The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Nancy McGovern

  Karen shot up from her chair instantly, too. “What? That doesn’t make sense. He and the Slice of Whatever people already went against each other.”

  Laura and Faith shared raised eyebrows.

  “That is true,” Marigold said evenly. “Nevertheless, the scores are scores—”

  “No!” Karen exclaimed. “I just won’t have it.” She pointed at Nico. “You and your precious blog will not rob my hard working ladies out of the prize.”

  “Your hard working ladies?” Chad exclaimed. “Your? What does that mean, hmm?”

  Tamalynn squeaked, “Let’s not argue!” but no one really noticed.

  “I haven’t actually got time for this,” Nico announced grandly. “My philosophy, like I say on That Tattooed Baking Guy, is to stay away from drama and negative situations at all times. I want to thank you, judges, for judging my work fairly and realizing I deserve a spot in the final. R.I.P. to Wilhelmina Ruby.”

  “Roby!” Chad exploded.

  “Wilhelmina Roby,” Nico said softly, then put his hands together and bowed. “Namaste.” Then he held his arm out to his superfan. “Come on, Chelsea,” and he was gone.

  Tamalynn shot them a dirty look over her shoulder, then snuggled back into Chad. “Jerk,” Faith heard her whisper.

  “I insist we have a vote,” Karen said. “Those in favor of bringing back the Baking Babes instead, raise your hand.” She pushed her own straight up in the air and looked around expectantly, but no one moved. Except Laura, who glanced around shyly and put her own hand up.

  “So it’s settled,” Marigold said firmly. “The final will commence as planned on Saturday. The Slice of Paradise team vs. Nico Morris, That Tattooed Baking Guy. Excellent. Meeting over, folks.” She then tucked her folder neatly under her arm and hurried away before Karen got the chance to get up out of her chair.

  *****

  Chapter 4

  “So who’dya think’s the culprit?” Grandma Bessie said, adjusting her apron strings. Monday mornings had become one of the busiest times in the tearoom, with a whole bunch of customers from a nearby Baptist church making it their regular Bible study hangout, so she’d come along to give Faith and Laura a hand, since she was around for the contest. Yale’s mom Danica, and Stephanie, the daughter of the lady who ran the successful pancake house in Paradise Point, pitched in now and then, and Danica was due to arrive later.

  But Faith, painful though it was for her to admit to herself, had to concede that Grandma Bessie was one of the most difficult people to work with.

  “I think it’s that awful boy. Interesting tattoo art, for sure, but a bad heart lurking underneath, of that much I’m certain.” Grandma Bessie poured hot water from the kettle into old fashioned tea pots, with pink blossom designs blooming on their cream china. “No, Faith,” she said, somewhat harshly, watching how Faith was cracking eggs. You shouldn’t do it that way, or you’ll end up with eggshell bits in your cake. Goodness me.”

  “Goodness me,” Faith said, flopping against the counter with a sigh when Grandma Bessie hurried out with a huge tray of tea for the Baptists. She didn’t mean to be disloyal or disrespectful, but she couldn’t help feel relieved that all the nitpicking had stopped. The eggshell comment had been the last in a stream of about a hundred.

  Laura laughed shakily. “I’d forgotten how much of a hard task master she is.”

  Faith blew out a stream of air. “Was she always like this before I came down?”

  “Yep,” Laura said cheerily, plunging her gloved hands into a sink full of bubbly water.

  Faith laughed as she headed back over to the chocolate gateau batter she’d been preparing. It smelled so good – rich and deep and chocolatey – while she was stirring it. “You’ll have to give me tips on how to put up with it so gracefully.” Then she mock-gasped. “And you’re not even crying!”

  Laura flicked her with water.

  “Hey!” Faith protested.

  “Watch it, or I’ll cry all over you,” Laura said. Then she got started on scrubbing some dishes. “When you want to work with emotionally disturbed kids, Miss Bessie is like a tame little kitten, trust me.”

  “Oh yeah, how’s college going?”

  “Good, real good,” Laura said, enthusiasm bubbling up in her voice. “It’s all been classroom stuff so far, but by the end of the month I’ll get my placement! That means I’ll be in a real school, with real kids! Eek!”

  “Oh my gosh!” Faith said. “That’s amazing, Laura.”

  Laura did an excited jig at the sink, lifting her arms up and splashing water everywhere. “Oops!” Then she laughed at herself. “Hopefully I won’t cry all over them.”

  “Nah,” Faith said. “You’ll be a total pro. Like you said the other day, you know you have to be strong and consistent for them, so you’ll just flick into that mode, I guess. If that makes sense?”

  “Yep,” Laura said. “Let’s hope so. Wouldn’t this be the best month ever if we won? Winning all that money for Grandma Bessie’s operation, and then me getting a placement? It’s like… dreams come true kind of stuff.”

  Faith grinned. “At the risk of sounded like some sappy Disney film—”

  “Hey!” Laura said. “I love Disney!”

  “Me too. But a lot of it is sappy, though, you can’t deny that.”

  Laura scrubbed a glass, pretending to look offended. “Hm. If you say so.”

  “I mean, well, my dream came true, didn’t it? I was totally stuck in a rut. I totally hated my cashier job. They wouldn’t even give me proper hours so I could move out. I was like… depressed, I guess, too. I couldn’t even get enough imagination together to work out what I could do. But then Grandma Bessie made that call…”

  “And that was that,” Laura said with a smile.

  “Yep!” Faith said happily. “And now my mom’s bought her cabin in Ohio, which she’s always dreamed of, too, so she got what she wanted. And now you, studying and following your dreams. Ooh, and Nathan, too, getting the landscaping job here. He’s wanted that like forever. It’s like… I don’t know, I just feel so glad to be around people who are… doing things. Out there. Making things work... Although I can’t actually claim to be like you guys, since it just landed in my lap, really.”

  “Nonsense! You worked your tail off for all this. Sure, Miss Bessie hired you, but you transformed the place.” She did a dramatic hand movement and flicked her head back. “From drab to fab, daahling.”

  “Oh, brother,” Faith said. But in truth she was beginning to feel nervous again. Were things going a little too well for her? She couldn’t shake the image of Deputy Sheriff Valdez marching up to the Slice of Paradise kitchen door and snatching her up in handcuffs, while her cake batter flew everywhere, and her favorite teal bowl smashed on the floor.

  Just at that moment, the kitchen door opened and the sound made Faith jump. She looked over, her pulse racing, to see rotund, friendly-faced Danica in the doorway, and laughed at herself. “Morning, Danica.”

  “Hi, girls,” Danica said cheerily, coming in and hanging her light jacket and purse on a peg. “You don’t look very ready.”

  “Ooh!” Faith said, scrambling out of her apron. “Is it that time already?”

  Laura struggled to peel the washing up gloves off her hands. “Oh man!”

  “See you, Danica, gotta dash.” Faith swiped the Chevy keys off the side and grabbed her shoulder bag.

  *****

  “I thought you said these kids were cynical,” Laura whispered to her phys ed teacher boyfriend Yale as they stood at the back of the auditorium.

  Nico was pacing at the front, orating with dramatic flair and a few jokes, and every teen eye was locked onto him. Not in sniggering disdain, but in awe.

  Faith shook her head, feeling nervous. “They look enthralled.” To put it mildly, being popular at school had not been her forte. In fact, the bullying was what made her turn to baking in the first place – it was her safe haven away from trying to impress everyone, which she
could never succeed at no matter how hard she tried. The thought, even at 25, of standing up in front of a bunch of high school students sent her stomach fluttering. She could see the smirks and hear the tittering scornful laughter echo through her brain. The image she had of herself standing up there was no better – flushed cheeks, stammering, twisting her hands over and over.

  “Well,” Yale said with a shrug. “Looks like they dig the baking guy.”

  “He’ll have a thousand new subscribers by the end of this,” Laura said.

  At that moment, Karen strode from her place at the side of the auditorium onto the stage.

  “—when I first realized baking and working out actually could… be compatible,” Nico continued his speech, frowning and looking in Karen’s direction.

  “Thank you, Mr. Morris!” Karen said loudly, then turned to the crowd, her voice sickly sweet. “We have a limited amount of time to stay with you kids here today.”

  Faith scanned the audience to see teens rolling their eyes and crossing their arms.

  “The real reason we’re here,” she continued, “is to invite you all to come down to the final of the Cynthia Rochford Cupcake Marathon. Nico Morris will be competing against a group from a café called Slice of Paradise. There’ll be plenty to do and see, it’ll be like a super-fun festival. Doesn’t that sound just awesome?”

  There was no response except for some half-hearted clapping, a few giggles, and a few pity-shouts of, “Yes!” from the teachers and the good kids.

  “I am going to continue my speech,” Nico said.

  Karen glared at him. “No, you won’t.”

  Yale jogged up to the front of the auditorium, laughing nervously. He slapped Nico on the back. “Thanks for your great talk. If you want to take two sentences to wrap up that would be cool. Then it’s the Slice of Paradise ladies’ turn.”

  Faith cast Laura a nervous yet excited glance. “Ready?”

  Laura clutched the bag of equipment to her chest. They were planning to do games and give out the equipment as prizes. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Nico strode around the front of the auditorium again, as if he owned the place. “Some people,” he said pointedly, looking at Karen, who looked like she was fit to bust, “believe that good connections and buying favor can bring you success. But that’s not the case. I want you guys to know that I built my blog from the ground up. I was just like you, a high school senior. I was a weightlifter, but baking was my secret thing. No one knew about it. I couldn’t risk my reputation, right?” He laughed in this effortlessly cool way and the auditorium laughed along with him, not at him. “So my blog was anonymous at first. But then I decided, what the heck, I wanna be me. So I put a picture of a cupcake balancing on my abs, and the rest was history.” He flicked his hair back. “And now I make six figures from my blog each year. High six figures, that is. Without any help. Without any connections. Just me, my muscles, my baking, and some research.” Then he puffed out his chest, held his head high, and got this intense look in his eyes. “So if you have a passion that doesn’t fit the mold, it’s cool. I know it might feel scary to put it out there, but if you’re strong, you’ll do it anyway. When people found out in my high school they laughed at me. It hurt, yeah. But who’s laughing now?” Then he stopped, gave a semi-awkward smile, and held his hands out, showing he was done.

  Someone started clapping, and pretty soon the whole auditorium was thundering with applause. Some people even cheered, and Faith felt more nervous than ever. How would they ever follow that?

  After the applause had died down a bit, Nico put his hands together and made his signature bow. “Namaste. Oh, and I’ll be selling and signing my baking book at the back, so make sure to get your copy.”

  “Come on, then,” Laura said. Her voice sounded determined but also had a little shake in it that betrayed her nervousness. “Let’s do this.”

  Yale came forward, clapping. “Thank you, Nico. Awesome. Now we’re all going to give a big Paradise High welcome to Faith Franklin and Laura Edwards, of Slice of Paradise!”

  Faith’s hands were sweating. Her temples were pounding. As she stood up before the huge auditorium crowd, who were clapping half-heartedly, she thought she might just keel over with the shock.

  Please say I’m not going to have a panic attack. Please say I’m not going to have a panic attack.

  Laura, who had strode forward with determination, clutching the bag of goodies, seemed to wither away all at once, as soon as she looked at the crowd. She turned back to Faith, her eyes huge and full of terror. “Oh. My. Gosh,” she mouthed.

  Faith was painfully aware that time was stretching out before them, and no one was saying anything. The claps were dying down to the final stragglers. She couldn’t find her voice. It felt like it was buried somewhere deep within her, and there was nothing she could do to call it forward.

  But the pressure was mounting.

  Laura looked at Faith, and shook her head, looking helpless.

  Suddenly a new thought broke into Faith’s mind. Imagine, there in the audience, was a young girl – or boy, for that matter – who was just like she had been. Cast out of the high school social circle, totally unconfident. What if she could share with them how her passion for baking had helped her? What if they decided to give it a try and found their own little blissful bubble there, too?

  With that new thought, Faith still felt terror. But she felt something stronger, too. Something that surged up from somewhere deep within and made her stand tall and speak loud.

  “Hi,” she said. Her heart pounded and her hands shook but it didn’t matter. “My name’s Faith, and this is my friend Laura. We’re nervous standing up here, I’m not going to lie. I’m not used to speaking in front of a lot of people. But I really want to.” She looked through the crowd at some individual faces – the girl with long ginger hair and tons of freckles, the black haired boy with a pushed up nose, a young looking girl with blonde curls – wondering who she was really speaking to the heart of. “You might think baking is just flour and eggs and sugar and stuff, and eating nice things, but to me, it’s a lot more than that. It’s—”

  “What did you just say to me?” Nico’s voice cut harshly through Faith’s heartfelt speech.

  “Hey, hey,” Yale said quickly, stepping in between where Nico and Karen stood.

  But Karen wasn’t about to let him stand in her way. “You heard,” she said to Nico with a cold, scathing voice. “I said you’re a no-talent, brain-dead airhead.”

  “Oh, help,” Laura said.

  The auditorium was shocked into silence for a moment, then someone began to giggle.

  “As opposed to you,” Nico said. “A washed up old woman pretending to be a judge, but actually getting paid under the table.”

  Karen put her hand to her chest. “What? I’m… I’m… that’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it?” Nico said, his voice as sharp as a dagger. “So you weren’t paid by the Baking Babes to try and get them through?”

  The ripples of laughter were spreading through the auditorium.

  “They didn’t even get through!” Karen said.

  “And it’s killing you, isn’t it?” Nico laughed bitterly. “You couldn’t turn the other judges to your side, so you failed your stupid Baking Babes. And then you knew you had to act. Did you spend the money already, Karen?”

  Karen open and closed her mouth. “Er… what?”

  “Let’s do this out of assembly time?” Yale suggested, trying to guide them toward the doorway, but neither of them budged.

  This made the audience laugh all the more.

  “Who else had a good reason to kill Wilhelmina?” Nico said.

  “Them,” Karen said hotly, pointing at Laura and Faith. “Their only way to the prize was to kill her. Or so they thought.”

  *****

  Chapter 5

  By the early evening, Faith found the strength to laugh at it all herself.

  “Well, maybe it’s for the best you did
n’t give your speech anyways,” Nathan said, then swigged his mango-kiwi-coconut smoothie back. “Teen boys are the worst. I should know. I was one. They wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

  Faith laughed and dragged her fingers along the sand of the Paradise Point beach, making swirls and whirls and curls. She loved the gentle friction of the grains against her fingertips. “I’m not sure teen girls are much better, to be fair. Though I was perfect. Of course.”

  “Obviously,” Nathan said, giving her a respectful bow, then a wink.

  Faith sipped her own drink, an iced strawberry daiquiri, deliciously refreshing in the still-warm Florida air. “Were you bad, then, as a teen?”

  “Nah, not really,” Nathan said. “Though my report cards were full of words like potential and unfulfilled and… well, yeah, that’s about it, really. I could do class fine, but it bored me. Except for when we did gardening about once every month, that was good.” He smiled. “I bet you totally killed home ec, right?”

  Faith laughed. “Actually, I flunked it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Nathan asked, genuinely shocked.

  Faith shook her head. “Nope. Really, I totally flunked. It was just… I don’t know. It felt different at school. It wasn’t the same.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ugh, well, not being able to make what you wanted, for one thing,” Faith said. “You had to follow exactly the same directions as everyone else.”

  “So why didn’t you shake it up a bit?”

  Faith laughed. “I was a goody two shoes, Nate. Maybe I put a dash of unauthorized almond essence into a cookie once.”

  “Ooh, Ms. Rebel!”

  “That was the extent of my schooldays rebellion,” she said, then sighed, listening to the waves lapping in and out. “It wasn’t just that, though. It was… well, a group of girls in my class wasn’t exactly… well, they weren’t my best buddies, let’s put it that way. And I know it sounds dumb, but…”