Donuts, Antiques and Murder: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery

by Stacey Alabaster

  She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm. "Wait, you can't go yet, Pippa. We have to find Maureen!"

  She stared at me. "What’s going on, Rachael?"

  I was going to have to come clean or she was going to run out of there, leaving me to locate Maureen under a pile of garbage on my own. "I'm just worried about her, is all," I tried to say. "What if she's hurt? Or worse? We can't just leave her in this house in this state."

  "Rachael, she’s the one who made the mess. Looks like this is just how she lives. She's clearly a level five hoarder. This is not our monkey, and not our zoo. I don't want to die in here."

  She made a move to leave and I grabbed her again. "Okay, fine. Just wait, Pippa. I need to tell you something."

  I kept half an eye on the pile of newspaper, just waiting for it to tip over and crush us.

  "Don’t be mad, okay?" I tried to make Pippa promise me. "I only did this for our own good."

  It looked like Pippa would not be able to make that promise. "Hurry up and tell me before we get killed in this joint, Rachael!"

  I nodded. "Okay...okay...I drove us here on purpose. I wanted to find Maureen Tatler."

  Pippa's mouth dropped open. "Why would you want to?" She sucked her breath in. "Right. Antiques dealer. Is this related to Gus? To the case?!" She shook her head and threw her head back. "Oh, I don't believe this, Rachael! I told you I was out! That I wanted nothing more to do with it!"

  "But, Pippa," I tried to tell her as she started to stomp back towards the hallway. "It's about the painting. Maureen wants to buy it, but Gus won't sell. Don't you want to know why?"

  "No, I don't!" she called out, her footsteps heavy as she stomped away. "I can't believe you tricked me like this, Rachael!"

  "Pippa, I'm sorry!"

  I started to chase after her when I saw a ghostly figure out of the corner of my right eye. "What the..."

  I spun towards it, shrieking a little as I saw a dirty looking figure with wild curly hair, grey from either dust or old age, which one I wasn't entirely certain.

  Pippa stopped at the sound of my shriek, but it was too late. The old woman was already lunging towards her, rasping in a voice that sounded like it had been mixed with gravel. "What are you doing trespassing in my home?"

  Pippa screamed as the body flung itself at her. I only saw the long yellowing fingernails clawing at her.

  "Quick! Run!" I tried to call out. But running in that claustrophobic room was not easy and Pippa had stumbled awkwardly in the direction of the wall of newspaper.

  Surprisingly agile, the woman jumped out of the way before the wall came down. It seemed like she was used to dodging this sort of thing, but Pippa was not so nimble and not so lucky.

  At first, only the top few newspapers slipped off, but pretty soon it was an avalanche, and there was no stopping it. I lunged out of way myself, coughing violently as dirt and dust flung up into my nostrils.

  My eyes were enveloped in dust, and I frantically tried to push it away, along with the stench that grew stronger with the figure's presence.

  "Pippa!"

  The dust settled and I raced over to her. The witch-like figure, a woman I could see now, had grey hair and wrinkled, leathery skin that she shielded from the light coming through from the front of the house.

  I could only see her head staring out the top of the newspapers. "Please just answer me, say something, let me know that you are still alive."

  "I'm alive," she muttered, "but I am going to kill you."

  * * *

  "Maureen, I think we ought to get you to a hospital."

  She swatted at my hand and pulled her tattered shawl tighter around her shoulders as she hobbled away. Her body was all pointy joints and angles, and I wondered how long it had been since she'd last eaten a proper meal.

  "I think it's me that needs to get to a hospital," Pippa said, still brushing bits of dirt and debris off her body. "Or at least a hotel for a long hot bath." She shot me a pleading look.

  "Are you talking to me then?" I asked her, hopeful at her not-entirely-homicidal tone.

  "You mean after you almost got me crashed to death?"

  But my attention was snatched away by Maureen who was sitting, shivering, on her own curb.

  "Maureen," I said gently, sitting towards her. "We can get someone to help you, maybe some help cleaning your house out."

  Pippa shot me a look and shook her head. "That's the worst thing you can say to a hoarder," she whispered to me. "You'll just make her panic."

  "That's my collection," she finally said. Her proper speaking voice shocked me. I was expecting a raspy old drawl, but she had a prim and proper English accent with a clipped and pronounced delivery of every word. "And it is not to be touched."

  I glanced at Pippa before turning my attention back to Maureen. "And was there something you were hoping to add to your collection, Maureen?"

  She looked at me with sharp, bird-like features. I could see now that even though dirt covered her face, underneath it was a rather pretty face with well-defined, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. "To what precisely do you refer to?"

  "A painting," I said softly, "of two young children. Twins, probably." I glanced up at Pippa and she seemed to understand precisely now why we were here. "Gus Sampson told me you were interested in buying it off him."

  She cast me a long steely glare like I should already know the answer to the question, as though I was foolish for even asking.

  "I did not want to buy that painting off him," she said in her short, clipped, posh tone that still didn't match her exterior. "That is my painting!"

  "Your painting?" I whispered. "What do you mean, Maureen?"

  "That is a painting of my two children," she whispered in a chilling tone. "The twins that I lost many years ago."

  I sucked in a short gasp. "Maureen, I'm so sorry."

  Pippa looked aghast. "So why won't Gus give it back to you then?" She glanced back over her shoulder at the house. Suddenly a lot of things about the place were starting to make sense.

  "That old man refuses to part with it," Maureen whispered bitterly. "No matter what I try to do to get it back." She looked away, gazing off into the distance. In that moment, she was no longer sitting there with us, but was far away, lost in some deep, dark crevice of her past. "Why he won't part with it, I have no idea. That painting..." She stopped to close her eyes. "In all my years of collecting items, antiques, objects, storing everything I could get my hands on, that painting is the one thing I truly want, and the one thing I can't add to my collection."

  I glanced up at Pippa. It seemed like Maureen had been collecting and hoarding everything she could find in some desperate attempt to replace what she had lost: her children.

  "Maureen," Pippa said, joining us by the curb. "Do you know why no one has ever purchased that painting before? There are rumors that it is haunted, and that anyone who buys it will be cursed."

  Maureen opened her eyes and bit her lip. "That comes as no surprise to me. Rumors created by me in order to keep others away, and spread amongst others, no doubt. I had no idea that they would grow legs, but at least it means that I know where the painting is."

  Pippa's face was a mixture of distress and disappointment. "I can't believe Gus would be so selfish as to keep the painting from you."

  The faraway look returned to Maureen's eyes. "No matter what price I offer, he claims it is not enough. I have no idea why that man is so intent on keeping the one thing I have as a memory of my children." Her voice began to crack and Pippa reached her hand out to cover the old woman's.

  "We'll get the painting back for you, I promise, Maureen," Pippa whispered.

  But there was something I had to ask Maureen. "Why was Gus here, visiting you over the weekend?"

  Maureen shook her head. "He was warning me to stay away from his shop," she whispered bitterly. "Had some crazy idea in his head that I had been snooping around, that I would try to break into the shop to take the painting away. That's why
I was squirreled away today, hiding out the back. I was afraid he might return with more threats."

  Again, there was something I had to ask. "And had you been, Maureen? Had you tried to break in, to find the painting?"

  She shook her head. "I don't drive, dear, not with my eyesight. How could I get to Belldale on my own?" She turned and looked me straight in the eyes, then whispered, "But my great nephew lives there, and he has been trying to secure it for me. But with no luck."

  Pippa and I were just staring at each other.

  I knew we were both thinking the same thing, but it was Pippa who finally said it out loud. "Maureen, is your great nephew's name Romeo?"

  Maureen frowned and shook her head. "No, dear. His name is George."

  We both stared at each other, the disappointment between us palpable.

  * * *

  Pippa still desperately needed a bath and I needed a warm bed.

  "So I guess that's how the whole curse rumor got started," Pippa murmured as we headed back towards the car. "I'm not sure whether the paranormal club is going to be exited to hear this news or disappointed by it."

  "Disappointed that it wasn't a real curse?" I shrugged. "In a way, it was cursed. Just not caused by an evil spirit."

  Pippa shivered and looked up at the dark clouds that were circling above. "Maureen's story doesn't explain everything, though. We still don't know who killed Jason or Bridget, or what the heck Gus was doing scaring us away that night. Or who Maureen's great nephew is."

  I could feel a smile creeping its way to my lips. "Are you saying, Pippa, that you would like to know those things? Does this mean that you are back on the case?"

  She let out a heavy sigh. "We always work better when we are together."

  "In more ways than one."

  I wrapped my arm around her neck and did a little hop and skip in mid-air. "I knew you would be interested when I finally got you out here. I'm sorry I tricked you, Pippa," I said as I stopped skipping. "Seriously. That was terrible of me. But come on, you have to admit it was more than worth it." I nodded towards the house. "If we hadn't come along then Maureen could have died in there."

  Pippa looked back at the house and nodded. "She definitely could have been crushed to death. Like I almost was."

  My mouth dropped open and I let out the loudest gasp I had ever heard.

  All of a sudden, I knew.

  I knew who had killed Jason and Bridget.

  Chapter 11

  Our weekend away turned into a single long day of driving. Pippa still hadn't gotten her bath.

  "Do you think Maureen did it?" Pippa asked while she was huddled up beside me in the passenger seat. "Do you think she was trying to get her painting back? Or trying to teach Gus a lesson?"

  The longer I drove, the less confident I was becoming in my theory. I closed my eyes for just a second (I was driving after all) and told myself that I needed to trust my instincts.

  "No, I don't think Maureen did it," I said quietly. "I think she is just a heartbroken old lady, not a cold-blooded killer."

  "Not a cold-blooded killer now, but she seems to hate Gus. What if she tried to break in to steal the painting, accidentally killed Jason and thought, well, if Gus gets blamed for it, that's just too bad?"

  "And what about the second body? What about Bridget? Maureen was in her home in Pottsville when that happened."

  "Oh." Pippa slunk back against her seat. "I forgot about that." She was silent for a moment. "Then what are you thinking, Rachael?"

  "I need to get inside Gus's shop again, while he isn't there, to see if I'm correct."

  When Pippa didn't give me any sort of response, I glanced at her to get a good look at her face. She was staring out the window. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

  "Oh, come on, Pippa. This isn't still about the curse, is it? We know how the rumor of the curse started now, and it was a very sad story indeed. You can't still believe that painting is haunted."

  She had her face pressed so hard against the window that it was entirely smooshed. "Just because Maureen started the rumor," she murmured, "doesn't mean it's not true. In fact, having heard her story, it seems even more likely that the painting could be haunted." She looked down. "I didn't know that the twins in the painting were based on real people. Or that they had died a long time ago."

  I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again. With her head pressed up against the window like that, looking so forlorn, Pippa reminded me of a small child. I could tell that she was truly upset about Maureen's revelation, so I spoke gently. "She's a grieving mother, Pippa. She hasn't cursed the painting."

  Pippa finally lifted her head to stare at me. "What about all the weird things that have happened to you then, Rachael? Do you have an explanation for all of them?"

  "Some of them, I do," I muttered. "And I'm sure there are perfectly logical explanations for the rest of them as well."

  We drove the rest of the way in silence.

  * * *

  "Shoot, Gus is in the shop." I leaned forward for a second. It looked like he was finally making moves to clear his stuff out and the butterflies in my stomach began to do a dance. This could mean that the sale of the property might be back on the table. And I would have to make a very big decision.

  I quickly turned my head away as I sat in my parked car, so that Gus wouldn't spot me staring straight at him.

  "What do we do now?" I asked.

  Pippa unclicked her seatbelt. "I'm still up for that bath."

  "I know," I said, ignoring her. "We'll wait in the back, in secret, 'til he leaves, then break in just like we did the other day!"

  Pippa was shaking her head vigorously. "No! No way! You can count me out."

  I was shocked. "But, Pippa, I know what happened! Or at least I think I do!"

  "I don't care, Rachael! I may be back on the case, but I can't pick another lock! I am trying to stay out of trouble from now on. I don't need an arrest on my record. Another one, I mean."

  I wondered if 'stay out of trouble' also meant staying away from the paranormal society. I had noticed a distinct change in her demeanor since our visit to Maureen's. Even though she was still talking about the curse, I could sense that she was ready to give up the ghost, so to speak. And I couldn't wait for her to come back down to earth.

  But I desperately needed her lock-picking skills. Just one last time.

  "Let's at least go into the bakery instead of just sitting here," Pippa said. "We should at least check that Bronson is doing okay."

  We each spilled through the doors and I thought Bronson looked slightly disappointed to see us. He was probably looking forward to an entire weekend in charge with the bosses away. "Ignore us," I said quickly as Pippa and I hurried into the kitchen. "Trip got cut short...long story." I glanced at the clock: 3:30. This day felt like the longest day of my life.

  Bronson surprised me by following us into the kitchen. "Actually, I'm kinda glad you guys are back. We got a huge booking for this afternoon, short notice, and I'm not sure I can handle it all on my own. It's a birthday party. Apparently, the restaurant they were supposed to have it at flooded. I didn't want to have to tell them no." He glanced at the two of us, waiting for direction.

  Pippa looked at me. "Can you put this mystery on ice for the afternoon? We need the cash, considering how quiet it's been recently."

  Which one of us was the boss again? The lines had definitely become muddied. "Yes, Bronson," I said. "We can help out a bit." I caught the look on Pippa's face. "But please tend to the front counter while the two of us are out here. Thank you."

  "Come on, Pips, you're the only person I know with nimble enough fingers to be able to pick a lock quickly." I shut the kitchen door so that Bronson couldn't overhear us.

  "Don't try to butter me up." She nodded towards a tray of cookies. "Speaking of which, these probably need to go out on display. And, if you're done playing detective for the day, you could actually help me out with this party we're now supposed t
o be catering. I would really appreciate the help. Can't you just forget about this whole thing for one day?"

  I picked up the tray and swallowed. I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of Gus's store. All I wanted to do was go over there and prove my theory correct. I knew Pippa and Bronson would be able to handle the function without me.

  "Rach?"

  Suddenly, there was the sound of a heavy thud and the front doors were pushed open as party guest began to spill in. I grabbed a donut and scarfed it down for a bit of energy.

  I nodded. "I will stay and help, Pippa. Of course I will."

  * * *

  But half an hour into the function, my stomach seemed to have other plans. There was a smashing sound as I dropped the tray I was carrying and keeled over in pain. Clutching my stomach, I whispered for Pippa, who came running over to me. "Oh no. All my brownies, ruined on the floor!" I cried out.

  "Don't worry about that, you knucklehead! Bronson, take over while I drive Rachael to the hospital! We'll be back before the end of the function. I hope!"

  He nodded and threw down the cloth he'd been drying his hands with. "Can do, miss! You'd better go quick. She looks terrible."

  "Thanks," I croaked. "Don't go asking me for a raise any time soon."

  * * *

  "How long do blood test results take?" I groaned, shielding my eyes from the glare of the fluorescent lights. My stomachache had subsided a little, like it always seemed to after an hour or so, but my entire body was aching. I began to imagine the absolute worst-case scenario. I'd had these aches and pains for weeks—or was it months—and that couldn't have been good.

  The doctor was a chipper young woman named Doctor Shu Ng, who I quite liked, even though she was probably about to tell me I was dying.

  "Well, Miss Robinson, you're not going to like the results much, I don't think, considering your line of work."

  I could feel my eyes growing wide. "Oh no, what is it? Am I going to become paralyzed? Lose the use of my arms?" I leaned forward. "Be straight with me, doc, will I ever bake again?"