Muffins & Murder (Sweet Bites Book 3) (Sweet Bites Mysteries)

by Heather Justesen

  “You do that.”

  I returned to my car wondering what else might be going on that I was missing. I decided a trip to visit Francine’s friend at the school was in order. I checked my watch—two and a half hours to go until school let out.

  Ali Pinkston taught kindergarten and couldn’t have been over five-foot. She had a sunny smile and matching personality that drew people to her. I’d seen her in passing around town but had never spoken to her before. I stopped by the school after the busses pulled out of the parking lot that afternoon.

  When I found her, she was wiping down the white board in her classroom, humming the tune to a funny Halloween song Madison and Chance had been singing on and off for weeks. She turned when I knocked on the outer door to her room, though it was wide open.

  “Hello, what can I do for you?” she asked.

  “Hi, I’m Tess Crawford. I wondered if you might have a few minutes to talk.” I had been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Francine, but was no closer to knowing what to say.

  Ali nodded and took a seat near her desk, gesturing me toward its twin. “You don’t have a child in my class do you? I thought I knew all of their parents.”

  “No, I don’t. I wanted to speak to you about Francine.”

  Her face paled. “What did you want to know?”

  “I understand you two were quite close,” I said.

  “Close enough, I suppose. We were friendly, but Franny didn’t exactly confide in me. We went to a couple of plays together, ate lunch now and then.” She clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “She mostly talked about quilting and her class, kept her past life to herself. She was so quiet I figured that was just her way. Now I have to wonder if there was more going on she didn’t tell me.”

  “So you don’t know who might have wanted her dead?” I felt a little deflated.

  Her eyes narrowed on me. “Why are you asking me this? You’re not with the police, are you?”

  “No, sorry. I’m a pastry chef, actually.” I didn’t have a chance to continue.

  Her face brightened and a dawning look of understanding came across it. “Of course. You own the Sweet Bites Bakery, don’t you? I heard you solved the other two murders. I knew you looked familiar. I saw the article about you in the paper this summer.”

  My face grew hot with embarrassment. I had made the front page and gave a couple of short quotes for the article. The headline Amateur Sleuth Solves Murders While Whipping up Delicious Delicacies had brought me a lot of attention, and increased traffic in my shop, but I didn’t want to be famous for solving murders. For my cakes, yeah, but that was another issue.

  “That’s me,” I said. “I was hoping to assist the detective by checking on some other angles and that you could help me. You knew Francine better than anyone.” I didn’t know if I was going to share anything else with Tingey, since he was being so stingy on the details, but it was a good excuse.

  Ali’s smile was half-hearted. “I’m not sure I did, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

  I considered the angles I could pursue and decided to start with Cole. “I’ve spoken with Cole Taylor. He said he and Francine were dating and getting serious, but—”

  “No, way.” Ali interrupted me. “He was stalking her. She didn’t like him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He would show up on her doorstep with flowers or find her if she went out to dinner. I swear he either had a GPS tracker on her car, or he spent all of his time off from work following her around. It was creepy. And he can’t seem to get over himself or his high school days. Who really cares about the winning touchdown he made ten years ago?”

  I was taken aback by the flow of information. So Jerry had been spot on. And Cole only had a fishing boat for an alibi. Interesting. “Was she scared of him?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Not scared, really. Irritated, wished he’d back off and leave her alone. She did look over her shoulder a lot.” She picked up a marker from the desk beside her and started flipping it end over end, as if she needed something to do with her hands so she could think more clearly. “Something bothered her; like she worried someone was following her. I always figured it was Cole, but he didn’t freak her out—but something did.” She tipped her head. “How come I just realized that?”

  “That’s good. That’s important.” I touched her arm briefly to encourage her. “Can you think of anything specific?”

  She pursed her lips, then shook her head. “No. Nothing specific. I wish she had talked to me more, told me what she was so scared of. Maybe I could have helped her and she’d still be alive.”

  “Me too. But what about Connie Larabee? I understand she was giving Francine trouble about her daughter not being cast in the lead for the pageant.”

  Ali chuckled lightly. “Yes, lucky me, I got the assignment and Connie has already been here today, trying to convince me to change things around, even though the principal told her no. I refused; the casting is fine as it is. Her daughter is a sweetheart, but she’s not the only one in the group who can recite a few lines.” She brushed the hair back from her face. “It’s mothers like her who make teachers not want to be in charge of pageants.” She blew out a deep breath.

  “Did she seem mad, or just disappointed?” I asked. I would find out for myself in about an hour, but Ali’s perspective could help me decide how to approach Connie.

  “She seemed... affronted, as if it offended her that I wouldn’t see her daughter as the best choice. Not mad, really.” She gave me a piercing look. “Do you think she killed Franny?”

  “No,” I rushed to say, took a breath, and continued on as calmly as I could. “I’m just checking angles, but I don’t know of any reason to believe it was her.” She was on the suspect list for now, but no need to admit it to Ali. Another thought came to me. “How about Connie’s husband, have you ever met him?” No one had mentioned anything about him, beyond the fact that there was one, but I didn’t want to wipe him off the list until I knew more.

  “I’ve never met him.” Ali shrugged. “But I do know there was a quilting scuffle over some of Franny’s designs.”

  “Mary Ellen Perkins,” I confirmed, nodding. “I haven’t spoken with her yet, but I know Detective Tingey is looking at that possibility”

  “Good. Franny didn’t steal her designs, you know. They were similar in some ways, but Franny always added interesting twists and things that made them better, made them her own.”

  “That’s what I understand.” I was all out of specific questions. “So you don’t have anything else you’d like to discuss? Anyone else she had an issue with, or who had an issue with her?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “And can you tell me which booths were closest to Francine’s and who ran them?” I might as well find out now, and who was better placed to give me the information than another teacher?

  “I can check for you.”

  I passed over my business card. “Leave a message with Lenny if I’m not there. Thanks, Ali, it was helpful.” I smiled and shook her hand.

  Ali wiped away a tear that began to trail down her cheek. “Just find out who did this to her, will you? She didn’t deserve it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I left her room, considering what she’d said. There wasn’t much more to add to the pot, really, other than confirming that Cole was stalking, not dating Francine. That definitely needed to go in the weird list. I’d call Tingey about it later. I needed to get back to work now.

  I got back just in time to help with the post-school rush. Things were slowing down when the ringing bell over the door announced Jack and his daughter Sadie. Lenny greeted them and went into the kitchen, leaving me in charge of the counter. He seemed to like Jack, but the knowing glint in Lenny’s eye when he glanced at me before disappearing told me exactly what he had in mind. Happily almost-married people were nearly as good at meddling as happily married ones.

  “Hey, Sadie,” I greeted Jack’s daughter first, then met his gaze. �
�Hi to you, too.”

  “Sadie insisted on coming in for a cupcake,” Jack said, his expression comically solemn. “She decided I could come along with her.”

  “Da-ad! I did not!” She stomped her blue sneaker on the ground, making lights flash on the heel.

  “Oh, you don’t want a cupcake? Well then, maybe we should go.” He turned as if to leave the building, but she tugged on his hand, protesting.

  “I want a cupcake,” she said. “But it was your idea to come here.”

  “Oh, well maybe that’s true. I could really use a treat.” He smiled at me in the teasing way that always made my mouth go dry and my heart speed up.

  “I have some nice blueberry cupcakes, if you’re interested,” I said. “Or I have pumpkin cupcakes.” Chocolate and vanilla were everyday flavors, but I stocked a few specials depending on the season and my mood.

  “You know all of my weaknesses,” he said. “I’ll go for the blueberry cupcake.”

  “I want a punkin’ one!” Sadie said.

  “Coming right up.” I dished them each onto plates and poured glasses of water—their drink of choice.

  There were no other customers in the store at the moment, so I slid into the empty chair at their table when I brought the food to them. “How are things going?”

  “Great! I got one-hundred percent on my spelling test,” Sadie said. “That’s why Daddy brought me for cupcakes.”

  “Good job. Give me five.” I held out a hand to her and she slapped it. “You must be a super speller.”

  “I usually have a hard time but Daddy and Grandma helped me.” She became very focused on her cupcake, like maybe “helped” was another term for “prodded” or “nagged.”

  “I bet you did,” I said to Jack. “And she was thrilled to go over the words a dozen times, wasn’t she?”

  “Oh, yes. She was so happy to study. Spelling is her favorite.”

  “Nu-uh, Daddy, I hate it.” Sadie said with a mouthful of cake.

  Jack ruffled her hair and started unwrapping his cupcake. “How’s the investigation going?” he asked me.

  “Slowly. Several interesting leads, but nothing that points to an answer. I need to check on Cole’s fishing alibi, among other things. I’m going to swing by the ranger station to see if he was really fishing Friday night.”

  “When were you planning on doing that?” he asked casually.

  I checked my watch. “In about an hour. I want to catch the ranger before he goes home for the day. But I have to pick up Madi from dance first.”

  Jack stretched out his long legs under the table, leaning back in his chair. “You care for some company?”

  “You offering?” Was this a date or just protection duty? And did I care as long as he wanted to join me?

  “I could stand a drive out to the lake. Sadie is going to a friend’s birthday party soon.”

  I raised my brows at him. “And you stopped in for cupcakes before she went to a party?”

  He chuckled, as if realizing I was right. “I might not have been thinking about the sugar factor. I wanted to see how things were going with you.”

  A laugh came from the kitchen—Lenny was obviously eavesdropping.

  I ignored him. (A particular skill of mine.) “I’m glad you stopped in. And I’d love to have you go with me to the lake.”

  “I’ll come back for you in a while, then.”

  A few minutes later when Sadie waved goodbye to me through the front window, swinging clasped hands with her father, I couldn’t help but grin. And do a little dance—I had a sort-of date with Jack.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re so not interested in him. I don’t know why you lead him on like that,” Lenny said from behind me. “And I thought you were going to help me with wedding cake details tonight.”

  “Sarcasm noted,” I said. “You don’t need my help with your cake—you’ve got it in the bag. But I won’t be gone all evening, anyway. I’ll check in on you and help if you need it.”

  “Traitor.”

  “Wuss.”

  “Oh, that was worse than a double-dog dare. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?”

  “No, but a real man doesn’t need help in the kitchen. I want to see what you can do.” I couldn’t help taunting him. He brought out the bratty big sister in me—even if he wasn’t really my brother.

  “You will.” His eyes grew steely.

  “I hope so.” I grabbed the rag from the sanitizing bucket and wiped down my counters, already planning what outfit to change into for my trip with Jack.

  Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the dance studio where Madison’s classes were held. I slipped into the building early, thinking that Connie Larabee was the kind of person to show up with time to spare to ensure her daughter was ready for class.

  It only took a few seconds to find her tugging at her daughter’s pale-blue leotards. “These are too small already. We’re going to have to buy more.” Her lips pressed together and a furrow formed in her forehead.

  They looked fine to me, but what did I know? I glanced at the windows that spanned one wall of the hall, looking into the dance room so parents could watch without interfering with classes. Madison wasn’t exactly the lightest on her feet. Like most six-year-olds, she was growing fast and awkward with it. Honey said she hoped dance would help her daughter become more graceful, but it didn’t look like she’d made much improvement.

  It was a good thing Honey didn’t care if her daughter was particularly good at dancing, that she only wanted her to have fun. Unless there was a dramatic turnaround in talent in the near future, she was never going to be prima ballerina.

  “Half those girls don’t belong in a studio. The teacher ought to spend more time with her advanced students.” Connie sniffed when she finished the comment. “And she really needs to offer private lessons for those who show the most promise.”

  I already didn’t like the woman, and I’d been here for less than two minutes. I answered, even though I knew the comment hadn’t been directed at me. “But it would be a shame for any little girl who wanted to learn, to not be able to have a chance. Not everyone is meant to be great, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves.” I put on my sweetest smile and looked at Connie’s daughter. “I hear rumors you aren’t one of those girls with no future. Rumor has it that you’re very good.”

  A smile bloomed over Jasmin’s face. “Yes, Mom says I’m the best in my class and I really like it.”

  She was a charmer and I couldn’t help but like her immediately. “That’s good. We should all have a chance to do the things we like.” The really lucky ones were able to make a living doing what they liked. I took the seat beside Connie and looked at my watch. I needed to get back to the shop so Lenny could take off, and then there was my sort-of date with Jack. Just the thought made my insides do the rumba.

  “You don’t have any children. Why are you here?” Connie asked as if she just realized I didn’t belong. Her tone was less aggressive than before, but not completely mollified.

  “I’m picking up Honey’s daughter, Madison. Honey’s in a meeting this afternoon, and things were slowing down for us.” So untrue, I had a zillion things to do, but that was beside the point.

  “That’s why I don’t have a job—I couldn’t give my daughter all of the attention she needs and encourage her to improve her talents if I worked.” She frowned. “Some people don’t prioritize their children enough.”

  I forced my smile to stay put, even if I wanted to smack the woman for insinuating that Honey was a sub-par mother for having a part-time job that she could work at home with her toddler. Or that a woman shouldn’t have an interest or two outside of her family. Not everyone was the same. Instead I said, “So true, if people put their kids first, there would be no need of social services.” I was making all kinds of inaccurate statements today. What was one more?

  I turned my attention back to the daughter. “I hear you also sing and act.”

  “Ye
s,” Connie answered as Jasmin opened her mouth to speak. “She should have gotten the lead in the class pageant, but Miss Clark picked someone else. Maggie Collins.” She said the name as if uttering something terrible. “Can you believe it? The twit really should have been stage crew instead. She’s not fit to be the one out in front.” She straightened Jasmin’s hair with a little tug. “Not like my sweet girl here.”

  “Sometimes people don’t see the obvious.” I agreed, though I didn’t have a clue who Maggie Collins was. I bet she would do a fantastic job.

  “I know; I wrote a letter to the school complaining about Miss Clark, but they didn’t do anything. Honestly, I’m ready to pull my daughter out and take her to one of the other schools, even if it means a long drive into downtown Prescott every day. People need to learn that not all children are created equal and some deserve extra attention.”

  I glanced at her daughter, who wore a frown, as if she didn’t completely agree with her mother. I really hoped she kept that independent thinking going, but I didn’t expect it to happen. People who are told they are better than everyone else generally come to believe it. “It must be a relief to you that Miss Clark is dead, then. Maybe they’ll recast the pageant.”

  She shook her head. “No, I already called the school this morning to find out but Miss Pinkston said she wasn’t going to change anything even though the performance is nearly three weeks away. When I tried to go over her head, the principal wouldn’t overrule her. The people at that school are so stubborn and blind.”

  “What a shame.” I glanced at the clock in the studio and realized I only had a minute or two at the most before class got out, and more parents were already arriving with their little darlings. “I saw the cupcakes you brought to the Halloween carnival, they were so perfect. Did you stay long?”

  She looked pleased that I’d complimented the cupcakes. “It’s a talent of mine, one you share, so I’m sure you understand how fulfilling cooking can be.” She brushed imaginary lint from her tawny pants. “No, I just dropped them by and ran out again. I had to get Jasmin to violin lessons.” She cocked a grin. “No rest for the weary, is there?”