Wedding Cake and Widows: A Comedy Cozy Mystery (Mom and Christy's Cozy Mysteries Book 8)

by Christy Murphy

  “Okay,” Wenling said.

  “Since I’m in the bridal party, do I get to sit at the good table too? I hate being at the single table near the bathrooms,” Dar said.

  “You’re taking Celia’s seat at table three,” I said.

  Dar smiled and asked, “Can I bring a date?”

  “Did you RSVP with a date?” Wenling asked.

  I knew Dar hadn’t.

  “No,” he said, “but I was thinking of bringing Ford.”

  “You mean Ford as in Ford from just now?” Briana asked.

  “I was getting a vibe,” Dar answered.

  “Interesting. I’ve never known him to have a girlfriend now that I think about it,” Briana said.

  “Your Mom would be so excited if you dated an engineer,” Mom said. “Ford was going to be invited anyway, so it’s fine if he’s your date.”

  “Does that mean there’s now 301 guests?” I asked Mom.

  Mom ignored my question. “So we all have our missions. We need to figure out the recipe for this cake. They won’t give it to me.”

  “Mom, do you think we’re going to be able to match the recipe of this cake by just tasting it?” I asked.

  “We can do it,” Wenling said.

  “That’s the spirit,” Mom said.

  And with that, we all headed inside.

  “Is Elizabeth in?” Mom asked the clerk behind the counter. The shop was empty, which made sense. They closed in about a half hour.

  “She’s not here right now,” the clerk said.

  “That’s fine,” Mom said. “We’re the Cooper-Murphy wedding party.”

  “Elizabeth told me that you wanted to add another sheet cake, but we’re booked,” the clerk said.

  “We wanted to do another tasting,” Mom replied.

  “You mean a tasting of the cake that you’ve already picked?” the clerk asked.

  “My daughter is going to have a wedding soon too,” Wenling interjected. “I want to see if we want to have the same cake.”

  “And we’re in the wedding party,” Briana added.

  “I’m a bridesmaid,” Dar said.

  The clerk looked up our order in the computer. “You ordered our signature white almond. I’ll just go ahead and grab one of the samples out of the back.”

  The clerk emerged from the back room with a tray of individual serving size cakes.

  “Actually,” Mom said, “can you get us two more slices? I don’t mind paying for them. The groom and his mother haven’t tried the cake yet. And I want them to know that we picked a good one.”

  Mom grabbed Wenling’s styrofoam container and her own.

  “Oh, that’s completely understandable. It happens all the time,” the clerk said. “They’ll love our cake.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Mom said. “As a matter of fact, I couldn’t help but notice that you use a really great flour. I have a catering business myself, but I use something a little more economical for my cakes and almond cookies.”

  “I love almond cookies. You make them?” the clerk asked.

  “Yes, for my restaurant. The Lucky Dragon in Fletcher Canyon,” Wenling said.

  “That name sounds familiar. How do I know that restaurant?” the clerk asked.

  “We were on the news a lot for solving mysteries,” Mom answered.

  “That’s right. I saw you on TV!” the clerk exclaimed.

  A part of me wondered if Mom had deliberately chosen to come after the manager had left so she could pump the unknowing clerk for information.

  “I’d love a referral to your vendor for flour. It’s hard to find a high-quality vendor these days,” Mom said.

  “I’ll get his number out of the back,” the clerk said. “Right after I pick up the other two cakes. Oh, and I don’t need those,” she said, waving to the containers. “I have some containers here that we use.”

  “Of course,” Mom said.

  Mom took the tray off the counter, and all of us headed to the chairs in the corner. We grabbed our little plastic forks and started tasting.

  “I only taste cake,” Wenling said.

  “A lot of help you are,” Mom grumbled.

  “I think they used vanilla extract and almond extract,” Dar said, looking up as he chewed thoughtfully.

  “I agree,” Briana said.

  I took a bite of cake and, much like Wenling, only tasted cake. Very tasty cake. But I had no idea what made one cake tasty and another one not as much.

  “The strawberries are definitely very fresh,” Mom said, dissecting her cake. We’d chosen a classic white almond cake with strawberries in the middle.

  “They must use a really high-quality milk for this frosting,” Wenling noted. “It tastes better than the stuff we use.”

  “I think they’re using duck eggs,” Mom said.

  The woman emerged from the back with the number of the flour vendor and our two pieces of cake.

  “I’ll definitely tell them that you referred us,” Mom said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Angela. And you can tell Charles that Angela sent you,” she said.

  “Does Charles supply the duck eggs you use in your cakes as well?” Mom asked. “It’s really hard to find a good duck egg supplier.”

  “No, they’re from the same farm where we get the strawberries,” Angela answered. “It’s the one over there in Mission Hills.”

  “Carson Farms?” Mom asked.

  “That’s the one,” she said.

  Mom nodded. “I used to use them a long time ago, but I haven’t needed strawberries.”

  “We get our cream fresh from them as well,” Angela added.

  “I didn’t know they have cows,” Mom said.

  “They have goat—” Angela said, stopping abruptly.

  That was the secret ingredient.

  “That’s what I’m tasting in the frosting. It’s whipped goat’s cream,” Mom said.

  “That’s a company secret,” Angela said.

  “I won’t tell a soul,” Mom answered.

  And I knew she wouldn’t. Everyone she’d tell was sitting at the table and had heard it.

  “Thanks,” Angela said. “We’re getting ready to close, so I’m going to head in the back to grab some things to clean up if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a problem,” Mom answered.

  Angela went into the back. Mom smiled.

  “That mystery was solved fast,” I said.

  “Does this mean I can just eat my cake as fast as I want?” Dar asked.

  “Dibs on the extra pieces,” I called.

  “Darn it!” Briana laughed.

  “Save one for DC,” Mom reminded.

  Right, I thought to myself. At least I could tell him honestly what I did today.

  “The dealership is just down Sepulveda. We’ll head there next,” Mom added.

  How were we going to plan for out-of-town guests, a now 300-person wedding, a second huge sheet cake, and a car dealership mystery in only six weeks?

  I drowned my worries with a second sample of wedding cake and hoped whatever was going on with Ford’s dad in the dealership would be resolved as quickly as the cake mystery.

  8

  Mom climbed out of the front seat of the van as I slid open the back door to let everyone out. I needed to find out from Mom how she intended for us to pull off reconnaissance. The more information we gathered, the sooner this would be over. If I could wrap it up in a few days, it might not be so hard for me to deal with DC. Maybe I could just mention it in passing.

  “I feel sick from eating cake and riding around back here,” Wenling said.

  “You could ride in the front,” Mom said.

  “You make me sit on the hump,” Wenling said.

  “There’s no hump. It’s a bench seat,” Mom argued as the two of them headed to the lot.

  “Is this against the law?” Briana asked as she crawled out of the van.

  “It can’t be illegal,” Dar said, hopping out, straightening hi
s dress, and then rushing to catch up to Mom and Wenling.

  Briana gave me a look.

  “It probably is,” I said.

  “Maybe we should look into some seatbelts or a carpool situation,” Briana said.

  I nodded in agreement. This was a cargo van and not a passenger van.

  Dar had already caught up to Mom and Wenling, who were admiring a convertible.

  He moved faster in heels than I did being chased in running shoes. For the record, I think technically what I was wearing at the moment were some type of athletic sneakers, but I didn’t use them that way. Unless they added television watching and coffee drinking to the Olympics.

  “We better hurry,” Briana said. “I don’t even know what the plan is to get clues.”

  We did the half-walk, half-jog to catch up with the others. We reached them at the same time as one of the salesmen did. The salesman looked like he was in his mid-fifties or early sixties, with hair the same color as Steve Martin’s, but cut shorter.

  “So are you all looking for a car or just one of you?” the salesman asked.

  “I’m going to need a car that isn’t a stick shift,” Mom said.

  “And I’m interested in seeing some of your sports convertibles,” Dar-dar added.

  “Me too,” Wenling piped in.

  “Look at this blue one,” Dar said.

  Wenling admired the car. “It’s nice, and it’s $35,000.”

  “Can we afford it?” Dar asked Mom.

  “We can, but I’m not sure that’s what I’m looking for. What do you think, kid?” she asked.

  “Don’t you think a sedan would be more practical?” I asked. “Or maybe we should get a new van for the catering company? We could write it off.” When I’d first moved back home with Mom I’d had a Honda. We’d traded it in for the catering van.

  The salesman’s focus shifted to me. It made me uncomfortable. Used car salesmen can be very pushy.

  “What are your thoughts on an SUV?” he asked me.

  I turned to Mom. “Do you think an SUV would be too big for you to drive?”

  Mom looked to Darwin. “Do you think an SUV would be too big for you to drive?”

  “I’m good with an SUV,” Dar said.

  “I still like the convertible,” Wenling countered.

  “We can definitely get you,” he said, nodding to Wenling, “into a convertible and you,” he said, turning back to Mom, “into an SUV today.”

  I didn’t like the sound of the word today. He was already trying to close us, and it made me uncomfortable. It surprised me that Mom wasn’t as on guard as she normally was. Was it part of her plan to exude a “buy today” attitude to get as much info as possible?

  “Have you been working here long?” Mom asked the man as he led us across the lot.

  I looked over to Briana. She smiled at me. We knew what Mom was up to.

  “Seven years at this location, even longer for the company,” he said, smiling. “I’m Derek Halpern, the top salesman here at Warrington Ford Sherman Oaks.”

  “Is this the busiest lot that Warrington has?” Mom asked.

  “I’d say it’s one of the busiest,” he said. “There’s another one in Bellflower that does well.”

  “How’s business been?” Mom asked.

  “Great,” Derek said.

  Mom and I traded a look. The quickness and the trying-to-be-positive way he spoke screamed that things were not great.

  “Have you ever met Cal?” Mom asked.

  “Many times,” Derek said. “He was always very involved with the business.”

  “Was?” Mom asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know if it’s common knowledge yet, but Mr. Warrington died the day before yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom said.

  “He was on the lot, just last week.”

  “Really? I would’ve thought he retired,” Mom said. “Did he still run the place?”

  “He didn’t run the day to day anymore. Between you and me, things weren’t the same without Cal. I’m sure everybody knew that he was a real salesman’s salesman. Not like the managers who run the place today. I don’t think they could sell a car to save their life, let alone buy cars that we can sell,” he said. He paused at a black SUV.

  “Now look at this baby. It gets great gas mileage, has a gorgeous interior, and it’s perfect for all of you to travel together. You can also use it for catering.”

  “It doesn’t look like it’d be ideal for catering,” I said, opening up the back door.

  “The seats fold down,” Derek said.

  But I knew our racks wouldn’t fit in there, and we wouldn’t have nearly the same space as we did with our cargo van.

  “We don’t need a lot of space for the catering anymore,” Mom said.

  “We don’t?” I asked Mom.

  Mom and I seriously needed to talk.

  “What can we get for a trade-in on our cargo van?” Mom asked, pointing to our van in a parking spot. It was getting dark out, and I’d parked at a distance, but honestly, I think that helped us.

  “I’ll have the guys inside run the numbers,” Derek said, glancing over to our van in the distance. “I gotta be honest. You might not get much. You might do better selling it privately.”

  “They might do better selling it for scrap metal,” Wenling said.

  Derek laughed. It seemed genuine and friendly, but you know car salesmen. I was on guard.

  “What do you say to a test drive?” Derek asked.

  “I say, yes!” Dar-dar said.

  Wenling clapped her hands. “Fun!”

  “Christy will drive,” Mom offered.

  Wenling stopped clapping. She was less enthused, and so was I.

  Derek went inside to grab the keys for the vehicle.

  “Mom, what do you mean we won’t need so much space for catering?” I asked.

  “Did you notice what he said about the managers here?” Mom asked us all, ignoring my question.

  “I caught that,” Briana said. “But then again, everybody complains about their boss.”

  Briana would know. She managed a store at the mall and was part-time assistant manager at another place. Employees were always complaining.

  “I’ll get him to tell us more on the test ride,” Mom said.

  “Are you sure you want me to drive?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Wenling chimed in. “Are you sure?”

  “You don’t like the SUV?” Mom asked me.

  “I think it’s nice,” I said. “But this is for you and it’s almost $30,000, Mom.”

  “Wow, it’s cheaper than the convertible, but it’s so much bigger,” Dar commented.

  “Maybe I should get an SUV,” Wenling said.

  “Are you buying a car?” I asked Wenling. Wenling hadn’t driven in at least ten years. Her daughter, Jennifer, always picked her up, or Wenling got a ride with me or Briana.

  “Maybe I am,” Wenling said.

  “Look,” Mom said, pointing into the building. The showroom was all glass, and our salesperson, Derek, was inside gesturing wildly at a younger guy who just came in. Another man in a suit approached the two of them and intervened.

  “Oh, it looks like they’re arguing,” Wenling said with glee. “Maybe they’re going to fight!”

  “I wish I could see their faces from here,” Mom said.

  “We should be in there,” Wenling said as she started for the showroom.

  “No,” Mom said, stopping her. “He’s heading for the door. It’ll be too obvious. We’ll try to find out what happened when he gets back. Try to get a look at the guy’s face he was arguing with when he turns around.”

  Everyone turned to get a good look at the younger guy’s face.

  “Derek’s coming!” Mom warned. “Don’t look obvious about trying to see.”

  “He’s turned around now,” Wenling said, pointing to the young man in the window. “But I can’t see him from here.”

  “I said stop lookin
g obvious,” Mom said, elbowing her best friend.

  “Darwin!” Briana whispered. “Pose for me.”

  Briana whipped out her phone, and Dar-dar struck a pose next to the nearest car.

  “I have a telephoto lens app on my phone,” Briana said.

  She pretended to snap pictures of Darwin while she snapped pictures of the young man in the background.

  “Clever,” Mom said. Clever is a high compliment from Mom.

  “You mean you’re not taking my picture?” Dar asked, somewhat offended.

  “Sure,” Wenling said. “He’s coming.”

  “Do you like this one?” Derek asked as he approached us.

  “I was just practicing posing,” Darwin said. “Gotta have something for my Instagram.”

  “Tag the dealership,” Derek said, not missing a trick. “And that’s a fine car right there.”

  I had no idea what kind of car it was. It looked just like any other car, but the sticker said $60,000. I was the worst car shopper in the world.

  “So, here are the keys for you,” Derek said, handing me the keys. I’d forgotten that I was shouldered with the responsibility of driving this giant vehicle.

  “And it’s not a stick, right?” I asked Derek.

  “Nope, it drives like a smaller car. You’ll be amazed,” he said.

  “No, you’ll be amazed,” Wenling muttered as she headed toward the vehicle.

  The car seemed a bit high for Mom and Wenling. They practically had to mountain climb their way into it. But once we all got inside, it was roomy and comfortable.

  “It’s so great for us all to sit together without having to squat in the back,” Dar called from the last row of passenger seats.

  “So you guys ride in the back of that cargo van without seats?” Derek asked.

  “Not exactly,” I said, avoiding our illegal carpooling. We needed to stop doing that.

  Derek sat in the passenger seat. Mom and Briana were in the first row of backseats, and Dar and Wenling had opted for the last row. There was still even room in the back for storage.

  It impressed me.

  “Everybody put on your seatbelts,” Wenling said.

  “That’s my line,” Derek chuckled.

  I knew what Wenling meant, but I was glad everyone was going to be wearing their seatbelts.

  This car was way more modern than any car I was used to driving. My Honda had been a 2000 model, and I had no idea how old the van was. The interior of this SUV looked like a spaceship. And the key wasn’t even a key.