Marzipan and Murder

by Rosie A. Point

  I smacked my lips, thinking it over. Trouble poked his head around the bathroom door and meowed at me. He had a knack for squeezing through nooks and crannies, as most cats did. Even when I was sure I’d closed every window, he still found a way into my room, and thus Bee’s too, since they were connected by a shared bathroom.

  “Here, Trouble,” I said.

  “Oh, well, now you’re just asking for it.” Bee laughed.

  Trouble hopped onto the arm of the chair, and I stroked him, eliciting a few purrs and a scratch.

  “Let’s research Honey,” I said. “I’ve heard twice now that she’s an Instagram model. She can’t be too hard to find online. Maybe we’ll find articles about her or more information that could lead us to a suspect.”

  “Good idea.”

  I brought out my phone and shifted to the chair next to Bee’s so she’d be able to see my screen. It took about two seconds of searching to find Honey’s account and the countless photos that skirted the line of inappropriate.

  “Good heavens,” Bee said, shading her eyes. “I’m not a prude, but that’s just… is that a flesh-colored bikini?”

  “Let’s hope so,” I replied, skipping through the images. I frowned, slowing as I scrolled upward again. One of the most recent pictures, right at the top of her profile, was different from the others. “What’s this?”

  “Do I want to know? Is it a flesh-colored dress?”

  “No,” I said, “and I believe the correct term is ‘nude.’”

  “That’s serendipitous. Or ironic. I can’t decide which.”

  “It’s one of these open letter posts,” I said, clicking on the image. It was basically a block of text that Honey had written up on her notepad. She’d snapped a screenshot of it and uploaded it for her followers to view. “Don’t worry, you can look.”

  Bee peeked out from behind her fingers. “Ah, that’s better. The purity of the written word.”

  “Don’t be too hasty. We don’t know what she’s written about.”

  Bee pinched my arm. “Don’t tease me.”

  We hunched over to read the words on the picture.

  I have, like, never been so angry in my whole entire life. You guys don’t even understand. So, I hired the best, like, literally the best—

  “This is painful to read,” Bee said, leaning back in her chair. “Give me the CliffsNotes.”

  I scanned the text. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “It’s about the wedding organizer.”

  “Oh really?” Bee sat forward again. Trouble meowed at us from the other chair, where he’d seated himself like a king in a hall of subjects.

  “Yes. Apparently, the wedding organizer is an expensive and popular professional from Los Angeles. Her name is Gina Josephs. Honey tagged her in the picture and everything.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “Basically, that she linked the image with Gina’s profile.”

  “OK. So what did she say about her?” Bee asked.

  “It’s basically a flaming takedown of this Gina woman. Apparently, Honey expected more than what she got from the wedding organizer. And she’s saying that Gina stole money from her by charging a fee at the beginning of the job and that now that Honey’s fired her, Gina doesn’t want to give the deposit back or something. I don’t know, it’s quite garbled.” I paused. “But she ends the post by saying none of her two million followers should ever use Gina’s service.”

  “So,” Bee said, “you’re telling me that two million people follow this woman who poses in ‘nude’ bikinis and dresses?”

  “That’s the part you find shocking?”

  “The whole thing is beyond the pale,” she replied. “But it definitely gives us another suspect on our list. What if this Gina woman, the redhead, has to be, what if she decided to kill Honey for her money.”

  “Honey for her money,” I said. “That rhymes.”

  “Not with murder, though. Is it enough motivation?”

  “No idea. I’m not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. Do you think we should tell Jones about this? You know, fill him in on what we’ve found?”

  “And endure his deadpan stare and body odor?” Bee asked. “I think not.”

  “He didn’t smell that bad the last time we spoke to him.”

  “Like a diaper barge under a noon sun off the coast of Florida,” Bee replied.

  “There’s an image.” But the clue was there. This wedding organizer had been arguing with Honey only the day before. And she wasn’t staying in the guesthouse, as far as I knew. We certainly hadn’t seen her at lunches or dinners. But then, William hadn’t been around lately, either. Understandable since he was in mourning.

  “We’ll have to find out more about this woman,” Bee said. “Where she’s staying and so on.”

  “If she’s still here. Why would she hang around after being fired by Honey?” I asked.

  “Interesting point.” Bee stifled a yawn, setting her coffee to one side. “This coffee has tired me out.” She was convinced that coffee didn’t keep her awake but made her sleepy. It had to be some kind of placebo effect because I was far too buzzed to be tired.

  “Right,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.”

  “Don’t let the murderers bite.” Bee chuckled. “Sorry. I’ve always had a strange sense of humor.”

  I waved goodbye and exited the room, Trouble chasing after me. Sam didn’t seem to mind when Trouble spent time with the guests. She said he was just as good a judge of character as she was, and he only liked people he trusted.

  It was a nice thought that accompanied me into my room. The windows were all locked tight, the curtains drawn, and my bed warm from the heated blanket I’d switched on before I’d popped into Bee’s room. I shut it off now, and sat on the edge of my bed, contemplating my phone.

  I wasn’t tired in the slightest. The thought of what might have happened to mean Honey dribbled through my mine. Don’t worry, Honey, we’ll find out who did this to you. And then maybe the folks in this town would start paying attention to the food truck, at last.

  14

  I’d hardly gotten a wink of sleep after all the coffee the night before, but I was up early regardless. The crack of dawn is what Bee would’ve called it, all while grumbling and flopping around in her slippers until, eventually, I told her she could come down later.

  I didn’t even bother waking her anymore. Bee was too good of a baker for me to be worried much by what hour she woke, particularly since she was usually up before 7 am ready to get the baking started.

  As long as we were all ready by the time we needed to serve customers, why worry? Except, nowadays, there weren’t all that many customers to serve. But today would be different. I’d open the truck, and, hopefully, Millie’s food critic would come by to try our cakes.

  I contemplated that fact, and the discovery of the wedding organizer’s takedown on Honey’s profile, while I made myself a morning cup of coffee. Or rather, a 5 am cup of coffee. I had had trouble sleeping ever since Daniel had left. If that was the correct term for it.

  It wasn’t even like he was on my mind. I just couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. There were so many unanswered questions. Why hadn’t he just told me instead of—?

  “Stop it,” I muttered, pouring a little too much sugar into my coffee. “There’s no reason to be thinking about that now.”

  I sipped my coffee, choosing to stand by my window and look down on the dusk embracing the ocean below. A lone figure jogged along the sands, the moonlight casting the bobbing sliver of their shadow on the beach.

  The beginnings of dawn appeared—a slight lightening along the horizon. Wouldn’t it be nice to live here permanently? I could imagine it … owning a little restaurant in town and liaising with the locals every day.

  While it sounded great, it also gave me the itches. Staying in one place meant connecting with people and making friendships, perhaps even meeting a man. Settl
ing down was not an option for me anymore.

  I finished off my coffee and placed my mug next to the coffee station then grabbed my handbag and let myself out of the room.

  The hall was quiet apart from the gentle shuffle of my footsteps on the old house’s floor. I ran my hand along the old wooden railing and took the stairs down to the bottom floor and into the hall. A step that definitely wasn’t my own sounded behind me.

  Huh?

  No one else was usually awake at this time of the morning.

  The noise came again, and I searched for it in the darkened hall.

  A figure stood near one of the doors to the bottom floor rooms. My throat closed, but I forced myself to remain calm. Just because someone was in the hall, didn’t mean they were a murderer. They were right across from Richard’s room.

  Just breathe and think, Ruby. Don’t panic this time.

  I fished my phone out of my handbag and switched on the screen, directing it toward the person at the door. The blue light illuminated a woman who definitely didn’t belong in the guesthouse. A redhead.

  It was the wedding organizer! I recognized her from the beach the other day.

  She straightened, stumbling back a step at the sight of my phone.

  “Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  The redhead, Gina Josephs, folded her arms. “I’m not the one snooping around in the middle of the night,” she replied.

  “I stay here. Do you?”

  Gina hesitated.

  “That’s what I thought. I’m calling the police.”

  “Good heavens,” she said. “There’s no need for that. I let myself in with a key.” She lifted it out of her pocket. “Jessie gave it to me.”

  “Jessie?”

  “Yeah, Jessie. She’s staying here? She was the maid of honor for a wedding I was organizing.”

  The way she said it made it sound like she hadn’t been fired. But that couldn’t possibly be true. It was clear that Honey had made her decision. She’d even cried to us about it.

  “You’re here to speak to Jessie at 5 am?” I wasn’t convinced. “I’m still calling the cops.”

  “Go ahead. It doesn’t bother me,” Gina replied, drawling the words. She touched a finger to her right ear. “I’ll tell them the same thing I’m about to tell you. That it’s none of your business why I’m here.”

  I reached over and clicked the hall light on, casting her pale features into sharp relief. She squinted briefly. “It’s definitely my business,” I said, “since Honey was murdered and there might still be a murderer roaming around in town.”

  “You’re afraid of a murderer?” Gina asked. “That’s so cute.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I hadn’t particularly liked Honey, but I had to agree with her assessment of Gina here. She was abrasive at best.

  “It means that no one wants to murder you, girl,” she said. “Nobody even knows who you are. But plenty of people knew Honey and disliked her.”

  “We’re getting off-topic.” I could do this. I just had to stick to my guns. Or my cakes. Whatever. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  “Duh, I’m meeting Jessie?” Gina gestured to her clothing. She was outfitted in a pair of spandex shorts, a loose t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. She reached up and tugged on her ear. “We’re supposed to be going for a run on the beach? We do this every morning. Not that it’s any of your business. Like… what a total intrusion on my privacy.”

  “Sorry, but everyone’s jumpy around here.”

  Gina rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to wait outside. I don’t have time for this.” She brushed past me and made her way toward the front of the guesthouse, her footsteps stomping rather than creaking.

  What a pleasant woman. No wonder she and Honey didn’t get along. They were cut from the same cloth.

  The front door slammed a second later, and I exhaled slowly. I clicked off the hall light again but didn’t walk off, right away. I frowned at Richard’s door. I hadn’t known that Jessie went running with Gina. And I had never seen them go out at this time either—though, I hadn’t exactly been up as early every morning this week. And if Gina had been here for Jessie, why had she been outside Richard’s door?

  Jessie hadn’t mentioned she was friends with Gina either. But why would she? It had never come up in conversation.

  I shook my head. I had to admit that not everything was related to the case. But it was suspicious that the wedding organizer who definitely had a motive was in the guesthouse at this hour, and, apparently, hanging out with Jessie. I’d have to remember to ask her about that later.

  Right now, I needed to get out on the truck and start preparing it for the day.

  We’d spent too much time worrying about the murder and too little serving food on the beachfront. Today would be the day we got back on track. I felt it in my bones. Or maybe that was the cold.

  I stepped out into the chill morning air and smiled at those hints of sunlight on the horizon. The street outside was still gray but the wedding organizer was nowhere to be seen.

  “Come on, Ruby, focus,” I murmured, and headed for the food truck, its candy pink and green stripes beckoning to me.

  15

  By 8 am we were parked out on the beachfront, with our display cases stacked full of delicious cupcakes and treats, and two pots of coffee brewing behind us. One decaf and the other normal espresso, a strong aromatic bean that filled the inside of the truck with the scent of a warm welcome to another morning in Carmel Springs.

  Bee had prepared a spiced pumpkin puree with almond milk, and I’d chalked in pumpkin-spiced lattes on the specials board on the back wall, as well as on the clapboard we placed out next to the truck each morning.

  If pumpkin-spiced lattes didn’t bring in the crowds, I didn’t know what would.

  “Hmmm.” Bee checked on another batch of cupcakes baking in the oven. “Hmmm.”

  “What is it? The cupcakes aren’t rising?”

  Bee laughed. “No, of course not. I was just thinking about what you told me.”

  “About Gina?” I asked, lowering my voice, though there as no one around to hear except for the wind, the seagulls, and the cold, gray ocean this morning.

  “Exactly that. Interesting that she was in the guesthouse. Hovering around. Hmmm.”

  “You think she might have been involved?” I asked.

  “We can’t be sure, but she definitely had a motive. But then, why would she have been snooping around the guesthouse?”

  “She wasn’t snooping, just standing in front of Jessie’s door.” I had too many questions and no answers. We didn’t know enough about Jessie or Gina to make any deductions just yet. “I think we need to do more research on those two if we’re going to figure out who—”

  Bee hissed as a figure came into view. And then another, and another.

  “What on earth?”

  “It’s Millie,” Bee said, a smile parted her lips. “Millie and some friends. A lot of friends.”

  “Customers.” I nearly shouted at the prospect.

  Bee was just as ecstatic, though she hid it better than I did.

  “Hello there, dears,” Millie said, coming to a halt in front of the truck’s window. “I thought you two might have just what my associates and I need for breakfast.”

  “Your associates?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Millie said. “These are a few of the writers on our team at the paper. And Kevin over there is the food critic I told you about.”

  A stocky man wearing a thick, puffy black jacket waved at us. He was balding, with a sharp nose, but he had kind eyes. Hopefully, he had kind fingers too. The last thing the truck needed was a bad review on top of everything else going on.

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Well, we’re open for business. What would you like, Millie?”

  “I’ll have one of those pumpkin-spice lattes, please, and a vanilla-caramel cupcake.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, and flew into
action.

  We served the customers two at a time, doling out delicious treats, from the cupcakes to the mudslide minis we’d served the week before, to pieces of pumpkin pie Bee had made in anticipation of Thanksgiving, which was just around the corner.

  I’d come up with the idea for a few spooky skeleton cupcakes for Halloween, as well. Holidays, whether it was Halloween or Christmas or Thanksgiving, were my favorite days of the year.

  The cupcakes nearly sold out, and the writers and the food critic—my stomach did a turn and a dip at the sight of him tucking into his cake—went to sit on the benches overlooking the ocean. Millie hung back, sipping on her latte.

  “This is delicious,” Millie said.

  “It was Bee’s idea. You know, now that fall’s here, pumpkin spice and everything nice is in order.”

  Millie set down her Styrofoam cup on the counter of the food truck and peeled back the paper on her cupcake. She took a bite, and her eyelashes fluttered. “Oh wow. Oh my gosh. If Kevin doesn’t give you a five-star review, I’m going to have to find another critic for the paper. Because this is just…”

  “Thank you,” I said. “It’s all Bee. She’s an amazing baker.”

  “Now, stop that, both of you.” Bee flapped her hands at me. “Flattery doesn’t fit me well. I think it’s because I eat too many cakes.”

  “How could you not when they taste so good?”

  Bee fanned her face, but it did nothing to banish the redness in her cheeks. “Well, thank you, anyway. I’ve been working on improving my craft. It’s nice to know that it’s appreciated. And it’s nice to finally serve some customers after all this time.”

  “Yes, thanks for that, Millie. Having people to serve is a blessing.”

  Millie finished off her cupcake and licked her fingers. Others sat on their benches doing the same. “Judging by the reactions to your food, it looks like you’ll have a few return customers,” Millie said. “Word spreads fast in this town. I’m sure the other residents will get over themselves and come try your stuff, especially once these guys start telling them how amazing it is. I know I’ll be doing the same.”