in the center of the mat.

  “A good call?” Dan asked.

  I realized I was still smiling. The thought of all those animals who’d be helped…it made me feel the way I’d felt when Janie picked out her cat from the shelter for her birthday. She’d walked past all the cute kittens and straight to an older cat with one ear. She’d named him Pirate even though it was his ear that was missing, not his eye.

  “A good call. One of my new clients.” I couldn’t have explained why it felt so important to make sure Dan knew it was a business call. But it did. “He took a suggestion I made.”

  That tiny shift in expression that I couldn’t explain crossed Dan’s face and was gone.

  “Let’s set up for the next series of moves.” He kept enough distance from me not to invade my space. Yet. “A large part of this for you is going to be a mental battle.”

  Dan knew my struggles well enough after all the time we’d spent practicing together. Each time we moved onto something new, we first had to desensitize me enough that I could even focus on what he wanted to teach me. My brain tended to short circuit even though I knew it was Dan and I knew it was safe. As soon as I was restrained, it didn’t feel safe anymore.

  He stepped closer. “Before we move to the floor, I want you to tell me how close I can get before you feel uncomfortable. Let’s see what progress we’ve made.”

  I braced my legs slightly. “Okay.”

  He slid his hand into mine. His palm was rough and warm. “Is this okay?”

  That had been okay for months. Not that we regularly held hands. We were just friends after all. But he took my hand enough that it felt normal. Comfortable.

  I nodded in mock seriousness. “Unless your palms get really sweaty, that’s fine.”

  Dan chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He stepped closer. Less than a foot separated us now. “And this?”

  I waited for my body to tense, but it didn’t. My mind felt clear. Clear enough that I could notice how he smelled like coffee and soap. The smell was warm and clean and comforting.

  But we’d been this close a handful of times too, even before training.

  I looked up at him and smiled. “Still good.”

  Dan slid an arm around my waist and brought me in close. My hands instinctively rested on his arms just below his shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around my waist as well. His touch was gentle yet firm.

  My stomach flipped, and my heart felt like it was pounding hard enough that he could feel it through my clothes. But not from fear. I struggled to make my mind remember where we were and that he was only holding me this close as an exercise and not for any other reason. Not because he wanted to.

  Dan’s eyes looked dark, and his gaze dipped to my lips. “And this?”

  His voice was low. Tingles ran over my skin.

  He was close enough now that if he lowered his head or I lifted mine up, our lips would touch. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to be kissed. I felt safe here. I felt cared for here.

  I felt wanted here.

  Like I was someone special, not a constant disappointment.

  He watched my face, waiting for an answer. The one I wanted to give him didn’t involve words. I leaned forward.

  My phone dinged with the special text message alert I’d set up for Alan so I’d know when he got back to me.

  The sound was like popping a bubble. What was I thinking? What had I been about to do?

  I stepped back, and he let me go. “I need to check that.” My voice cracked on the way out. “It could be important.”

  18

  Call me when you get a chance, Alan’s text said. I have information for you.

  I glanced over my shoulder at where Dan packed up his gym bag, looking as if we hadn’t nearly kissed. Maybe we hadn’t. Maybe that had been all in my head. It wasn’t like I routinely got that close to men. In fact, I tried to avoid getting close to men.

  Maybe I was just projecting. Dan had been a good friend to me. My best friend. My first best friend since childhood. Emotions couldn’t always be reasoned with, and mine had probably gotten friendship confused with more. My body no longer reacted to him with fear. Surely the desire to kiss him was a confused echo of that.

  More importantly, I was a married woman. I couldn’t indulge those feelings, whether or not they were real or reciprocated. Not with Dan. Not with anyone.

  I had to act like nothing had happened.

  Besides, he probably wouldn’t want to kiss me anymore—assuming he had in the first place—once he learned about me contacting Alan.

  But I had to tell him. If Alan had information that could point to who had killed Donald Wells and left me the threatening note, Dan needed to know.

  I turned back to face him. “I did something you’re not going to like.”

  Dan slowly zipped up his duffle bag and straightened. “Okay?”

  He really must have made a great undercover police officer. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. I couldn’t tell if he was worried, annoyed, or still thinking about that almost kiss.

  I explained what I’d done and why I’d done it. “I don’t know what he found out yet, but I wanted to have you on the phone call with me when we find out. I’m not trying to investigate this alone or hide anything from you.”

  An expression flickered across his face that I couldn’t interpret, there and gone so fast that the only tell was its existence at all.

  I played my own words back in my mind. I probably sounded like a liar to him. I had tried to investigate on my own by calling the lawyer and trying to contact the reporter. But I’d done it with the intention of turning anything I learned over to him, not with the intention of continuing to look into it myself. “Any more than I already have, I mean.”

  A smile played at the corners of Dan’s lips, and the smile crinkles that always made my stomach feel warm formed at the corners of his eyes. “I was thinking that you do a cute thing where you bite the edge of your lip when you’re nervous, but that’s good to know.”

  I threw a mock scowl at him. “Do you want to listen to the phone call or not?”

  Dan motioned me over to a bench along the wall and patted the spot beside him.

  I dialed Alan’s number.

  “That was fast,” he said instead of hello. “I just texted.”

  He must have attached my name to my number in his phone. It left a weird feeling on my skin, like wearing new clothes that I wasn’t entirely comfortable in yet. I now had people who expected to hear from me often enough, who expected to know me long enough, that I was a contact in their phone.

  “I have you on speakerphone with a friend of mine who’s also one of the detectives working the case. Detective Holmes. You’ve met before. More than once.”

  “I remember. Nice to talk to you again, Detective.” Dead air filled Alan’s end as if he were considering something. “The story’s dead anyway, so I think he’ll be okay with this going beyond Isabel.”

  The other reporter was a he after all. Jackson Hogle at the Michigan Daily had been trying to play me.

  “Do you need to confirm with him?” Dan asked. “If this sounds like a genuine lead in the murder investigation, I’ll need his name and contact info, so I can follow up with what he knows.”

  “I’m sure.” No hesitation on Alan’s part now. “He’s one of the good guys. He writes a different type of story from me, but he tries to expose corrupti
on, not just write whatever will sell the most papers for a day.”

  Dan made an approving noise that made me think he’d run into too many reporters who would spin a story for exactly the purpose of selling more papers, whether the story was entirely accurate and well-researched or not. Nowadays, most reporters wrote in order to further an agenda rather than objectively presenting facts even.

  “That’s actually the only reason he was willing to talk to me,” Alan said. “He knows I wouldn’t try to write the story half-baked. It’s not my type of story.”

  Alan’s column was the only thing I read in the newspaper for that very reason. His stories left me feeling like there might still be hope in the world, good in the world. Everything else in the news made me either afraid to go out my door or feeling like the world was going to pieces around me and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

  “So he told you everything he’d collected for his story?” I asked.

  “He did.”

  Alan’s end of the line was too quiet for the newsroom. I couldn’t help but wonder where he was, but I wasn’t surprised he’d left the main room of the Lakeshore Daily. Many of his coworkers might respect the situation. Most of them were probably ethical and wouldn’t try to scoop the story. But all it took was one person to overhear and run with it.

  “He got an inside tip from someone close to Donald Wells who said Wells was embezzling from the family business and their clients. If it continued much longer, the damage to the business was going to be irreparable. And not only in reputation.”

  Irreparable damage to the business gave a lot of people motive if they’d found out. Everyone who worked there in fact.

  Including Elijah, my brain hissed at me.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew Elijah might have a motive already. I still didn’t believe he would have killed his uncle over it. Reported him to the authorities for sure, but murder?

  Reporting him could have destroyed the business, the annoyingly logical side of my brain said.