Dead Velvet Cupcakes

by Polly Holmes

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Margarete couldn’t believe her eyes. It wasn’t Ryder Stone, but the next best thing. Exhilarated by her find, she eased up onto her toes and perched the lenses of her camera on a protruding branch and began snapping pictures. “Charlie Colbert, you sly dog. Seems you have more secrets than you let on.”

  Margarete’s finger was running hot, snapping pictures of Charlie and a mystery woman standing just inside the open door of room fourteen, locked in a very compromising position. Charlie’s body blocked the woman’s face, but it was clear to Margarete they were on extremely intimate terms.

  Gotcha, Charlie. Maybe now, you’ll share your alibi with me now.

  Slight movement out of the corner of her eye nabbed her attention and all thoughts reverted to her original objective. Ryder Stone. In the flesh and up to no good, judging by his suspicious jittery movements.

  Checking that the coast was clear, Margarete followed his trail as he headed along the road toward St. Edwards Point. Thanks to the dense trees and shrubbery she had plenty of places to hide along the roadside. Her chest heaved, the night air burning her throat as she sucked in deep breaths. She doubled her pace just to keep up with Stone’s long strides. He was obviously in a hurry, but why?

  Margarete stopped every few meters to take a few shots. They’d just turned down a gravel track leading to the lighthouse, passing the sign a few meters back. Even though the track was getting more uneven with every step, she was starting to slot into a comfortable rhythm. Out of nowhere, Ryder Stone stopped dead in his tracks and looked to the right.

  Oh no, my cover is blown. Her heart racing a gazillion miles an hour, Margarete held her breath and darted behind the closest tree, slamming her body into the rock-hard eucalyptus trunk. Her footing slipped and excruciating pain ricocheted up her leg as her right ankle twisted beneath her and she went down like a lead weight.

  Margarete’s jaw dropped and an impending shriek of pain began to rumble deep in her chest. Simultaneously, her right hand flew to her mouth to muffle her scream, and her left made a tight fist.

  Aw, aw, aw. No, no, no. Holy cow. This is just what I need, a damn sprained ankle. Every muscle in Margarete’s body began to seize and she leant against the tree trunk, waiting to be caught by Ryder Stone.

  Nothing. She waited. Still nothing. Had he gone? A chilling silence fell on the dense bush interrupted only by the eerie calls of the wildlife. Her heart jumped into the back of her throat. “This cannot be good,” she whispered.

  The longer she sat with her backside glued to the hollow of the tree trunk, the more her mind raced and her ankle throbbed. An icy chill set in her bones and she shivered against the nightfall. A good twenty minutes had passed. If he hadn’t found her by now, surely, he had gone.

  Margarete braced her back against the trunk and prepared to haul her injured body off the damp ground. “Okay, you can do this. It’s not sprained, it’s not sprained,” she recited to herself as she began to move.

  Edging her body up the tree, she pressed her right foot down on the ground. Agonizing pain ran up her leg and it gave way. She landed flat on her backside once more.

  She pursed her lips together, frustrated she’d injured herself at such a crucial time in the investigation. “Now I’ll never know who Ryder was meeting or where he was going.” A shiver danced up her spine and goose bumps coated her torso. She scanned her surroundings and the depths of her unfortunate predicament hit home like a sledgehammer.

  “I also can’t stay here all night, and I certainly can’t walk back to my car.” Digging her phone out of her shoulder bag, she dialled Savannah’s number. Margarete hung up after Savannah’s answering machine picked up the call. Her fingers began to shake as she punched in the McCorrson’s number. Again, no answer. Margarete dropped her head back against the tree and sucked in calming breaths. There was someone she could ring, but would he believe her?

  By the time she explained her location to Logan, he was understandably anxious, and her stomach began to knot. After all, she was a woman alone, out in the middle of the bush, surrounded by goodness knows what. A sitting duck for whatever animal decided to pay her a visit to acquire their evening meal. She wasn’t looking forward to the impending confrontation with Logan.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said, her mind full of horrible images of her demise at the claws of a wild beast. “Since I’ve lived in Ashton Point, there have been no deaths by animal attacks and I’m sure they won’t start tonight.” Keeping her mind occupied was the key. She tried dialling Alexandra Cohen’s number once again.

  “Hello, Alex speaking.”

  Thank goodness. “Alex. Hi, this is Margarete Becker and I was hoping Kayne might still be with you,” she asked, doing her best to cover the quiver in her voice.

  “Sure, hang on a sec.”

  “Kayne Pendleton speaking.”

  Margarete swallowed hard. “Kayne it’s Margarete Becker and I have some information on Ryder Stone.”

  “Ryder Stone?” He paused, annoyance seeped through his words. “What have you been up to, Margarete? I thought I told you to leave the policing to the professionals.”

  Yes, I know, but I couldn’t exactly get in touch with you earlier and I couldn’t take the chance of missing this lead. As if she hadn’t had a bad enough night., Her shoulders heaved as anger flared inside her chest. “No problem, I’m happy to keep my information to myself, if that’s what you want, but I was just trying to help. Sorry to interrupt your evening.” She was just about to hang up when Kayne’s voice called out.

  “Wait. I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I just don’t like it when women put themselves in unnecessary danger. It almost killed me when that lunatic went after Alex. I’d hate to have anything happen to you.”

  “I’m fine.” As long as you don’t find out what happened this evening. “I just wanted to let you know that Ryder Stone is staying at the Watson Creek Hotel. Room ten.”

  “And how do you know this?” he asked.

  Because I followed him dressed like a spy, and now I’m sitting in the hollow of a tree with a sprained ankle waiting for Logan to rescue me. Like that’s going to work.

  “Um… I was in the area visiting a friend and happened to see him exit the room as I drove passed. I think I may have seen him walking toward St. Edwards Point. I just thought it could be useful information.” The pulsating whirr of a car engine signalled Logan’s approach and her back stiffened. “Okay, that’s all. Have a great rest of your evening. Bye.”

  ****

  Logan smiled as he pushed his empty dessert plate to the centre of the table. “I’m stuffed,” he said rubbing his oversize belly. “That sticky date pudding would have to best the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  Elaine’s hearty laugh warmed him. “I agree, but I’m not sure my waistline will thank me for the second piece I devoured.”

  Logan made a shushing sound with his fingers. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “Deal,” said Elaine.

  The vibration of his phone tickled his backside and he jumped. His eyes widened and a smile turned his lips up when he saw it was Margarete. “Excuse me, do you mind if I take this?”

  “Of course not. We’re finished anyway.” She shooed him away with her white lace handkerchief. “You go have some fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Logan nodded and moved over by the door, out of earshot of inquisitive guests. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked expecting a warm greeting.

  “Hi, Logan, its Margarete. I was just wondering, if it’s not too much trouble… I could use your help.”

  His body stiffened at the distress in quivering her voice. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Before she’d finished explaining, he was on the way to his car, keys in hand. “Stay put. I’m on my way.”

  He’d managed to make it to her location in record time, praying the whole way he wasn’t pulled over by the police for speeding. If he’d known she was going
to go galivanting off to chase criminals, he would have cancelled his dinner with Elaine and joined her. Leaving the headlights pointed towards the bush, he jumped out and headed down the gravel track, his heart beating inside his ribcage like a marching drum.

  “Margarete,” he called.

  Silence.

  “Margarete,” he called again, this time a little louder.

  Her mellow voice sailed through the trees. “Over here.”

  His gaze found her huddled body shivering and he mentally kicked himself for not bringing a blanket. “Are you okay?” he asked as he crouched down beside her, his hands clutching her icy hands in his.

  “I am now,” she said smiling. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course. Do you think you can walk?”

  She nodded. “I think so, with some help.”

  “Okay, let’s take this nice and slow.”

  Margarete gripped the tree in preparation. Logan eased his arm around her waist and pulled her close as he hiked her injured body from the ground. Seconds ticked away while they stood arm in arm, lips inches from each other’s. Her chilled breath skimming his sensitive skin and his body tensed. His mind wandered with thoughts of tasting her luscious lips and nibbling on her neck and ear lobe. Margarete cleared her throat, snapping Logan out of his daydream trance.

  “I should get you home.”

  Back in the car, he cranked the heat up as they took off back toward Ashton Point. “Warming up?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” She rubbed her hands together in front of the vents. “I really appreciate you coming to get me.”

  Logan gripped the steering wheel. “Tell me once more what happened, and why you felt it necessary to go out alone, in the dark, following some stranger who could be a cold-blooded killer.”

  Margarete huffed. “You sound as bad as Kayne. I’m not totally useless, you know. I would never have let Ryder Stone see me. I just lost my footing, that’s all.”

  “That’s all? And now you have a possible sprained ankle or worse.” Logan felt his cheeks redden. “What if he had spotted you? How would you have defended yourself if he had doubled back and attacked you? It’s not like you could have run away.”

  Margarete sat silent, his words clearly began to sink in.

  “Goodness knows what he might have done, and if he is the murderer, you could have been next on his list or worse, he could have….” His voice trailed off refusing to let the image of Margarete under attack consume him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said her head hung low. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to find answers.”

  “That’s all well and good, but do you have to put your life in danger doing it? I’ve only just met you and in case you missed it, I like you, Margarete. And I was hoping to get to know you better. That would be really hard if your dead, don’t you think?”

  Her startled gaze shot to his and her smile melted his gruff exterior. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” he said as he pulled into her driveway. “I was hoping to spend more time getting to know you, so promise me you won’t pull a silly stunt like this again. If you need to follow someone in the dead of night, call me and I’ll come with you. No more sleuthing alone. Agreed?”

  Margarete bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Okay. Just for the record, I think you’re pretty okay. I’d like to get to know you better too.”

  He smiled, his heart doing a flip in his chest. “Good. Then can I suggest you call Savannah and let her know you will be out of action tomorrow? Sprained or not, that ankle is going to need some rest.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” she said as she maneuvered herself from the car.

  Logan was out and on his way to her side before she was out. “Wait for me.”

  They slowly hobbled into the house. Margarete only managed to put minimal weight on her ankle, but at least that meant it probably wasn’t broken. “Would you like me to stay?” he asked innocently.

  A humiliated expression greeted his words and she quickly opened the front door and hobbled inside. “No. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough this evening.”

  “That’s not what—”

  Margarete held her hand up. “It’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but some things are meant to be left to mystery until at least the second or third date.”

  Second or third date? Yes.

  “As you wish. I’ll be by bright and early in the morning to take you to the doctor.”

  “You really don’t have to,” she said, shyly leaning against the doorframe. “I’m sure I can manage.”

  He thought he’d made his feelings toward her known. Maybe not. Logan stepped up close, her fragrant scent of frangipani sucking him in. “I know. I want to.” Her lips taunted him with their rich, ruby hue. His heart took over and he leant forward and kissed her. The silky-soft texture sent his libido soaring and he was lost in a moment of pure perfection.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Aw, ew… Ah.” Exasperated noises shot from her mouth and her breath caught each time she put her weight fully on her ankle. Her ankle wasn’t as sore as last night, but it still hurt like hell. She’d make visiting the doctor was first on her agenda today. “Always the independent one, aren’t you?” Her head turned at the pulsating vibration of her mobile bunny hopping across the table. Lifting her ankle, she hastily hopped over and plopped herself into a chair puffing. Her brow creased as she paused at the unrecognisable number. “Hello?”

  “Margarete, it’s Michelle Sweeni, from The Springs Café.”

  “Hi, Michelle. What can I do for you?”

  The hushed tone of Michelle’s voice piqued Margarete’s attention. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to you. It’s a matter of urgency.”

  Urgency? Margarete gazed at her swollen ankle. “I… Um… Well, you see, I kinda slipped last night and twisted my ankle.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had slipped last night.

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry,” Mish said sympathetically, but continued. “But it’s really important I see you. I have to talk to you before it’s too late. Before someone gets hurt.”

  Intrigued, a plan formed in Margarete’s mind. “Listen, I have a friend who will be here soon to take me to the doctor’s, so I suppose we could swing by your place on the way.”

  “I’m at work. Do you think you could come by here instead? I promise you, what I have to say will make it worth the extra trip.”

  Margarete glanced down at her swollen ankle. “I really should get to the doctor first, but if it’s that important.”

  “Oh, it is,” Michelle said. “I promise.”

  “I guess we can be there in about forty-five minutes. Will that suit you?” she asked trying to dull her eagerness with a sympathetic tone.

  “Perfect. I’ll have some of Charlotte’s yummy cupcakes waiting for you when you get here. Bye.”

  Margarete grinned and dropped her phone into her bag. “Yes! Gossip and cupcakes. What more could a woman ask for?”

  “Are you sure about this?” Logan asked as he helped Margarete hobble into The Springs Café.

  Margarete’s chest burned with exhaustion. Hobbling on one foot—while clinging to the hunk beside her, without letting him know how much she was enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her body—was harder than she imagined. “Of…course. Why would you ask that?”

  Logan grunted. “Because I think you should have seen the doctor first.”

  “Doctor-smocter,” she shrugged his comment off as quickly as he’d said it. “You can’t tell me you aren’t interested in what Mish has to say.”

  “Of course I am, but I’m more interested in taking care of you. You’re the one I care about.”

  A shiver bolted up her spine. Her gaze found his and she was lost for a split second in the depths of his chestnut-brown eyes. “That’s very sweet of you. I promise to let you take care of me, once we hear what she has to say. If it is this urgent, I’m hoping it has to do with Pierre’s murder. Mayb
e she knows who did the dastardly deed. The sooner we get in there, the sooner you can get me to the doctor.”

  Michelle’s eyes lit up as she spotted them coming through the café entrance. She called over her shoulder to Alex. “I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay. I know it’s earlier than normal, but I really need to speak to Margarete.”

  Alex smiled and shrugged. “Fine with me. I’ll hold the fort down.”

  “Thank you,” Mish said, maneuvering her way around the counter before heading for the corner table. She picked up a plate of decadent chocolate cupcakes on the way. “Gee, that foot doesn’t look too good.”

  Margarete heard Logan’s disgruntled huff from the other side of the table. “Don’t worry about me. It was my own silly fault. I misjudged the front porch step last night.” She kept her gaze glued to Michelle for fear that she’d confess the truth if she looked at Logan’s face. “Now what is so important that couldn’t wait? You’re not going to fess up to murdering Pierre, are you?”

  Michelle paled and her jaw dropped. “What? No, I didn’t murder anyone. But I fear you think someone else did, and I need you to know that Charlie did not kill Pierre either.”

  “Charlie? What makes you think that?” Margarete asked under a mask of innocence.

  “I know you think he killed Pierre just because he won’t tell you his alibi. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Charlie is the gentlest kindest man I’ve ever met.”

  The penny dropped like a lead weight strapped around Margarete’s neck.

  Charlie and Mish are an item. No way. How did I not see that coming?

  Logan cleared his throat. “That may be so, but just because Charlie is gentle and kind, doesn’t mean he didn’t snap.”

  “No,” Margarete said as she eased her hand onto Logan’s forearm. An electric thrill scooted up her arm and she mentally forced the sensation to the back of her mind.