Murder Takes the Cake Text

by Gayle Trent

  “You’re not. She is.” With that, she flounced out the door.

  I sighed. I need to learn to mind my own business. The irony of the message painted on my walkway wasn’t lost on me.

  *

  “I know I took a risk by bringing only this one design,” I told Mrs. Fremont, “but I believe this exemplifies everything you’re looking for.”

  “You say you got the idea from a Sylvia Weinstock book?” she asked, her eyes still on my designs.

  “Yes. I modified the design to incorporate not only lots of flowers but also gum-paste fruit and vegetables to keep the cake closely tied to Guinevere’s basket ‘cake.’”

  “Gum-paste fruit and vegetables will be used on the cake for the human guests, and actual fruit and vegetables will be in the basket cake, correct?”

  “That’s correct. I know how important Vitamin C is to a cavy’s diet.”

  “Excellent! I’m impressed, Ms. Martin. You’ve done your homework, and I love your vision for both cakes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where will you be getting the basket? Will it be organic?”

  “The basket will be organic. I’ll be weaving it from peeled willow branches.”

  Mrs. Fontaine clapped her hands. “Fantastic. I appreciate all the thought and effort you’re putting into this.”

  “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your special occasion.”

  “The cavies are in their sitting room. Would you like to meet them?”

  “I’d love to. Annabelle tells me they’re all champions.”

  “They are. I’m quite proud of them.”

  “As you should be.”

  As Mrs. Fremont led the way upstairs to the sitting room, I promised I’d be quiet and restrain myself this time.

  The sitting room was an eclectic mix of Las Vegas fake fur, teen-girl bedroom and penthouse posh. A white, sectional sofa curved around the fireplace. Pink, blue, yellow and green fake-fur pillows adorned the sofa and gave it a whimsical touch. A fuzzy white rug covered the floor, which was littered with toys and treats.

  Mrs. Fremont took a seat on the sofa and nodded for me to sit down as well.

  “They hid when they heard us coming,” she said, “but they’ll join us in a moment.”

  She was right. We were soon surrounded by the furry friends. She bent and picked up Guinevere.

  “Here’s our birthday girl.” She handed her to me.

  I sat the guinea pig on my lap and stroked her silky hair. She began to make a purring sound.

  “She likes you.” Mrs. Fremont picked up a black–and-white guinea pig and settled him on her lap. “This is Lancelot.”

  “They’re beautiful.” I looked up at the photographs and ribbons displayed above the fireplace. “Annabelle was right—that’s impressive.”

  “Thank you. Have you spoken with her recently?”

  “Yes, I spoke with her on Friday.”

  “I need to give her a call. How’s she doing?”

  “As well as can be expected. The police confirmed her mother was murdered.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Though I’m not surprised. I cared for Mrs. Watson, but she could be a real piece of work.” She smiled. “That woman would blackmail the devil if she had something on him.” She sat Lancelot back onto the floor.

  “Annabelle is such a sweet person.” I continued petting Guinevere. “I was dumbfounded by that when I first met her, having already been acquainted with her mother, I mean.”

  “She takes after her daddy. Everybody loved Arlo Watson. Nobody had much use for Yodel.”

  “At least Yodel had Mrs. Dobbs.”

  Mrs. Fremont laughed. “You think Yodel Watson and Janey Dobbs were friends? How’d you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “Mrs. Dobbs came to the house the day after Mrs. Watson died. She brought a casserole,” I finished lamely.

  “If Janey was at the house, she was there to make sure Yodel was dead.” She took Guinevere, gave her a kiss and returned her to the floor. “Yodel held the secret of Janey’s sister over her head for years.”

  “You mean the secret of Gloria’s baby?”

  “I mean the secret that the Clines bribed someone at the mental institution to make sure Gloria remained there . . .and heavily sedated with narcotics.”

  I blinked. “One teenage slip-up led to Gloria being punished for the rest of her life?”

  “It did indeed . . .and it left Janey the sole benefactor after her parents died.”

  “Gloria got nothing?”

  “She’d been declared mentally incompetent, and Janey was given her sister’s power of attorney.”

  “But what about Gloria’s son?”

  “From what I understand, there was no specific provision for him in the Cline’s will. I suppose his father could’ve made some entreaties to the court, but he died before that could happen.” She stood. “Well, then, let’s go downstairs and make our final arrangements for the party.” She then addressed the cavies. “Hilda will be up shortly to take you back to your rooms, darlings. I’ll look in on you later.”

  *

  By the time I left Mrs. Fremont’s house, it was not only getting dark but it had begun to rain. As my windshield wipers thumped out a rhythmic beat, I recalled what Ms. York had said.

  “Your subconscious knows. Your here and now just has to catch up.”

  My subconscious was nagging at me . . .trying to tell me something. It was the same sort of feeling you get when you’re watching a movie and someone looks familiar. It’s hard to enjoy the movie because you’re trying to recall where you’ve seen that person before.

  But I wasn’t watching a movie. I was driving home. What was my subconscious trying to tell me? It was there on the fringes of realization . . .waiting in the wings . . . it was about Vern March.

  I’d been afraid Uncle Hal had caused Vern’s accident, but why would he? Vern had left town; he wasn’t seeing Mom anymore.

  The date of Vern’s accident flashed into my mind: Wednesday, May 7, 1975.

  I heard Peggy March’s telling me about the Cline’s death: “They came to a tragic end—died when a plane they’d chartered crashed back in late April or early May of 1975. The lawyer told me that, too. In fact, I seem to remember hearing something about it on the news or reading about it in the newspaper . . . but it hardly meant anything to me at the time, and then Jonah’s dad had his accident . . . .”

  I remembered the day my car had a flat tire. Janey Dobbs happened to come along after visiting the guitar museum, which was two hours in the opposite direction. Had she been out seeing sites other than the guitar museum, or had she been following me?

  I also recalled Candy’s accusation that somebody had used snake venom as a murder weapon as a way of framing Kellen Dobbs.

  “Kel’s wife had gone off to a spa retreat somewhere for a few days,” she’d said.

  Kel had an alibi.

  The conversation I’d had with Janey yesterday played out in my mind:

  “He told me once that’s how he’d kill someone. . . that it would be practically untraceable to determine snake venom as a cause of death in the absence of fang marks.” She closed her eyes. “He said they might believe the victim had been poisoned, but they wouldn’t suspect snake venom.”

  “But why? Why would he kill Mrs. Watson?”

  Janey opened her eyes. “Yodel knew. She caught Kellen and. . . that woman . . . in an embrace in the store. She told me about it. But Kellen doesn’t know that.”

  Yodel knew what everyone else in town suspected. Was Kellen’s secret one worth killing to keep?

  My painted walkway message had warned: Mind your own business.

  Thanks to my not minding my own business, Peggy was now looking into Gloria Cline’s estate . . . an estate currently being overseen by Janey Dobbs.

  My “here and now” suddenly caught up with my subconscious. And both were saying “Uh-oh,” because right after I turned up into my driveway Janey Dobbs�
�� black Mercedes pulled in behind me, blocking me in.

  I reached into my purse and took out my cell phone. I flipped it open and turned it on, but it immediately died. I really should learn to charge that thing more often.

  All I could do now was play it cool. Snoopy Cool. Joe Cool. Stay Alive Until I Can Get Away Cool.

  I got out of the car. Janey was already out of hers. I saw that the bumper of her Mercedes was nearly touching my back bumper.

  “Hi, Janey! How are you?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Did you get out of your house yet?”

  “For now.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Could we go inside? It’s rather chilly out here.”

  She was saying she was chilly even though she was wearing a black leather coat and matching gloves.

  “Actually, I’m on my way back out,” I said. “I only stopped by here to get my design portfolio.” I smiled broadly. “I have a potential new client.”

  “That’s marvelous. Who is your client?”

  I had to think quickly. “Juanita, from the Save-A-Buck.”

  “I’m surprised she can afford a decorator of your quality on her cashier’s salary.”

  “Sometimes, especially when you’re starting out like I am, you do some work more as a good will gesture than anything. I’m sure you know that, though.”

  “Of course.” She walked closer to the door. “Don’t you have a second to spare for me? You promised you’d go with me to the police about Kellen.”

  “How about I run by the Save-A-Buck, tell Juanita I’m going to be late and then meet you at the police station?”

  “Daphne, is something wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You seem nervous.”

  “I . . .I am. I’m afraid Mr. Dobbs will come after you. D-do you have family in the area . . . or somewhere you could stay after we talk with the police?”

  “No, but I’m not terribly worried about him anymore. I have everything I need to see Kellen get precisely what he deserves.”

  “Y-you found more evidence?”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Could we please go inside and warm up a minute?”

  “Let’s go on to the station. I’ll meet you there.”

  “But you said you had to get your portfolio.”

  “Since I’m going to have to reschedule, I don’t need it.”

  “If you call Juanita now, you won’t have to go to the Save-A-Buck, and we can drive to the police station together.”

  “I’d rather tell her in person. You never know how long you’ll have to be on hold waiting for someone to answer the phone when you call Save-A-Buck.”

  Janey chuckled. “You can think on your feet; I’ll give you that. Let’s go inside, Daphne.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “When did you figure it out?” An arrogant smirk remained on her face.

  “I haven’t figured anything out.”

  “Come now. We’re through playing cat and mouse.” She placed her hands in her pockets and noticed me staring. “No gun. I promise.”

  “Look,” I said, “I don’t know that you did anything to anyone. Let’s both simply forget about all this.”

  She seemed to deliberate on that. “Okay. No one would believe you anyway.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I do appreciate your friendship. I believe you realize I’m a victim here, nothing more.” She took a step toward me. “Give me a hug to seal the deal.”

  I glanced back down at those hands in those pockets and took a step backward.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, Janey, but it’s not going to work. I won’t be your next victim.”

  She took her right hand out of her pocket. In it was a hypodermic needle filled with a golden fluid. “Yes, you will.”

  I nearly said “Puhleez.” I’d lived with an abusive husband . . . a man twice my size. I’d fought him every time he’d attacked me. I could defend myself from her.

  She came at me with the needle raised. As she drove her arm down toward me, I grasped her wrist in my right hand. I pivoted onto my left foot and turned her away from me. Standing behind her, I wrapped my left forearm around her throat as we struggled for control of the needle. Finally, I was able to depress the needle’s plunger and dispense the fluid onto the walkway.

  With her weapon now useless, I bent quickly and punched the backs of Janey’s knees, making her fall into a kneeling position. Then I pushed her face down and sat on her.

  “Myra!” I screamed. “Myra! Myra! Myra!”

  Gee, I hope Myra is home and that she can hear me. I don’t want to have to hold this tough little woman down like this for who-knows-how-long.

  As it turned out, Myra was not home. But Ben drove up just when I needed him. It was getting to be a habit with that guy.

  He’d finally gotten around to bringing Sally over. Sitting in the passenger seat was the most gorgeous Golden Retriever I’d ever seen.

  “Ben!”

  He leapt from his car behind Janey’s Mercedes. “What’re you doing?”

  “Waiting for you to call the police. Tell them to get here now! And don’t let Sally out of the Jeep. There’s venom on the walkway.”

  Ben grabbed his cell phone and got out of the Jeep. He bent and took a closer look. “Why’ve you got Janey Dobbs pinned to the ground?”

  “It’s a long story. Call the police.”

  He dialed 9-1-1. Within fifteen minutes, it seemed every cop on the force—yes, Bill Hayden was there—arrived in my yard. Ben had offered to help me hold Janey down but I could tell he felt awkward about sitting on her. So I had a cramp in my leg and was delighted the authorities were finally there to take Janey Dobbs away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The twins are coming over after school tomorrow to help me put up my Christmas tree. I was glad. I’ve got Guinevere’s party soon, so if I don’t get that tree up tomorrow it’ll be January before I around to it.

  They’re going to help me do my Christmas shopping, too. I know that means mostly letting me know what they want, but that’s all right. They’re my favorite gift recipients anyhow.

  Ben’s exclusive about Janey Dobbs was on the front page of the newspaper this morning. He’s as proud as punch—as he should be—and I’m thrilled that, although I was mentioned and Daphne’s Delectable Cakes did get tons of publicity, the paper did not print a photograph of me making a sixty-eight year-old woman kiss my walkway. Trust me; it pays to be dating the guy with the exclusive. He’s also thinking about writing that true crime novel he was once joking about. “Venomous Vengeance” indeed.

  My phone hasn’t stopped ringing, and my in-box has been full. I’m letting the answering machine take the calls, and I’ve decided to wait until tomorrow to answer my e-mail.

  Even Mom called. She doesn’t get the Brea Chronicle, of course, but Violet called and told her and Dad about all the excitement. Dad was effusive when he talked with me, but Mom did fuss over me and tell me she was proud of how I’d handled the situation.

  Candy and Mr. Dobbs came by today with a bag of cat food for Sparrow. They thanked me for bringing Mrs. Dobbs to justice. Too bad for them, they’ll probably have to come up with the money to open their own store. Mrs. Dobbs’ assets will likely be frozen, and that will surely close Dobbs’ Pet Store until further notice.

  I made myself a cup of café au lait and wandered out onto the porch. I wasn’t a bit surprised to see China York scrubbing my walkway.

  “I did that right after the attack,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said with a smile. “I thought I’d go over it again, though, so your cat won’t be licking at it. I’m using a citrus cleaner, too. Cats hate it.”

  I laughed. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”

  “Good. I was getting ready to knock on your door and ask for some.”

  When I came back, she set aside her pail and scrub brush and sat beside me on the
porch.

  “You were right, you know.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “About my ‘here and now’ catching up with my subconscious.”

  She sipped the coffee I poured for her. “You don’t get to be as old as I am without knowing a few things.”

  “If I hadn’t figured that out—”

  “But you did . . .and that’s what matters.”

  I felt fur against my leg. Sparrow had brushed against me and was walking away.

  I smiled. Things were looking up.

  Daphne’s Recipes

  INSTRUCTIONS FOR LUCAS’

  BLACK CAT CUPCAKES

  Needed:

  Cupcakes

  Chocolate Icing

  Chocolate-Covered Crème Drops – Cut in half lengthwise

  Skittles, Reeses Pieces, M&Ms or some other round candy pieces

  Candy Corn Pieces

  Skinny Pretzel Rods

  Instructions: Frost the cupcakes with chocolate icing. Put a chocolate-covered crème drop half (white center facing the inside) at each top side of the cupcake for the cat’s ears. Add round candy pieces for eyes, a candy corn pointing downward for the nose and two pretzel sticks on each side of the nose (> <) for whiskers.

  For a photograph of the completed cupcakes, see Daphne’s Web page at http://gayle24202.tripod.com/id9.html.

  SWISS DOT CAKE

  Prepare a square or a standard 9” x 13” cake according to package or recipe directions. Let cool completely. If using a 9” x 13” cake, cut in half. Refrigerate cake for approximately 30 minutes before making the cut.

  Place one layer on a cake board and spread icing evenly on the top. Place second layer on top of first. Frost entire cake smoothly using a long, angled cake spatula. Ice the cake twice if crumbs appear after one coat is applied. Refrigerate cake for 20 minutes before applying second coat.

  Pipe a series of medium-large dots for the top and bottom borders. Use a cake bag with tip number 4 or 5 and apply medium to heavy pressure. When piping dots, hold bag at 90º angle to cake. Squeeze, stop the pressure and pull the bag away. If peaks appear, slip tip to the side when pulling away. Peaks can also be smoothed with your finger dipped in cornstarch.