The Cupcake Capers Box Set

by Polly Holmes

  Mavis giggled and swatted him lovingly on the arm. “Oh, aren’t you the charmer? I can see why our Margarete is so taken with you.”

  What? Margarete’s cheeks burned and her body flooded with heat.

  “Don’t be shy, dear. I may be old but I’m not blind. I say go for it. Life’s too short to waste. Trust me,” she said as she grabbed a paper from the temp receptionist.

  Could she not see Logan standing right next to her? Margarete chanced a quick glance in Logan’s direction. His eyes glittered and a cheeky smirk spread across his face.

  Margarete did her best to ignore the growing heat rising from her chest. “So, what brings you into the doctor today? Are you sick?”

  “Goodness, no. Fit as a fiddle. I just popped in to make another doctor’s appointment for George, pick up his prescriptions and grab a few supplies.”

  “Really?” she said, her brows raised.

  Mavis tutted. “I may be eighty-four, but I’m perfectly capable of running a few errands. I’m not over the hill yet, dear.”

  “Eighty-four?” Logan asked, folding his arms across his chest. “You would have to be the youngest eighty-four-year-old I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

  Mavis’ cheeks turned a rosy red.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs Stevenson. I didn’t mean that you couldn’t come into town. I just thought it pointless, since Mary-Jane was on her way out to your house to deliver your prescriptions.” Logan’s face fell and their eyes met in secret agreement.

  Why would Mary-Jane lie about visiting Mrs Stevenson?

  “Oh, she is a darling. I told her the other day while I was in the chemist not to worry this week. I had to come into town today. I bet we’ll cross paths somewhere along the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, George does like it when I’m home to prepare his lunch.”

  “Of course.” Margarete learned in and Mavis gave her a hug.

  Mavis beckoned Logan toward her. “And you too, young man. Don’t think I’m leaving without a hug from you.” Logan smiled and stepped into her welcoming arms.

  Her departing words were enough to freeze Margarete to the spot.

  “You two make a lovely couple.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. Satisfaction bellowed up from the base of his stomach and lodged in his heart. He grinned as he walked beside Margarete. “She’s a lovely woman. I bet she knows everything that happens in this town.” Margarete’s gaze stayed locked on the path ahead. She was ignoring his comment.

  Clearly, Mrs Stevenson’s parting comment was not up for discussion. As they reached the car, Margarete finally found her voice. She clicked her fingers and pointed at Logan as if a light bulb had just reenergized her thoughts. “Police station.”

  His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “We need to go to the police station,” she said as she opened the passenger door.

  “You need to go home and rest,” he said over the roof of the car before joining her inside. “The doctor said rest, so rest it is.”

  She frantically shook her head. “No.”

  Logan couldn’t believe his ears. “What do you mean no?”

  “No.” She repeated firmly. “We need to go to the police station before we do any resting. Surely Kayne will know something by now and I kind of want to know if he was able to follow up on Ryder Stone.”

  Logan’s gut twisted in knots just thinking of Margarete on the trail of a possible murderer. He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting against the urge to give her one more strong talking to about her adventures last night.

  The silence between them stretched and it wasn’t until Margarete cleared her throat and spoke that he realised the mood had taken a sharp downturn.

  Margarete shuffled in the seat and slid her handbag strap over her shoulder. “I know you think I should head home and you’re probably right, but it’s my life in the balance here. There will be plenty of time to rest after I’ve proved my innocence. I’m happy to walk.”

  Walk? Are you crazy, woman? She wouldn’t be able to walk five hundred meters, let alone the distance to the police station at the other end of town. Annoyance was slowly eating away at Logan’s calm demeanour. “Margarete, you are not walking across town with a sprained ankle. I’m happy to drive you. But if I do, do you promise to go home and rest after we get an update from Kayne?”

  Margarete’s eyes glowed a hypnotising brown hue and Logan’s irritation melted away. She clapped her hands together at her heart. “I promise. Thank you.”

  He smirked and shook his head. Margarete continued to amaze him. She was an enigma to him. One he was going to very much enjoy deciphering. “You really know how to turn on the charms, don’t you?”

  An earnest expression washed over her face. “Logan, even though my career is headed down the gurgler, these past few days have only been bearable because you have been here. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

  Margarete’s words hit him where he breathed, and his pulse sped up. “Shall we?” he asked, turning the engine over in an attempt to cover his unease.

  ****

  A flutter scurried up Margarete’s spine and she did her best to hide the shiver that engulfed her body. Her heart felt more alive during these past few days with Logan than it had in the last five years. “I hope Kayne has some answers he can share.”

  “It would be nice to know that he has been actively doing his job over the last twenty-four hours.” Logan pulled into the disabled carpark at the front of the police station and cut the engine.

  “Y-you can’t park here,” Margarete stuttered. “This is a disabled carpark. I’m not disabled, just injured.”

  “I’m sure we can get away with it.” Logan leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I won’t tell, if you won’t.”

  Logan’s sexy scent wafted through the air, playing havoc with Margarete’s senses. Her eyes fluttered while her mind tossed around images of her protector. Images that should never have been allowed to surface. She swallowed.

  “Your car, your fine,” she said and quickly exited the car.

  Get it together, woman. Murderer first, or have you forgotten how you will spend your next birthday if you don’t sharpen up? Distractions can wait. Even gorgeous, sexy ones.

  Margarete hobbled through the entrance of the police station, with Logan close behind. As she entered, her gaze locked onto Alison, who was perched high in her chair behind the reception desk. “Good morning, Alison. Is there any chance we could speak to Senior Constable Pendleton, please?”

  “Mmmmm,” Alison said, her lips thinning as she eyed Logan up and down. “The senior constable is rather busy at the moment and I know he doesn’t want to be interrupted. Can I take a message?”

  “It’s pretty important that we speak with him,” Margarete said, refusing to let Alison brush her off. “Tell him we have some important information, pertinent to the Pierre Bellamy case.”

  Alison swivelled in her chair, but before she could make the call, Kayne magically appeared to the left of them. He was on an obvious trajectory that would have him colliding with them, if he didn’t look up from the papers in his hands.

  “Margarete. Logan,” he said, stopping short of barrelling them over like a bowling ball. His eyes cast downward toward the walking cane. “What are you doing here, and what have you done?”

  Margarete glanced down at her strapped ankle. “Oh, this? Nothing to worry about, just me and my absentmindedness, that’s all.” Kayne’s brow creased, a clear indication that he did not have time to waste on idle chit chat. “Logan and I were in the neighbourhood, so I wanted to come in and see if there were any advancements in the case. You know, maybe you’ve found another suspect, other than me.”

  “We have had a few new developments,” he said, bypassing them and heading towards the opposite side of the foyer.

  “So, what are they?” she asked, curiosity eating away as her insides.

  He stopped and turned, pinchi
ng the bridge of his nose. “I’m not at liberty to say, but we are following up on a few leads.”

  Not at liberty to say. Margarete sucked in a deep breath and crossed her arms. “So when are you at liberty to say, Senior Constable Pendleton? When I’m sitting in the witness box, looking at life in prison for a murder I didn’t commit?”

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Logan said, easing his hand over hers. “I’m sure Kayne is doing everything possible to find the truth.”

  Mixed emotions screwed with her head. On one hand, she knew her behaviour was out of line, but on the other hand, the uncertainty of her current situation was making her batty. Logan’s soft hand squeezed hers and a splash of ease washed over her. What was it about this man that calmed her?

  “I’m sorry, Kayne. That was rude of me. I’m just so frustrated. I know someone is trying to pin this murder on me.” She paused and stuck her injured foot out. “I’m not much use for anything.” Her eyes glistened with tears and she struggled to hold them back.

  Kayne looked at her foot, then back again. This time there was a glint of understanding in his eyes that gave her hope. “Actually, there may be something you both can help me with. Do you have anywhere to be in a hurry?”

  Margarete shook her head, but it was Logan who piped up. “As long as it involves a chair for Margarete to sit on and rest, we have all the time in the world.”

  “Great. Follow me,” Kayne said, leading them down to the computer room. “We’ve been going through the footage from the anniversary party at the country club and there is one section that has us stumped.”

  Logan held the chair steady and Margarete sat, the throbbing in her foot had started to work its way up to her head, but she wasn’t about to tell Logan. “I’ll do my best.”

  Kayne reached over and pressed a few keys and the footage started playing on the computer screen before them. “See, right there.”

  Her blood pumped through her body as she watched the disguised figure head toward the back entrance of the kitchen. The clock on the bottom, right-hand side of the screen read seven-thirty-three. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Were they looking at the murderer?

  Logan placed his hand on the desk and leant in towards the screen, his eyes squinting for a better look. “You can’t see their face. It could be anyone. Male or female.”

  “Exactly. That’s the dilemma. We think it’s a woman,” Kayne said as he ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve tried to find her, but no-one seems to know who she is or remember her. Do you recognise her or her clothing?”

  “I’d say female by the way she walks. There’s definitely a sway to her backside,” said Logan.

  Margarete raised her eyebrows and looked at the stunned expression on Logan’s face. As did Kayne. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he was blushing under the limited fluorescent lighting. “I didn’t realise you knew so much about women’s backsides?”

  “Don’t be silly.” He swatted her playfully on the shoulder. “Men and women walk differently. Anyone can see that. I just think it’s a woman.”

  “Agreed. Do either of you recognise the clothing?”

  “I’m drawing a blank. How about you?” She motioned toward Logan.

  He shook his head. “Nope, can’t say I remember her. But then again, I wasn’t exactly watching the guests that evening.”

  The flutter in his voice had Margarete’s stomach turning upside down. No, he’d been watching her instead. Giddiness filled her head and she felt like a schoolgirl sitting next to her first crush. Focus.

  Her gaze reverted back to the screen and her back stiffened. “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it? Do you remember something?” Kayne asked impatiently.

  “The hat,” she said, almost surprising herself. “I’m pretty sure I remember picking up that black, frilly hat off the floor as I was refilling the entree station earlier in the evening.”

  “Think carefully, now. Where exactly was it?”

  Margarete’s eyelids lowered, transforming her back to the night in question. The party was in full swing. Stunning women greeted her from all angles, emerald-green party decorations were scattered throughout the room, along with bunches of helium balloons that read thirty and one. Handsome McDreamy was standing over by the food table, scanning the delights on offer.

  Probably trying to work out which delicacies had nuts in them. Her lips turned up in a smirk.

  “What are you smiling about?” Logan asked.

  “Shhh,” she said, flapping her hand in his direction for silence. She’d just finished getting an update from Clair and turned to head toward the kitchen and almost stepped on the hat in question by the present table. Her eyes flew open. “It was on the floor by the present table when I picked it up. I put it on the nearest guest table, but I can’t say I saw the scarf or glasses anywhere on the table or surrounding chairs. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

  Kayne grabbed his notebook and flipped open to the floor plan of the party. “So, you say you found it about here?” He pointed to the front of the present table.

  “Yes, but it could belong to anybody. They may have dropped it as they walked past.”

  “That may be so, but the real question is why bring a wide-brimmed, black sun hat, albeit an elegant one, to a party that was inside, at night, in March.”

  Why indeed, unless you needed a disguise?

  “Listen, you’ve been most helpful.” He hastily held the door open for them. “But I’d like to get moving on this new information.”

  “Of course.” Logan helped her up, but she stopped abruptly in the doorway. “Before we go, is there any news of this Ryder Stone fellow from Watsons Creek Motel?”

  “Dead end, I’m afraid.” Kayne snapped his lips shut.

  “So, you questioned him?” Logan asked.

  “We did.” He paused refusing to disclose any further information.

  “That’s it? you’re not going to tell me?” Margarete saw red and felt her cheeks flush. “Suit yourself.” She turned and returned to her chair, refusing to budge from the spot. “I guess I’ll just wait here until you see it in your heart to share.”

  “Seriously?” Kayne glared at her. “It’s an open investigation, Margarete.”

  “Ryder Stone was a lead you might not have had, if it weren’t for me. It’s not like I’m going to go blabbing to the whole world, Kayne, but it is my life on the line here.” She hoped the guilty treatment would work. “And who is going to look after my Oma if I’m sent to jail for murder? She’ll be all alone, and I will be stuck in some God-awful, green prison uniform, rotting away in a cell.”

  Kayne threw his hands up in resignation. “All right, all right. I guess it will get out soon enough. Turns out, Ryder is a private investigator. Apparently, his father, on his death bed confessed to a robbery he pulled with Pierre Bellamy. Ryder’s father got community service and Pierre got off Scott free…with the money. Ryder found a picture of his father and Pierre and traced him to Ashton Point.”

  “So Pierre was not only a fantastic cook, but a thief as well,” Margarete said, as the new information churned over in her mind.

  “Appears so,” Kayne said, folding his arms across his chest. “The web doesn’t stop there. Ryder’s investigation uncovered two important pieces to the puzzle. We now know the real Pierre Bellamy had a son. And the deceased Pierre’s real name is Dario Bates.”

  “Dario Bates?”

  “They’d arranged to meet after the party. Which, of course, never happened. When challenged about his alibi, Ryder was quick to point out the fact that you can’t get money from a dead man. He just wanted to confront him for his father. He’d planned to turn him in after they’d spoke, but someone got to him first. Ryder’s alibi checked out. His only crime was crashing the party uninvited.

  Interesting. More pieces to the puzzle.

  Kayne looked at his wrist. “If I’m not mistaken, you have a high tea in half an hour.”

&nb
sp; “What?” She shot off the chair, forgetting her injury. Pain bolted up her leg and nausea lodged in her gut. Her knees gave way and she would have hit the ground if there hadn’t been two strapping men there to catch her.

  “For goodness sake, woman.” Logan’s irate tone snagged at her heart. “You’re going to do yourself a major injury if you’re not careful.”

  Margarete held on tight to Logan and Kayne waiting in earnest for the nausea to pass.

  “Maybe you should go straight home and rest,” Kayne suggested, sweet concern echoed in the depths of his eyes.

  “No. I said I’ll be there.” She sucked in long breaths through her nose. “I’m sure I’ll be able to get some pain killers from Edith when I get there. I just jumped up too quickly, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure,” Logan asked.

  Margarete straightened her back and plastered a smile across her face, perfectly masking the increasing pain soaring out of control. “Positive. Now, is someone going to take me to this party or not?”

  Logan shrugged. “Far be it for me to stop a woman when she’s set her mind on something.”

  Exactly. Two Panadol and two Nurofen should do the trick.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bubbles of champagne tickled Margarete’s nose as she sipped her second glass. Giggles working their way up from her belly. A surprised hiccup escaped her lips and she gasped, blocking another with her hand. “Excuse me,” she said between giggles.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking?” Edith McCorrson asked as she placed another plate of salmon and cream cheese sandwiches on the coffee table. “I thought I saw Clair give you some medication not long after you arrived. Should you really should mix them with alcohol?”

  Oops. Caught in the act.

  “It’s okay, Mrs McCorrson. This is my last one.” Another hiccup escaped. “Promise.”

  Edith smiled and handed Margarete a plate of yummy treats. “I suppose one wouldn’t hurt.”—One?—“Here you go. Try and eat something with it.”