Tastes Like Murder (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 1)

by Catherine Bruns

  I smiled. "Aww, that's sweet."

  "Yeah, well, I do like to see him once in a while without four kids hanging off me. My mom agreed to babysit too, which you know is rare. We'll probably go see a movie."

  I gestured toward the front door. "Go. I'll finish cleaning up. Have fun."

  "Aren't your parents expecting you for dinner?"

  "Honestly, I don't know if I can hold anything in my stomach."

  "You'd better eat something. You know how they get if you—" The bells on the front door jingled, and we both peered through the doorway to see who our latest customer was.

  Josie gritted her teeth. "Am I having a nightmare?"

  Amanda was back. Mental head slap. Minus Charlotte this time, she seemed so involved in checking the place out that we weren't positive she had noticed us. Or perhaps she liked the idea of having a ready-made audience. She glanced at the newly painted, cream-colored walls and the silver-framed artwork I'd bought discounted from a local shop. Next, Amanda ran her blood-red manicure all over the cute wooden wall shelf Rob had made for us, as if testing for dust. The shelf held two porcelain figurines seated at a table with a plate of cookies and a teapot between them. She picked up each figurine, turning them around in her hands, then returned them to the shelf in opposite spaces.

  "Oh, great." I groaned under my breath. "Is this going to be an everyday thing?"

  Josie balled her right hand into a fist. "I'll take care of her."

  "No. You go. Rob's waiting for you."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. She's here to get a rise out of me, anyway. Don't worry. I'll be nice."

  Josie grinned. "But I don't want you to be nice."

  "Ha-ha. Look, if she doesn't get a reaction from us, she'll stop coming in eventually." I hope. We walked out of the back room together.

  Amanda had her nose pressed to the glass of the display case like a child. I cringed, having polished it less than an hour ago.

  "Oh, look who's here. Again. Too bad I'm leaving. We could have spent quality time together." Josie winked. "Call me later, babe." Josie's code for let me know what happens, or else.

  "Bye. Have fun." I turned to Amanda. "What would you like?"

  "Mm." Amanda licked her lips. "Josie is a bitch, but she sure can bake. What are those cookies?"

  I clenched my fists. "Sugar with sprinkles."

  While Amanda continued her browsing, I tapped my foot. The bells over the door rang again, and Mrs. Gavelli strolled in. I had a sudden urge to smack my head against something hard.

  "Hello, Mrs. G." Amanda waved.

  Mrs. Gavelli's face lit up. "Amanda, sweetie, how you are? And so pretty. How your spa do?"

  Amanda beamed. "Wonderful. I'm thinking about adding a Jacuzzi."

  "Mama Mia! I need to go there."

  I clasped my hands together and smiled at the old woman. "What can I do for you, Mrs. G?"

  She glared at me. "You give me two more butter cookies."

  "Of course, but no more specials. If you want them, you have to pay full price." I grabbed a piece of waxed paper from the counter behind me.

  Mrs. Gavelli clucked her tongue and reached inside her purse for money. "You a cheat. Okay, I take. But I'm gonna tell your grandmama. And you give me fortune this time. Real fortune."

  I prayed she'd get a good one, or she'd really make my life miserable.

  "Ooh." Amanda pointed her finger at the case and squealed. "I want one of those too. You forgot to give me one yesterday."

  Mrs. Gavelli nodded gravely. "She always forget."

  I reached down to grab a fortune cookie for each of them, trying to push the negative thoughts away. I can do this.

  They both eagerly broke their cookies apart at the same moment. Mrs. Gavelli's lips moved silently then she looked at me in disbelief. "Why you give me lousy fortune again?"

  Good grief. "Mrs. Gavelli, I don't put those in there on purpose. We buy the fortunes from a novelty store, and Josie stuffs them into the cookies. I have no idea what they're going to say."

  "Yah, sure," she spat out, and then read aloud. "Be nice or leave."

  Poetic justice. I turned around to ring up her sale, hoping she wouldn't see my smile.

  Mrs. Gavelli glanced over Amanda's shoulder. "What you get?"

  Drawing her eyebrows together, Amanda stared intently at the strip. "I don't understand this."

  "They don't mean anything." Why did people keep putting so much emphasis on these little pieces of paper?

  Amanda frowned as she read aloud. "No fortune for you. Wrong cookie. Your luck is just not there."

  "Aha!" Mrs. Gavelli pointed a finger at me. "You see? She get bad fortune too. Is setup."

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall, defeated.

  "Well," Amanda sniffed. "I know you're jealous of me, but it does seem like kind of a childish thing to do."

  Count to ten, Sal. Nope, didn't work. "Buy something now or leave."

  Mrs. Gavelli shook her fist at me. "You rude. Is no way to treat customer." She flounced out the door, bag in hand.

  Amanda didn't even look up. "Ooh, I think I want one of those vanilla yummy things with the chocolate drops on top. What the heck. Give me six of them."

  "Fudge," I corrected her. "They're called Fudgy Delights. And that will be six dollars." I scooped the cookies into a bag.

  Amanda's chin dropped. "Don't I get a discount?"

  She had to be kidding. "Why on earth would I give you a discount?"

  "I was in here yesterday as well," Amanda said. "Shouldn't volume count for something?"

  "Six dollars, please." I clenched my jaw, praying she would leave soon. I didn't want another confrontation.

  Amanda shook her head in disgust while she pawed through her mammoth-sized Gucci purse. She handed me six singles and snatched her bag, reaching inside to remove a cookie. "You really should lose the attitude. It makes you ugly. Oops, I mean uglier."

  I gritted my teeth as I turned away from her to ring up the sale, praying for more self-control. If I could wait on Amanda and manage not to lose my temper, I knew I'd be successful with any other customer who walked through the door. "Good night. It's closing time."

  She took a bite and moaned, closing her eyes. "But I'm not done enjoying my cookie yet."

  "Enjoy it outside on the porch. Now, please."

  My cell phone started ringing from the back room where I'd left it. "Good night, Amanda."

  She shot me a dirty look and turned on her heel, pushing the front door open with force, bells jingling away merrily at her departure. I quickly locked the door before she decided to return.

  Good riddance. I ran into the back to grab my phone and glanced at the number on the screen before answering. "Hi, Mom."

  "Hi, sweetheart," she purred into the phone. "You're still coming for dinner, right?"

  "Yes, I'll be there."

  "It's already getting dark."

  I surveyed the kitchen area one last time and shut the lights off. "Mom, I think I can drive in the dark."

  "Did you want to bring a guest?" Her voice was thick with hope.

  "You mean a date? Who on earth would I bring?"

  "Jake was here yesterday. He's such a nice—"

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm not ready for this. Please ease up, Mom."

  She sighed loudly. "You're nearing thirty. You should get married again and have a couple of babies. Your biological clock is ticking."

  "Okay, I'm hanging up now. Do you need anything?"

  "The newspaper didn't get delivered today. Can you bring yours? Oh, and why don't you bring your father some of those genettis Josie makes? They might cheer him up." My mother was fooling herself.

  "Sure. I'll see you soon." I hung up and walked out to the bakery case. As I placed a dozen of the Italian, glazed cookies sprinkled with nonpareils into one of my pink bakery boxes, I knew they wouldn't do the trick. My father had recently turned sixty-five and
was convinced he'd die soon. It didn't matter that he was in excellent health. Domenic Muccio said his time was coming soon.

  His latest hobby consisted of scanning the obituaries and attending random wakes so that he'd know exactly what he wanted when the fateful day arrived. My mother was happy to leave him to his own devices. His total opposite, she acted like a teenager most days. I loved them dearly, but they were both certifiably nuts.

  I walked to the front door and changed the sign over to Closed. Amanda sat in one of the wicker chairs, nibbling away. She must have sensed my presence because she suddenly turned and waved at me gaily. I ignored her as I shut the light off and lowered the blind on the door.

  Once upstairs, I stepped into the shower for a quick rinse and changed into a pink T-shirt and white shorts. I grabbed a pair of sandals from my closet and blew dry my hair. After adding some blush and mascara, I was good to go.

  Darkness had fallen in the twenty minutes since I'd closed the shop. Thunderstorms were expected later, the reason for the pitch-black sky. Perhaps then the heat wave would be over for the year. Fall was right around the corner, and soon enough winter would beckon with snow and cold, northeastern temperatures.

  I sighed. Come January, I'd really be missing the Sunshine State.

  My car was parked out in the alley. I started toward the back door of the shop then remembered the newspaper. It would be a shame if my father couldn't read the obituaries during dinner. Shaking my head, I unlocked the front door and pushed to open it. Something held the door firmly in place from the other side. Convinced the heat was making it stick, I pushed harder. The door moved forward but only slightly.

  What the heck? I reached along the inside wall to turn on the porch light. I sucked in a sharp breath, and my blood ran cold.

  Draped across my woven welcome mat lay Amanda's lifeless body.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My legs went numb. For a minute, all I could do was stare. I forced myself to move forward and managed to squeeze out the doorway while trying not to disturb her body. I knelt beside Amanda and felt for a pulse in her wrist. Nothing. Oh my God.

  I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone and immediately dialed 9-1-1. I sat there, hyperventilating, trying not to look at her, but it was impossible.

  "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

  I started to babble. "Please. She collapsed. On my front porch."

  "Who collapsed, ma'am?"

  "A customer. Her—Amanda Gregorio. I-I came downstairs and opened the door, and she was lying on my porch."

  "Name and address, ma'am?"

  I was aware of my breath coming in shallow gasps. "Sally Muccio. It's my bakery. Samples. I mean, Sally's Samples."

  "What's the address, ma'am?"

  I couldn't think. "Um. Thirty-nine Elk Street. Please hurry."

  "The medics are on their way. Is she breathing?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Can you tell if her airway is clear? Do you know CPR?"

  My pulse was racing. I leaned close to Amanda's face, looking for any sign of life. There was visible swelling around her eyes and lips, definitely not Botox related. A wave of fear traveled through my body. Was there something wrong with the cookies she'd eaten?

  "Ma'am?"

  There was a huge lump in my throat. "I'm sorry. I don't know CPR." I rocked back and forth on my knees, praying she'd sit up and insult me. Had I wished her dead once upon a time? Probably, but I hadn't really meant it. Please let her be okay.

  I glanced toward the chair where she'd been sitting a short time ago and noticed her purse, upside down, with all the contents spilled out, almost as if she'd been searching for something. What had happened to her?

  Flashing lights and a bevy of sirens captured my attention. An emergency vehicle screeched to a halt in front of my shop. A police car pulled up right behind them. A man and a woman rushed toward me with a gurney.

  "Have they arrived?" the 9-1-1 operator asked.

  "Yes. Thank you." I clicked off and got to my feet.

  "Stand back, ma'am," the man ordered.

  I stepped off the porch and crossed over to the sidewalk while they attended to Amanda. A small crowd had started to gather in the street. The wind whipped through the trees, shaking them back and forth, and warning of the impending storm. I shivered.

  "What happened here?" The woman medic addressed me while her partner administered CPR.

  I looked at her, dumbfounded. "I don't know. She was eating cookies and then collapsed on my porch."

  "Do you know her?"

  I nodded. "Her name is Amanda Gregorio."

  "Do you know if she has a pre-existing medical condition, ma'am?"

  From the corner of my eye, I could see a policeman standing behind me. "I-I don't know. Her mouth looks swollen—"

  "Allergic reaction?" The woman medic addressed her partner.

  "Possibly." He shook his head. "I'm not getting anything."

  "Let's go!" the woman shouted. They lifted Amanda's body onto the gurney and hurried past me toward the ambulance. Within seconds they were gone, amidst a brilliant cascade of lights and wailing sirens. I stood there, trembling with fear, unsure what to do next.

  There was a gentle tap on my shoulder. "Miss Muccio?" A policeman about my age gestured toward the shop. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

  I watched him in a foggy haze. "Questions?"

  His warm green eyes stared at me, full of concern. "Are you okay, miss?"

  I shuddered. "I don't know. I guess."

  The policeman placed his hand on my elbow and guided me up the steps into the shop. He shut the door behind us. My inquisitive neighbors wouldn't be able to hear our conversation now.

  "I'm Officer Jenkins. You are Sally Muccio, the owner of Sally's Samples?"

  I stared out the window into the darkness. "Huh? Oh, right."

  He held out a chair. "You don't look very well. You'd better sit."

  I sank heavily into the chair. He sat across from me, notebook and pen in hand. Even in my shocked state, I couldn't help but notice how good looking he was. Thick, dirty-blond hair and an aristocratic-looking nose. Broad shoulders and a slim waist. One of those guys who made women swoon over men in uniform. He must have been new to the local force. All of the cops I remembered around here were old, balding, and cranky. I'd always admired the dark blue uniform New York officers wore, but he would have looked hot in a paper bag.

  "Would you like me to get you some water?"

  I shook my head. "No, thank you." I watched while he made some notes. "What happened to Officer Cowell?"

  He grinned, displaying teeth well suited for a Crest commercial. "He retired earlier this year. Actually, his leaving created an opening so that I was able to transfer here from Boston."

  "He tried to arrest me once for jaywalking."

  Officer Jenkins' mouth twitched. "Yeah, sounds like him." Then he frowned. "Your lips are turning blue. Do you want to grab a sweater, Miss Muccio?"

  My teeth started to chatter. "No, I'm fine. Please call me Sally."

  "Only if you call me Brian."

  I hesitated. "But you're a cop."

  "We won't tell anyone." He chuckled and reached for his pen again. "So you know Miss Gregorio?"

  "We went to high school together. Today was the first time I'd seen her in a while." The memory of finding her and Colin together in a compromising position flashed through my mind, and I trembled. "Well, actually, yesterday was."

  "Oh, right. I heard you moved back recently."

  I raised my eyebrows. "How did you know?"

  Brian's cheeks reddened. "I was in here last week. Your coworker was telling someone you'd recently relocated from Florida."

  "I don't remember seeing you." And I definitely would have remembered.

  "You were on the phone with someone in the back room." He toyed with his pen. "Your sister's name is Gianna, right?"

  I had to hand it to my sister. She always knew where to find the good-looking ones
. "How do you know Gianna?"

  "I've talked to her a couple of times at the sub shop. I gather she and the owner, Frank Taylor, go together?"

  I nodded. "For about a year."

  "She's very nice—and almost as beautiful as her sister." He watched me expectantly and smiled slowly.

  My heart skipped a beat. The hot cop was flirting with me. "Uh, thank you. And you can call me Sal if you like. Everyone does."

  The cleft in his chin deepened as he grinned, perhaps a bit longer than necessary to convey politeness. I was amazed how at ease I felt with him, despite the impressive badge on his chest, which flashed in the bright lighting of my shop, and the intimidating Glock attached to his belt.

  Brian glanced at his pad again. "Was Amanda okay while she was in the shop?"

  "Yes, she seemed fine."

  He shifted in his seat. "I overheard you tell the medic her lips were swollen?"

  "Yes. There was swelling around her eyes, too."

  "Did she buy any cookies from you?"

  My voice started to shake. "Nothing in the cookies would have caused her to become sick. I'd never do something like that."

  Brian put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, relax. I'm not implying anything." He peered closely at me, as if he understood my agitation. "You guys didn't get along, did you?"

  "It's a long story." I stared at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

  Brian leaned forward across the table on his elbows. "Care to enlighten me?"

  Heat crept into my face. I couldn't believe I had to say this to a member of the opposite sex, much less a cop. I raised my head and met his eyes, a brilliant green with golden flecks. They were kind and encouraged me to proceed. Why does he have to be so darn good-looking? "Sh-she had an affair with my husband."

  Brian's eyebrows shot up. "Husband?"

  "Ex-husband. The divorce was final a few weeks ago."

  "I'm sorry, Sally." His face was full of sympathy. "That's quite a lot to deal with." He jotted something down on his notepad.

  A knot tightened in my stomach. I didn't want anyone to pity me. "Don't write that down!"

  He put his hand on my shoulder again. "Relax. I have to record all the details."

  "But everyone will think I tried to hurt her because of Colin." My throat tightened, and I was afraid I was going to lose it soon.