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CRUMBLED TO PIECES
a Cookies & Chance mystery
by
CATHERINE BRUNS
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Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Bruns
Cover design by Yocla Designs
Gemma Halliday Publishing
http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to Retired Troy Police Captain Terrance Buchanan, who always gives so generously of his time and knowledge. I so appreciate Kim Davis and Carmen Story sharing their delicious recipes with me for everyone to enjoy. Constance Atwater is an exceptional beta reader and always comes through when I need her. As always, special thanks to publisher Gemma Halliday and her editing team, especially Danielle Kuhns.
And to all who enjoy reading about Sally's adventures, please know how much I appreciate you as well.
May you always have good fortune.
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CHAPTER ONE
A shiver of excitement slid down my spine as I stared at the piece of paper between my hands. Printed on the slim strip were words I had wanted to hear for a long time. Sure, it was only a piece of paper and I shouldn't make too much out of it. But for the last few days I'd suspected I might be in this condition, and this message only served to confirm my belief. Yes. My biggest dream was about to become a reality.
A new blessing will be born to your family soon.
It was early afternoon on an oppressively humid July day, and I was thankful for the cool air that blew through the air conditioner's vents in my cookie shop, Sally's Samples. At the moment, I was alone in the storefront. My best friend and baker, Josie Sullivan, was in the kitchen taking cookies out of the oven, and the smell of cinnamon and butter blended together as they drifted toward me in a warm haze. Ah, snickerdoodles. We made over twenty different varieties of cookies, and I was proud to say I could recognize almost every flavor by their smell.
My heart raced with excitement. I reached for my cell to call my husband, Mike, then stopped myself. Don't, Sal. He'll think you're being silly.
If the fortune cookie message proved true, this would be the most beautiful gift to share with him. Our first wedding anniversary was a week from next Sunday, and by then I'd know for certain if I was pregnant. Given how tired I'd been feeling the last week and my recent weight gain, I had a premonition that we were indeed expecting a baby.
When I celebrated my thirtieth birthday a couple of weeks ago and blew out the candles on my cake, I silently wished for a child. This was nothing new. I'd wanted a baby for as long as I could remember. During my first marriage, I'd hoped in vain for a family, even though Colin, my ex-husband who was now also deceased, had told me from the beginning it was never going to happen. He didn't want kids and said he didn't even like them. For five years I had foolishly thought he'd change his mind someday. Then I'd found him in bed with my high school nemesis, Amanda Gregorio, and my dreams had melted faster than an ice cream cone on a hot summer's day.
"What are you smiling about?"
I jumped at the sound of Josie's voice. She stood in the doorway of the back room, hands on her hips, watching me with suspicious blue eyes.
I started to stammer, something I always did when nervous. "Um…nothing."
She glanced down at the broken fortune cookie on the counter, and a smile quivered at the corners of her mouth. "Sally Muccio Donovan, I thought you were done believing in those ridiculous strips of paper."
"Yes, I am." The homemade fortune cookies and their messages had been both a curse and a blessing to the shop in our two years of operation. The messages always seemed to come true in some shape or form, whether good or bad. On our honeymoon last year, Mike and I had had a long talk, and he'd said I was taking them too seriously. I'd agreed with him. Slowly the messages had started to become more positive in nature, and if today's was any indication, I'd just hit the jackpot, so to speak.
Josie put out her hand. "Okay, let's have it."
"Don't be silly." I started to tuck the message away into my jeans pocket, but Josie was too quick and snatched it out of my hands.
"Come on, Jos, give it back!" My face burned with embarrassment—we might as well be back in middle school. Josie and I had been best friends since the age of eight. She'd always been the leader while I'd dutifully followed along, despite the trouble she'd sometimes gotten me into.
Josie held the message up to the front window, the brilliant sunlight from outside streaming through the paper. Her saucy grin quickly changed to an expression of wonder. "Sal," she whispered. "Is it true?"
My tone was giddy as I snatched the paper and placed it back in my pocket for safekeeping. "I don't know for sure yet. But within a week I will."
Josie's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she reached out to hug me. A loose tendril from her rich auburn hair, which had been tied back in a ponytail, brushed against my cheek. "I'm sorry I teased you. This is so awesome. I know how much you've always wanted a baby."
"Okay, go ahead and say what you're thinking."
Her face was puzzled. "What am I thinking?"
I turned away from her and started to place the rest of the fortune cookies on a tray inside the display case. "No, I didn't open it on purpose. The cookie cracked open in my hand. It wasn't planned."
"So maybe it's fate—and the message really is true." Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Wouldn't that be the best anniversary gift ever for you and Mike?"
My lower lip started to tremble. "I shouldn't get my hopes up." I'd gone through a major disappointment a couple of months back and been so depressed that I'd told Josie I was sick and stayed home for a day—something I never did. "It means so much to me. Gosh, I've dreamed about saying those words for so long."
She must have heard the quiver in my voice, because she put an arm around my shoulders. "Aw, Sal. It's only been a year. That's not very long. It's nothing to worry about."
"Says the woman who got pregnant every time her husband looked at her in a funny way," I retorted.
Josie laughed. She had four boys who ranged in age from two to eleven years old. She and her husband Rob had gotten married right out of high school when she became pregnant with their first child. "Hey, what can I tell you? I was just born lucky, I guess. But everyone's different. Who knows? Maybe your first baby will end up as twins, and then you can retire from baby-making."
I shook my head. "Nope. I want at least four, like you."
"You have no idea what you're in for," she teased, then hesitated for a moment. "Did you and Mike go see a specialist? I remember you talked about it once, but I didn't want to pry."
"No. I mentioned
it, but Mike shot the idea right down. He's not exactly a fan and said we should let nature take its course."
"He was probably right," Josie agreed.
A distinct babble of voices could be heard from above. Josie craned her neck toward the ceiling and lifted an eyebrow at me. "I can't believe you're letting that friend of Nicoletta's rent space over the shop."
"Why not?" I placed a tray of cooled snickerdoodles inside the case, tempted to snitch one but then forced myself not to. They smelled like a little piece of heaven. "The apartment's been sitting there empty and useless since Gianna moved out, and Mike and I can use the extra money."
My baby sister had moved in with her boyfriend, Johnny Gavelli, a few months ago when he'd purchased a house. I'd thought about advertising the apartment in the local Colwestern paper, but Nicoletta Gavelli, Johnny's grandmother, had assured me her friend Allegra Fiato was interested. She was still living with Nicoletta and only running her business out of the apartment—for now.
Allegra was new to the town of Colwestern. She'd moved here from Italy, where she and her husband Felipo had resided for the past several years. Although she'd been Nicoletta's houseguest the past few months, I'd only met her once before they'd approached me last month about Allegra renting the place. Nicoletta had brought her into the bakery to view the apartment, and she'd immediately signed a standard lease agreement. Gianna, who was an attorney, had been instrumental in helping me put the document together. Allegra had already paid me first and last month's rent in advance plus a security deposit. She hadn't even balked at the price I'd asked for. Everything had fallen into place, and been too good of an opportunity for me to pass up.
Josie snorted. "I don't trust that old lady. Plus, we have no idea what she's doing up there. She said she's selling candy, but maybe it's drugs for all we know."
I waved my hand in a dismissive manner. "You know how Mrs. Gavelli feels about drugs. The idea is just ridiculous."
"Well, they've both been very secretive about the so-called business venture since Allegra signed the lease," Josie declared. "I'm afraid her selling homemade candy won't be good for the bakery. Too much competition."
"Actually, it might bring in new customers for us," I said thoughtfully. "She's only planning to be open four days a week. So, if you need a candy fix and the store isn't open, why not get cookies instead?"
I had to admit my first impression of Allegra had not been a favorable one. She was rude and interrupted me constantly, even while I was on the phone. She'd come downstairs this morning to ask about having one of the outlets replaced while Josie and I had been waiting on a room full of customers. When Allegra started complaining, Josie ordered her back upstairs, and we hadn't seen her since. Her voice now rumbled through the ceiling like an impending storm.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, and both Nicoletta and Allegra came into view. I tried my best to get along with Nicoletta, but she didn't make it easy some days. It looked like Johnny might propose to Gianna soon, and I pitied my sister having to call the woman grandmother-in-law someday. Nicoletta couldn't hold a candle to our own grandmother. Grandma Rosa, my mom's mother, was as close to perfection as one could get. Still, I pitied Nicoletta. Her life had not been an easy one. Sophia, her only child, had died of a drug overdose when Johnny was five, and Nicoletta had been left to raise him.
Nicoletta was in her late seventies, close to my grandmother's age, and had been in remission from bone cancer for about a year. Except for her short white hair, the rest of her was outfitted in her usual drab black outfit, which consisted of a housecoat, stockings, and sturdy Birkenstock shoes. On the current ninety-degree day, I thought I might melt from just looking at her.
Allegra was a few years younger than Nicoletta but dressed in a similar fashion. Her gray housecoat dress was ill-fitting, and she wore black leather sandals instead of shoes. Allegra's cropped hairdo may have been the same ebony color as mine, but hers undoubtedly came out of a bottle. While Nicoletta's face was worn and leathery in appearance, Allegra's was covered with liver spots, and deep crow's feet outlined snappish black eyes, which surveyed me coldly.
"Hi, ladies," I greeted them. "Is everything all set for your grand opening tomorrow, Mrs. Fiato?"
Allegra gave me an appraising glance up and down. "No, it not okay," she grunted. "The faucet in the kitchen leak. Very bad. When your man come to fix?"
Cripes. Mike owned a small one-man construction company, and he'd already made two visits to Allegra's apartment while she'd been setting up this week. He had so many jobs piled up during the summertime, his busiest season, that I hated to bug him about minor things like this. Still, Allegra was a paying tenant, and she had to be taken care of.
"I thought Mike looked at it the other day," I said. "Didn't he install a new faucet for you?"
"Is no good," Allegra spat out between yellowed, crooked teeth. "It still leak. He better come fix today, or I not be happy."
I had news for this woman—she was never going to be happy. As my grandmother often said, there were some people on this earth who could never be pleased. I counted to five in my head before answering. "Okay. Let me know if he can stop by later. You don't have to be here."
Neither woman answered me as they turned to go back upstairs together. "What I tell you?" Allegra said to her friend in a low, disgusted tone.
"I know," Nicoletta replied. "She a problem. That missy been up to no good ever since she lure my Johnny into garage. And he only eight years old."
I gritted my teeth together in annoyance as I waited for Mike to answer his phone. How I hated it when Nicoletta rehashed that tired old story. In the first place, I'd only been six, and Johnny had lured me in there, saying he had ice cream. What he'd really wanted to do was play doctor—I'd been the innocent patient when Nicoletta discovered us, and she'd almost died from the shame.
After four rings, Mike picked up, sounding busy and distracted. "Yeah, baby, what is it?"
"Allegra—err, Mrs. Fiato is complaining about her faucet again," I said. "She said it's still leaking."
He muttered a curse word under his breath. "That's impossible. I tested it. There's no way it's leaking."
I shut my eyes tight. "Is there any way you can come out this afternoon and take a look at it?"
His response was an audible sigh that sounded almost like a hiss. "Princess, I'm right in the middle of a roofing job. I can't just jump off and rush over to fix something for that old woman every time she calls. She's going to have to wait."
"Maybe tonight then?" I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice, but it was difficult. "Honey, she's threatening to make trouble."
There was a loud crash in the background, and Mike hollered, "Hey, watch it with those boards! You want to kill someone?" His voice became calmer when he spoke into the phone. "Baby, I can't talk right now. Tell her I'll stop on my way home tonight, okay? Maybe around nine. That's the best I can do. To be honest, I'm starting to wish you'd never rented to that woman. She's been nothing but trouble."
"You're right." It was my turn to sigh. "Maybe once she opens her store and gets preoccupied with everything, she'll leave us alone. But we can use the money if I'm going to add on to the shop this coming winter. It's going to be a big expense, remember, even with my talented, handsome husband performing all the work."
He chuckled. "Resorting to flattery now, are we?"
"Well, you are talented, and in more ways than one," I teased.
"Tell me more," Mike laughed, and then there was another loud noise in the background. "Damn it," he growled. "Gotta go. I'll see you about ten o'clock at this rate, and that's if I'm lucky. Love you." He clicked off before I could respond.
Josie gave me a sly wink. "Let me guess. Hubby's sorry you rented to the spawn of Satan, same as me."
I winced. "Shh. What if they're at the top of the stairs listening? And for your information, he didn't call her that."
"Whatever. It fits," Josie insisted. "That woman is going to be n
othing but trouble for us, Sal. Mark my words."
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I planned to wait up for Mike to get home and was snuggled in my cozy bed by nine o'clock, with Spike, our black-and-white Shih-Tzu, curled up at the foot, sound asleep. I flipped through the television channels aimlessly until I found an episode of 48 Hours. I didn't especially like crime shows since my life often resembled one, but this one caught my immediate attention. It was about a woman who owned a restaurant and had found a dead body outside of it one day.
Yikes. That one hit too close to home. I shuddered and immediately switched the channel. A rerun of Dexter was on Showtime. Good grief. Yeah, I knew a serial killer—or ten. Art was imitating my life here. I clicked the channel again and found an episode of Scooby Doo. Ah, this is good. Safe, predictable, and no violence. I yawned, snuggled farther under the covers, and in no time was sound asleep.
A soft kiss awakened me. I slowly opened my eyes to see Mike sitting on the side of our bed, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. "Morning, princess."
"What time is it?" I asked groggily.
"Five thirty," he said and kissed me again. "I missed you last night."
"You should have woken me when you got in."
He handed me the cup and softly stroked my cheek. "You were sleeping so pretty that I didn't have the heart to."
I swallowed a huge sip of the beverage. "You look awfully tired."
He took the cup from me and placed it on the nightstand, then wove his hands through my hair. Mike's own black hair curled at the ends and needed a cut. It was past the nape of his neck, but I loved running my hands through the silky strands. His midnight blue eyes were full of love as he kissed me again—long and hard this time. Desire stirred in the pit of my stomach.
Crumbled to Pieces Page 1
