Death by Chocolate Cake: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery

by Stacey Alabaster

  "Who are you?"

  That was a good question. I should have led with that. "My name is Rachael Robinson."

  I saw her face change. Not that it had been soft, exactly, but now her mouth formed into a hard line. "Right. The contestant that beat me to get onto the show. I see."

  I didn't know that was official yet. Had I really gotten onto the show?

  Right. Not the right time to focus on that.

  "What are you doing here? Come to rub my nose in it, have you?"

  I shook my head and put my hands up. "No, of course not."

  I've just come to accuse you of killing someone.

  Probably best not to say it quite like that.

  "What then?"

  I cleared my throat. "I'm sure you've heard about Pierre's death," I said, trying to be delicate.

  Renee raised her eyebrows. "I've heard that he was murdered, yes. On set, apparently."

  "Yes. Apparently." I turned to Pippa, begging her silently for help.

  "Erm," she said, turning towards Renee. "You didn't happen to see anything suspicious yesterday, did you?"

  Renee lowered her eyes. "What is it to either of you two? I've already spoken to the police. Why are you at my house?"

  I decided to just be honest with her. "Look. The police in this town don't always do the best job when it comes to things like this. Sometimes they need a little...help. So that's all I'm trying to do. I'm concerned—just like you are, I'm sure—about what happened to Pierre. What does it mean for our town?" I decided to try a slightly different tactic. "What does it mean for the future of the show? I'm sure you're anxious to find out whether you got on."

  "What does it matter whether Pierre is alive or dead? I blew the audition."

  "Hey, I thought I did too," I said, trying to be sympathetic. "But Justin assured me that I didn't. Apparently I did better than I thought I did."

  Renee scoffed. "There was no 'apparently' about it. Everyone knew you were getting through. Everyone knew you were Pierre's little favorite,” she said with a hiss before trying to shut the door on us.

  Pippa shot me a look.

  What is going on here?

  "Renee, please, if you could just let us talk to you for a minute! Pierre didn't even seem to like me! He didn't even like my baking that much."

  She shut the door with my foot caught between it and that doorframe. "Ouch!"

  "I'm sure your baking wasn't the reason he liked you!"

  I yanked my foot out before it got jammed again, before Renee slammed the door for good.

  "What was all that about?" Pippa asked, clearly enthralled by the drama but trying to look sympathetic for my sake.

  "I think my foot is broken." I tried to flex my toes and winced. "And I have no idea what all that was about. That was crazy, right?"

  "Had you met her before?"

  I shook my head. "This was the first time I ever laid eyes on the woman. I never even heard of her until this morning."

  "Well, it seems like she knows an awful lot about you."

  "Pippa," I said, slightly offended. "Whatever she was just suggesting, and I'm not even sure what that was, none of it is true. You know that, right?"

  Pippa shrugged. "Hey, if you had to flirt with a judge to get onto a reality show, then I don't blame you."

  "Pippa! I didn't. I only met Pierre the one time, at my audition. And I was so nervous I could hardly even speak to him. Let alone flirt."

  The curtains to the front porch pulled back to reveal Renee's face scowling at us.

  "Right. We should probably get off her porch."

  "So who's next on the list?" I asked as I pulled out of Renee's driveway. She was still peering at us through the curtains as I rolled my car slowly backwards.

  Pippa frowned and looked down at the names. "Some guy named Adam Ali."

  "Adam Ali," I murmured, glad to finally be out of Renee's crossfire. "Man, that name sounds familiar. I really hope it's not who I think it is."

  It was. Adam Ali was a thirty-five year old man, claiming to be twenty-five, who was convinced that he had been robbed of a life in show business. He had ginger hair that had been highlighted blonde, pale skin, and blue eyes that were far too bright.

  It had been years since our last meeting.

  I knew him because he owned a wedding cake business. When I'd first opened my boutique bakery, he'd tried everything possible to get me shut down, including getting other shop owners and residents to sign a petition that alleged that my bakery sold goods containing illegal substances and that I was a hazard to the family-friendly neighborhood.

  Eventually, when I'd informed him that I didn't even make wedding cakes and never intended to, he backed off.

  Still, I knew just how competitive, and underhanded, Adam could be. No wonder Justin had him pegged as a suspect. I could only imagine the lengths he would go to in order to ensure his place on TV.

  "Pippa, Adam isn't going to just open up and talk to us. He probably isn't even going to let us in his shop." I turned off the ignition and thought. "We're going to have to come up with a good reason for going in there."

  Pippa held up her left hand. "Duh?" she said, pointing to it.

  "Oh, Pippa, you're a genius! Your reception!" I threw my head back. "Oh, I'm almost glad you actually got married now!"

  "What?"

  "Huh? Nothing," I said quickly, taking my seatbelt off. "I mean, of course I'm glad you got married. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

  "Right."

  "Come on, let's go inside!"

  Adam's face bloomed into a large grin as soon as he saw Pippa and the ring on her finger. "Don't worry, there's a wedding band as well, as you can see, but we haven't had the reception yet!"

  I lingered back out of sight and almost got trapped in a large display of taffeta decorations falling from the sky.

  I tripped over a display and almost sent a very expensive four-tier cake flying.

  "You!" Adam said, his mouth dropping open. He raced over and straightened the display, shooing me away. "Have you come here to sabotage my store?"

  "No, I wouldn't stoop to that level," I said, gripping my purse straps as I tried to steady myself on my feet. "I'm here with my friend Pippa."

  "Oh, you two are friends?" His disappointment was palpable.

  Pippa nodded. "Yes, best friends. Rachael would have been my maid of honor as well, if me and Marcello hadn't eloped."

  Adam shot me a skeptical look before placing his hand on his hip. "So are you two actually here to buy a wedding cake?"

  Pippa nodded. "Yes, of course!" A look of shock spread across her face when she flipped over a price tag and saw the price.

  "They aren't cheap, honey, but they are the best." Adam turned to me pointedly and added, "I am the best baker in Belldale, after all."

  I tried not to bite. I really did. "Is that so? Then why did I get cast on Baking Warriors, and you didn't then, Adam?"

  Adam's mouth dropped open. "You auditioned for Baking Warriors?"

  Huh? "Oh, come on, Adam, don't pretend you don't know I was there. Or that I was the judges’ favorite."

  Adam pouted a little and crossed his arms. "I didn't know you were there, actually. The least you could have done was stay away and give me my moment! After you opened up the only other rival boutique cake shop in town and took away all my customers!"

  I rolled my eyes. "I don't even do wedding cakes. My store has nothing to do with weddings at all."

  I could tell immediately from his reaction that I'd said the wrong thing. "Oh really, Rachael Robinson? Is that so?"

  I was less sure now. "Yes?"

  Adam clicked his tongue in his cheek. "What is all this I've been hearing about you holding wedding receptions then? Do you not cater those? With cakes?"

  I looked at Pippa for help, but all she offered was a shrug with a 'you're on your own here' look.

  I swallowed. "Well, yes, but that's only a recent thing. And I just hold the receptions. It's not just weddi
ng receptions we do, it's birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and other celebrations," I said, stumbling over my words as I tried to paint the situation in a more positive light. "I think a lot of the brides and grooms bring your cakes in to my store actually. They must know yours are the best." I had no idea if that was true. Nor did I have any idea if Adam was buying any of this. I doubted he was.

  "Well," Adam said, with a little flick of his bangs. "Mine are the best." Okay, maybe he was. I had to remember, flattery was the way to this man's heart.

  "Adam," I said, pouncing on the fact that his guard was down a little. "I suppose you heard about what happened to Pierre yesterday?"

  "Yes, sweetheart, I was there." He stared at me. "I heard the screams." He turned his attention back to one of his cake displays, fixing a ribbon tied around a thick slab of fondant. "Though I've been avoiding all social media today. I can't bear to read about any of it." He placed his hand up to his heart. "It's such a tragedy, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is." I tried to read Adam's tone while he was talking, but it was impossible to tell if he was sincere or not.

  "Adam, did you see anything yesterday? Hear anything? Besides the screams."

  "Who are you? The police? No. All I heard was the screams of that PA that found him."

  "Producer," I corrected him. "Justin is a producer, not a PA."

  "Well, whatever. I didn't see anything before or after that. I was more focused on myself." Big shock. "And my own audition, than on anything anyone else was doing."

  I thought about this. "Did you think your audition went well?"

  Adam glared at me. "I know I gave the best audition of anyone there. I'm sure I would have gone through to the next round as well, but I'm not sure we'll ever know now, will we?" Adam flicked his bangs again, sadly. "Who knows if the show will even film now? It's a tragedy. I was made for TV, Rachael. I just can't believe all of this is happening."

  Adam looked over at Pippa. "So are you going to purchase one of those or not?"

  Pippa backed away awkwardly. "I'm going to have to think about it, but I'm honesty really very interested."

  She kept backing away until she was right at the door. I bid farewell to Adam and quickly followed her out.

  "YOU'RE going to bake my wedding cake, right?" Pippa whispered to me as we ran past the shop front.

  "Pippa, I've never made a wedding cake before!" I said, opening the car door. "But yes. I will." I shot one last look back at Adam's shop. "I wouldn't trust anything that had been made by Adam."

  It was midday and the sun was glaring down. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, we were sticking to the seats. But with the windows down and my foot on the accelerator, our trip through Belldale with our hair flowing in the wind was fairly pleasant.

  "You were right, he really doesn't like you," Pippa said. "He DEFINITELY still holds a grudge." Pippa mused over this for a second. "Do you think he could have killed Pierre to get back at you? Because you got through and he didn't?"

  I sighed a little, pulling my sunglasses on. "He said he didn't even know I was there. And he seemed pretty convinced that HE was the one who got through."

  "And do you believe him?"

  I thought about that for a moment. "I'm not sure."

  Chapter 6

  "Pleaasssseee," Pippa begged, stretching out every vowel so that it sounded like the word had five syllables. She clasped her hands together. "I promise that he won't let you down."

  My face was frozen in a look of shock and horror like I had been covered in lava at Pompeii and made to stand that way for all time.

  Pippa waved her hand in front of my face. "Rach? Are you still alive in there?"

  I was finally able to move my face. "Pippa, tell me this is one of your little jokes. You are pranking me, right?"

  "I'm not, Rach! Marcello needs a job. Like, really needs one. I promise you he will be a model employee."

  "Pippa, he breaks everything. He thinks that you can fish the glass out of salsa and still serve it! He drops hair everywhere!"

  "I know he's not perfect..." Understatement. "But he can be trained. He'll be different at work than he is at home. You'll be there to keep an eye on him. And if he does totally mess up, you can fire him, and I promise there will be no hard feelings." Pippa grabbed me by the arms. "Please, just give him a chance, Rachael."

  I couldn't believe I was about to agree to this. "Fine," I said with a heavy sigh. "I'll give him a chance. But this is on a trial basis only, okay?"

  Pippa nodded and jumped up and down. I had to double check she understood what I mean. "Trial. Basis."

  "Yes, Rach! Thank you!" She ran out of the kitchen and came back with Marcello, who was grinning ear to ear. He reached out for my hand and kissed it. "Thank you so much, Miss Rachael. I promise that I will be your humble servant at work. You will not regret this decision."

  I was already regretting it, though. And I knew I would only regret it more when the next day came.

  I hadn't taken my eyes off him from the moment he'd walked in the store.

  "You know, you can trust him a little," Pippa whispered to me as she tied her apron behind her back. "It's not like he's going to burn the place down."

  "Pippa, if he works here, it's on my terms. And that means never taking my eyes off him for one moment."

  Pippa held her hands up. "Okay, okay, you got it, boss. Now, what do you want Marcello to do first?"

  Hmm. Definitely nothing involving food, which was difficult in a bakery. Drinks maybe? I wondered just how badly he could screw up a cup of coffee.

  "Does he know how to use a cappuccino machine?"

  "I'm sure he can learn. He is Italian, after all!"

  But as soon as the milk hit the frother and Marcello had managed to cover himself, me, and Pippa in hot milk before dropping the entire jug on the ground, I knew that he couldn't learn. At least, not until we were closed to customers and I had the time to teach him. And I'd had a few glasses of wine first.

  "I'll get a mop."

  While Marcello was in the cleaning closet—I figured there was only so much trouble he could get up to in there—I took a minute to check my phone.

  I had a new message from Justin. What happened yesterday with Renee and Adam???

  I'd been putting off messaging him. I wasn't yet sure what to make of either of them, they both could have done it, and I wanted to dig for some more information on both without Justin's opinions of them clouding my own good judgment.

  I decided not to reply. Just as I was about to put my phone back in my pocket, a call from a private number flashed up on the screen.

  I hovered over the 'reject' option before finally tapping it. I never answer calls from private numbers as a matter of principle. If it's someone I know, or it it's important, they can leave a message.

  They did, but unfortunately not a text message. A voice message. I sighed and glanced towards the mop cupboard, wondering what was taking Marcello so long. I really should go check on him.

  But with everything that was going on, I was worried the message could be important. Maybe it was Jackson. Maybe something had been discovered about Pierre.

  I listened to the message while keeping one eye out for Marcello at the back of the shop.

  "Hello...Rachael?" It was the kindly voice of an older woman, one that I thought I recognized but couldn't quite place. "I'm not sure this is the right number, I received it from Justin. Anyway," the voice continued briskly, if a little unsurely. "This is Dawn Ashfield calling, from Baking Warriors. I'm still in town. Production is in a bit of limbo right now, as you can imagine. But we have some good news for you. Give me a call back when you have a chance, dear," she said, before leaving her number.

  Dawn Ashfield just called me? Well. Now I wished I had broken my stance on picking up calls from private numbers. I was just about to punch her number back in when I heard a squealing noise coming from the direction of the kitchen.

  Or maybe the mop closet.

  "What is that sm
ell?" I muttered. Then I saw it. Gray smoke rising from the top of the door of the kitchen.

  Pippa burst through the swinging doors coughing and spluttering. "Rach! Quick! Call the fire department!"

  I sighed and began pressing the numbers. I didn't even have to ask how it had happened.

  I wan't even surprised.

  "To be fair to Marcello," Pippa said. "He didn't know that you weren't supposed to mix those two kinds of cleaning fluids...next to an open flame."

  I surveyed the damage to the kitchen while we both hunched in together on the bottom part of a bench. Luckily a lot of it was superficial. And luckily we had more than one oven because one of them was doused in fire extinguishing foam.

  I was more concerned with the loss of profits from the entire morning we'd had to close the shop.

  "I'm sorry. I never should have asked if he could work here. But even I never thought he'd do this," she said, throwing her hands up at the blackened room.

  "I thought he would do it," I said flatly. I wasn't even mad. I had been expecting something like this to happen. My only surprise was that it wasn't even worse.

  "So I suppose he is fired then?"

  I turned slowly towards Pippa. "Yes, Pippa. I think it's safe to say that the trial period was not a success."

  Pippa sighed and stood up. "I'll help you clean up then. We can't stay shut all day."

  "Umm," I muttered, distracted by my phone ringing again. I'd totally forgotten all about the phone call from Dawn. I still didn't know what this important news was she had to tell me. I glanced at Pippa, who started to scrub down a stovetop.

  "Hey, you know what? You should go home and make sure Marcello is okay."

  Pippa turned around in surprise. "Really?"

  "Yeah, it's fine. I think we should just close for the day."

  "Only if you're sure."

  I was sure. Sure that I wanted to call Dawn Ashfield back and find out what the heck was going on. I was sure that if Dawn was calling me herself that the news must be important.

  That meant I must be important.

  Maybe filming is going ahead in secret. You know, they'd have to be a bit sensitive about it following Pierre's death...and I've been cast...and they just need to know when I'm available and how discreet I can be.