Pop-Up Truck and Peril

by Harper Lin

  Pop-Up Truck and Peril

  A Pink Cupcake Mystery Book 5

  Harper Lin

  Harper Lin Books

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  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Pop-Up Truck and Peril

  Copyright © 2017 by Harper Lin.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  www.harperlin.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Recipe 1: Dark Chocolate and Bacon Cupcake

  Recipe 2: Apple Pie Crumble Cupcake

  About the Author

  A Note From Harper

  Excerpt from “Desserts and Death”

  Chapter One

  Amelia Harley pulled at the hangnail on her thumb as she sat on the couch in her living room with the telephone pinched between her right ear and shoulder.

  “I don’t know, Christine.” She hemmed. “I can’t say I’m jealous John is getting married. But it does feel weird. It’s like some young, beautiful, bubble-headed thief has come and stolen my favorite coffee cup or my garbage-can lids. Those are certainly replaceable things, right? Things I could even live without. But totally inconvenient to lose.”

  “So you aren’t going to the wedding?” Christine asked. Amelia heard her take a sip of wine, prompting her to do the same.

  “I wasn’t invited,” Amelia stated.

  “What?” Christine coughed as her wine went down the wrong pipe.

  “It’s okay. Really. It saved me from coming up with a reason not to go. Not to mention that now I don’t have to buy a gift.”

  Amelia could hear Christine clicking her tongue. “I don’t think that was John’s idea. Was it?” Christine asked.

  “I don’t think so, but John did say he thought it would be for the best. He didn’t want there to be any scenes at the ceremony or the reception.” Amelia chuckled.

  Christine laughed too. “He said that because he doesn’t trust her not to make a scene,” she said. “You are a class act. You’d never embarrass yourself or the kids that way. What a piece of work she is. She helped break up a marriage, but she doesn’t think the ex-wife—the mother of her stepchildren—will remain composed enough at the party? You haven’t been cyber-stalking her or literally stalking her without telling me, have you? She doesn’t have reason to think you’d start throwing dishes, right?”

  “No. What kind of person do you think I am? I don’t stalk people. But, you might be right about the rest.” Amelia took another sip of wine. The fruity pinot grigio was cold, yet it warmed her gut when she swallowed it.

  “I know I am. What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer.” Amelia sighed again.

  “Yeah.” Christine didn’t hide her distaste. “Well, the best part of the ceremony will be Adam and Meg. I hate to say it, but it was really nice of John to make Adam his best man. That’s a big deal for a seventeen-year-old boy and a nice way for them to get some father/son bonding.”

  Amelia nodded, switching the phone from her right side to her left. “It was.”

  “Is Meg doing anything?”

  “Thankfully, no. She said she really didn’t want to. I think the whole stepmom thing has her a little uneasy. Nervous. Like she has to do something different, instead of just being her wonderful self.” Amelia bit her tongue to keep the tears back. But one of the reasons Christine was her dearest friend was because she could pick up on Amelia’s feelings as if she were Jimmy-John’s delivery—freaky fast.

  “Amelia, don’t do that.” Christine tried to soothe her friend.

  “Do what?”

  “Blame yourself.”

  “It isn’t that. I just hate to think the kids are burdened or unsure or still hurting because of what John and I have done.” Amelia sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Look, John is a piece of trash for what he did, and Jennifer will learn her lesson the hard way. But one thing I never saw was any neglect of the kids. You guys come together when it comes to them. That is the best you can hope for.”

  “Yeah. But a stepmom? Even I’m a little freaked out by it,” Amelia admitted.

  “Sure. It’ll take some time, like easing into a new pair of shoes. It’ll pinch for a while, but soon enough you’ll break them in with repeated bending, flexing, and relentless pressure.”

  Amelia laughed.

  “And let’s face it. Stepmom? More like a step-cheerleader or maybe a step-babysitter. Right? She’s all of eighteen years old. Four years older than your beautiful daughter, who has proven to be mature beyond her years. I suppose Jennifer can certainly help Meg with applying mascara or painting her toenails.”

  “Jennifer is twenty-five,” Amelia said, squealing in between her giggles.

  “Oh.” Amelia could hear Christine’s eyes roll. “I stand corrected. She’s got so much more to offer. How to sneak into bars when you’re underage? How to behave at a frat party.”

  “Christine, you are terrible.” Amelia chortled. “You left out how to steal another woman’s husband.”

  “I thought it, but didn’t think I should say it out loud. Someday I’m going to have to answer for all my snide remarks and idle gossip.” She cleared her throat. “I think I better get off the phone. You’re a bad influence, Amelia. That’s why you’re my BFF.”

  “Right?” Amelia smiled, thankful her eyes were drying. “Well, as much as I hate to, I have to go, too. I’ve got to get ready for work on Monday.”

  “But it’s only Friday. Girl, that Pink Cupcake must be working out for you,” Christine said. “I promise I’m going to get my behind over there to Food Truck Alley and check things out. I’m such a loser. I haven’t been there in forever.”

  “It’s okay,” Amelia chirped. “Life has a way of taking up all our time. I’ll give you a call next week and we’ll see if we can’t pencil something in.”

  “That sounds great. Love to the kids.” Christine rattled off a few more silly comments to leave Amelia laughing on the other end of the phone before they both hung up.

  Amelia tossed the phone on the couch with one hand and took another sip of the wine she was holding in her other hand. Listening to the quiet in the house, she wondered if this was how she was going to spend the rest of her days once the kids were grown and moved out.

  As it was, they were with their dad and future stepmom for the weekend. From what John had said, it was really a weekend just with him, since Jennifer was so busy planning the wedding. They’d be going to the movies tonight then on a nature hike tomorrow, and in between they’d fill themselves with their favorite meals of pizza or Chinese food or burgers or whatever gooey, greasy, gassy meal their hearts desired.

  The thought of them eating with their father, laughing and talking and telling him about their teenage dramas, made Amelia smile. But adding Jennifer to the mix soured the whole image.

  “No use dwelling on it, Amelia,” she scolded herself wh
ile getting up off the couch. “It is what it is.”

  With a deep breath, she went to her favorite room in the house, the kitchen. After taking another sip of wine, she decided she was ready to come up with a new cupcake, which would be a sugary-salty delight. How she’d get to that she wasn’t sure, but that was the goal.

  The regular double-chocolate decadence and peanut-butter-and-jelly cupcakes were selling faster than Amelia could bake them. But part of what made the Pink Cupcake, her food truck, a success was the unique flavor combinations she invented. She had salty flavors. She certainly had sweet flavors. The combination of both would be a delightful challenge.

  It never failed that Amelia’s mood always improved when she started to bake. Talking with Christine always helped, especially after the whole incident with Timothy Casey. She couldn’t help her imagination running wild with images of him standing at the front door as she was about to leave or appearing at the garage door just as it was slowly rolling up.

  It wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. But what if, her mind kept asking. What if she hadn’t gotten to the kids on time? Adam and Meg had no idea this man had committed murder before. They just got a real scare and a lesson on stranger danger. It wasn’t them waking up in the middle of the night and coming to her room, asking to sleep in her bed after a nightmare. It was Amelia going to their rooms to make sure they were still there and that they were safe.

  She took another sip of wine and then walked over to the pantry for some inspiration. When she slipped into her creativity cap, it didn’t take long for the worries of Timothy Casey to remove themselves from the front of her mind, like the details of a horror movie melting away in a brightly lit room.

  “Dark chocolate,” she whispered. She pulled a box of Ghirardelli dark chocolate from the back of the cupboard. “What could be the oddest thing to go with this?”

  The pantry door closed with a quiet snap. Amelia walked over to the fridge. As she gripped the handle, she made up a game in her head.

  “The first thing your eye lands on will be the second main ingredient.” It was the wine talking, for sure. If she managed to gaze upon the sliced avocado that was waiting to become guacamole or, worse, the skirt steak that was defrosting for beef and broccoli tomorrow, she’d just throw up her hands, hit the shower, and go to bed. But as she gave the door a tug and the little light blinked on, her eyes opened to a packet of hickory-smoked bacon.

  “Oh, honey!” Amelia squealed. “We are gonna have some fun tonight!”

  This was going to be an all-or-nothing cupcake. There was no holding back. A chocolate cupcake with bacon would be sweet and salty at the same time. She’d even add some sea salt. Definitely sea salt.

  As Amelia waited for the cupcakes to bake, she managed to make guacamole, find the bag of chips she had hidden from the kids, and steam two frozen tamales on the stove.

  After she ate, as she poured herself another glass of wine, the phone rang again.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” came the voice of Detective Dan Walishovsky.

  “Well, hello, detective,” Amelia replied, gushing. She wasn’t as loopy since she had finally put some food in her stomach, but she could tell the two glasses of wine had definitely relaxed her. Plus, the voice on the other end of the phone always made her feel a little bit like a teenager. “Have I got a creation for you.”

  “Have you been baking?” he asked. Amelia and Dan had met during the course of a murder investigation. She wasn’t sure what the motives of this tall, handsome, gray-eyed flatfoot were at first. But she had come to realize that he was more than just a guy with a badge. He was wonderful.

  “I have. Tell me what you think of this: dark chocolate and bacon.” Amelia rocked back on her heels.

  “I think I’ll be right over,” he replied.

  “Sounds great.” Amelia’s smile could be heard in her voice. She loved the time alone to enjoy the house and watch what she wanted on television without interruption. But having a grown-up visitor with grown-up manners and the ability to have grown-up conversation was a rare occurrence, one that Amelia welcomed.

  Chapter Two

  When Sunday finally arrived, Amelia anxiously waited for the front door to burst open and her kids to come filing in, dropping their backpacks on the floor and making a dash for the fridge. As teenagers, they were always hungry. Waiting on the counter for them were four of her new cupcake creations. Before she’d dare make them for the public, she wanted the approval of the Pink Cupcake’s harshest critics.

  They were right on time.

  “Hi, Mom!” Meg yelled loud enough to reach the very edge of the backyard property line.

  “Mom! We’re home!” Adam boomed, not to be outdone by his sister.

  “Yikes!” Amelia gasped, covering her ears with her hands. “I’m right here.”

  Meg skipped over and gave her mother a hug and a kiss. Adam, getting too big for hugs, just gave his mom a kiss on the top of the head. Amelia was sure it was to remind her how much taller he was than she. At seventeen Adam was almost six feet tall.

  “I’ve got something for you guys to try.” She scooted the plate over and watched their expressions.

  Both children eagerly snatched up a cupcake, and each took a bite.

  “Is there bacon in this?” Adam mumbled, letting a few crumbs escape and fall to the floor.

  Nodding, Amelia smiled.

  “It’s crunchy and salty, yet smooth and chocolaty. Mom, this is your greatest creation so far!” Meg held up her hand in front of her mouth while she spoke. “It’s like a breakfast dessert.”

  “Well, I was wondering what to call it.” Amelia snapped her fingers. “Breakfast Dessert is the perfect name.”

  Meg beamed and looked up at her big brother, who nodded his head, too.

  “Did you guys have fun at your dad’s?”

  They both looked at each other, putting that unspoken communication between siblings on full display.

  “What is it?” Amelia asked.

  “The wedding, Mom.” Meg said after swallowing her mouthful of cupcake. “If I have to hear any more about that wedding, I’m going to barf.”

  “Oh, come on.” Amelia patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Jennifer is just excited. It’s her first one,” Amelia said sarcastically. That little voice inside her head laughed out loud. It won’t be her last. You can bet on it. If he’ll do it with you, he’ll do it to you. But she kept her elaboration to herself.

  “But Mom, she just won’t stop. The bridesmaid dresses are gold lamé.” Meg wrinkled her nose.

  “No.”

  “They are, Mom,” Adam said. “We saw pictures. Dozens of them.” Adam sighed and grabbed his second Breakfast Dessert cupcake.

  “Gold lamé? That’s shiny stuff. Are you sure they aren’t just a gold color?”

  “Yes,” the kids said in unison.

  “Well, it’s her big day. Who are we to tell her what’s pretty? She has her own ideas, and maybe since she was a little girl she’s always wanted a gold-themed wedding.” Perfect for a gold-digger. Again, Amelia kept her sarcasm to herself. “What does your dad say?”

  “Nothing,” they said together. Amelia looked from Adam to Meg and back again, wondering if they had practiced this.

  “Well, Adam. Did you see the tuxes you and your dad would be wearing? Please don’t tell me those are gold lamé, too.” Amelia chuckled.

  “Yeah, they’re okay, I guess.” He had finished the second cupcake in three bites.

  “Don’t you like them?”

  “They are made for old men.” Adam shook his head. “I look like the Penguin from those old Batman episodes Dan likes to watch.”

  Dan had spent one evening enlightening the kids regarding the old Adam West Batman series, making them laugh as he read the comic words like pizzzow and thurrrump. In one of the episodes, the Caped Crusader fought Burgess Meredith, who Dan said played the best version of the Penguin out of all the different versions of the DC Comics villain. Amelia couldn�
�t help but laugh at her son’s description. “Do you have a top hat and tails?” she asked.

  “Yes. They are all black and gray and white. I look ridiculous.”

  Amelia stood up and smoothed her son’s wildly curly hair away from his forehead.

  “Well, just remember that once the reception starts, you can dump the jacket and the hat, and you’ll have lots of fun dancing and talking and eating. Trust me, you’ll have a great time.”

  Amelia couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated that her children were not all that impressed with Jennifer’s tastes. But it made sense. She was only a couple years older than they were. Tacky and gaudy were still acceptable traits for a woman in her early twenties to have. But it did make Amelia wonder what the wedding dress looked like. She made a mental note to call Christine and tell her all about it.

  As it turned out, the following day, as soon as the Pink Cupcake opened for business, Amelia received a desperate call from Christine. It wasn’t the normal desperate, with the kids acting up or her husband stapling his thumb to his forefinger. This was on a completely different level. She was terrified.

  “Calm down, honey. Breathe,” Amelia said soothingly into her cell phone. “Now, what did you say happened?”

  “Danielle Wilcox. She was the secretary for us in the Marketing Department.” Christine huffed like she’d run up eight flights of stairs.

  “I met her, right? Pretty girl who wore her hair in a beehive.”

  “Yes. That’s her. She’d been here for a little less than a year.” Christine blubbered. “She’s dead. Murdered. They found her stabbed in the supply room.”