The Cupcake Capers Box Set

by Polly Holmes

  Margarete giggled and before long she was laughing hysterically, wiping tears away from her eyes. “That would have to be the first time a man has used that line on me.”

  A sense of ease began to work its way through his body. “I am so sorry. That came out totally the wrong way.”

  She smiled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m happy to listen any time you want to share.”

  Her voice had triggered his words and they flowed before he had a chance to vent them. “Early last year, I had the world at my feet. Great job, in line for a promotion, nice girlfriend. Worked in the office next to by best mate, Shane. I was set for life…that was until I fobbed off Dean, Shane’s son. I had a big case and told him I’d call him tomorrow, but I never did. I was too busy to listen, too busy to give him a little of my day.”

  “That happens in the corporate world. I bet life is hectic.”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “A few days later, I walked into Shane’s office and found Dean on the couch. I thought he was asleep, but he wasn’t.” Pain ricocheted through his heart like an exploding bullet embedding its fragments deep in his soul.

  “Oh no,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, he decided to help himself to his dad’s pills. A whole bottle, to be exact.”

  Margarete slid her warm hand over his and he felt the tension begin to slip away. “How awful for you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and your poor friend.”

  “I’m not going to lie. It’s been a year from hell.” His chest filled with a sudden rush of self-fulfilment. “Things changed. No, I changed. I made the decision to put others before me. I quit my job at the firm and got a job at the local youth centre and haven’t looked back. There is something about helping out troubled teens that I never saw before. It’s exhilarating.”

  “I can tell. You light up when you talk about it. It takes a special man to work with teenagers. I ought to know, I was the worst kind. Rebellious, obnoxious and stubborn as they come.”

  “You… Stubborn. I never would have guessed.” Logan caught Margarete’s gaze and his breath hitched in his throat. He knew she felt the connection between them, just as he did.

  “Thankfully, it was one of those awkward phases I was going through,” she said as she pulled her hand away from his. “Do you think you’ll stay in town much longer?”

  An icy chill descended over the car just as he pulled into the Corner 2 Pub car park. He killed the engine and turned to face a nervous Margarete. “That depends on how long it takes the Ashton Point Police department to clear your name of Pierre Bellamy’s murder. It seems to me you need my help more than they do at the moment. Besides, it will give Elaine more time to spend with Edith McCorrson.”

  Margarete’s beaming smile confirmed he’d made the right decision. He continued. “Now, should we head into this shindig?”

  “Let’s do this,” she said, her smile matching his.

  ****

  Margarete stood and clapped joyously as Mark McCorrson handed the microphone off to Charlotte. He threaded his arms around his wife and lunged her into a romantic dip smacking a great big unexpected kiss on her lips. Hoots, hollers and whistles came from all directions of the pub. The McCorrson’s were certainly loved by the town folk of Ashton Point. Even though they lived the majority of the time in New York, whenever they came home it was as if time stood still and they’d never left.

  Edith McCorrson straightened herself and playfully swatted her husband in the chest and held her hand out for the microphone. She cleared her throat and began. “Well, I must say that was totally unexpected, but definitely welcomed.” She interlaced her fingers with Mark’s and pulled him close. “This man has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on him back in middle school. He was trouble then and he’s trouble now.” Happy mummers and chit chat broke out across the room. “But our best achievements are these three women right here. Our beautiful daughters. Clair, Charlotte and Cassidy. While it hasn’t always been easy sailing living with three feisty women, I wouldn’t change a single day of it.”

  Margarete blinked back threatening tears of love. Her eyes were drawn downward to the handkerchief in Logan’s hand. “Thank you,” she said as she dabbed her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up.

  “Mark and I can’t tell you how sorry we are that our celebration last night was interrupted by such horrible news.” Edith paused a moment and gather herself. The mention of last night’s event forged a slight crack in her otherwise composed demeanour. “It does, however, give us another chance to celebrate with you all here again. I’m sure you will join me in showing our appreciation to Charlotte, who spent most of today making the gorgeous, mouth-watering cupcake extravaganza in front of me.”

  Applause and cheers erupted. Margarete’s gaze roamed the gorgeous cupcake display and, as if on cue, the outspoken grumble in her belly began working its way up her chest. Charlotte had outdone herself. Again. Margarete’s mouth watered for a taste of the moist red velvet delicacies. Each topped with Charlotte’s famous lemon-vanilla icing.

  Logan leant in toward her ear and whispered, his breath skimming the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Is it me or does that cupcake display look like something out of a wedding magazine? If they taste as good as they look, I may never leave Ashton Point.”

  Margarete silently prayed. Please taste amazing. Please taste amazing.

  “Do they have nuts in them?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, Charlotte won’t use nuts in her cupcakes unless it is specifically requested by a client. So, you’re safe.”

  Margarete’s brow creased as her attention waned from the main action. Edith’s voice faded into the background. Was that Emmerson waving at her from the other side of the cupcake display? No, surely not. Her back stiffened and she made no effort to move in Emmerson’s direction. Turns out she didn’t need to.

  “Margarete, I thought that was you sitting over here,” Leah said as she leaned into hug and kiss her, faire la bise. She turned to Logan. “And you must be Logan. News travels fast around his town.”

  Her attention back on Margarete, she continued in a hushed tone. “Listen, have you got a moment? Emmerson and I really need to speak to you. It’s about you-know-who.”

  You-know-who? Really? Can’t they even say his name anymore?

  “You mean Pierre?” she asked.

  “Shhh,” Leah whispered, looking around as if she’d been caught stealing. “Yes, we have some interesting information that we thought might interest you in your current situation.”

  Margarete bolted from her seat. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” She turned to Logan, her eyes pleading for his understanding. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Logan stood. “Mind if I join you?”

  Margarete’s jaw dropped. The last thing she wanted to do was involved Logan in this debacle any further. “I’m sure I can handle it. Why don’t you stay here and enjoy the party?”

  Even before she’d finished speaking, his head was shaking. “You’re my date, Margarete, so I guess that means where you go, I go. I’m sure the ladies won’t mind. And you never know, I could just be that extra pair of eyes and ears you need.”

  They were such gorgeous eyes, too. She reprimanded herself. This is no time to be drooling over his hypnotising, chestnut-brown eyes. She nodded and headed in the direction of Emmerson Logan following close behind.

  “Emmerson, you have information that could clear my name?” Margarete asked a little too eager, her voice louder than she expected.

  “Shhh,” Emmerson said, waving her hands for quiet. “Not here. Follow me.”

  Margarete and Logan followed Emerson, with Leah bringing up the rear. They weaved in and out the tables of happy guests, who were all oblivious to the trail of people passing. It was like they were following a maze to get to buried treasure. Where on earth is she going?

  Emmerson finally stopped in the corridor by Charlie’s office, comp
letely out of earshot of prying guests. “Right. That’s better. I’m not one to gasbag but Leah and I felt you should know.”

  Margarete’s impatience kicked into first gear. “Know what?”

  Leah butted in. “First of all, we want you to know that neither of us think that you murdered Pierre Bellamy. But not everyone knows you like we do.”

  Margarete’s gaze shot from one woman to the other. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear you believe in my innocence.”

  “But,” Leah paused, uncertainty flaring in the depths of her eyes.

  Logan said. “Ladies, if you have information that can help clear Margarete, let’s hear it.”

  In a split-second Emmerson’s eyes turned and lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m not one to gossip, but this morning, Stephanie, at The Classic Curl, managed to squeeze me in to get my hair done for the party this afternoon. I was getting my shampoo done and I overheard a very interesting conversation.”

  Margarete balked a moment at the “not one to gossip” comment, knowing Emmerson and Leah would win a gold medal in the Olympics for gossiping. “What did you hear?”

  “I couldn’t see from the wash basin, so I had to strain to hear. I couldn’t really place the voice, but it was a woman and she commented on how the police have ramped up their investigation on you, thanks to their new evidence.”

  Margarete felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “What new evidence?”

  Emmerson continued. “A video recording. Apparently, they’ve received an anonymous recording of you and Pierre in a heated discussion. There’s no sound, only action, but you know what they say, a picture speaks a thousand words. Whoever it was said that it looked pretty suspicious and definitely motive for murder.”

  What the…? “You can’t be serious?”

  “Afraid so,” Leah said.

  Margarete racked her mind, trying to remember a heated discussion between her and Pierre. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but she respected him as a chef, especially since he worked for Charlotte McCorrson at CC’s Simply Cupcakes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t quote me on this, but I’m sure the woman said that it was at the Christmas fair last year.” A frown marred Emmerson’s expression. “I’ll never forgive myself for that stack I took on the catwalk in the fashion parade in front of all those tourists. Who changes their shoes right before they’re about to go onstage? Me, that’s who.”

  Margarete pinched the bridge of her nose, Emmerson’s voice droning on like a broken-down washing machine. Emmerson, do I really care about your shoes?

  “Thank you, Emmerson. And you, too, Leah,” Logan said. “This is a lot to take in. If you don’t mind, I think Margarete could use some air.”

  “Thank you both,” Margarete said. She wrapped her arms around each woman, letting their support seep into her bones. “I really do appreciate the heads up on the video and if you can remember who the woman was, please let me know.”

  Both ladies nodded and trotted off toward the food table.

  Anger raged through her system. She began pacing the corridor, praying the anger inside would fuel her memory. “I don’t need air. I need to find the woman that apparently took a video of Pierre and me in a discussion that shows my supposed motive.”

  Logan turned and blocked the corridor from any prying eyes, giving Margarete some much needed space. “I’m aware of that. What you need to do is remember that meeting.”

  She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated. “It was a crazy busy day. The tourists arrived in droves. We were run off our feet. It was an annual event and last year, Hannah Carver had dedicated it to the memory of her late boss, Mr Hutson, who’d meet an untimely death.”

  Logan cringed. “Please don’t tell me he was one of the six murder victims found in Ashton Point?”

  “It’s a long story and not important right now. Hannah is a promotional wiz. She did a smashing job of promoting the event. The day had its own set of problems, but on the whole, it was a huge success for the town. The café was flat out all day. I hardly even had time for a break except…” She paused, a moment of recognition hitting her hard.

  “What is it? Do you remember the conversation?”

  Margarete nodded. Her frustration was quickly taken over by trepidation. “Yes. Yes, I do and I’m afraid it doesn’t look good.”

  “How so?”

  Margarete’s insides were about to shatter into a gazillion shards. Tears threatened to break her. She was about to lose it right in front of a pub full of guests. Her hazy gaze caught sight of Charlie’s office chair and she bolted inside, away from the prospect of prying eyes.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, dropping her head into her hands. “This is like a nightmare. That conversation is going to make me look as guilty as if my hand put the knife in his back.”

  “Hey, that’s enough talking like that,” Logan said softly as he crouched down, easing her hands away from her face. He guided her chin up with his finger and smoothed her tears away with his thumb. “You’re going to spoil your make-up with these tears. Do you want to tell me what has got you so upset?”

  His calming tone eased her growing anxieties and she smiled. “That discussion with Pierre was innocent, but who’s going to believe me?”

  “Me, that’s who.”

  Margarete’s heart opened and she knew she was falling for this man. Hard. He’d been the perfect gentleman since the moment they’d met over a mouthful of pork crackling. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me.” Logan pushed a strand of stray hair behind her ear and his fingers brushed her heated skin. “Now, how about you tell me about this meeting with Pierre?”

  She nodded. “I was on my way to deliver a batch of coffee and tea to Mavis Stevenson and her crew at the Christmas cake stall and I ran into Pierre. He wasn’t exactly happy with me. Apparently, he was in discussions with Pam over at MMM.” She paused as Logan’s brow creased in confusion. “Magic Meal Makers. It’s sort of like Meals on Wheels, where they deliver meals to those in need in surrounding suburbs. If I’d known Pierre was involved, I would never have organised a meeting with Pam. And she never said anything. He was ranting and raving about how I was trying to undermine his work and steal his thunder. I convinced him that wasn’t the case and that I was happy for him to pursue the adventure. I backed out, knowing how upset he was about it. And now the police have it and it’s going to look as if I’m more guilty.”

  “Mmmm,” Logan said rubbing his chin. “Sounds like the real murderer is doing a bang-up job of setting you up to take the fall.”

  Margarete’s heart pulverised the inside of her ribcage. She scrambled off the chair as if a firecracker had been let off beneath it. “That is not going to happen. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She breezed past Logan with one focus on her mind. She had to find Kayne before he found her.

  “Where are you going?” Logan asked.

  Margarete spun, every nerve ending ready to ignite. “To find Kayne to explain—” She stopped mid-sentence, her words frozen in the back of her throat. Margarete’s gaze locked on the noticeboard behind Logan’s head.

  No, it can’t be.

  “Margarete?”

  Elation boomed in her chest as her gaze scanned the copious documents pinned to the noticeboard in Charlie’s office.

  Yes, I was right. Little curly ‘Es.

  Chapter Seven

  “What has gotten into you?” Logan asked.

  She pointed a shaky hand past his head, and he turned. “Curly ‘E’s”

  Logan’s face blanked. “You’ve lost me.”

  Fire ignited in Margarete’s belly and the magnitude of her discovery shook her to the core. “It was Charlie. He writes with curly ‘E’s, just like the threatening note that Pierre received. Maybe he didn’t get the answer he wanted so he took it one step further and silenced Pierre for good.”

  Logan’s face paled. “Seriously? You think it was Charlie?
”

  She nodded, her words struggling to escape. “C-come on, we have to find him.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Logan said, halting her sudden departure with his hand on her shoulder.

  Margarete’s skin warmed under his touch. She didn’t know if it was from her discovery that Charlie is a murderer or the pressure of Logan’s hand. “What? We have to talk to Charlie and what better place to do it than in his pub full of guests. He won’t be able to try anything, especially with Kayne in the building. It’s perfect timing.”

  “You do have a point, I suppose. But I’m coming with you.” Logan’s brow set with determination.

  Margarete smirked. ‘As if I could stop you.”

  It took some searching, but they finally found Charlie out back in the wine cellar replenishing the supply of good quality wine for his special guests. Nausea swelled in Margarete’s stomach and she felt any second her lunch was about to make an untimely appearance. Determination kicked her into action and she marched toward the cellar. Knowing Logan was with her made the impending confrontation less daunting.

  Margarete stopped at the entrance of the cellar, her gaze landing on Charlie up a ladder in the Shiraz Cabernet section. The overwhelming scent of oak mixed with red wine had her taste buds doing a happy dance inside her mouth. She cleared her throat, grabbing Charlie’s attention.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Charlie but I was wondering if we could have a word?” she asked in a friendly-but-I’m-not-going-to-take-no-for-an-answer tone.

  He smiled as he made his way down the ladder, two bottles in hand. “Margarete, how nice to see you again. I hope things are looking up for you after that nasty Pierre business last night.”

  She took a calculated step toward him blocking his exit. Time for the truth.

  “I’m not one to beat around the bush, Charlie, especially when my life is on the line so I’m going to come right out and ask it.” The nausea in her stomach was now in full tidal-wave mode. “Did you murder Pierre?”

  Charlie froze and his gaze drilled through her like dynamite. A deadly silence engulfed the room. Her body stood stock-still, rife with tension. Charlie took a step toward her. Logan stepped up and the comforting warmth of his body behind her spurred her courage. An eruption of laughter filled the room and Margarete frowned at Charlie comical reaction.