The Cupcake Capers Box Set

by Polly Holmes

  Roland Trent? “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t say I do.” She turned to Charlotte. “Have you heard of him before?”

  Charlotte paused. Clair could almost see the cogwheels clicking over in her mind. “Wasn’t he that businessman that moved into the Sampson Office Building in Watson’s Creek a month or so ago? I’m sure he was involved in the new property development Mr Hutson was working on before his untimely death.”

  She frowned, turning her gaze back to Detective Anderson. “Yes, I think you’re right. Although I’ve never met him.”

  “Where were you, between the hours of one and three this morning?”

  Where most normal people are. “Fast asleep. Why do you ask?”

  “Can anyone vouch for you?” His words were like a double-edged sword, stabbing her in the heart. I wish. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Roland Trent’s body was found behind the dumpster at the back of CC’s Simply Cupcakes in the early hours of this morning. Murdered.”

  “Murdered!” The girls said in unison.

  Clair’s voice shot up an octave or two. “Are you for real?”

  “Afraid so. We’d appreciate it if you would accompany us to the station for further questioning,” he said. “I have a few loose ends that need clearing up.”

  “Detective, what other evidence do you have that ties Clair to this man’s death?” Mason asked as he stepped forward shielding Clair.

  “As I just said, at the moment we’re just following up with some questions.” The skin grew taut across Anderson’s jaw.

  Charlotte stepped up beside Mason, folding her arms across her chest. Clair swallowed the lump in her throat at the look of determination in her expression. “You’re going to need to do better than that.”

  Clair’s stomach began to roll with frustration at the irritated look of Anderson’s face. This is crazy since she was innocent, surely the evidence would exonerate her.

  “If necessary, I’m sure we can get an arrest warrant,” Detective Anderson said glaring at Charlotte.

  A soft breath eased from Clair’s tight lips and she stepped forward, brand new knots forming in her gut and making her head whirl. “That won’t be necessary, Detective. It’s quite all right,” she said, placing her hand on Charlotte’s forearm. “I didn’t have anything to do with either death, so I have nothing to hide. I’m happy to accompany you to the station.”

  “Clair—”

  Clair shook her head. “No, Charlotte. This nightmare has gone on long enough. The sooner it is sorted, the better.”

  She turned to Mason and smiled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

  His smile was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the darkened storm clouds. “Don’t worry, Charlotte and I won’t be far behind you,” Mason said pulling his car keys from his pocket, his gaze sending a firm message to both policemen; don’t mess with me.

  Chapter Three

  “WHAT’S TAKING THEM so long? Feels like she’s been in there for hours,” Mason said as he paced the foyer of the police station, his nerves as highly strung as a tightrope walker.

  Charlotte huffed. “It’s hardly been hours.” She glanced at the wall clock. “But you’re right, she has been in there for a while. I can’t possibly imagine why they need to speak to her for so long.”

  First, the news of his father death, then this Roland guy and now Clair was facing goodness knows what. Even though they’d only just met, he didn’t get a sense she was capable of such an atrocity. If anything, he thought the opposite.

  Mason took the seat next to Charlotte and dropped his head in his hands. Oh, Dad. What have you gotten yourself involved in? He sat, the events of the last twenty-four hours jumbled in his mind like an out-of-order jig-saw puzzle. Charlotte’s voice broke through his stupor.

  “I’m really sorry to hear about your father.”

  He eased back in the chair, resting his head against the wall. “Thank you. We weren’t close. My life and his didn’t really mesh, but I never wanted him dead.” Even though there was no love lost between him and his father, he was Mason’s flesh and blood and he hadn’t deserved to be murdered.

  “Of course not,” Charlotte said horrified. “I just hope they find the real killer.”

  He shot from his seat as if bitten on the backside by a bull ant, unable to sit still a moment longer. Worry pumped through his veins. “Listen, I’m going to take a walk to the café next door, grab a coffee and clear my head for a few minutes. Do you want one?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Sure. Skim milk latte.”

  He acknowledged her request with a nod and exited the police station.

  Mason gazed up and down the street as he stood by the counter, waiting for his order. It seemed that word of his return had made its way around town. An odd, but familiar sensation scurried through his body as inquisitive gazes started turning in his direction. Mason couldn’t really blame them. He’d only been back to Ashton Point a handful of times and most people in town knew he was estranged from his father. It had been that way for the past ten years, since Mason’s seventeenth birthday.

  A sweet innocent voice startled him from behind. “Mason? Mason Hapworth?”

  His head whipped around and he paused as Mrs Stevenson’s smile lit up the sidewalk. “Why, it is you. I’d know those baby blues anywhere.”

  He smiled. “Hi, Mrs Stevenson. It’s been a while. You’re looking amazing, and young as ever.”

  A shy, crimson blush worked its way across her face. “Oh, stop it. You always were a charmer.” Her eyes suddenly softened and she clasped his hands in hers. “I’m very sorry to hear about your father. I know you didn’t have the best relationship, but I know he loved you very much.”

  Loved? I guess he did, in his own odd way. His love for his family paled in insignificance when it came to the next big real estate sale. James Hapworth’s version of family love was best received from afar.

  “Are you back in town for long, dear?” she asked.

  “Only as long as it takes to sort out my father’s affairs.”

  A frown added more wrinkles to her forehead. “I don’t often get mad, but when I read that nonsense in the paper this morning, I almost fell off my rocking chair. That Christina Jacobs has a lot to say for herself. How dare she think poor Clair had anything to do with James’ death. The McCorrson sisters are the sweetest girls in town and they make the most amazing cupcakes. I swear, I’ve put on ten pounds, just thinking about those sweet gems. Have you met them yet?”

  Mason rocked from one foot to the other, an uncomfortable sensation settling in his chest. “So, you haven’t heard?”

  She frowned adding another few wrinkles to her tired forehead. “Heard what dear?”

  Wow, something he knew that the Ashton Point gossip vine didn’t. “They found the body of Roland Trent behind CC’s Simply Cupcakes in the early hours of this morning. He’d been murdered. They have Clair in for questioning as we speak, in relation to both murders.” The taste of bile rose in the back of his throat. He cringed at mentioning Clair and murder in the same sentence.

  She gasped and her hand flew to her chest as if he’d pierced it with a bullet. “That is the most outrageous piece of information I’ve ever heard and believe me, I’ve heard some doozies in my time. Why, just the other day, I saw that Roland man in a heated discussion with Stella Roseamund down from the Classic Curl and I don’t think he was a very happy chap.”

  Roland Trent and Stella Roseamund? The last time he’d spoken to his father, he and Stella had been an item. Granted, that had been some time ago.

  A petite woman yelled from behind the coffee machine. “Coffee order for Mason.”

  Turning, he grabbed the tray of coffees from the counter. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs Stevenson, I really should head back.” Mason froze as she clutched his shoulder.

  “That poor woman couldn’t hurt a fly. Promise me you’ll help Clair? Promise me you won’t let her go to jail,” she said, his shoulder numbing
under her tense grip. “In my opinion, neither man was a saint so there is probably a list of people a mile long who had it in for them.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. I’m not sure what I can do, but yes, I’ll do my best to help her any way I can.” He held tight as she gave him a motherly hug.

  “Take care, dear,” she said, waving over her shoulder as she left.

  ****

  “I can assure you, the truth will come out eventually,” Clair said as she marched out of the interrogation room. Even if I have to find the answers myself. Anger simmered like a bubbling cauldron deep in her belly. “How dare he tell me not to get upset?”

  Detective Anderson was quick to point the finger, but when she countered his argument, he cut her down as quick as a roast lamb on Christmas day.

  She paused at the door of the foyer, her hand frozen on the chilled door handle. He’s still here. Heat warmed her cheeks as the concern deep in his gaze hit her square in the chest. Why couldn’t she have met him without the murder charges hanging over her head?

  Charlotte shot up from her chair and tore off toward Alison, who was sitting behind the counter, her lips pressed together.

  Oh no, this doesn’t look good. Clair pushed through the door, catching Charlotte’s eye as she moved.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Charlotte said, throwing her arms around Clair’s neck, almost bowling her over. “About time, are you all right?”

  Clair moulded into her sister’s loving embrace. The strawberry scent of her hair assaulted Clair’s nostrils, while Mason’s deep, piercing gaze melted her knees where she stood. Pulling back, she smiled at them both. “I’m fine, really. I’m just so frustrated that anyone would think I could do that to another human being.”

  “I don’t.” The deep timbre of Mason’s voice bled through her veins like lava.

  “Neither do I. What happened in there?” Charlotte asked.

  “Um…” she paused, her gaze caught Mason’s as he stepped closer.

  With an upward twist of his lips, he said. “I’m guessing it was mostly about my father. Am I right?”

  Clair nodded.

  “If you’re worried that talking about him will somehow make me feel uncomfortable, don’t be. Even though we weren’t close, I do want to find out who did this to him. Maybe it will help me understand him a bit better. I’m as eager as Charlotte to hear what happened.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” He slid his glasses up his nose.

  The deep, throaty voice of Adele blared from Charlotte’s back pocket, rocking through the station foyer. She blushed, checking the screen. “It’s Suzi,” she mouthed. “Hi, Suzi, what’s up?”

  Confusion crossed Mason’s expression and Clair whispered. “Suzi works for us at CC’s Simply Cupcakes. She runs the front counter, which frees up Charlotte to design, while Pierre helps out with the baking on a part-time basis.” His mouth rounded in an O.

  “Are you serious? They can’t do that, who do they think they are?” Charlotte snapped.

  Clair mentally crossed her fingers and prayed there wasn’t another murder.

  “No, that’s okay. You go pick up your mother from the doctors and we’ll let you know what happens. We’re on our way. Bye.” Charlotte shoved the phone back in her pocket. Her murderous glare would rival the best supervillain’s. “You’ll never believe this, but Robert just turned up at the shop with a search warrant. Apparently, they have cause to search CC’s Simply Cupcakes for the murder weapon.”

  Clair fumed, the breath tightening in her chest. “Seriously? Anderson works fast I’ll give him that. He said they were going to be looking further into my affairs, but I didn’t think he meant CC’s Simply Cupcakes.” Her innocent words had obviously fallen on deaf ears. Eyeing the exit, she turned and headed out. “Come on, which way is the car?”

  “It’s out the back of the station, parked next to mine,” Mason said pushing past her to the exit. He held the door open for them. “Would you mind if I tagged along?”

  “Not at all,” Charlotte said before Clair could say a word.

  “Maybe you could tell us what happened after you sort out this debacle with Robert at the shop.”

  “Sure,” Clair said. She let her eyes wander over the plain, black, button-up shirt he wore and noticed uncomfortably that it accentuated his broad shoulders. The shirt made her wonder what was under the rest of his clothing. Her gaze caught his Mediterranean-blue eyes, even they melted her heart just a little. Oh, my goodness, I’m facing a murder charge and all I can do is ogle the victim’s son.

  “Wonderful,” Charlotte said as she linked her arm through Clair’s and guided her down the front stairs.

  Clair stared at Charlotte’s sudden enthusiasm. “What is with you?”

  Charlotte smiled at Mason over her shoulder as he followed behind, then turned to Clair with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “You can’t tell me you’re not happy that he’s coming along. He’s not that hard on the eyes. In fact, some would say he’s kind of cute, in a Clark Kent, Superman way.”

  “That’s the problem,” Clair whispered. “He’s too cute and I should be focusing on the person trying to frame me for murder, not looking for a boyfriend.”

  “Who said anything about boyfriend?” Charlotte’s voice trailed off as they approached her car. “Mason, stay close and you can follow us to the shop.”

  “No problem,” he said.

  As Charlotte pulled up outside CC’s Simply Cupcakes, Clair saw the commotion outside the shop and she cringed. Mason pulled up behind the police car, two doors down from the shop. “Great, looks like everyone within a country mile is out to see what all the fuss is about.”

  The girls were on the warpath gunning for the policeman straight ahead, Mason joining behind them. “What is the meaning of this, Robert?” Clair demanded.

  He held up a piece of paper. “It’s all here in the search warrant.”

  Charlotte snatched the warrant and read it from top to bottom. “It says here you’re looking for a solid, round object?”

  Like the missing object from the phone table.

  “Yes, that’s right.” He held his arm out and directed them away from the gathering crowd. “Listen, I’m sure Anderson is just trying to rule you out as a suspect.”

  Clair saw red and felt her world crumbling around her ears. “Or convict me of murder. How long do you expect this to take?”

  Robert shrugged. “Could take an hour, could take all day.”

  “All day?” Clair shrieked. “But…”

  Mason edged in behind her and placed his warm hand on her shoulder. His softened touch seemed to calm her. “Maybe we should let them do their jobs. After all, I’m sure we can occupy ourselves in other ways.”

  “Listen to your friend. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the search,” Robert said as he walked away.

  Clair felt heat work its way up her neck and settle in her cheeks. Her wide eyes stared at him and in record time he blushed, suddenly aware of the words he spoke.

  Charlotte quickly dragged Clair toward the corner. Mason joined them, forming a huddle to isolate Clair away from prying ears. “Clair, what happened back at the police station?” Charlotte asked.

  Clair gulped back the lump in her throat. Butterflies began a ramped march inside her stomach and it had nothing to do with what she was about to say and everything to do with the gorgeous man standing within arms-reach. “Here, you want me to tell you here?”

  “Yes, the sooner the better. Why were you in with Detective Anderson for so long?”

  Before she answered, Clair made sure there was no-one close enough to hear. “After we got through the typical mundane questions, I was finally able to get some concrete information out of him. You’re never going to believe this, but both men were killed the exact same way. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.” The thought sickened her.

  “And they think the murder weapon was from
your shop?” Mason asked.

  Clair shrugged. “I guess, but they won’t find it.” Her thoughts drifted back to the missing object from the phone table. That’s because the murderer had probably already disposed of it. “It gets worse. They found a grey substance smeared over Roland Trent’s shirt and it turned out to be grey icing. They believe it to be from the cupcakes you made for Mr Hapworth’s thank you gift.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte said sheepishly.

  “What I can’t work out is how that could have happened. I mean, you baked and iced them and I took them straight over with me last night and left them there when I went with Robert. The only thing I can think of is the murderer was still in the house.”

  “There has to be another explanation,” Mason muttered.

  Charlotte piped up. “There is.”

  Charlotte’s head lowered, her teeth playing tug-o-war with her bottom lip. Oh no, what have you done?

  “They weren’t the only cupcakes I made yesterday. I wanted to get them right, so I made a few batches before you got there as testers. Suzi suggested putting them out in the shop, rather than wasting them, so I did and they all sold.”

  Mason’s concerned gaze caught Charlotte’s. “You have no idea who bought them?”

  She shook her head. “No, it could have been anybody. But this is good,” Charlotte continued, her voice getting progressively hyper as she spoke. “When you tell the police, they will have to start looking for someone else.”

  “Maybe,” Clair said in an unconvincing tone. She peered around Charlotte and checked out the scene in front of the shop. The crowd appeared to have thinned but the police were still searching. Thank goodness.

  “When I was out getting coffee earlier, I ran into Mrs Stevenson. First of all, she had no idea you’d been taken in for questioning. More importantly, she told me she saw Stella Roseamund in a heated discussion with Roland Trent the other day.”

  Clair raised an eyebrow. “Really? That is interesting. I think I need to have a chat with Stella.”