The Diva Frosts a Cupcake

by Krista Davis

“Are you saying that Maurice stole this valuable cupcake and planted it in your car to get rid of you because he’s in love with Myra?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him, but . . . no, as revolting as I find the man, I have no reason to believe he’s a thief.”

  “How does Maurice make a living?”

  “I don’t know. But he has way too much free time on his hands.” Humphrey’s head bowed forward, as though he couldn’t look at me. For the most fleeting of seconds, I wondered if he had stolen the cupcake. That couldn’t be the case. Not Humphrey.

  He spoke in a small voice. “My life is over.”

  I pulled up in front of his house. “Would you like me to come in for a while? Make you a cup of tea? You must be starving.”

  His shoulders rolled forward. “How can I ever face anyone again?”

  “Humphrey! Now stop that. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “They could suspend my funeral director’s license.”

  “But you haven’t been convicted of anything.”

  He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

  “Humphrey! Look at me!”

  He turned his bowed head just enough for me to see misery etched on his face.

  “Did you or did you not steal that cupcake?”

  “No.” His tone quivered in that one word, so timid and simple that I had to reach over and hug him.

  “Then you’ll be fine. I promise we’ll help you figure out what happened. The charges will be dropped, and everything will be okay. It’s probably all just a big misunderstanding.” At least I hoped so.

  I couldn’t leave him alone in this condition. He was wearing a business suit. Summoning as much cheer as I could, I said, “Hop inside and change clothes. We have some sleuthing to do. Hurry!”

  He blinked at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

  I nodded vigorously. “Go on!”

  He bounded from the car.

  Much better. I followed along behind him. Humphrey’s town house didn’t fall into the historic category, but the architect had done a great job of ensuring that it blended in with the neighborhood. Humphrey unlocked the front door, shouted, “Make yourself at home,” and took the stairs two at a time.

  Humphrey’s house was spotless. The L-shaped kitchen counter gleamed. Stacks of Sugar Baby cupcake boxes were lined up like soldiers. Probably the leftover empty boxes from the booth. Beyond the kitchen, a combination dining area and living room stretched out to French doors flanked by windows. A tiny fenced patio lay beyond. Even the garden bordering the flagstone patio was tidy.

  I perched on the sofa. Across from me, a wall of bookcases surrounded the fireplace. The titles reflected Humphrey’s diverse interests, from the classics to physics. A TV blocked a small portion of the bookcases.

  Certainly not the home of a person in the habit of stealing expensive objects.

  While he was upstairs, I phoned Nina and brought her up to date.

  Humphrey returned, dressed in surprisingly snug jeans. It wasn’t like him to show off his bottom like some young stud. His navy blue Henley-style pullover did a good job of hiding his shape, and I realized with a start that his jeans were snug because of the weight he had put on.

  He opened a drawer in a side table and removed an iPad. “I’m ready,” he announced.

  I drove home and parked in my garage. Wordlessly we walked to my kitchen. When I opened the kitchen door, Nina and Francie shouted, “Humphrey!” so that it sounded like a cheer. Some of his anguish appeared to wash away as they fussed over him. While he told them what had happened, I dashed back to my den and checked over my schedule for the day. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t reschedule. It struck me as odd, though, that I had cupcake tastings down for a few organizations. Cupcakes were in high demand for functions. Humphrey came first, but sometime I would have to find out what was happening with Renee and Joy, because cupcakes had been requested by a couple of my clients for their dinners and receptions.

  A few quick phone calls to move engagements, and I was back in the kitchen.

  Proud as an eight-year-old, Nina said, “Look, we made coffee!” She poured me a mug, added milk and sugar, and held it out to me.

  I sipped, prepared to gush over it, even if it tasted of salt. “This is good. Really good! Thanks.”

  “Humphrey would like Ebelskivers after his ordeal in the slammer,” said Francie. “Do you think you could make some?”

  “No problem.” I happened to be a fan of the tiny filled pancakes. I pulled eggs, fresh spinach, pork sausages, and blueberries out of the fridge.

  Humphrey, Nina, and Francie tried to find mention of the gem-studded cupcake on Humphrey’s iPad. I was whisking eggs when I heard a collective exclamation. Carrying the bowl, I rushed over to look.

  The cupcake in the photo would have been at home in a museum. The paper part on the bottom had been fashioned out of eighteen-karat gold. The jeweler who created it had lasered an intricate pattern of curlicues and hearts all the way around the gold and set it with diamonds. Smooth pink-enameled gold formed the frosting. Colorful gemstones had been artistically placed over the swirling icing to resemble sprinkles. It reportedly stood about two inches tall. According to the information, the top was hinged and opened to accommodate a tiny pendant version.

  “That was in your car?” I asked. “It’s incredible. Where on earth did it come from?”

  Humphrey scanned the iPad. “Spenser! It was stolen from his home during a burglary last year.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dear Sophie,

  I’d rather have cupcakes at my wedding than a wedding cake. My mother is pitching a fit. How can I convince her?

  —Fit to Be Tied in Romance, Wisconsin

  Dear Fit to Be Tied,

  Cupcakes have become a popular change from the traditional wedding cake. Talk to your baker. She’ll probably have pictures of lovely wedding cupcakes. Maybe it will help mom compromise if the very top of the cupcake display features a small traditional cake with flowers or a cake topper.

  —Sophie

  “I remember that,” said Francie. “Spenser was out of town on business. Clarissa had the fright of her life when some man broke into the house and took their things. I heard she hid under the bed so the man wouldn’t see her.”

  My concern for Humphrey heightened. All the recent troubles had involved a small circle of cupcake bakers. I didn’t understand what was going on, but it seemed like Humphrey had stepped into a nest of yellow jackets, and one of them had stung him. I set the bowl on the counter and sat down with my friends. One person’s name rattled around in my head—Renee. Humphrey would balk as soon as I mentioned her. He would deny her involvement. How could I get him to see what I was thinking without shoving it down his throat?

  “Who has been in your car in the last couple of weeks?” I gave him a window, so he wouldn’t fight me right away.

  “No one.”

  We stared at him.

  “Renee.” He spoke her name like he was doomed. “And Natasha’s dog, Martha.”

  Nina gasped. “That’s why Renee killed Muffin!”

  There could be a connection, but I didn’t see it. I waited for her to go on.

  “Muffin found the bejeweled cupcake in Renee’s apartment and accused her of burglarizing Spenser’s house.”

  “Or maybe Renee stumbled upon it and was going to return it to Spenser. I need to talk with Renee!” Humphrey rose from his seat.

  “Maybe you should eat breakfast first. Where is Renee anyway?” I rose and folded the egg whites into the batter.

  Francie poured more coffee for everyone. “If a man burglarized the Osbourne home, then he must have given it to Renee. Maybe she doesn’t know that it was stolen.”

  “Why would she be carrying it around?” asked Nina. “I would have that thing in a safe, or at least well hidden.”

  “She stayed at my house for a couple of nights while her place was a crime scene,” said Humphrey. “
She probably brought it with her for safekeeping and it slipped out in the car. Oh my gosh, I bet she’s frantic about losing it.”

  I heated the pork sausages and warmed the Ebelskiver pan. The scents of spinach and pork mingled with the coffee aroma, and I realized how hungry I was.

  Unbidden, Nina set the table with a blue tablecloth, round white Fiesta ware plates, and chocolate and blue toile napkins that boosted the elegance of the table setting immediately. She located the maple syrup in the fridge and brought it to the table.

  It warmed my heart that Nina pitched in without asking—and she even knew where to find everything!

  Squeezing the moisture out of the spinach, I considered my mixed feelings about Renee. I’d liked her and had no problems with her until she started using Humphrey as her personal assistant. That wasn’t reason to suspect her of murdering Muffin, though. Or of stealing the cupcake. Her bedroom was packed with miniature collectables but I hadn’t noticed any of that caliber.

  I poured a teensy bit of cream and mixed a tablespoon of butter into the spinach, added salt, pepper, and a dash of nutmeg, and gave it a whir with an immersion blender to chop it up and incorporate the seasonings. I spooned a small portion of batter into each of the round Ebelskiver indentations in the pan. On top of each, I added a tiny bit of the spinach mixture, then added a little bit more batter to cover it. I flipped each Ebelskiver to cook on the other side and fetched a serving platter. The pork sausages went in the middle and the spinach-filled Ebelskivers formed a circle around them.

  I set the platter on the table and started the next batch of Ebelskivers, this time with a Nutella filling. After that, I made one more batch with blueberries, dusted them very lightly with powdered sugar, brought them to the table, and sat down.

  The food had brought conversation to a dead stop. Nina helped herself to more of the savory spinach Ebelskivers. “As much as I love sweets, these have to be one of my favorites. They’re like spinach crepes, only in little balls.”

  Humphrey chowed down, apparently not any worse for wear after his incarceration.

  Francie had finished with the savory portion of her breakfast and eagerly helped herself to sweet Ebelskivers. “Mmm.” She swallowed a bite. “I never know what to do with Nutella other than spread it on toast. These are sinful. Humphrey, I hope you’ll ask Sophie to make Ebelskivers more often.”

  I appreciated their enthusiasm, and had to admit that the chocolatey hazelnut flavor of Nutella wrapped in a tiny warm pancake was hard to beat.

  If only Humphrey’s problem wasn’t hanging over our heads like a sword dangling on a loose cord.

  My fear was that Nina had been right in regard to Renee’s connection to Muffin’s murder. So far, we hadn’t heard about anyone who might have a motive to murder poor Muffin. No one except Renee or Joy. And I wondered if even they had motives. After all, they were the ones who’d put her in the position of having to choose between them. It seemed impossible to imagine that Joy had been so upset by Muffin’s decision to stay with Renee that she’d resorted to murder, unless she had a drug problem and hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  Or maybe Joy was right. Maybe someone had tried to poison her. The most likely candidate for that was, once again, Renee.

  Trying to sound oh-so-casual, I asked, “So Humphrey—what’s the story behind the split between Renee and Joy?”

  “I already told you. Joy moved out without any notice to Renee.”

  “What’s with the ring I keep hearing about?” I asked.

  “Joy claims Renee stole her grandmother’s ring, a valuable family heirloom. That’s nonsense, of course. What’s worse, Joy cleaned out the business bank account, so Renee didn’t even have money to pay the rent!”

  I watched him carefully. Had he paid the rent for Renee? How could I delicately inquire?

  Francie coughed. “Good grief. I hope she didn’t hit you up for rent money.”

  I froze. Trust Francie to cut to the chase.

  Humphrey didn’t seem put out in the slightest. “She did not. I offered to pay it for her.”

  “A loan, I hope?” asked Nina.

  “Not at all. If you were in a financial bind, and I was able to help, I would do the same for any one of you.”

  Glances shot around the table between Francie, Nina, and me.

  “That was very kind, Humphrey.” He’d never see that money again. I cut into a blueberry Ebelskiver.

  “No wonder Renee tried to knock off Joy!” Francie shook her head. “What was Joy thinking, taking all their money? It’s like a bad divorce.”

  This time Humphrey bristled. “Francie, please. I won’t have you speaking that way about the woman I love. You have no reason whatsoever to think that Renee had anything to do with Joy’s illness. And frankly, I’m not sure that the rumors of poisoning are even true. The doctors think she may have taken something that caused her hallucinations.”

  “The woman you love?” Nina choked on her coffee.

  I had seen this coming. I so wanted to be happy for Humphrey, but I’d had misgivings from the start. Now that so many horrible things had happened, and Renee seemed to be in the middle of them, Humphrey’s adoration of her worried me.

  “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  Forks clattered on dishes around the table as they fell from our hands.

  “How long have you known Renee?” I asked.

  “Over a year.”

  “You’ve been dating her that long and never said anything about it?” How did we miss that? How could we not have known?

  Humphrey raised his forefinger. “Known . . . dating, that’s a distinction without a difference.”

  Uh-oh. He was in for another huge letdown.

  “Oh, Humphrey! How can you be so naïve?” Nina smacked his hand.

  His forehead crinkled. “I am not naïve. For instance, Sophie and I have never dated, but I’ve known her most of my life. There’s probably not much I don’t know about her.”

  “Apparently you don’t know how shocked she would be if you asked her to marry you.” As usual, Francie had hit it on the head.

  Humphrey turned his head ever so slightly toward me. “Is that true? You would be shocked?”

  “Yes! I have male friends, but marriage—well, that’s a completely different thing.” I dared to ask, “Is your relationship with Renee . . . romantic?”

  “Actually, it is.”

  I relaxed a little bit. Maybe I’d gotten the wrong idea about Renee.

  “You can’t imagine what fun we had selling cupcakes in the booth. Tight quarters, you know, so we couldn’t help brushing against each other now and then. And the laughs we had when we baked cupcakes at Cake My Day with Spenser! I’d say we’ve been quite close.”

  Once again, looks flitted between Nina, Francie, and me.

  Francie set her coffee mug on the table with a little thud. “Have you been intimate, son?”

  “We have engaged in warm embraces.” He scowled at us. “I believe a gentleman never discusses such things.”

  “Oh dear heaven!” Nina bit back a smile. She’d said exactly what I was thinking.

  Francie tsked at us. “Now, now. There’s nothing wrong with being a gentleman. In my day, we didn’t plop into bed with whomever came along. We allowed feelings and mutual respect to develop. You don’t have to rush into anything, Humphrey. But, son, you can’t just marry someone because you’ve baked cupcakes with her.”

  I felt for poor Humphrey. He’d had so little luck with women that he saw the most ordinary behavior as special. “What’s important right now is to figure out how Humphrey came into possession of that expensive cupcake and how to clear his name.”

  “And while we’re doing that, we still need to find poor Buddy!” Nina eyed Humphrey. “Do you think you could sweet-talk Myra into going into Maurice’s house? I tried, but you might have more sway with her.”

  “I forgot all about him. That poor dog! Of course, I’ll ask Myra. She’s really a very good-he
arted person.” He checked his watch. “In fact, she should be at work right about now.”

  Francie rose. “I’ll come along with you. I’ve always wanted to see the inner workings of a mortuary.”

  When Humphrey excused himself for a moment, Francie said, “Somebody’s got to look after that boy. I’ve never met anyone so smart who was more clueless about women. Besides, I’ve always wanted to match someone up with the right partner. You know, where they thank you in the wedding toast.”

  “You’re going to try to help him with Renee?” asked Nina. She sounded appalled.

  “Do you think I’m daft? It’s that Myra girl that I like!” She raised her voice. “Humphrey! Don’t take all day!” She winked at us and met him in the foyer.

  I stood up and began to clear the table. I was holding three dishes when Humphrey dashed back into the kitchen and hugged me. “Thank you, Sophie. In spite of your concerns about Renee, you’re a very good friend. No one else would rescue me at four in the morning.”

  Nina cleared her throat dramatically.

  “Except for Nina,” said Humphrey. He pecked her on the cheek and hurried back to the front door, where Francie was hollering his name.

  The second Nina saw them on the sidewalk, she grasped my arm. “He is in so much trouble! Do you think that cupcake was planted on Humphrey or dropped in his car by mistake?”

  “It could have happened either way. The only thing I’m certain about is that he didn’t steal it.” I rinsed the dishes and slid them into the dishwasher. “How would you feel about making some inquiries?”

  “I’m in. As soon as I shower and change. Half an hour?”

  Nina and I met on the sidewalk in front of her house. I’d left Daisy at home with Mochie, since we were planning to visit bakeries. After the busy weekend, complete with doggy gala, I figured she had some sleep to catch up on anyway.

  Fresh spring air invigorated us. We both wore running shoes, rather a joke since neither of us was inclined to run, except when no other alternative appeared reasonable. But we walked at a nice clip, and even though we talked about Humphrey and Renee, we slowed occasionally to appreciate the scent of blooming flowers or a particularly spectacular azalea.