“Then I use this piping bag. I found a whole box of them here in the kitchen along with this one round tip, so it’ll have to do. I fill the cupcake with the same frosting that will go on top. Then I put the plug back in and, voila, a surprise inside.”
“They gotta look good, though,” Poppy warned me, reaching for another cupcake.
“I’m working on that,” I promised.
Gladys arrived right after that and she and Poppy began getting ready for the breakfast rush. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the smell of baking biscuits, frying bacon and coffee. My stomach rumbled while I crushed small candy canes with a rolling pin.
Tom Brown was our first customer of the day. He and Poppy slipped off into our office to have a private moment, and by the time they returned we were starting to get busy.
Mayor Gillespie was his usual self in his usual spot ordering his usual breakfast. Joe and Tucker arrived at almost the same time, laughing about something like they were old friends.
“Doll-face,” Joe said, sliding onto a stool beside the mayor. He caught my hand, kissed the palm and winked.
“What a flirt,” I moaned, pulling my hand free and trying to not let Tucker see me blush.
“Now, why wouldn’t I flirt with the prettiest girl in town?” he demanded to know. “I have to do something to compete with Big Ashe here.”
Joe nodded at Tucker who looked just as surprised at the nickname as I did.
After that, the diner was really busy. Roads were clearing somewhat and school was open. At one point, I noticed that Adam and Robert Taylor had entered the diner together and were having breakfast. That’s when I checked to see if anyone else had noticed and saw that Joe and the mayor had left. Tucker was sipping the last of his coffee.
“Big Ashe,” I teased.
He shrugged.
“Hey, I was just teasing,” I said, noting that he didn’t look happy.
“The coroner is releasing Mr. Nettle’s body today,” Tucker said quietly and glanced over his shoulder at Adam and his breakfast companion. “I’ve stalled him long enough. I need to nail Adam for this before he goes back to Atlanta.”
“Do you think he and Robert are in this together?” I asked. Maybe Tucker was right. Maybe it was the money angle. This really was the only link between Helen and Mr. Nettle that I could think of.
“I don’t know but I’ve got Joe working on some background for Turner. He just bought his wife a nice new car and you saw where they live. Seems like a pretty good life for an insurance salesman,” Tucker said.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite working on my cupcake presentation until after midnight, I awoke before dawn on the day of the Winter Festival. We’d taste tested the cupcakes out on customers the day before and they were a hit. Poppy and Gladys gave it their stamp of approval and I felt like I was ready. Of course, I had no idea what the Lord sisters and Tiffany had up their sleeves but, in reality, this was to raise money for the Community Trust. If I added a ribbon to my collection so much the better.
Who was I kidding? I wanted that win, but I’d been so distracted by the investigation into Mr. Nettle’s murder, I hadn’t really even tried. I didn’t deserve a win.
Speaking of that investigation and in spite of all the leads, Tucker hadn’t been able to pin anything solid on Adam or Robert Turner or anyone else for that matter. Tucker and Joe had scoured bank records, phone records and everything else, coming up with nothing. I wasn’t surprised. Adam left the day after his father’s body was released. Of course, I hadn’t come up with any better solution myself so maybe we would never find out who killed Mr. Nettle.
We were always busy on Saturday mornings and this one was no exception. Lots of strangers were in town for the festival as well as people who’d lived here, moved away and just couldn’t resist coming back for the celebration. Evidently, they couldn’t resist coming to the diner for breakfast either.
I was glad I’d called in extra help for the morning and they showed up right on time. Poppy and Tom went to the armory building downtown ahead of time to set up our booth and enter my cupcakes into the competition. The arrangement looked pretty, but was it good enough?
Finally, just after lunch, the diner grew quiet. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and squinted against the glorious sun. It felt like I hadn’t seen it for weeks and the sky was so blue it hurt my eyes to look at it. I smiled, thinking the mounds of snow would soon melt. Was this the end of winter? No, it was still cold but hopefully we’d get a teasing glimpse of spring before the next storm hit.
Just as I was locking up, Tucker ambled down the street toward me. He was wearing jeans and a long coat over his flannel shirt. It occurred to me that that was the same kind of coat the man we saw in the park that day had been wearing.
“You have one of those dusters, too?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and grinned.
I forgot all about coats.
“Were you trying to ditch me?” he asked.
I laughed and looped my arm in his. “Nope. You’re out of uniform?”
“Taking the day off,” he said and there was that sexy grin again.
God, his eyes were as blue as the sky.
We took our time walking toward the armory. He paid for our tickets and we entered the huge space. I checked in with Poppy and saw that she had Gladys and Barbara Ellen there with her. They didn’t need my help.
“I’ll come back around in a bit so you and Tom can enjoy the fun,” I promised.
Tucker and I admired the needlework, the quilts and the pottery. A new business in town gave lessons and it looked like several local people were getting pretty good at using the potter’s wheel. I didn’t dare check out the cupcakes entered by others, knowing my heart would be broken if I did.
“Starla.”
I turned to see the round Helen Means waddling toward me.
“Hello, dear,” she said hugging me warmly. “Hello, Tucker.” She hugged him as well.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m fine. Happy to get out of the house, now that the storm has passed.”
Tucker and I agreed. It seemed everyone was in a festive mood now that the sun had reappeared.
“Did you enter the cupcake contest?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I told her.
“I did, too,” she whispered, and then giggled like a school girl.
“Well, good. I hope you win,” I said.
“Oh, I doubt that but it was fun practicing my decorating skills,” she said.
Every once in a while I noted Joe, taking pictures, making notes. Our little newspaper really was a one man show and it looked like he was handling it well. When he saw me, he waved and smiled and went right back to work.
Soon, Mayor Gillespie announced that the exploding snowman contest was beginning and everyone moved toward the back doors of the armory to see the spectacle. Five snowmen, complete with top hats, carrot noses and scarves were lined up against the fence farthest away from the building. In front of each was the name of the organization or family who built that particular snowman. Tom Brown’s company was represented, Brown Construction. Even the seniors at the local high school had one.
The snowmen were separated from the crowd by yellow crime scene tape and we all stood breathless, waiting for Mayor Gillespie to blow the whistle. One of the local volunteer firemen did something and the first one exploded, spectacularly shooting the silk top hat, scarf and other debris high into the air. The crowed oohed and ahed, kids squealed and Tucker put his arm around my shoulders.
Unfortunately, before anything else could happen, the second snowman in line blew up and that set off the rest of them in unison. Over the explosions, Mayor Gillespie warned everyone to stay back. The crowd yelled and clapped, Tucker and I right along with everyone else, until all was quiet. After the fire department made sure it was all over and safe, they decided that every snowman was a winner and prizes were awarded.
After that, the local elementary sc
hool had their snowball contest to see who could roll the biggest snowball the fastest. And then there was the snow thrower race, one person from each of the schools racing against each other. To everyone’s surprise, the high school principal, Mrs. Duffle, crossed the finish line first.
“It’s a good thing we had plenty of snow this year,” I told Tucker when that was over and we went back inside the warmth of the armory.
He bought both of us hot cocoa and handed me one. His face was pink from the cold. “You got that right. Those kids had a ball, didn’t they?”
I was just getting ready to agree when over the PA system, Mayor Gillespie invited everyone to come over for the final decision for the winner of the Winter Festival Cupcake Decorating Contest.
“Come on,” Poppy urged from close by. “They are beautiful.”
Tucker and Tom followed as we made our way to where five plates of cupcakes were set out on a table. The Mayor and Joe were on the other side of the table and I gasped in surprise.
“I had no idea he was one of the judges,” I whispered to Poppy.
“Me either,” she giggled, clapping her hands.
Eva and Anna Lord stood close by, along with Tiffany, their eyes shooting daggers at me. I couldn’t tell which one was theirs but if it was the one closest to where they stood, they had outdone themselves with what looked like tiny polar bears sitting atop cupcakes. My cupcake arrangement - which looked like a snow man, complete with red peppermint candies for buttons, a scarf sprinkled with peppermints and a matching top hat - was on the far end.
The entry in the center was beautiful. It looked like a bouquet of mums, in glorious spring colors.
“Now, I know that this contest is to celebrate the artistic skills of the ladies in our community but we had to add a second category because, well, they were just so darned good,” Mayor Gillespie announced.
Everyone laughed nervously.
“So, Joe Wheeler, our illustrious and hardworking newspaper man, has agreed to taste test these after we announce the winner of the decorating category.”
The two men put their heads together for a moment and then Joe slowly walked from one table to the other. He paused at each display, pretending to examine them closely but it was obvious he had already made a decision. What a showman!
He returned to the plate in the center, lifted it and held it over his head. Poppy squeezed my hand and I looked at the Lord sisters and Tiffany. They were glaring at me angrily. I shrugged and held up both hands in surrender.
“The winner this year is Ms. Helen Means,” Mayor Gillespie announced after looking to see who has created the beautiful display.
Everything after that was an anti-climax. I found Helen in the crowd, surrounded by her friends.
“Congratulations!” I said, giving her a warm hug.
“Thank you,” Helen said, blushing.
“Those are gorgeous. How did you make them?” I asked, picking up one carefully and holding it up to study it better.
“I cut mini marshmallows on the diagonal and dipped the sticky side in colored sugar to make dozens of pink, yellow, purple, blue, and orange petals,” she squealed.
“Genius. I would never have thought of that,” I said.
“What’s wrong with them?” Tucker asked, nodding toward the mayor who was trapped between Eva Lord and Tiffany Samples.
“They’re saying I cheated because I used something other than icing for my decorations,” Helen explained.
“That’s not cheating,” I gasped. “They’re still edible.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whatever he decides is fine with me.”
“It’s obvious I’m not the best in the decorating department,” I said, pointing at my forlorn cupcake snowman with part of his hat missing.
We all laughed.
Just then I saw Joe walking toward us. He grinned, hugged Helen Means and then shook hands with Tucker and Tom.
“Do you mind if I steal Doll-face from you for just a minute?” he asked.
“Go right ahead,” Tucker said. “We’ll wait here.”
My heart raced as he led me away. Was he finally going to set our dinner date? God, I hope he gave me time to go shopping. And I hoped it wasn’t some place too fancy.
“What’s going on?” I asked, when we found a quiet corner to talk.
“I just wanted you to be the first to know that I’m moving back home,” he said quietly.
“Home?”
“New York. Ithaca.”
My mouth dropped open. “But the newspaper and...” I wanted to add our dinner date and whatever might have happened after that but kept quiet. “...stuff.”
“All this excitement over Mr. Nettle’s murder and working with Tucker made me realize how much I missed investigative reporting. There’s not likely to be something like this happen here in town for another ten years. Back in New York...”
“There’s a murder every day,” I finished for him.
“Sadly, it’s true. I’ve already purchased a larger paper near my home town so I’m really needed there,” he explained.
“What about the Sugar Hill Herald?” I asked.
“I’ll find someone to run the paper from here. In this day and age, I could almost run it myself from New York.”
“That wouldn’t be the same...”
“I know. I know,” Joe said, catching my hands in his. “I promise to make sure the paper is in good hands.
His gray eyes sparkled with excitement and he looked even more handsome than he had the first time we met. My heart broke just a little for what might have been.
“I also want you to know that I’ll miss you and the Dixie Cupp.”
“We’ll miss you, too,” I said, letting him pull me close. I inhaled his wonderful, musky scent and closed my eyes fighting back sudden, unexpected tears.
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said, resting his chin on top of my head.
“So soon?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, and for a moment I smelled the sweet peppermint from my cupcakes. Then, with a finger under my chin, he lifted my face, kissed me tenderly and walked away.
“Starla, are you okay?” That was Poppy right beside me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I told her as I watched Joe Wheeler walk out of my life forever.
Chapter Sixteen
“What happened?” she asked.
“He’s moving back to New York,” I told her.
“What?”
I repeated what Joe had told me and suddenly realized just how lonely I was. Yes, I was surrounded by wonderful friends, my employees and my customers at the diner but when it came right down to it, I was pretty much alone. Joe was the first guy I’d really been excited about in a while and, I guess, somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought he would change that. Then Tucker had breezed back into town, complicating things even further.
Right then, all I wanted to do was go back to my little sanctuary over the diner and be by myself.
“Poppy, tell Tucker I’ll catch up with him later. If you don’t need me here, I think I just want to go home now,” I told her.
A little worry line appeared between her eyes. “Let me get someone else to cover and I’ll go with you.”
“No, you stay and enjoy the fun. I want to be alone for a while.”
Once Poppy was assured I was going to be okay, she let me go. Leaving her and the festivities behind, I walked back to the diner and trudged up the back stairs. Up in my apartment, I wandered from room to room, touching familiar objects, loving the way they made me feel.
I lay down across the bed, pulled my favorite purple blanket over me and closed my eyes. My body was saying nap time but my mind would not be still. The sight of Mr. Nettle lying there cold and dead in the snow floated into my brain. Helen Taylor coming into the diner that cold, snowy morning telling me she was meeting someone. Mayor Gillespie’s calendar with the big H and that cryptic message.
I forced my thoughts to the man Poppy and
I had encountered in the park. In my mind, I looked at him closely and came up with nothing. All that seemed like forever ago. And now it looked like Mr. Nettle’s murder would never be solved.
Joe and Tucker hadn’t been able to pin anything at all on Adam or Robert Taylor.
Had they even questioned Helen Taylor?
That thought made me sit up in my bed, the purple blanket falling to the floor.
I frowned trying to remember. If Joe or Tucker had talked to her, they hadn’t said anything to me about it. Before I realized it, I was pulling on my boots, moving to the door, grabbing my coat on the way out. Robert Taylor was at the Winter Festival. I’d seen him at his booth wearing that long, gray coat. But I hadn’t seen Helen. She might be home.
And I had to take a chance and find out.
I found Raven’s Crest easily. Finding her cookie cutter McMansion was a little more difficult. But find it I did, and I half expected the neighborhood watch guys to stop me halfway up the walk and question my presence there. No one was around, though. In fact, the whole neighborhood seemed eerily quiet. I rang the doorbell. Everyone was probably still at the festival.
Everyone except Helen Taylor.
She opened the door, looking as trim and put together as always in dark slacks and a royal blue sweater. Her hair was perfectly coifed and her make-up was impeccable. Briefly, I wondered if she was expecting company.
“Starla,” Helen said, sounding surprised.
“Hello, Mrs. Taylor,” I said. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, backing into the house and opening the door wider allowing me inside.
The home was as neat as a pin and beautifully decorated. I felt as if I was stepping into a magazine.
“I was just making myself some tea,” she said, leading me toward the back of the house.
As I followed her, I glanced into a room that had to be an office. All I saw was dark leather furniture and a deer head on the wall.
“That’s Robert’s office,” she said, quickly closing the door. “He does enjoy hunting when he has the time.”
“Would you like some tea as well?” she asked, finally leading me into that magnificent kitchen.
Peppermint Breath & an Untimely Death Page 10
