Pippa's voice was full of guilt. "I'm sorry, Rachael. He must have heard me talking about you and Bakermatic and decided to take advantage of the fact that Colleen had one of your pies, knowing that you were under stress financially and would be one of the top suspects. I didn’t know that she was Colleen Batters, the woman who had been making all your lives hell."
"She did annoy all of us, that's true," I said. "But I never wanted to kill Colleen! Well, I suppose sometimes I did, but I never would have actually done it. I'm sure Deena felt the same way."
A groaning sound came from the ground and I was relieved to discover that Deena was still conscious. "Carl was in deep debt," she said, trying to sit up.
"Deena, don't move suddenly," I scolded her. "Just hold tight until..."
"Until what?" Pippa whispered. "How are we going to get out of here?"
Deena didn't heed my warning and kept talking. "He was getting more and more desperate all the time, cutting corners, not paying staff properly, even borrowing money from me, as I told you." Deena pulled herself to her feet. "A few months ago, when things were really bad for him, he agreed to do an interview for Colleen's food blog."
I rolled my eyes. I remembered Colleen's promise to review my black forest on her blog. I guess that never happened.
"She promised Carl that it was going to be a positive review, but then she ripped him apart, gave him one star, and things just got worse for Carl from there on." Deena let out a loud sigh. "I thought it was Carl I saw painting 'Killer' on your store front. I couldn't be sure, but I did think it was him at the time."
"That's why you said 'he' when we were talking about it," I said, realizing.
"Rachael, all of this is what I was trying to tell you when you came to see me yesterday. But you said you'd given up investigating."
"So he decided the best way to right his business was to follow Colleen's lead and give every business in the area a bunch of bad reviews. And then, when the opportunity presented itself to get revenge on Colleen, I guess he took it. I'm sorry, Deena. I should have listened to you. Maybe I'm not so great at this detective stuff after all."
Deena shook her head. "No, you are good at it. You figured out it was Carl, even without my help. You just shouldn't have stopped, that was the problem."
Pippa reached out and gripped my arm. "Rach, can you hear that?"
I nodded. "Footsteps."
I glanced around the closet. "Okay, you take this," I said to Pippa, handing her a block of wood.
"What are you going to take?" Pippa asked frantically.
I took off my red peacoat. "I'll wrap this around his neck, and you hit him with that. You ready?"
"No?!"
The lock turned swiftly and suddenly bright sunlight streamed into my eyes as I stumbled back into the closet, blindly throwing my coat at the body there. "Go on, Pippa, hit him!" I shouted.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you, ma'am," a deep voice boomed. "Or you'll be guilty of assaulting a police officer."
"Jackson?" My eyes adjusted to the sunlight and I threw my arms around his neck as Pippa looked on with her mouth wide open.
"Ahem, sorry," I said, pulling away. "Not sure what came over me then. I'm just glad to see you Jackson—I mean, Detective Whitaker—I'm really glad to see you right now."
He grinned at me. "It's okay, 'Jackson' is fine under the circumstances. Are you ladies all right?"
I stood back and allowed him to take a look at Deena, while Pippa and I were helped outside by a pair of uniformed police officers.
"I got your message," Jackson said once he'd finished with Deena. "I knew something was wrong. I tried your bakery first, then Bakermatic, then they told me you'd come here. One of the customers told us that they'd seen Carl pulling you and Pippa down the alleyway. But we didn't know about Deena."
I glanced over my shoulder as one of the paramedics attended to Deena. "I'm sure glad she’s okay," I mentioned to Jackson, as he reached over to adjust the blanket on my shoulders, which someone must have given me at some point.
"I have to admit, I'm glad you're okay," Jackson said. "We've suspected Carl right from the start and when I saw that paint on your bakery the other day."
"I know, I know," I said. "Carl did it. That's why you came to check on me. You thought I was in danger."
Jackson nodded. Checking first that no one was watching, he reached out and gently squeezed my arm. "That's why I told you to stop snooping around. To let us do our jobs. Not because I didn't think you were any good at it, but because this is exactly what I was worried would happen."
I looked up at him. "I assume you've arrested Carl. But do you know that he was writing fake reviews for all the businesses in this neighborhood? About the fact he underpays his employees, or doesn't pay them at all?"
Jackson shook his head. "No, we didn't know about any of that. I have to admit, your snooping will help put him away. Not to mention the fact that we can get him on a bunch of other charges now." Jackson raised an eyebrow.
I smiled at him. "When do you get off duty, Jackson? Can I perhaps interest you in another one of my brownies?"
Jackson looked over his shoulder again before turning back to me. "Sounds great, and I would love to sample one of your many treats, but I'm afraid, for the time being, that will have to be as a customer only—at least until this case is wrapped up. I hope I can trust you not to get involved in any police matters in the future, Miss Robinson."
Jackson shot me a wink before he began to walk away.
"I can't quite go promising that just yet, Detective Whitaker," I said quietly, once I was sure he was out of earshot.
I walked back over to Pippa, who was standing there, grinning at me from ear to ear.
“What was that all about?” she asked, punching me in the arm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied coyly.
Pippa laughed and grabbed my shoulders, looking me square in the face. “You get in a lot of trouble, Rachael. Are you sure you want a cop following you around on a regular basis?”
She was right. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if that cop was Jackson Whitaker.
Epilogue
I cleared my throat. "Ahem. I would like to welcome to Rachael's Boutique Bakery, our newest member of staff: Pippa McDonald!"
I clapped as Pippa spun around and bowed to the crowd of one. Placing the pink apron over her head proudly, I said, "I can finally afford to have an employee, now that business is booming again. And I couldn't be more pleased that my first employee is my best friend in the whole world."
The smile on Pippa's face faded a little. "Oh, Rach, are you sure? I hope I don't screw things up for you."
I placed my hands on Pippa's shoulders. "You're going to do fine."
We both spun around as a person wearing a yellow polyester shirt walked sheepishly through the door. "I just wanted to wish you guys good luck on your reopening," Simona said, before pulling something out from behind her back.
She handed me the basket of muffins. "It's a good will gesture," she explained. "I was hoping in the future our stores could work together, rather than competing all the time. After all, you did help to clear our name as well. And you got all those fake negative reviews removed from online."
I smiled at her. Even though I had no intention of eating those prepackaged cakes, I did appreciate her extending the olive branch.
She turned to face Pippa. "And Pippa, even though you were a terrible employee, I wish you good luck in your new job." Simona shot me a look before she walked out the door. "You too. You're gonna need it."
We both stopped and stared, watching Simona's ponytail bounce behind her as she walked down the street.
"Hey," I said, turning to Pippa. "What was up with that red paint on Simona's hands that day?"
Pippa's mouth dropped open. "You know what? I don't know. Maybe she was throwing red paint at her ex-boyfriend's car or something? Or, maybe, she was the one who did it."
I glance
d up at the spot on the window where the paint had been. Even though it had been well scrubbed a dozen times, I could have sworn I still saw a pink sheen to it. "After all, Deena was never one hundred percent sure it was Carl she saw that day."
"I guess we'll never know if we can ever really trust Bakermatic," I said, setting the gift basket down on the floor behind the counter. "But I've got bigger things to worry about now." I leaned against the counter and pondered as Pippa starting piling a tray high with glossy donuts.
"I'm starting to wonder, Pippa, if this should be my new calling."
She glanced up at me, a donut stuck on the end of her tongs. "What, running a bakery?" she asked.
"No!" I said, laughing as I stuck my tongue out at her. "I mean, solving mysteries."
"The Bakery Detectives," Pippa laughed.
I nodded. "The Bakery Detectives."
Thanks for reading A Pie to Die For. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
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Preview: Donuts, Antiques and Murder
Blood red jam seeped out as I pressed down on the pastry, causing it to drip from the center of the donut.
The smell of fresh cinnamon sugar sprinkled all over the donut hit my nose. I need to taste test it for the good of the business, I justified to myself before I popped the soft, warm donut in my mouth. Mmm.
I started coughing and Pippa had to thump my back as the first customers of the day started to pour into my shop, Rachael's Boutique Bakery. I straightened up and put on my brightest smile, my eyes still watering from my near-choke-experience. It probably served me right. I looked down at the trays of jam donuts and then at the line of early bird customers. We'd be lucky if we had enough to last the morning rush.
One after another they came, flooding the shop and making my heart leap for joy. Only a few months earlier I had thought my poor little bakery was going to perish, but now it was flourishing more than ever before.
Only one little teeny tiny problem: success can lead to complacency. Worse than that, it can lead to boredom.
My fingers were itching, and not just to knead dough, but to solve a mystery.
"Oi!" Pippa reached over and gave me a playful shove. "Stop daydreaming about solving mysteries!" Her hair was bright blue this month and it was often a talking point for customers when they came into the shop. "It's blueberry," she would say with a wink, before trying to sell them one of our fresh blueberry muffins. At least she was creative.
"I'm not," I said, standing up quickly, embarrassed. "That's all in the past. I'm one hundred percent focused on the bakery now."
Pippa shot me a skeptical look as a lock of bright blue hair fell into her eyes. "Doesn't look that way to me." She took off her apron, the morning rush over, and began to count the money in the cash register, one of her new tasks as assistant manager. "Besides," she said with a cheeky lift of her brow. "You know I've got plenty of real mysteries for you to solve, if you're into paranormal stuff."
I groaned. "I wouldn't call those 'real' mysteries, Pippa. I wish you'd stop hanging out with those people." I couldn't care less about hunting cryptoids or chasing ghosts, or whatever it was that Pippa and her new friends were into. I'd had a taste of the real thing; solved a real life murder. And, although I've never wish for harm to fall on anyone, I couldn't help missing the rush that had come with being an amateur detective. Belldale had been quiet—and, yes, boring—for the past two months.
"Our best morning yet!" Pippa announced with glee as she pushed the register closed again. "A new record."
We high-fived and I grinned.
Sure, solving mysteries was fun, but it didn't put money in the bank. The bakery did. I had to remember that.
Besides, a new record day meant I could finally take the plunge and do something even more exciting than solving a murder mystery.
I took a deep breath and followed Pippa over to an empty table as she took her break. I let her eat anything she liked on break and today she had chosen a Danish pastry.
"Guess what, Pippa?" I sat across from her, too excited to eat anything as I readied myself to tell her the exciting news.
I could see her mind already starting to work as she looked up at the ceiling and poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.
"Hmm, you're finally going on a date with Detective Whitaker!"
"Pippa! No! Don't be silly."
"Well, has he called you yet?"
"Pippa...no...that doesn't matter. That's not my news and I wouldn't be excited about it if it were. Keep guessing."
She put her Danish down and chewed on it, still pondering.
"You've found another mystery to solve? Is that it? I know that would make you excited."
I shook my head. "That's not it."
She threw her hands in the air and said she was ready to give up. "Besides, cookies need to come out of the oven," she said, hurrying over to the oven to pull out the tray before she gave one last wild guess. "You've won the lottery?"
"Nope!" I said, pleased that she hadn't guessed. "Pippa, we're expanding the bakery. I'm purchasing the antiques shop next door!"
The tray of cookies she was carrying crashed to the ground.
Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Was she happy? Excited? Her wide eyes said otherwise.
"Rachael," Pippa whispered as she gripped the collar of my shirt. "You can't purchase the antiques shop!" Her face was as white as a ghost.
"Pippa!" I shook her off and brushed at my shirt. "Why-ever not? I thought you would be pleased for me? For us." Pippa had a...let's just say 'issue' keeping a job longer than a week. Her tenure at my bakery, two months now, was the longest she had ever stayed at a job. I thought she would be thrilled to know that she had secure employment in a blossoming business.
"I'm pleased that the bakery is successful." Pippa stopped and glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the antiques shop, as though she could see through the brick wall. She shook her head slowly. "But you can't buy the shop next door." She turned back to face me, her eyes still as wide as pies.
"Rachael, that place is haunted."
I scoffed. "Oh, come on, Pippa. I know you believe a lot of outlandish things, but this is too much."
"Rachael!" Her voice was high and indignant. "You must have heard the rumors."
I walked back to the counter in a little bit of a huff. I felt as though Pippa was raining on my parade. "No, I haven't heard any rumors." I shot Pippa a look. "But I don't really frequent the same places you do."
I was talking about the Belldale Haunted House tour and the Belldale Paranormal Club. Pippa had recently joined and had attended several of their tours, which took place after dark and involved dragging locals and tourists alike around Belldale's 'most haunted' locations. Pippa had come back to our apartment following these tours and given me several breathless accounts of how amazing and eye-openin
g they were, while I tried to listen with a straight face.
Pippa let out a deep sigh. "Well, yes, the haunted house tour was very informative when it came to the antiques shop."
"Pippa, that whole tour is just a scam to get money. It's a bit of entertainment. You can't take the stories too seriously, and you can't let them impact a business decision."
"But the rumors have been around for way longer than the tour has been running!" Pippa caught my skeptical expression and lowered her voice. "You know that painting that's been sitting in the corner for years—the one of the young girl and boy."
I swallowed. I knew the one she meant. A large watercolor in a bronze frame of a pair of children, painted like they were in the 1940s, but cartoon like. Both children had been painted with large cartoon-like eyes that dwarfed their faces, and the eyes seemed to follow you. I always hurried past it, it gave me the creeps. The painting had been in the store, in the same place, in the front window, for as long as I could remember.
"What about it?" I picked up a cloth and began to wipe the tables, as though I wasn't really interested in what Pippa was saying, when actually I had my ears keenly pricked, waiting for her response.
"They say that painting is haunted. That's why it never sells. No one wants it in their home."
I stood up straight. "Well, that's the silliest thing I've ever heard." I shook my head. "That painting doesn't sell because it’s over-priced. Not to mention ugly. Besides, the painting won't be there once I buy the store, none of the antiques will."
Pippa shook her head. "The rumors say that the boy and girl live in the painting…"
"The boy and girl are painted onto the canvas," I corrected her.
Pippa ignored me. "The story goes that they live in the shop. They've lived there for decades. That's why the painting never sells. They don't let anyone buy it. They can't be moved from their home. Rachael, if you buy the shop and try to get rid of the painting, then the children will be very upset. They will curse you."
A Pie to Die For: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Page 8
