by Vreni Fox
“I guess we’ll probably eventually find out,” Horst crushed the empty wrapper of his cupcake and brushed his hands off on his shirt. “Anyhow, I need to get to work. Listen, Hildi, you need to lay low for a while. Think about that lawyer. And whatever you do, don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I don’t want to find your body in a pigpen. Plus, you’re still Munich’s number one suspect. Just mind your own business. Don’t do anything that they could interpret as interfering with their investigation.”
“I’m the number one suspect?” I confirmed. I kind of already knew that, but it was still shocking to hear it directly from Horst.
“Hildi I’m not supposed to share any details here, but the last person who saw her alive told the cops that she mentioned that she was heading to a private meeting at your bakery. And the next thing everyone knew, she was face down in your pigpen. Please, just don’t make this any worse for yourself.”
Chapter Seven
Well, I couldn’t tell whether that meeting went well or not. I certainly wasn’t feeling any better about my situation. I had a lot to mull over, but it was going to have to happen later in the day. It was time for Zuckerfee to open and greet the morning crowd. That is, if I still had any customers who weren’t afraid to eat things I prepared.
I unlocked the front door and propped it open, taking a deep breath of mountain air. Summer was my favorite time in Drachenfels. The air was warm and fresh, the trees were green, and my garden was abundant.
I frowned, remembering my garden. Usually my summers were spent working until mid afternoon, then harvesting everything I would need for the year from my little patch of Earth. This summer, though, every little aspect of the life that I loved was in jeopardy. My garden was overgrown and weedy, my business was in jeopardy thanks to the growing suspicion that I had poisoned someone, and I was beginning to think that my days as a free woman were numbered.
Fortunately, the Zuckerfee still had a few loyal patrons. I wasn’t going to go broke just quite yet, though if things kept turning down I was in trouble.
“Hi, welcome to Zuckerfee,” I greeted the new postman. Drachenfels hadn’t had a regular mailman in years; we seemed to have a new one every week, yet somehow they all knew to make the Zuckerfee their first stop in the morning.
“Your post, ma’am,” this one handed over a catalogue for expensive kitchenware and an electric bill. This guy was young, maybe barely out of school.
“Can I get you something?” I offered. “On the house. I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“Really?” the young man looked surprised. “Thank you so much. I’m Peter, your new postman,” he extended his hand to shake mine.
“Brunhilde,” I smiled. Might as well sweeten him up before he heard about my reputation as a cold blooded killer. “What are you in the mood for today? Do you like espresso drinks? I’ve got these new flavor syrups from Italy and I need some guinea pigs to do taste tests.”
“Sure,” Peter agreed. “What do you recommend?”
“Well,” I considered him carefully. “What kind of mood are you in? Anything in particular on your mind?”
“Me?” he considered the question, which I admit was possibly a little bit strange. “I guess I’m just happy to have this new job. It’s my first real job and I really want to do a good job. There’s a lot of opportunity to build a career with the postal service.”
“Ah, an ambitious man,” I nodded. “Well, do you like sweet or savory best.”
“Both,” Peter laughed.
“Okay how about a salted caramel latte and a piece of this brand new Black Forest ham and swiss pocket I’m trying out? It’s perfect for eating one handed if you’re in a hurry.” Plus I’d seasoned it with gravel root, which would promote professional ambitions.
“That sounds amazing,” my new mailman agreed.
For a moment as I waved Peter goodbye, I felt like my normal self. This was the life I’d built and loved; I served helpful little treats to people who looked forward to seeing me everyday.
That moment was short lived. Following almost right on Peter’s heels was the person who I wanted to see least in Drachenfels… the Mayor.
“Brunhilde, good morning,” she addressed me, her voice and manner no nonsense as usual. “May I please have a dry cappuccino and… a peach and walnut scone. Thank you. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Of course,” I felt my palms begin to sweat. I had to admit, the Mayor’s demeanor was a bit of a surprise to me. I couldn’t read any emotion on her face at all. I was expecting anger or grief, but I guess she was just very good at keeping her cards close to her chest when it came to emotional expressions. Then again, in my personal experience, ‘we need to talk’ is never the harbinger of good news.
I prepared the Mayor’s order and fixed a milky coffee with the leftover steamed milk for myself. My palms were sweating and I could feel tension and warmth spreading on the back of my neck. I tried to get a hold of myself. I was pretty sure that the Mayor could smell fear, like some kind of wild predator.
“Take a seat,” the Mayor indicated for me to sit down in the dining room of my own cafe. “I’ve been meaning to get to you for days but I’m sure you’ve heard all about the… chaos that I’ve been experiencing.”
“Of course,” I answered, trying to sound compassionate but not guilty.
“Anyway, down to business,” the Mayor continued, breaking off a piece of her scone. “There is no other way to put this, Brunhilde, but we are in a crisis situation.”
I nodded. There was a murderer on the loose in Drachenfels. That would definitely qualify as a crisis. I wasn’t quite sure yet why the Mayor thought that I needed to be a part of this discussion, especially since she had surely heard that I was suspect numero uno. At any rate, I was relieved that she did not seem to be angry.
“And I find it both shocking and tragic that this crisis is so intimately connected to the most important day of my life.”
“Your wedding,” I guessed. I privately wondered if all five of her weddings were the most important day of her life or if each consecutive wedding had become more important. Or maybe she ranked her husbands by least to most favorite and this was the most important wedding because she was getting married to her most favorite husband.
“My wedding,” the Mayor agreed. “And that is why, Brunhilde, I needed to see you urgently. We are now in crisis management mode, and I need all hands on deck. Every single person in this town needs to be at the top of their game now… or else there is going to be hell to pay for us all.”
“I am one hundred percent committed to supporting you and the village of Drachenfels through these trying times, Madame Mayor, and I also wanted to let you know that I am deeply, deeply sorry about your loss.” I sincerely hoped that she didn’t interpret my apology as ‘I am sorry for your loss that I caused.’
I could detect the tiniest bit of relaxation in the Mayor’s countenance as she sighed and took a sip of her cappuccino. “Thank you, Brunhilde. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this close to being overwhelmed. I just don’t know where or how we are going to get an equivalent replacement on such short notice.”
“A… replacement?” I was thrown for a spin. What was this conversation even about? I thought that we were talking about a murder and the tragic and violent early demise of the Mayor’s young cousin.
“Sorry, Brunhilde, I’m sure that you don’t know anything about this sort of thing. But a campaign like this takes months to arrange. The perfect flowers, the perfect plates, the perfect centerpieces, the perfect music, and the perfect gown. Did you know, Brunhilde,” the Mayor sipped her coffee. “I had to order that gown from Paris nearly a year ago?”
I had no idea how to answer her. Did the Mayor just refer to her wedding as a campaign? What kind of campaign was it? Like a military campaign? I also had never heard or realized that the Mayor had been engaged to be married for so long. In fact, I had been under the impression that everything was qui
te sudden. I wish that she had given me a year’s notice to plan and create her cake. I was led to believe that it was a rush order.
“So I hate to describe things this way,” the Mayor continued, “but right now we’re in an emergency salvage type situation. Drachenfels and I personally have invested countless resources into this event and I am unwilling to accept either failure or disappointment. I’m going to drag this town into the twenty first century, even if I have to do it kicking and screaming.”
“So the wedding is still on?” I asked, hesitation in my voice. I was trying to figure out what was going on without leading the Mayor to think that I was a completely clueless idiot.
“I just don’t see us postponing,” the Mayor shook her head, looking like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me. “And I’ve got a lot of work to do, but I’ve also got a bit of a Hail Mary up my sleeve.” A grin spread across her face.
I waited for her to continue, sipping my coffee in awkward silence.
“It’s that twerp assistant of hers,” she finally clued me in. “He’s still in town. He actually took all of her photos and I’m hoping that he has the login information to her Instagram account.”
I was stunned silent. This had to be one of the weirdest conversations that I had ever had.
“I’ve got a few connections in Munich,” the Mayor lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner even though we were alone, “and Mandy Unterwegs’ death hasn’t become public info yet. I’m hoping that the twerp can still photograph the wedding and post the best shots to her social media before the public finds out what happened to her. Then we still get the same quality photos and the same public reach, but we don’t have to find and hire another influencer at the last second.”
“But what about your family?” I blurted out. “Aren’t they grieving?” I was already mentally kicking myself for second guessing the Mayor. Obviously she was not grieving.
“Over Chantal?” the Mayor sat upright in her seat and a look of shock spread over her face as though she had never even considered that possibility. “No, Brunhilde, you met Chantal, you saw what she was like. I’m quite sure that no one in my entire extended family is going to grieve her passing.”
My God, the Mayor was stone cold. It was true, I didn’t exactly hit it off with Chantal, but I still felt bad about what happened to her. And I was sure that someone, somewhere cared about her.
The Mayor rolled her eyes and groaned. “I’m surprised it took this long,” she continued, her tone shockingly frank. “I can’t even count the number of times that I’ve wanted to kill her myself. Strangle her, beat her to death, throw her off a cliff. I personally think that whoever did her in showed a lot of restraint.”
Once again, I had no idea how I was supposed to respond to that.
“Look, Brunhilde, Chantal was a vicious, petty, nasty girl in real life. She was nothing like the sweet Mandy Unterwegs that people know and love from the internet. I wouldn’t spill too many tears on her if I were you. None of that internet lifestyle influencer stuff is real. It’s just all a vast marketing project to sell luxury goods to young people. There is no Mandy Unterwegs in real life.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t know anything at all about how this kind of stuff works,” I admitted.
“Of course you don’t. That’s why you need to connect with that assistant. If my new plan works, I am going to need you to take your aesthetic direction from him in regards to the cake’s look and feel. I’ll talk to him later today and then send him to you to tell you what he needs if this is going to work.”
“Alright,” I had no choice but to agree.
“I need you to follow his instructions to a T,” the Mayor put down her empty cup. “Flavors, colors, shape; all of it. Whatever he says goes.”
“Absolutely,” I stood up to walk the Mayor out. “I understand.”
“Good,” the Mayor shook my hand before leaving. “Maybe we can still pull this off and put Drachenfels back on the map.”
I watched the Mayor get into her little black Mercedes convertible and speed away down Main Street. Did Drachenfels really need to get on anyone’s map? The Mayor certainly seemed to think so, though that was kind of her job.
She clearly took that job very seriously? Enough to kill someone over it? I mentally added her to my list of suspects.
Chapter Eight
I felt mentally and physically off that entire morning thanks to my bizarre and disturbing meeting with the Mayor. The Zuckerfee filled up with hungry customers, thank God, but I was beginning to feel like my little home of Drachenfels wasn’t quite as quaint and sweet as I had always believed. I was learning more about some of our residents than I think I needed or wanted to know.
“I take it the Mayor came to talk to you earlier today?” a voice hissed from the other side of my counter.
I audibly groaned and rolled my eyes before I could gather my wits. Just what I needed. Sabine Natter, out on her daily rounds of making everyone’s morning just a little bit worse.
“Yes, Frau Natter,” I put on my customer service smile. “She is still in full time wedding planning mode. She came by to run down the details of her cake this morning.”
“Really.” I felt like I could practically see Sabine’s forked tongue darting in and out of her mouth. “I’m surprised that she still wants your cake after you poisoned her darling cousin.”
“Frau Natter, that was out of line,” I warned her. “If you truly believe that my pastry is dangerous, maybe you shouldn’t be eating here.”
I was already stretched to my customer service limits and it wasn’t even lunch time. I might have had to sit and smile while the Mayor insulted me but I certainly wasn’t in the mood to take any bullying from Sabine Natter. Though she liked to pretend otherwise, she had no authority over me or my business at all. We were just forced to work together because of circumstance.
“No,” Sabine answered, “actually I don’t believe that you have either the brains or the spine to pull off anything nearly so bold. But who knows,” a nasty little smirk crept across her face, “I’ve been learning all kinds of shocking and unsavory facts about the residents of our sweet little village lately.”
“So I take it that you got the Mayor’s little spiel too?” I asked, glad that I could mention the weirdness to someone but disappointed that the someone had to be Sabine.
“Oh, we all did. I think every single person in Drachenfels has been warned to toe the line, not that anyone would even consider daring to defy her. This has to be the party of a lifetime, or God help us all.”
“The party of a lifetime or the photoshoot of a lifetime?” my neighbor Mitzi called from the dining room, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation.
“How are you even involved in this event?” Sabine spun around and snapped at Mitzi. “The Mayor is preparing for a wedding, not for the end of times.”
Sabine had a point. Mitzi’s job was leading tours of our forests, but her passion was doomsday prepping. I think she had enough canned and dry goods to last for several years if some major tragedy were to befall the Earth.
“Gods be thanked I’m not involved. I’m not even sure I’m invited. But it doesn’t matter. Word spreads fast in Drachenfels; the trees whisper to me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Sabine smiled. “You probably have about the same level of intelligence.”
“The trees know far more than you ever will,” Mitzi was unfazed. “But what’s the matter, Frau Natter? What has your knickers in a twist today? Is it your little luncheon? Now that Mandy Unterwegs is gone she can’t praise you publicly. And you worked so, so hard at pleasing her. I know that it probably killed you.”
“Your trees really do love petty gossip, don’t they? But no, aside from the burning desire to please the Mayor that we all share deep in our hearts, I have no idea what on Earth would lead you to believe that I am eager or willing to throw my hat into the social media influencer ring.”
Of course not, I thought to myself. I wouldn’t have even been surprised to learn that Sabine Natter didn’t own a computer. Did she even own a cel phone?
“Right, you’re way above advertising,” Mitzi nodded along, pretending to approve.
“I am,” agreed Sabine. “I have ten years of experience in luxury hospitality management and another fifteen in fine dining. I attended Le Cordon Bleu and I’ve apprenticed under a series of Michelin Star chefs. Even if I was advertising the Drachenfels Hotel and Spa, I don’t believe that I’d find our customer base browsing pictures of bikini clad university students on the internet. It’s not a backpacker hostel and I’m not serving street food. I have no idea what has gotten into our Mayor, and obviously I’ll take whatever direction she gives, but no. I’m not personally invested in new media.”
Sabine made a lot of good points. Drachenfels was not exactly a hot destination for young adults, for good reason. Our tourists were generally more mature, established people looking to relax. Not fashionable young people looking for the world’s next party spot.
“Anyhow,” Mitzi leaned her considerable heft back in her chair. “Is this wedding even still on if the blushing bride’s advertising campaign gets derailed? Have either of you even met the groom?”
“I haven’t,” I admitted. I had never actually seen hide nor hair of him. I knew that he worked in Munich. Maybe he didn’t have much free time to plan his wedding.
“I’ve met him,” Sabine answered.
We both stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
“And?” Mitzi finally prompted.
I could tell that Sabine was searching her mind for a tactful response.
“That bad, huh?” Mitzi raised her eyebrows.
“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth. There is absolutely nothing offensive about him.”
What a glowing review, I thought. ‘Nothing offensive.’ I could only hope that one day I could find myself a life partner who could describe me as nothing offensive.
