FIREWORKS, A FIRECRACKER & fOUL pLAY
death by cupcake, book #5
D.E. HAGGERTY
Copyright © 2020 D.E. Haggerty
All rights reserved.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Fireworks, A Firecracker & Foul Play is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The incidents depicted are pure imagination.
Introduction
Pulling off the perfect wedding is tricky. Pulling off the perfect wedding with the groom in jail? Impossible.
The last thing Anna needs two weeks before her wedding is the groom winding up in jail for murder. Nothing and nobody is going to ruin her perfect July 4th wedding. And no way is she getting married in the jailhouse. Not happening. Instead, she’s off to uncover the actual murderer, because there’s no way her fiancé Logan would hurt anyone. He’s a cop. He fights crime. He doesn’t commit it!
Will the gals of Callie’s Cakes solve the mystery before Anna’s wedding is ruined?
Cupcakes not included, although recipes for all the delicious cupcakes Anna bakes are.
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Dedication
This one is dedicated to my awesome readers Allyson Cochrane and N.N. Light who named the bad guys in this story.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Recipes
An Excerpt from Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker
About the Author
Complete book list
Chapter 1
A bridezilla is born. Please use extreme caution when approaching. Better yet, don’t approach.
“What in the name of cupcakes are you doing?” I slap Callie’s sneaky hand away from the magnificent creation I’ve spent the past three hours baking and decorating.
“But they’re so pretty and look super yummy,” she whines and sticks out her bottom lip to pout. Like I would ever fall for my best friend pouting. As if. She’s not getting her greasy paws on any of my wedding cupcakes.
And pretty? Um, no. My creation isn’t pretty. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Magnificent if I do say so myself. The top is a simple chocolate cake covered in white fondant – for now. I’m still working on how I’ll jazz it up. The fun starts with the layers of cupcakes underneath. There are three tiers of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate cupcakes. Each tier is decorated with a different color of buttercream frosting. The top is red, the middle white, and the bottom blue. Yep, my cupcakes are layered red, white, and blue to celebrate the Fourth of July, which also happens to be my upcoming wedding day.
When my boyfriend Logan proposed on Valentine’s Day, I wasted no time in telling him my dream of getting married on Independence Day. He didn’t think it was possible to put a wedding together in five months. Challenge accepted! Not only am I proving him wrong, but this wedding is going to be fantabulous.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married before me. It’s not fair. I met Ben long before Logan snuck into your apartment and stole your heart. And he proposed months before Logan!” Ben, the poor guy, chased after Callie for more than a year before she finally gave him the time of day.
I roll my eyes. “Um… maybe because you insist on losing twenty pounds before you’ll even consider beginning to plan the wedding?”
Callie absolutely does not need to lose weight. Sure, she’s on the chubby side of the scale, but her curves make her sexy as hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. I’d do a whole bucketload of cupcake baking to get those curves. Instead, I barely reach five-foot-tall and am straight as the lines of a sheet cake. I’ve been called a boy more times than I can count, which may actually be the reason I always dye my hair bright colors.
“How I think I can manage to lose weight when I own this bakery is beyond me.”
Callie and I actually own Callie’s Cakes together. She inherited the place from the previous owner, but I bought into the business last year after I had a spot of trouble with my moonlighting job. Long story. I thought I’d be paying off the purchase for years, but since I moved in with Logan, I’ve been using my rent money to make payments, because the world will end before Logan Allen lets his fiancé pay rent. And yes, those were his exact words.
“Guess it’s a good thing you won’t be getting your hands on these cupcakes anytime soon, then.” I can’t help teasing her. I grab my frosting spatula and start touching up the frosting of the bottom layer of cupcakes.
“But you can’t possibly eat them all yourself.”
Is she serious? “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we sell cupcakes here. It’s how we pay the rent and stuff.”
The door swings open and in walks our barista, Kristie. “Ben’s here,” she announces as if we can’t see the man hot on her heels.
“Mein Leibling,” Callie shouts before rushing him. My best friend and business partner also happens to be a total nerd who teaches German literature at the local college on the side. She even reads German literature in German during her free time. Total nerd.
“Hey sweetheart,” Ben greets Callie with a quick kiss before turning his gaze to me. “We need to talk.”
Uh oh. Ben is a police detective and in my unfortunately not limited experience, it’s never a good thing when a cop wants to chat. My mind scrolls through what dubiously legal deeds I may have performed in the past week, but I’ve been the epitome of good girl – except for blowing through stoplights on my bicycle at 4 a.m., but traffic lights are strictly advisory when the only person on the street is a biking baker.
Truth is, I haven’t had much time to get into any trouble. Not with the preparations for the upcoming wedding. Not like I’m a troublemaker usually or anything. Really, I’m not. Trouble somehow seems to find me. I don’t go searching for it.
“Kristie, why don’t you go back out front?” Callie asks.
Kristie shakes her head. “No way. I’m not going back out there. Ben’s wearing his cop face. This I gotta hear.”
Callie huffs but doesn’t order her to return to the café again. Kristie isn’t merely an employee, she’s also a close friend who lent us a hand when we somehow managed to find ourselves knee-deep in a murder investigation. Of course, when she found herself in a spot of trouble, we jumped at the chance to help her. And no, we don’t go looking for crimes to investigate. Despite what my future husband may think.
“What’s up, Ben?” I ask after t
he kitchen falls silent for a few seconds. I’m impatient to get whatever this is over and return to my precious cupcakes.
“You want to do this in front of them?”
I snort. “Like I can keep Callie from eavesdropping.”
“Hey,” Callie shouts.
“Even if I could, you can’t keep a secret from her anyway.” He grunts but doesn’t disagree. He can’t. I’m right. “Anyway, what is it?”
Ben’s cop face is in full effect as he approaches me. He takes the frosting spatula from my hand and sets it on the table before gathering my hands in his.
Holy cran-cake, this is bad. Like someone must have died bad. “Who died? Is it my mom? My dad?” I don’t have much contact with my parents, but they’re still my parents. I don’t want them to die. I start shaking. “Not both of them!”
Ben squeezes my hands. “Pinkie, relax. Take a breath. No one’s dead.”
The breath rushes out of me as I bob my head. “Okay, okay. What’s going on then? Why are you being Mr. Serious?”
To be honest, Ben is usually a rather serious guy. But having his seriousness directed at me is scaring the sugar out of me.
“Don’t freak out.”
Wrong thing to say. I immediately hit the panic button. No one’s dead, but he didn’t say they weren’t injured. Is a loved one lying on death’s doorstep at the hospital?
“Just tell her, Ben. She’s going to flip out.” Callie comes up beside me and squeezes my shoulder. Kristie stands on my other side and puts her arm around my waist. I’m officially on freak-out level five gazillion. This is going to be bad. Really bad.
“Logan is in jail.”
I exhale in relief. Thank the blessed goddess of cupcakes, no one is dead. I’m confused, though. “In jail? He’s a cop. Isn’t he at the jail more often?” What’s the big deal here?
“No, not at the jail. He’s in the jail. As in behind bars.”
My heart skips a beat and then starts beating like a drum in the percussion section of a marching band at a Fourth of July parade. “Why?” is the only word I manage to utter.
“He’s being held for suspicion of murder.”
“Murder? Logan?” This is obviously a mistake. My Logan wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sure, the man is over six-foot-tall and looks intimidating, but it’s all an act. He’s a great big teddy bear. Like any other bear, he can get a bit growly, but he’s not a killer.
“He’s being held in connection with the murder of a member of Angel Band.”
Now, I’m getting mad. “This is ridiculous! He spent years of his life working to bring those gang members down legally. He risked his life to infiltrate the gang. Why would he take the law into his own hands after going through all that?”
Ben raises his hands in surrender. “I don’t know. There’s some circumstantial evidence.”
“You know, I’ve never understood why circumstantial evidence is considered evidence. It’s based on an inference. An inference is not a fact.”
Leave it to Callie to sprout nerdy theories. I ignore her. “What circumstantial evidence?”
Ben drops his hands and starts tapping his thighs with his fingers. “I’m not sure,” he claims with his eyes averted.
Callie’s shout of ‘liar’ comes out muffled as she’s stuffed my frosting spatula in her mouth. I yank it away from her. “Concentrate!” I throw the spatula across the room and it clangs as it hits the sink.
“Hey! I was eating that.”
Kristie clears her throat. “Lucy, Ethel, maybe we should focus on Ben’s news now?”
When Callie opens her mouth again, I slam my hand over it and glare at Ben. “What circumstantial evidence?”
His phone rings. “I need to get this.”
“Chicken!” I shout at his back as he exits the kitchen into the alley behind the building. He raises a hand and waves as he walks away.
“Come on.” I grab Callie’s hand and tug her towards the café.
“Where are we going?”
Is she kidding me? “To the jail, of course!”
No way am I letting Logan spend one more minute in a cell for a crime he didn’t commit. Pixie Girl to the rescue!
“I’ll hold down the fort while you two are gone then,” Kristie mumbles.
“I know you’re being sarcastic but thanks,” I shout as I rush outside.
Chapter 2
Pixies are more dangerous than they appear. Stand back and no one gets hurt.
When we’re on the sidewalk outside Callie’s Cakes, I come to a screeching halt. I don’t have any means of transportation. Well, I have my bicycle, but it’s not like I can throw Callie on the back. My five-foot-nothing self is not made for hauling anything around except cupcakes.
“Come on. My car’s parked around back.” Callie motions for me to follow her. “Where are we going?” she asks once we’re settled in her car.
Oh geez, I’m not sure. “Do you think he’s at the county jailhouse?” I hope to sugar he’s not. I may be all fired up to go save my man, but the jailhouse scares me. I should have packed up some cupcakes to take with me. Cupcakes soothe the way into any establishment, including jails – I hope.
Callie starts the car and takes off. “I doubt it. He’s not under arrest or anything. If he’s being held for questioning, we know exactly where he is.”
Sigh. Oh boy, do we ever. Despite both of us being engaged to police officers, neither one of us has had what you would call a good experience with the police. First, Callie was accused of killing her dancing instructor. Can you imagine? Then, I was questioned for hours after discovering my friend murdered. I shiver. Not my happiest memory.
We arrive at the police station within minutes. As soon as I see the officers milling about, my anger re-surfaces. How could any of these officers, Logan’s supposed colleagues, think he killed someone? Thin blue line, my frosted bottom.
I rush out of the car before Callie can put it in park and run up the stairs of the station. I burst inside and take a few seconds to allow my eyes to adjust to the lack of sun before stomping over to the desk. “I’m here to see Logan Allen.”
The desk sergeant raises one eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Anna Moore, his fiancé.”
“Well, fiancé or not, Detective Allen is not available.”
“Not available.” I slam my hands down on the desk. “Of course, he’s not available. Some idiot thinks he killed someone. I demand to see him now!”
The sergeant stands and towers over me. I’m not intimidated. Everyone towers over me. “He’s being held for questioning. Unless you’re his legal counsel, you have no right to see him.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I want to see the boss.”
“The boss?”
“Yeah, the chief of police or whoever.”
“You can’t waltz in here and demand to see the chief of police.”
“Um, hello. I just did, didn’t I?”
I hear someone chuckle before Ben appears behind the sergeant. “I got her, Sergeant.” He opens the door separating the riffraff from the working police and motions to me. “Come on, Pinkie.” He nods to Callie who must have parked her car and joined me at some point.
I am not one to look a gift cupcake in the mouth. I follow Ben, but when I’m on the other side of the door, I may twirl around and stick my tongue out at the desk sergeant. What? He deserved it!
Ben leads me through a maze of desks and then down the stairs into the bowels of the police department. He nods to someone sitting at a desk next to a steel door with a tiny window in it. The man stands and opens the door. Ben puts his hand on my lower back and pushes me through.
We walk into a room with cells lining both sides. My eyes fall upon Logan and I rush towards him. He stands and walks to the bars separating us. I try to hug him, but end up wrapping myself around cold steel.
Logan kisses my forehead, before snarling at Ben. “What is she doing here? I told you to not let her come here.”
Ben chuckles. “Hav
e you met your soon-to-be wife? Maybe you can control her, but I sure can’t.”
“What am I doing here?” I point to myself. “The question is what are you doing here. Why didn’t you call me? What idiot thinks you killed someone? Point me in his direction and I’ll set him straight.”
“Shh… my pixie girl. It’s just a little mix-up.”
I rear back. “Mix-up? A mix-up is confusing cake flour with pastry flour. Being in a prison cell is not a mix-up.”
“Technically, it’s a jail cell. Not a prison cell.”
“You’re correcting me now?” I reach through the bars to strangle him, but he steps back out of my reach.
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