Raspberry Ripple Murder

by Abby Byne

  “He tried to kill somebody! That’s why he done time.” Luke’s voice was rising. He hadn’t touched the strawberry caramel cupcake that Bitsie had set in front of him, although he had been punctuating his tale with distraught swigs of black coffee.

  “Who did he try to kill?” Bitsie asked. “How do you know?”

  “I talked to Monty’s Ex,” Luke answered. “Went straight to her house this morning. Me and my girlfriend did. We went together. Monty’s Ex, she thinks he done it, too. I told her what I thought, and she agreed with me. She thinks he could’ve done it.“

  “I’ll look into it,” said Stan. “I can find out what convictions Monty has had, anyway. Keep in mind, though, that no matter what Monty Burge has done in the past, it doesn’t mean he had anything to do with this.”

  “Luke, you weren’t here at the bakery at all last night, were you?” Bitsie asked.

  “No, it was just Danny and Marco on this job yesterday. Danny called me this morning. He was kicking himself he didn’t stick around. Could have kept Marco from getting himself killed.”

  “Do you have Danny’s number?” Bitsie asked Luke. “Maybe we should talk to him directly.”

  Danny was easy to track down; in fact, he agreed to meet Bitsie for supper at the diner around the corner.

  The next step was locating the potentially-murderous Monty. Since no one seemed to have a number for Monty Burge, Bitsie decided to try Monty’s Ex, whose number had been given to Bitsie by Luke.

  Monty’s Ex answered on the first ring and wasn’t reticent to talk.

  “I don’t know where he is,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach him since yesterday. He’s supposed to have visitation with the kids today, but he don’t answer. Even his mother don’t know where he is. At least, that’s what she says, but she lies sometimes. Monty was supposed to come with her to pick the kids up, but he never showed.”

  “When was the last time anybody saw him?” Bitsie asked.

  “I talked to him yesterday, middle of the afternoon. I needed to know when he was going to pick up the kids this morning. He and their grandma, they were planning to go out to Brink’s Lake. Monty likes going there. Spends half his life out there, seems like. He likes takin’ the kids fishing. Their grandma, she always goes with ‘em. Has too. That’s what the judge said. Otherwise, he can’t see ‘em no more.”

  “Please call me if you hear from him,” Bitsie said.

  “You think he done it?”

  “Done it? You mean killed his boss? Of course not,” Bitsie insisted, but she was convinced of nothing of the kind.

  Chapter Four

  After talking to Monty’s Ex, Bitsie took another crack at tracking down the half-eaten cupcake. According to Stan, who’d checked with the officer who’d taken the body to the local funeral home—the only one in Little Creek and which doubled as the morgue—there had been no half-eaten cupcake taken away with the body. So, if the cupcake hadn’t been in the trash that morning, and it hadn’t been taken off the premises, then it had to still be there somewhere.

  Bitsie went into the office and grabbed a yardstick tucked between the desk and the wall. She took it out to the kitchen and knelt down next to the ovens across from the sink where Marco had met his untimely demise. The ovens set up off the floor by several inches. Bitsie shoved the yardstick into the gap between the tiled floor and the ovens and made a careful sweep.

  The first sweep yielded a lot of lint, a petrified stick of gum, a pencil, and a discarded hairnet, but no cupcake.

  Bitsie tried another sweep, this time from the opposite direction.

  Bingo! She’d found it. Bitsie picked up the slightly-linty raspberry ripple cupcake. It must be the one. It appeared fresh enough to have been baked only yesterday.

  Bitsie looked at the cupcake more closely. Contrary to Anabel and Hector’s description of it being “half-eaten,” it was not. There was only a single large bite taken out of it, and that single large bite looked very much like the bites that had been taken out of all those cupcakes in the display case.

  Bitsie shook her head. Had Marco become temporarily deranged? Taking one bite out of every row of cupcakes in a bakery display case was either the actions of an immature practical joker or a crazy person; it certainly wasn’t responsible or professional.

  Yet everyone agreed that Marco was both, so maybe it wasn’t Marco who had taken the bites out of all those cupcakes, but if it hadn’t been Marco—then who had it been?

  Bitsie met with Danny—Marco’s other employee and the last person known to have seen Marco alive—at Bub’s Grill. Bub’s Grill was just around the corner from Bitsie’s Bakeshop, but it was a world away in terms of décor. The decorative motif at Bub’s Grill was all pigs, all the time. This fixation with the porcine was merely a reflection of the menu, which followed a similar theme: all pork, all the time. Bitsie ordered honey-smoked ribs and waited for Danny to bring up the reason they were there in the first place.

  “I’m still in shock, I think,” said Danny. “I can’t believe that Marco is gone. He’s such a good guy. Everybody liked him.”

  “Except for Monty,” Bitsie pointed out.

  “Monty didn’t like nobody.”

  “Luke’s convinced that Marco would never have made the kind of mistake that got him killed. Do you agree with Luke?”

  “It’s hard to know,” said Danny. “We all make stupid mistakes if we get distracted enough.”

  “Did Marco seem preoccupied when you left him last night.”

  “To be honest? Marco hadn’t been himself for a while. He’d been real quiet and serious—he’s normally a real cheerful guy. It’s been like he was worried about something, and he’d been super tired lately like he hadn’t been sleeping too good.”

  “Did he seem sick?” Bitsie asked. “Did he ever say anything about having a serious illness?”

  “Marco? Sick? That guy is as strong as an ox. I’ve worked for him for years, and I’ve never known him to take a single sick day.”

  “But you said you thought he hadn’t been sleeping well. It was the middle of the night. Do you think he could have just been so tired that he wasn’t thinking straight and turned the power back on to that circuit he was working on without realizing what he was doing?”

  “I guess it’s possible, but there’s something that’s really bothering me,” Danny continued. “That shock shouldn’t have killed Marco. The only reason it did kill him, in my opinion, was because there was all that water on the floor. If everything had been dry, a shock like that might have hurt real bad, but it probably wouldn’t have done him in.”

  “You’re sure there wasn’t water on the floor earlier in the night?”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t there when I left at two. At least not a big puddle like that. I’d have noticed that.”

  “Did you notice any water in the sink, when you left?”

  “Yeah. There were pans soaking in the sink.”

  “When Marco’s body was discovered, he was holding a half-eaten cupcake in his hand,” Bitsie said. “Does that seem strange to you?” That cupcake probably meant nothing, but its presence was nagging at her. It was so out of place.

  “He was eating a cupcake?” said Danny. “I was there when they were taking his body away, but I didn’t notice any cupcake. Of course, I was concentrating on getting the power back on, and, to be honest, I tried not to look at the body.”

  “Did you see Marco eating any cupcakes earlier on?”

  “When we arrived to start work yesterday evening your guy—“

  “Nick.”

  “Yeah. Nick offered us a plate of cupcakes, but Marco didn’t want any. He said he’d just finished supper. He doesn’t really like sweets too much.”

  “Maybe, later on, after you left, he got hungry and changed his mind.”

  “Maybe,” Danny said. He sounded unconvinced. “What kind of cupcake was it?”

  “Should that matter?”

  “Just tell me, if you know, wha
t kind of cupcake Marco was holding in his hand when he died?” Danny seemed unreasonably agitated over a cupcake.

  “I do know, actually,” said Bitsie. “I found it this morning under one of the ovens. It was a raspberry ripple.”

  “No way!” said Danny.

  “Why is that so impossible?” Bitsie asked.

  “Marco hates raspberries. He said so last night. Went on and on about it. He’s hated them ever since he was a little kid. There were three cupcakes left on the plate when I left at two. I’d already eaten one strawberry and one banana cream. Nick went out back— we had the door to the alley propped open—and offered some to that homeless guy who hangs around back there, but he didn’t want any, either. I remember there were three left on the plate after I ate the other two. One was chocolate, one was one maple nut, and one was raspberry. Was there a plate on the counter with cupcakes on it, when you arrived this morning?”

  “There was a plate of cupcakes, but it wasn’t sitting out on the counter,” said Bitsie. “Someone had stuck a plate of cupcakes up on top of the fridge.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember doing that. I stuck it up there. It was kind of in the way, and I thought it might get knocked off the counter.”

  “When I found the plate, there was one chocolate and one maple nut, but the raspberry ripple was still there, too,” said Bitsie. “You’re absolutely certain that there was only one raspberry ripple cupcake to begin with on the plate that Nick offered you?”

  “Yeah. Absolutely. It makes no sense for Marco to choose the one flavor he specifically said he couldn’t stand,” said Danny. He lowered his voice and glanced at the nearby diners before continuing. “I know Luke thinks that Crazy Monty had something to do with this, but my money’s on the girlfriend.”

  “Monty’s girlfriend?”

  “No, Marco’s. She’s the one somebody really ought to be taking a serious look at.”

  Bitsie didn’t want to be the one to intrude on a bereaved woman’s grief. She certainly wasn’t about to call up a woman who’d just lost her boyfriend in a freak workplace accident and suggest that she’d had something to do with it, but there was no harm in asking around a little. Danny had informed her that Jennifer worked at a hair salon downtown, so the following afternoon Bitsie made an appointment for a haircut.

  Bitsie had been meaning to change her style anyway. She wanted a new cut that was short and breezy; she wanted a style that said, “I may have just been dumped by my husband of twenty-seven years, but I’m not letting it get me down.”

  Did such a haircut exist? Bitsie wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try. While she was at it, she’d subtly grill Jennifer’s coworkers.

  It turned out that no grilling was required. No sooner had Bitsie been seated and swathed and explained to the girl with the scissors what she wanted to be done to her hair, then Jennifer came up in conversation.

  “I can’t believe she came in yesterday. I couldn’t come to work the same day something like that happened,” said a blond named Beth. Beth was styling the hair of a woman who appeared to be about 90 and totally deaf. “I know Jennifer’s not the sentimental type,” Beth continued, “but they’d only barely broken up.”

  “Shh,” Rita, the woman washing Bitsie’s hair, protested as she accidentally aimed a stream of water into Bitsie’s ear. “So sorry!”

  “Don’t mind me,” said Bitsie. “You’re talking about Marco Hernandez, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Rita. “Did you know him?”

  “Not exactly,” said Bitsie. “But I am involved, I guess. I own the bakery where he died.“

  Beth dropped her comb, and Rita misdirected another shot of water into Bitsie’s face. She swiftly apologized again and applied a towel to Bitsie’s dripping cheek.

  “What’s Jennifer like?” Bitsie asked. “I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but there are several people suggesting that Marco’s death was not an accident.”

  The key to getting people to tell you secrets, Bitsie had learned years ago, was to pretend you were telling them one of your own.

  “Well—“ Beth hesitated. The old lady in her chair appeared to have fallen asleep.

  “Well—“ said Rita. “We do think it’s strange.”

  “What?” asked Bitsie. “What’s strange?”

  “Well, Jennifer and Marco met about three months ago, and they got engaged right away,” said Rita.

  “They were engaged?” This was news to Bitsie.

  “Yeah. It was supposed to be very hush-hush. Jennifer said Marco was dying, but we weren’t supposed to tell anyone about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jennifer said that he didn’t want his kids to find out,” said Beth.

  “Although, if he really was dying, it’s not like they weren’t going to be finding out eventually,” Rita interjected.

  “Anyway,” said Beth. “Like I said, they got engaged really fast, then—“

  “About a week ago—“ Rita interrupted again.

  “Yeah. It was about a week ago. Jennifer came into work and told us they had broken up. Marco wasn’t dying, after all, she said, and when she found out he’d been playing her for sympathy, she broke up with him,” Rita added.

  Beth looked at Rita, and Rita looked back at Beth, and they both shook their heads in bewilderment.

  “Now isn’t that the craziest breakup story you ever heard?” Beth said.

  “It’s up there,” Bitsie agreed. “Is Jennifer is coming into work today?”

  “She came. She’s gone already. She didn’t have any more appointments this evening. I heard her telling someone she was going to the gym,” Beth informed Bitsie.

  “She hangs out there a lot,” Rita added. “Long’s Gym. If you go down there, I’m sure you’ll see her. She stands out. Look for a woman with big earrings, big hair, and bright purple lipstick.”

  “Purple?” Bitsie asked.

  “Yeah, I know.” Beth laughed. “Pretty ghastly.”

  Jennifer was every bit as easy to spot as Rita had suggested. She was wearing big earrings and bright purple lipstick that matched a tiny pair of workout shorts that left very little to the imagination. She was lounging against the front desk flirting with the desk attendant, but when Bitsie went up to the counter, Jennifer gave Bitsie a dismissive glance and sauntered off towards the back of the tiny gym where a couple of over-pumped guys were dead-lifting.

  “Can I help you?” the desk attendant asked.

  “Uh…I’m thinking of joining the gym,” Bitsie said.

  She wasn’t, but it was the best she could come up with at short notice. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, this was the first time she’d stepped inside a gym since she had that tremendous crush on Spencer Wirman back in 1986, the summer before she’d met Robert.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” said a voice at her elbow.

  Bitsie whirled around. It was Nick. She should’ve known. There was only one gym in the tiny town of Little Creek, and it was obvious just from looking at the man that he worked out somewhere. It was equally obvious that she herself did not.

  “So, you’re joining the gym?” said Nick.

  “Uh—“ Bitsie giggled nervously. “I could use a little more exercise. Getting a bit, you know, too big for my britches.” Bitsie felt her face turning pink. That was really the wittiest thing she could come up with: an antiquated and completely lame joke about her expanding waistline? And the giggling, what was with the giggling? She was fifty, not fifteen.

  Nick laughed.

  Bitsie cringed. If she could have dissolved in a puff of smoke like one of those magician’s assistants, she would have. Alas, there was no magician in sight.

  “How about I show her around?” Nick suggested to the desk attendant.

  “You two know each other?” the desk attendant asked. He looked doubtful. Bitsie didn’t blame him.

  “According to some people,” Nick joked, “this woman owns me.”

  “Really?” The desk attendant loo
ked doubly doubtful.

  Bitsie tugged at Nick’s elbow. Why did he have to go and say something like that? It was embarrassing.

  “Why don’t we start with the weight machines,” Nick suggested. “You don’t strike me as the free-weight type.” He laughed again, revealing a row of perfectly straight white teeth.

  Why did Nick have to show up? Sure, he gave her excellent cover to observe Jennifer, but his presence was terribly distracting.

  Maybe, Bitsie thought, if she let Nick know what she was up to, he could help her out a little, get her over close enough to hear what Jennifer was talking so earnestly about to one of the men who’d been grunting away with that enormous set of weights.

  “Why don’t you try out this one first,” Nick said.

  Bitsie sat down on the seat of a contraption that resembled a medieval instrument of torture.

  “We’ll start you out with twenty pounds, I think.” Nick leaned over to adjust the weight setting, and Bitsie took her opportunity.

  “I’m not actually here to sign up for the gym,” she said in a low voice.

  “What?“ said Nick.

  Bitsie motioned for him to lean in closer. He did. He smelled of soap and baked goods. Bitsie tried to clear her brain and concentrate.

  “I’m not here to sign up for the gym,“ she whispered. “I’m here because that’s Marco’s fiancée over there.” She motioned in Jennifer’s direction with a tilt of her head.

  Nick looked over at Jennifer. It wouldn’t have been necessary to point her out, Bitsie realized. She and Jennifer were the only two women in the place.

  “Ex-fiancée,” Bitsie amended her statement.

  “But why are you spying on her?”

  “There have been developments,” Bitsie said, “since I talked to you last.”

  “What developments?” Nick asked. Bitsie ignored his question. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him, it was just that it was a much-too-lengthy and complicated story to go into at the moment.

  “Why aren’t you watching the shop?” Bitsie asked. Was nobody there? Anabel had gone home hours ago.