A TREACHEROUS TART
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BEACHFRONT BAKERY:
A TREACHEROUS TART
(A Beachfront Bakery Cozy Mystery —Book Five)
FIONA GRACE
Fiona Grace
Debut author Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising seven books; of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three; of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books; and of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books.
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Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Grace. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Soulart used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY FIONA GRACE
LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY
MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book#1)
DEATH AND A DOG (Book #2)
CRIME IN THE CAFE (Book #3)
VEXED ON A VISIT (Book #4)
KILLED WITH A KISS (Book #5)
PERISHED BY A PAINTING (Book #6)
SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7)
FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8)
CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9)
TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY
AGED FOR MURDER (Book #1)
AGED FOR DEATH (Book #2)
AGED FOR MAYHEM (Book #3)
AGED FOR SEDUCTION (Book #4)
AGED FOR VENGEANCE (Book #5)
AGED FOR ACRIMONY (Book #6)
AGED FOR MALICE (Book #7)
DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER (Book #1)
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME (Book #2)
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH (Book #3)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE (Book #1)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A MURDEROUS MACARON (Book #2)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A PERILOUS CAKE POP (Book #3)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A DEADLY DANISH (Book #4)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A TREACHEROUS TART (Book #5)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A CALAMITOUS COOKIE (Book #6)
CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY
A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER (Book #1)
A VILLA IN SICILY: FIGS AND A CADAVER (Book #2)
A VILLA IN SICILY: VINO AND DEATH (Book #3)
A VILLA IN SICILY: CAPERS AND CALAMITY (Book #4)
A VILLA IN SICILY: ORANGE GROVES AND VENGEANCE (Book #5)
A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY (Book #6)
A VILLA IN SICILY: SPAGHETTI AND SUSPICION (Book #7)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
“Ali!” Piper bellowed from the bakery floor. “We’re out of macarons!”
“Macarons, too?” Ali exclaimed, glancing down at the bowl of cookie dough she was currently elbow deep in. The last batch had sold out in record time and now it seemed the macarons had, too. “Okay, I’m on it!” she called back.
Ali Sweet—business owner and baker extraordinaire—was used to hard work and busy mornings ever since she’d opened her boardwalk bakery, Seaside Sweets, a few months ago. After some initial bumps in the road, the bakery was now proving very popular among locals and tourists of the small, coastal California town of Willow Bay. Busy had become normal. But things had never been quite this busy. She’d been baking since five AM to cope with the steady influx of orders.
“Must be the season,” Ali wondered aloud, dumping the dough from the bowl onto the countertop and grabbing a rolling pin. “Or maybe it has something to do with that stage by the pier?”
There were often events taking place in town, like the food festival that had lured Ali to Willow Bay in the first place, before she’d fallen in love with the town and decided to move here permanently. She hadn’t lived here long enough to know the town’s full tourist schedule, but she’d spotted a temporary stage being set up beside the pier during her beachside walk to work this morning, a sure sign that some kind of festivity was on the horizon. Exactly what remained to be seen.
Ali started rolling the cookie dough at breakneck speed. She needed to get the cookies finished ASAP if she wanted to restock the macarons in a timely manner. But she hadn’t made it very far along with her task before she was interrupted by the beep-beep-beep of the timer she’d set a few minutes earlier after putting the batch in the oven.
Ali abandoned the dough-rolling, slid on her thick oven gloves, and pulled open the oven door. A blast of heat hit her already hot face as she removed the cupcakes. Normally, she’d call for Piper to come back and fetch the fresh batch. But that final blast of heat was the last straw for Ali. As much as she adored her bakery, the kitchen was small and could get stuffy, especially with the oven in constant use, and she deserved to see the light of day and the beautiful, twinkling ocean! So instead, she decided to carry the batch out herself. Maybe she could ask Piper to switch places, just for half an hour or so, so she could have a little bit of human interaction with her customers.
She picked up the two trays, one in either hand, each containing twenty-four perfectly baked cupcakes, and reversed through the steel swing doors that separated the kitchen from the bakery floor. “Cupcakes,” she announced to Piper, as she turned around to face her.
Her blond assistant was standing at the till in the brightly lit bakery, and she startled at the sound of Ali’s voice. As she whirled around, Ali got her first glimpse of the bakery’s quaintly decorated seating area since she’d first walked in this morning at the crack of dawn. To her surprise, the bakery floor was quiet. No customers. No hubbub.
Ali frowned. Considering how much she’d baked that morning, she’d been expecting to see every table occupied and a line of customers stretching out the door. But to her surprise and bewilderment, every seat but one was empty.
Worried she was going crazy, Ali checked the glass display counter. Out of the thousand or so goodies she’d baked that morning, only a handful of measly crumbs remained. So people had definitely been buying her food. They just hadn
’t decided to stick around and eat them in the bakery.
Ali wondered why. What was the reason they’d chosen not to dine inside? Eating in was all part of the Seaside Sweets experience, after all, and Ali had taken great pains to make sure the shabby-chic style fit the vibe of her super cute bakery, with chintzy floral fabrics, unvarnished wooden shelves and tables, and a calming palette of pastel colors all adding to the experience for the tourists who stopped by. Of course there were times—when the weather was particularly glorious and the ocean looked especially attractive, for example—that the tourists might be more likely to take out than dine in. But Ali had never seen it to this extent. It was like a zombie apocalypse in here!
“Where is everyone?” she asked Piper.
She wondered again about the stage down by the pier. Maybe whatever event was taking place there had now started, and it had lured all her customers away.
Piper gave her a knowing look, flashing her prehnite-green eyes mischievously. “Just watch,” she said with a conspiratorial whisper.
Ali’s brow furrowed with confusion.
Then Piper cleared her throat and called across the bakery floor to the lone man sitting inside: “Sir! Your cupcakes are ready!”
Growing more and more perplexed, Ali watched as the man raised his large, bulky frame out of the dainty wooden seat. He was a big guy, both in terms of height and weight. Six feet, if she had to guess, and at least four hundred pounds. One of his arms was cast in plaster, bright white indicating that the injury had been fairly recently sustained.
The man slowly lumbered across the checkerboard tiles toward the counter.
“The whole batch is for him?” Ali asked Piper discreetly out the side of her mouth.
“Every single one,” Piper replied.
Though rare, people did buy whole batches in one go, and Ali craned her head to see if she could catch a glimpse out the window of the man’s waiting family and friends. They’d probably sent him inside with their cupcake orders and were waiting eagerly for him to bring them out.
She couldn’t see any people lingering around on the boardwalk outside her store, but she didn’t think too much of it. Perhaps he was taking them to a birthday party, or an office event.
“Oh, Piper,” Ali said, as she turned her attention back to the interior of her bakery and realized Piper had reached for the silver tongs rather than the frosting scoop. “Aren’t you going to ask what frosting he wants?”
“Nope,” Piper said. “Trust me. He doesn’t want any.”
As Ali’s confused frown deepened, Piper set about tonging the plain cupcake bases onto a plate, one after another, creating a stack of cupcakes reminiscent of a profiterole pyramid.
“Why aren’t you boxing them up?” Ali whispered again, eyeing the precariously teetering pyramid warily. Piper was famed for making bad decisions and this had all the hallmarks of another disaster in the making. “That will make it easier for him to take them away.”
But Piper shook her head like she had everything under control. “Just watch…” she said under her breath.
At last, the man reached the counter, huffing and puffing like he’d just hiked up a mountain. He looked terribly unfit, Ali thought, with round red cheeks as shiny as apples, and his shocking appearance gave her a sudden, unsettling thought. Was the man about to sit down and eat forty-eight plain cupcakes? By himself? In one sitting?
Piper passed the plate heaped high with cupcakes across the glass display cabinet to him. “Here you go. I’ll add it to the tab.”
“Thanks,” the man said, holding the plate slightly awkwardly on account of the plaster cast on his arm. “And how long until the cookies are ready?”
Goodness, no, Ali thought. He’s not going to eat all those cupcakes and then have cookies too? Surely not!
“Ooh, I’m not sure,” Piper replied. “But I’m sure our baker can tell you.” She looked over her shoulder at Ali, her eyebrows raised in a told-you-so kind of way. “Ali? When will this nice gentleman’s batch of cookies be ready?”
Ali had to stop her jaw from falling to the floor. Not only was it true that this man was going to eat an entire batch of cupcakes by himself, but it appeared as if he was then planning on eating an entire batch of cookies, too!
An astonishing picture started to form in Ali’s mind as she added up all the clues—the customer’s familiarity with Piper, as if they’d done this several times; the fact she’d allowed him to open a tab (an offer they usually only made to large birthday party groups so they could pay for everything at the end more conveniently) which indicated he had at least one prior order to this one—and Ali found herself wondering, with a mixture of shock and awe, whether this gentleman had bought every batch she’d baked that morning.
“They’ll be fi—fifteen minutes,” she finally managed to say.
She knew full well it would only take her ten minutes max to get all the cookies cut and baked to chewy perfection, but she added an extra five minutes in anticipation of being too flabbergastingly dumbstruck to remember how.
“Fifteen minutes,” the man repeated. “Great. Add them to the tab. Thanks.”
Then he waddled away, the ridge of his green T-shirt rolling up as he went to reveal a muffin top to rival all muffin tops.
Ali turned to Piper, eyes wide. “Has this man been the only customer all morning?” she asked in a hushed voice.
Piper nodded, grinning as if she’d been waiting excitedly on tenterhooks all morning for the unexpected twist to be revealed to her. “Yes!”
But Ali was not amused. All morning she’d been baking tirelessly. She’d assumed Piper was just as rushed off her feet dealing with customers out on the bakery floor as she was back in the kitchen. Instead, it turned out all she’d been doing was serving one man every ten minutes. At no point had she thought to head back to the kitchen and explain what was happening or offer to lighten the unbalanced workload. Instead, she’d stayed out on the bakery floor while Ali worked in the small, hot, stuffy kitchen, presumably doing little more than gawking at the strange customer.
“Piper!” Ali exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
But before she got the chance to really give her hapless assistant a piece of her mind, Piper interrupted her. “Ooh, watch. Watch! Here’s where it gets really interesting.”
With a huff, Ali turned to look back at the man. He had now reached his table and sunk back into the small chair once again—a chair, Ali noted, which looked like it may snap under his weight any second. But then, very peculiarly, the man pressed several buttons on his watch as if programming a stop watch or timer, took several deep breaths, pressed a final button, and promptly set about devouring the cupcakes, one after the next after the next.
All Ali could do was stare. It was like watching a boa constrictor, or a sword swallower, as if he possessed an unworldly power to dislocate his entire jaw and let the food slide straight down his gullet without even chewing. There was no way he could taste any of the beautiful flavors of her perfectly crafted cupcakes like that, and Ali found herself horrified and fascinated in equal measure.
“See?” Piper’s voice said in her ear, as her elbow jabbed her several times in the ribs. “Isn’t it gross?”
Ali stiffened as she realized she was rudely gawking at the man in the same way she’d accused Piper of doing. She wouldn’t allow gossiping about customers behind their backs in any other circumstances. Just because this one had some strange eating behaviors didn’t make it okay to do it now.
She flashed Piper a warning glare. Her assistant immediately cupped a hand over her mouth as if realizing her transgression.
“Sorry!” she exclaimed. “I meant to say…weird.”
Hardly better, Ali thought, though she had to give her credit for at least trying to choose a more tactful word. And while Ali would still prefer her assistant not to whisper behind customers’ backs in the first place, even she had to admit what she was witnessing right now was weird to say the least.
Just then, the portly man shoved the final cupcake into his mouth, pressed his watch, and punched the air with triumph.
“He’s been doing this all morning,” Piper informed her.
That was the last straw for Ali. She simply couldn’t help herself. She was naturally curious, and the situation had bested her. Because who in their right mind bought an entire batch of plain cupcakes and ate every single one as quickly as humanly possible? While timing themselves?
“I’m going to ask him,” Ali said.
It was nosy, sure, but she abhorred gossiping and it seemed far more polite to ask directly than stand there staring, whispering, and wondering. And unless the man was an actual fruit loop, he must’ve anticipated that his behavior would raise a few eyebrows.
Ali ducked under the hatch in the counter and tiptoed over to the man, half cautious, but wholly curious.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. But may I ask what you’re doing? With the watch, and the batch of cupcakes?”
The man grinned at her, his apple-cheeks bulging. “My name’s Bob. But you might know me as Bottomless Pit Bob.”
He gave her an expectant look, like that name was supposed to mean something to her. Ali glanced over her shoulder at Piper, who shrugged. It seemed she was as much at a loss as Ali was.
“Um…” Ali said, apologetically, turning back to Bob. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you.”
“Really?” he replied, sounding surprised. “Huh. Well, I’m a competitive eater. And what I’m doing with the watch and cupcakes is called conditioning.” He smacked his bulging stomach with his good hand. “Basically, I’m getting my body ready for the competition.”
“The competition?” Ali asked. “What competition?”
“Mad Frank’s,” the man replied, and as his eyes roved all over Ali’s blank face, he repeated again, more insistently. “Mad Frank’s! Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Mad Frank’s?”