Strawberries & Suffering
A Sweet Baked Mystery
Katherine Hayton
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Blueberries & Bereavement - Chapter One
About the Author
Also by Katherine Hayton
Strawberries & Suffering
(A Sweet Baked Mystery)
KATHERINE HAYTON
Copyright © 2018 Katherine Hayton
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover Design by Mariah Sinclair
www.thecovervault.com
Chapter One
Holly Waterston loaded the last tray of cupcakes into the back of her car and wiped her hands together. “Finally!” she said, taking a step back and putting her hands on her hips.
Although the bakery van was better built for the purpose of transport, there’d been no way to fit everything they needed for the wedding today into just one vehicle. With a bit of quick ingenuity and chicken wire, Crystal and Holly had transformed the back of her sedan into a multi-level cupcake mover. So long as she drove carefully out to Inglefield Manor, they’d make it in one piece.
Crystal pulled up alongside the sedan, the bakery van broadcasting their logo to everyone who passed by—Sweet Baked Treats. “Ready to go?”
Holly nodded. “Lead the way. I’ll be right on your tail.”
The words were true as Holly got into the car and nosed out into the road but soon turned into a lie. A change of lights struck at the wrong moment, and her sister pulled away. With so many folks from town joining the wedding party, soon a multitude of other cars thronged between them.
“No worries,” Holly muttered to herself as the light changed to green. Although she didn’t know precisely where she was meant to go, the procession of vehicles should all be headed out to the same event. Since there wasn’t any danger of losing track of all the cars, then she should be fine.
The day had started out with a bright blue sky. Puffy clouds overhead had added a touch of picturesque beauty to the scene. Now, as Holly held her breath and drove over the one-lane bridge out of town while squinting her eyes shut, the clouds joined together to form a canopy of gray.
The weather forecast on the news the night before hadn’t mentioned any rainfall. However, that was the problem in living in such a narrow country with seas to either side. The weather was unpredictable—storms sometimes rising up out of nowhere as a light breeze became twisted into a rage of thunder and lightning.
The first spots of rain appeared on Holly’s windscreen as she passed the marker for the Inglewood Manor. No amount of wishing would make for a fine day now.
As Holly nudged the vehicle along the driveway—no more than gravel on hardened dirt—she lowered the speed to a crawl. Any dip or pothole could cause injury that wouldn’t be fixed in time for the reception.
Already, she and Crystal had a mountain of work ahead of them with deadlines as tight as a waist-training corset. Neither of them trusted the final decorations on the cupcakes to the vagaries of the roads surrounding Hanmer Springs. Although the main layer of frosting was in place, there were sprinkles and chocolate curls and fresh-cut strawberries to be applied for the finishing touches.
If they were dealing with a typical wedding, that wouldn’t be an issue. With the impressive guest list that the mother-of-the-bride, Wendy, had offered up, it would be a very close shave.
The cars in front of her pulled into a parking lot, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. It soon changed to a cry of frustration as she mounted the rise to see a church in front of her.
Beautiful and stately, the building appeared to have been fashioned out of stone blocks back when Hanmer Springs was first settled. At least one hundred years old, maybe more. A perfect venue for a wedding. The stained-glass windows glinted even in the overcast sky.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the reception hall.
Muttering under her breath, Holly eased the sedan to a stop and reached for her mobile.
No dial tone. Brilliant.
The time margins for her and Crystal to get the job finished squeezed tighter. No longer a corset, more like a noose.
Of course, the church wouldn’t be at the same place as the reception hall. Holly’s face flushed as got out of the car and held the phone higher, ignoring the spatter of rain.
Still no signal.
Holly looked around her for a place that stood higher up, but she was already on the breast of a hill. Anywhere else would take her further out of range.
Giving up her phone as useless, Holly marched toward the church instead. Hopefully, somebody inside would be able to give her directions and get her on the way.
As Holly stepped into the dimness of the church, anxiety spiked through her bloodstream. Once upon a time, she’d loved weddings, enjoyed the thought of marriage. Since Simon announced he wanted a divorce, that feeling had turned to antipathy.
The reception hall would be fine—that was no more than a glorified house with a gigantic ballroom. Inside the church, with the light refracting into a spill of a thousand colors through the stained glass, it was a different story. As Holly walked up the center aisle, looking for someone who wasn’t a wedding guest, it brought back uncomfortable memories of her own ceremony. Bittersweet.
At least in the increasing gloom at the front of the small church, Holly’s tears couldn’t be seen. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and tilted her head up so more would be shed. Anybody in front of her had a view straight up her nose, but that was still preferable.
After walking all the way to the pulpit, Holly still hadn’t seen anybody who looked like they were attached to the church, rather than the wedding party. She headed for a door at the side. A sign read Private—that seemed a good bet. Holly tapped her knuckles on the door and stepped back to wait.
A shuffle of footsteps, then the door opened a sliver. “Who is that?”
Holly stepped to the side so the eye at the gap could see her. “My name is Holly Waterston. I’m one of the caterers for the reception, and I’m lost. Do you know how to get to Inglewood Manor?”
The door creaked open another inch to reveal a minister struggling to attach his collar. Holly blushed, feeling awkward, as though she’d caught him in a state of undress. Just before turning her head to the side, Holly caught a flash of a periwinkle blue shoe heading out of the room, exiting to the left-hand side.
“Sorry about this,” the minister said. “I’m just getting ready for the ceremony now. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be out and give you directions.”
“Thank you,” Holly said, desperate to avoid eye contact. She turned and heard the door close behind her as she took a seat to wait in the first pew.
The decorations in the church were fabulous. Whoever had organized them had a good eye for color and a flair for the dramatic. Metallic ribbons of silver and gold offset the glorious flowers, bunched in delicate posies at each end of the pews. Along the walls, a similar arrangement swept under the broad, stained-glass windows. Bold enough to accentuate them without being so
garish that they fought to claim attention.
“Holly! What are you doing here?” Wendy called out.
Holly turned around to see the mother-of-the-bride hurrying toward her from the back of the church. She stood up and walked to meet her halfway. They hugged, each one cautious of the other’s outfit but still with genuine affection.
“Right now, I’m admiring the decorations. These bouquets of flowers are fantastic.”
Wendy colored with pleasure. “I have quite a garden at home, so I put those ones together. I’m glad you like them.” The smile suddenly dipped under a frown. “Shouldn’t you be over at Inglewood Manor? I’m sure that they’ve set aside a room for the cakes.”
“I got lost, I’m afraid,” Holly admitted. “I thought that I would just follow Crystal all the way out here, but I lost her at the first set of lights.
Wendy laughed, color rising in her cheeks again and her eyes glinting reflections from the multicolored windows. “You’ll have a ten-minute drive ahead of you then. Just give me a moment, and I’ll grab a map from my car.”
“Don’t worry,” Holly said. She jerked her head toward the door marked private. “I’ve already asked the minister to help, so I expect he’ll be through in a minute.”
Holly lowered her voice and ducked her head closer to Wendy’s ear. “I caught him out still getting ready, so I think the least I can do is still be here waiting for his explanation.”
Wendy raised a hand to her mouth and giggled behind it. “My goodness. That must’ve been a sight. Back in the day, Bobby Woodfield had quite the following. The most handsome boy in school.”
She winked, and Holly screwed her nose up and shook her head, realizing Wendy had taken her statement quite the wrong way. “Not undressed,” she said, hiding a giggled behind her hand, “just not quite ready.”
A man’s voice came from behind her, “Holly?”
Feeling like she’d been caught out doing something naughty, Holly turned, her hand still raised up to shield her mouth. Minister Woodfield stood behind her, this time in full ceremonial robes. His hands were gently clasped across his ample belly. The collar around his neck—now secured in place—was the same color as most of his thinning hair.
Handsome?
“Yes,” Holly said belatedly, nodding as she dropped her arm back to one side. “That’s me!”
“I’ll leave you in Bobby’s capable hands,” Wendy said, reaching one hand out to clasp Holly’s forearm for a brief second. “Thanks for everything. If it weren’t for you and Meggie, I think I would have had a breakdown by now.”
“Nonsense. Food and a new hairstyle can hardly compete with everything else you’ve organized.” Holly cast an appreciative glance around the church again. “Everything in here is absolutely divine. I hope that your daughter has a wonderful day.”
Wendy nodded with a smile that dissipated as she looked at the entrance where the rain was growing noticeably heavier. “I better get back to greeting people. Many of them have come such a long way.”
“I’ll catch up with you later, then.” Holly leaned forward to give her a quick air kiss—mindful of the makeup that Meggie had so artfully applied. “You’ve done a fantastic job. Don’t worry.”
As Wendy strode off with a smile toward the entrance, Holly turned and followed the minister to the pulpit.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a bit formal, but it’s the closest I have out here to a desk.”
Minister Woodfield leaned against it, drawing a quick diagram on the back of an old prayer sheet. “Here you go.” He handed the map over and pointed to a cross. “That’s where you are now, and”—his finger traced out a line back where Holly had come from and along a different turn in the road—“that’s where you need to be. It won’t take more than ten minutes, even in this weather.”
“Thank you very much,” Holly said, tucking the map into her handbag for safekeeping. “My sister will be frantic wondering where I’ve got to. My phone couldn’t get any bars at all outside.”
The minister shook his head. “No. It’s a dead spot as far as mobile phones go.” His face crinkled into concern. “I hope that everybody coming thought to arrange themselves taxis home beforehand if they’re going to drink. I hate to think what it’ll be like at the Manor if they’re all queueing up to use the one landline!”
“I’m sure the guests will sort it out eventually,” Holly said. Although she forced her voice to sound cheerful, the nostalgia for her wedding was back with a vengeance, once more bringing her close to tears.
“I suppose.” Minister Woodfield brightened. “If nothing else, it’ll turn into a fine anecdote in the future. That’s how all the best weddings end up!”
Holly laughed in surprise. “I suppose that’s true. I never heard of a couple whose marriage lasted the test of time who had a wedding run smoothly. All the long-timers seem to have horror stories hidden in there somewhere. The wedding dress that wasn’t ready. The caterers who served up meat at a vegan feast.”
When the minister laughed and nodded, Holly caught a flash of what Wendy had been referring to. The mix of joy plus a twinkle in the man’s eye made him look entirely different. Then the laughter faded away.
“I must be getting on.” Minister Woodfield turned and headed back to the private door. “I hope you’re not so late that Crystal gets worked up. Once she spins herself into a tizzy, it’s a hard road getting her untangled again.”
Chapter Two
Minister Woodfield passed through the door and closed it behind him before Holly recovered from the shock. The minister knew her sister? It was news to her. Still, given the amount of time Holly had spent away from home, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Crystal held a multitude of secrets.
Outside, the rain had taken hold in earnest. The early bird arrivals were starting to wilt, hairdos not up to withstanding the damp weather, despite the liberal application of hairspray.
As Holly moved through the throng of people crowding the entrance, she nodded and waved to everyone she recognized. After returning to town just a month before, it was crazy how many people she already knew well. The pace of life in Hanmer Springs may be slow compared to Christchurch, but the forming of community bonds was lightyears ahead.
As Holly drew level with her car, she saw an immediate problem. Other wedding guests had pulled into the parking lot behind her, effectively boxing her in. With a constant stream of traffic still flowing into the lot, Holly didn’t stand a chance of getting out until four people moved their vehicles.
Waiting under the eaves of the church entrance for a break in the shower, Holly started to ask if anyone knew the drivers of the cars in question. She soon had three of them rounded up, ready to go. The fourth, Aidan Heddle, was nowhere to be seen.
“I think he went around the back of the church,” Mrs. Hendrickson suggested at last. She was a work neighbor to Holly, owner of the Tavern that employed Ben who she and Crystal relied on for cover when they were both called away.
“What’s around there?”
“It’s an old graveyard.” Mrs. Hendrickson shook her head. “I don’t see the attraction of a boneyard myself, but Aidan likes to do tracings of the headstones.” She shrugged. “To each his own, I guess.”
“Thanks,” Holly said, smiling. “I’ll give that a try. I don’t imagine his drawings will be going too well in this weather, anyway.”
“No, they won’t.” Mrs. Hendrickson scowled up at the rainclouds as though they were a personal affront. “I can’t believe the day turned so quickly. I was looking forward to catching some sun before the reception. Sheila’s photos will be ruined.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Holly wasn’t, but without luck from the sky above, she wanted to wish some on poor Sheila. “At my wedding, we took most of the photographs indoors, and they looked really great.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hendrickson said with a pursed mouth. “Are you married?”
Holly retreated from the raised eyebrows and escaped around the
side of the church. The white stucco covering some of the brickwork was dotted with green and black mildew. On a sunny day, it would have formed an interesting composition, pleasing to the eye. Today, it reinforced the state of increasing gloom.
As Holly rounded the bend, she saw two figures in the cemetery. One was a girl, in her teens or early twenties at a stretch. She was dressed in a purple and black outfit more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding. Dark eyeliner and mascara had been caught by the rain and ran in black tears down the side of her face.
The other figure was a man, a few yards away. He squatted in front of a gravestone with a piece of thin paper held up to it. Luckily, the grave he perched in front of was sheltered by a tall oak tree.
Holly tiptoed her way across the rough ground with care. She didn’t want her sensible heels to sink into the softening ground nor did she want to traipse across somebody’s grave. With arms out to either side for balance, Holly picked a careful path across the old cemetery.
Under the protection of the oak tree, she immediately saw why the man was squatting rather than kneeling. Hundreds of acorns were scattered, some husks, some green, all of them lying in wait for a bended knee.
Worse than Lego.
“Are you Aidan?” Holly asked. Although she spoke in a soft voice, the man was so wrapped up in his task that he jumped, his charcoal skidding in a thick stripe across the page.
“Sorry,” Holly apologized. She cast a quick glance in the direction of the teenage girl, who immediately looked away in the pretense she hadn’t been watching.
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