Confection is Good for the Soul: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery

by Ruth Hartzler

  Her husband and another man jumped inside the cake and did their best to get her out. Matilda grabbed my arm. “The police will be here soon. We need to get out of these clothes.”

  Matilda, Eleanor, and I hurried to the bathroom. Unlike the sparkling white of the showroom outside, the bathroom was dark and forlorn, although someone had tried to improve the ambience with a vanilla scented candle and crisp white hand towels. The lighting was dim, and a diagonal crack ran the length of the large mirror.

  We had normal clothes under our chef’s whites at Matilda’s suggestion in case we needed to do away our disguise. I certainly hadn’t imagined it would be under these circumstances. Matilda and Eleanor folded the cloths into little piles—I absently thought Marie Kondo would be proud—and then threw them in the trash. She reached over to me and the next thing I knew, she had ripped off my moustache.

  “Ouch!” I squealed.

  “Shush.” She pulled a bottle from her pocket. “This will remove the latex. It has to stay on your face for a moment or two. It might sting a bit.”

  “Surely the police will search the premises?” I said, wincing as the latex-removing liquid made my face feel like a thousand ants were singing it.

  “Only if it’s a murder,” Matilda said. “It could have been natural causes.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” I rubbed my forehead. In fact, I had assumed Judy Jenkins had been murdered. It didn’t occur to me in the slightest that Judy might have died of natural causes. Whatever was wrong with me?

  “So then, why did we have to remove our disguises?” I asked Matilda.

  “Because it’s better to be safe than sorry,” she said. “Judy Jenkins was a bully and a most unpleasant person. For all we know, she was a cheat as well and there were likely plenty of people with a motive to murder her. Until the police say it was natural causes, we need to be careful.”

  “But we will have to admit to the detectives that we were disguised as men,” I said.

  Matilda shrugged. “That’s fine. We’ll simply tell them the truth that Judy was going to say something nasty about Rebecca’s shop and we wanted to hear it in person. Besides, I doubt they’ll search anyone. And even if they do, they won’t find my recording device. I’ve hidden it too well.”

  I didn’t know what to think. My head was reeling and the beginnings of a headache throbbed away in my temples.

  I hadn’t noticed Eleanor had disappeared until she appeared back through the door. She signaled to us. “We should go out now and act normal. I had a quick look at the body and I couldn’t see a knife or a bullet entry wound.”

  We hurried out and stood at the back of the crowd. By now, the body was out of the cake and on the ground. Judy’s husband was sitting on a chair being patted on the back by one of the men. The poor man looked quite distraught, as would be expected under the circumstances.

  “I expect if it’s murder, then your detective will be along presently,” Matilda said.

  I pulled a face. “He’s not my detective.”

  Brian Birch materialized beside us. “An awful business.”

  I agreed. “Yes, it is.”

  “I’m Brian Birch, the IT guy,” he said.

  It took me a moment to realize he didn’t know he had met us before. “I’m Jane Delight and these are my roommates, Matilda and Eleanor Birtwistle.”

  He shook hands once more and this time I tried not to squeeze his knuckles as hard as I could.

  “Did she have heart problems?” Matilda asked him.

  “Not serious problems, as far as I know. Are you fans of hers?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, and then to cover-up my words quickly added, “My sister, Rebecca, owns a cupcake store not far from here.”

  Matilda elbowed me in my ribs, but it was too late. I couldn’t believe I had told him.

  “Rebecca Yoder? Yes, Judy was always complaining about her. She said your sister stole the idea for one of her cupcakes.” He smiled as he said it, which led me to believe he wasn’t angry with us.

  “My sister has been selling those very cupcakes in her store for years,” I said. It came out more forcefully than I had intended.

  He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I have no doubt. Look, I had no illusions about Judy, may she rest in peace. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but she was a very difficult woman to work for. A very difficult woman. Indeed, she had plenty of enemies.” He looked at us appraisingly. “So the three of you ladies share an apartment?”

  “Yes, over my sister’s cupcake store.”

  “I live in an apartment in Bayberry Street.”

  “You do? That’s quite close to us.”

  “I know. If you ladies ever need any help, feel free to give me a call.” He pulled business cards from his pocket and handed one to each of us. I in turn looked at the card and turned it over. It had his name, cell phone number, email address, and his website address in a small font. I was unable to read it without my reading glasses. “Thanks,” I said.

  “I mean it,” he said. “It can’t be easy for ladies on their own. I only moved to town a few months ago, and I don’t really know anyone here.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Matilda said. “So had you been working closely with Mrs. Jenkins?”

  “I designed and now maintain her website for her. I handled her social media and placed all the ads for her book.”

  I’m sure he would have said more, but the paramedics arrived. They hurried over to the body and told everyone to stand back.

  “Her poor husband seems quite upset,” Matilda remarked, but Brian shook his head.

  “What? Are you saying he’s not upset?” Matilda asked him.

  “I’m sure he’s upset. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have disagreed. It was rather mean of me, given the circumstances. It’s just that Judy was spending all their money, so I’m sure some part of him at least would be relieved that she’s gone. Forgive me,” he said again. “I know that sounds a terrible thing to say.”

  I was surprised to see two uniformed police officers arrive. “Why are they here?” I asked. “Do they think it’s not natural causes?”

  Brian raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “The police wouldn’t come if she simply had a heart attack,” I said.

  “How do you know that?”

  Matilda answered for me. “We watch a lot of crime shows on TV. Anyway, we’ll know soon enough.”

  And she was right. One of the police officers asked everyone to remain in the room to give a witness statement.

  “They do suspect murder,” Matilda said to a clearly horrified Brian.

  He clutched his throat. “But I was right there. I saw her! There was no blood.”

  “There are plenty of other ways to kill someone,” Matilda said. “Poison, a large injection of oxygen into the right place, an injection of insulin…” I’m sure she would have said more, but Eleanor kicked her in the shins.

  “You’ve been watching too much TV again,” Eleanor said.

  For once, Matilda did not respond.

  “But who would murder her?” Brian said. All the color had drained from his face.

  “It might have been natural causes, but if there is the slightest suspicion that she was murdered, then the police will be acting exactly as they’re acting now,” Matilda told him.

  My heart sank. The police were going to take witness statements. It was obvious to me we would have to confess we had been there in disguise. At the very least, the police would find out Judy Jenkins had been going to make a speech against Rebecca, accusing her of stealing her cupcake ideas.

  My thoughts went to Rebecca. What if the police suspected her? She was alone right now, baking at the cupcake store. I had collected her from her farm that morning and was driving her back after the book launch as Ephraim was still helping Mr. Lapp and was going to be home late.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked Matilda. I knew she had been thinking exactly the same th
ing.

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” she said, although she was frowning.

  The uniformed officers announced that no one was to leave. We were all shown to another room. A table and a chair were hastily set up in the corner of the room to take everyone’s witness statements. When it was my turn, I asked the officer, “Do you know how she died?”

  The officer did not look up from his notes. “Not yet,” he said. “Name, age, and address?”

  When I supplied those, he asked, “And how did you know the victim?”

  “My sister has a cupcake store too,” I told him.

  “Tell me of the evening’s events in your own words,” he said.

  I told him everything and he wrote it down. He did not ask me any further questions. When I finished, he said, “That’s all for now.”

  I stood up, entirely relieved, until he added, “The detectives will be here presently.”

  My heart sank.

  Chapter 5

  “Jane!” Detective Damon McCloud said. He cleared his throat and then said sheepishly, “Miss Delight, and the Birtwistle sisters.”

  Detective Stirling’s voice was much louder. “Not you three again!” He folded his arms over his chest. “This is beginning to be quite a habit.”

  Everyone turned to look at us, much to my dismay. I’m sure they all thought we were suspected of being serial killers.

  “I’ll ask everyone to remain in the room until we’ve spoken to you all,” Stirling continued.

  “What are you doing here?” Damon asked us.

  “Well, it’s a book launch about a cupcake book, of course.” Matilda said it as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. And I suppose it did seem that way to someone who didn’t know that the victim had accused my twin sister, Rebecca, of stealing her ideas.

  When the uniformed officers beckoned the detectives away, Matilda and Eleanor formed a huddle with me.

  “This is the third murder in a row,” I said, wincing.

  “The police don’t think you have anything to do with it,” Eleanor said. “You’re still in with a good chance with that nice young detective.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Young?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “Young compared to us.”

  Matilda rounded on her. “Speak for yourself. Anyway, I can’t see why they find the death suspicious. Did it look like natural causes to you, Eleanor?”

  “It certainly did,” Eleanor said. “The police must have other evidence to the contrary.”

  “Whatever evidence could there be?” I asked her.

  Brian Birch stepped over to us. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you said. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Judy was worried she’d been poisoned. She’d made complaints to the police.”

  “Judy Jenkins thought she was being poisoned?” I echoed. “Whatever would have made her think that?”

  Brian glanced round the room before speaking. “Over the last three or so weeks, she developed stabbing stomach pains, and all of a sudden her blood pressure was high and her heart rate was irregular. That’s what she said, anyway.”

  “Maybe she simply needed blood pressure medication,” I offered.

  He shook his head. “Judy was a hypochondriac. She was always going to doctors, but her blood pressure had always been normal and she’d never had a sick day in her life, according to her husband, James. Then just over three weeks ago, she started complaining of severe stomach pains and the doctor found she had high blood pressure and an irregular heartbeat.”

  Matilda tapped her chin. “I see. Surely the symptoms you describe aren’t indicative of a heart condition and that’s why she thought she was being poisoned.”

  He nodded. “She was paranoid to be sure, but just because someone is paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t after them.”

  I thought about what he said for a moment. “What symptoms did she have?”

  He rattled off a list of symptoms, most of them entirely unpleasant, and added, “And if it was stomach flu, the symptoms should have stopped by now. The doctor thought she might have eaten something bad, but the tests for mercury, arsenic, and lead all came back negative. She also had bouts of weakness from time and suffered a loss of balance.”

  “Who did she think was poisoning her?” Matilda asked him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Pretty much everyone.”

  “Why, that’s terrible,” I said. “And so this is the reason the police are treating this as a suspicious death?”

  Brian looked around the room once more before saying, “I assume so. I imagine James told the paramedics that Judy’s doctor did suspect poisoning, but he couldn’t actually find one.”

  “That makes sense,” Matilda said.

  At that point, Detective Stirling loomed in front of me. “I’d like a word with you in private, Miss Delight,” he said in ominous tones.

  I followed him into a small room, on which was a table covered by a white tablecloth and all sorts of delicious cupcakes. I resisted the urge to eat one only with some difficulty. Stress always makes me comfort eat.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your sister and Judy Jenkins?”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “It has come to our attention that the two were not in the best of terms.” He was clutching some papers. I couldn’t make out the writing on them. When he saw me staring, he clutched them to his chest.

  I decided I might as well come clean. The police would find out sooner or later, and keeping the information to myself would only make them more suspicious. “It’s like this,” I began. “My sister has sold Amish sour cream spice cupcakes for many years, but Judy Jenkins has dropped by several times to accuse my sister of stealing her idea of turning Amish sour cream spice cakes into cupcakes.”

  Stirling frowned deeply.

  I thought I should elaborate. “I don’t think Judy Jenkins meant she had stolen her specific recipe as such. Her complaint was that Rebecca was selling Amish sour cream spice cupcakes at all. Mrs. Jenkins seemed to think she had actually invented Amish sour cream spice cupcakes.”

  Stirling scratched his head. “But surely your sister told her that she had been selling these cupcakes for some time?”

  I nodded. “Yes she did, but Judy Jenkins was still angry. She said she was about to run an online course on how to write and market a cupcake book, and she had only recently released her cupcake book.”

  “The one that was launched tonight?” he asked me.

  “Yes, that’s it,” I said. “And like I said, she was also going to run an expensive course on how to write and market a cookbook.”

  “But she’s only ever written one,” he said, clearly confused.

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense to me either. I suppose anyone can sell anything as long as they talk themselves up enough.”

  He frowned. “And when did you last see Judy Jenkins?”

  “I didn’t see her at all tonight, not even from a distance. She came into Rebecca’s store the other day and accused her again of selling the cupcakes. She demanded Rebecca remove them from sale.”

  “And where is your sister now?”

  “She’s back at the cupcake store, baking for tomorrow.”

  He scribbled in his notepad. “On her own?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. I wasn’t overly worried about Rebecca’s lack of alibi, given that Judy Jenkins had likely been poisoned over a period of three weeks. I knew the detective would find out, but I thought I should offer the information. “We were just speaking with Brian Birch who is Judy Jenkins’s website manager. He told us that Mrs. Jenkins had been sick for the past three weeks and her doctor tested her for various poisons. One was arsenic and one was lead. Oh, I can’t remember the other one.”

  Stirling’s eyes widened before the mask was back over his face. “We’ll be questioning Brian Birch,” he said. “What else did he say?”

  “Just that Mrs. Jenkins had symptoms of stomach flu and very bad stabbing stom
ach pains. He also said she’d recently developed high blood pressure and heart palpitations, but that she had never been sick in a day of her life previously. The symptoms only started about three weeks ago and then increased in severity. He said James Jenkins told him his wife’s doctor suspected poison, but the results were negative.”

  Stirling took notes. After a few moments, he looked up at me. “So will your sister still be at her store if we go there to speak with her now?”

  “I think so,” I said, my stomach knotting. Poor Rebecca certainly wouldn’t like been questioned by the police and it would come as a shock to her that Judy Jenkins had died.

  “Have you seen any chefs?”

  I frowned. “Chefs? No, why?”

  “The uniformed officers told people to remain, but three chefs have disappeared. They were all men. Did you happen to notice when they left?”

  My heart beat out of my chest. “Oh, those chefs.” How was I going to explain this? I took a deep breath. “Matilda, Eleanor, and I disguised ourselves as chefs. The bishop told us that Mrs. Jenkins was going to make a speech accusing Rebecca of stealing her cupcake ideas, so we wanted to hear what she’d say.”

  “And you were in disguise because…?” he prompted me.

  “Obviously because Mrs. Jenkins had seen us before and wouldn’t allow us to attend her book launch,” I said.

  I watched the detective’s face go through a range of emotions, from incredulity, to irritation, and then disapproval.

  He afforded me a curt nod. “That will be all for now, Miss Delight. You’re free to go.”

  I thanked him. As he turned away, I stared at the notes in his hand. I only caught a quick look, but I was certain it was Judy’s speech. I saw the words, ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ at the top of the page.

  So that’s why they were suspicious of Rebecca! It certainly seemed as if Judy’s speech was going to accuse Rebecca. Surely it would accuse others as well? If so, it would provide the police with good information—it made sense that Judy’s murderer was listed there.

  As soon as I rejoined Matilda and Eleanor, I expressed these views to Matilda, but she disagreed.

  “If the murderer was here tonight, he or she might have had the opportunity to swap the speech to implicate others.”