Grandma Bessie threw her hands up in the air. “That sounds more like it!”
Laura grinned.
“And we’ll win that prize money,” Faith said, “so you can get your operation, Grandma.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Grandma Bessie snapped. “The money’s going back into the tearoom.”
“The tearoom’s doing great already,” Faith said. “We really don’t need it. Besides, you’re walking all—”
“I know exactly how I’m walking. Now, enough chattering, Faith. Think of the subject at hand.”
Faith desperately wanted to open her mouth and argue. How could Grandma be so cavalier about her operation? Didn’t she want to get better? Was she really that proud that she’d keep limping and wincing instead of accepting the prize money and getting treatment? But Faith felt the situation too delicate to press anything. She knew that pushed too hard she herself would probably lose the plot. Grandma Bessie had had an even longer day than Faith had, so Faith wasn’t about to take any chances.
“Our signature style…” Laura said, scrubbing the refrigerator door. “What would you say it is?”
“Delicious cakes everyone can eat with their families,” Grandma Bessie said firmly. “I think we should do two classic cupcakes – the red velvet and a vanilla sponge. Nothing fancy. Just homegrown American sweets that everyone likes. The classics.”
Faith busied herself looking through the cupboards for pans and ingredients and utensils, so that Grandma Bessie couldn’t see her facial expression. That idea was the last thing Faith wanted to do. Though she got the idea, it sounded a little dull. Faith came alive when she could invent. New flavor combos, different dessert type mash-ups, unexpected garnishing – that’s what Faith loved.
But to disagree with Grandma Bessie? You’d better be ready to don your hard hat. Faith didn’t feel up to it.
“That’s a great idea to start with, Miss Bessie,” Laura said. “What other ideas do we have?”
“Other ideas?” Grandma Bessie said scornfully.
Laura’s voice lost all its confidence. “Well, yes, I was just thinking that maybe we could bounce around ideas, and—”
“No, no, no,” Grandma Bessie said, walking over to the refrigerator and picking out margarine and milk. “We’ll get started on the red velvet. Come on, Faith, you can do the frosting.”
Faith stood up, and though her hands were shaking, she just couldn’t hold it in. “No.”
Grandma Bessie just stared at her in shock.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Faith said, “but I really don’t think we’re going to win like that. I mean, these cakes are good, but to be honest we rarely even serve them here. And if you look at what won last year and all the previous years, it was never anything like that. It was always something new, something different.”
Grandma Bessie twisted her lips. “That’s the problem with your generation. Always something new, something different. What about the time-tested classics?”
“Those are all good,” Faith said, on a roll, “but I really really want us to win. I think we need to do something bolder. Something more out there.”
“Fine,” Grandma Bessie said, flicking her hand up. “It’s your tearoom now. You do what you like.” Then she left the kitchen.
“That’s not what I meant!” Faith said, hurrying after her.
“Not now, Faith.” That was Grandma Bessie’s warning voice, so Faith retreated, watching from a distance as Grandma went outside and took a seat on the veranda.
Then she went back into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her. “Ugh!” she said, pounding her palm on the counter. “I knew she’d be like that.”
Laura continued to scrub away, though she’d moved onto the sink by then. She always kept it sparkling until it practically glittered in the Florida sun. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. She’s just being her in-charge self.”
Faith flopped down onto one of the stools they kept in the kitchen for taking breaks from baking. “I wish I could just agree with her, but I think we’ll lose the contest if we do straightforward and plain. In fact, I know we’ll lose the contest.” Then Faith looked up at Laura, who looked cheerful as ever as she cleaned. “Hey, you’re not crying! Not even a little sniffle. After all that conflict.” She grinned. “Is the name Weepy to be retired?”
Laura poked her tongue out. “Looks like all that conflict management they teach me in college is paying off. They always say the key is to keep calm. To detach from the situation. That way you can navigate emotionally charged moments with poise.”
Faith smiled. “You sound like a textbook.” Her stomach grumbled. She’d been resisting popping a donut in her mouth all afternoon, because she’d been so tired that morning she hadn’t had her regular morning jog. The feta cheese salad that was waiting for her at home seemed less and less appetizing with each passing hour. Instead, she headed over to the fridge and scooped up the peanut butter, then hit the cutlery rack for a teaspoon.
“Ew,” Laura said.
“Don’t even start.” Faith sat back on the bench and started scooping out peanut butter, no mean feat since the refrigerator had taken out the gorgeous creaminess she liked about it so much. “It’s bad enough you say we can’t keep it in the cupboard.”
“The fungus!” Laura said. “Seriously, it’s a lot better in the refrigerator.”
“Fungus?” Faith peered down into the peanut butter, feeling grossed out, but then shrugged. It looked fine to her. After a few small scoops, which she ate slowly and savored, she said, “So what are we actually going to do for this contest? You’re the branding whiz. Come up with something.” She put on a funny voice, like an interviewer. “So, Miss Edwards, what is the signature for the Slice of Paradise?”
“Ick, don’t call me Miss Edwards,” Laura said. “It reminds me of Tyler.”
Faith scrunched her nose up. “Moving swiftly on…”
Laura paused, the sponge in her hand, a bottle of vinegar – her favorite cleaning product – in the other. “I guess… beauty, for one thing. Like this place was really run down, but you did it up so good.”
“We did,” Faith corrected. “And Lula, the carpenter. And Nathan, of course.”
“So like, being in a beautiful place. That’s definitely one thing. Ooh, and attention to detail!”
Faith had always been big on that. Something about every tiny little thing being taken care of felt so intoxicating to her. The napkins were all pressed properly. Napkin rings abounded. The vases were decorated with lace and burlap strips. The spoons even had handles with floral designs. Everything had to be special. “Totally,” she said. “So beauty, attention to detail… What about something to do with being tropical, as well? Like, that’s one thing I really love about being here. The sun, the ocean, the breeze coming in and cooling you down… The mangoes. Bananas. Papaya. Passionfruit. We have to incorporate that somehow.”
“You’re so right!” Laura said. “Beauty, attention to detail, tropical... That sounds pretty good to me.”
“But there’s something missing…” Faith bit her lip, trying to think.
“Is there?”
Faith nodded. She put the peanut butter down on the side, racking her brains. “Like, even though all those things are true, they’re not like… the whole picture, I guess. I’m still trying to work out what I mean.”
Laura mimed a strong breeze going right over her head. “Whoosh!”
Faith smiled and rolled her eyes. Then after a couple of moments, she sat bolt upright. “I know! All those things are good, right, but they’re the outer things. What I really want to give people here, is like… a feeling. A good feeling. Like they’re safe and at home. How you feel when you’re little and you’re at, I don’t know, your best friend’s house, or your grandma’s. Just when everything feels taken care of. You don’t have any worries, no stress. All you have to do is sit in a beautiful place eating good food, and feeling awesome. That’s what I think our sign
ature is.”
Laura smiled from ear to ear. “You know, I could have never put that into words, but that makes so much sense.”
Faith gasped. “Oh my gosh! I just had the best idea!”
“Tell.”
“Take Grandma Bessie’s idea, right. Just do three classic cupcakes. The red velvet. The vanilla sponge. And, I don’t know, chocolate cupcakes. Because, like she said, they’re like comforting, familiar favorites. But then, we can add our own twist.”
“Go on, go on.”
“Like, for one thing, add tropical fruit combos. Like let’s say, red velvet passionfruit cupcakes, or vanilla mandarin cupcakes, or… tamarind chocolate cupcakes.”
“Aah,” Laura said, leaning against the counter with dreamy eyes. “I’m already liking this idea.”
Faith was on a roll. “Then, instead of serving it up on any old plate they give us, on those plastic tables, we should actually bring our stuff from here. One of the lace tablecloths, and the flowery plates and everything. Ah, that would be so much better.”
Laura grinned. “We could even give them some sweet tea.” Then she put her hand up. “High five, girl. That idea’s going to win us this money.”
Faith thought about Grandma Bessie sitting outside on the veranda, too proud to claim the money for her operation. “I sure hope so.”
*****
Chapter 17
The next morning, Faith leapt out of bed.
With all the new tropical-comfort ideas they’d had the previous evening, she’d gotten a huge burst of energy that carried her and Laura all the way to midnight. They’d rushed home as soon as they could to get started, and found Grandma Bessie had already left from her place on the veranda. She didn’t have a cell, and Faith knew that calling her sheltered accommodation would be a non-starter – you could only leave a message at the front desk and Grandma Bessie would rarely ever call back.
So Faith and Laura had hurried back to Faith’s apartment and got stuck into their first and only practice run for the final of the Cupcake Marathon, Cirrus and Nimbus weaving around their ankles as they worked.
Faith hadn’t managed to get to sleep until 2am, she’d been so wired thinking about everything, but she still managed to rise at 6am with a bright feeling and plenty of energy in her limbs.
That morning, picking a dress and styling her hair could have been a long ritual that she obsessed over, but Faith had other things on her mind. She had five hours until the contest was due to begin, and she had things to do. Laura had urged her to forget about the murder case and focus on baking, but Faith had a gut feeling that she should get out there and make a valiant attempt at finding out the truth. There was no way she could rest and enjoy the prize – if they were lucky enough to win – knowing there was a murderer lurking among them.
First she picked out an aquamarine sundress but then scrambled out of it again. That color seemed ill advised, given the circumstances, and Faith wondered if she’d ever be able to wear it again without thinking of murder.
She plunged her hand in the wardrobe and came out with a sundress in a gorgeous maroon-ish color, perhaps mulberry. Perfect. Fast as she could, she slipped into some sandals and tied her hair back in a messy bun. Large dark shades completed the look.
Faith gave her kittens their favorite meal, sardines, and a large bowl of water. “Wish me luck, babies,” she said. “Momma’s going to try and kick some baking butt today. And catch a killer.” Before she’d had kittens of her own, it had made her wince to hear people referring to their animals as babies or themselves as parents, but with Cirrus and Nimbus, it just felt right. “Send me your powerful feline vibes,” she said, thinking of the ancient Egyptian cat god she’d learned about in school, then laughed at herself.
Then she swung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.
The Paradise Inn was within walking distance. It was also on a bus route, but she was too impatient to stand around waiting for one to show up. She wanted to be active, to be striding out on the street, ready to solve the crime once and for all. Though she didn’t have a plan, she felt confident and ready and powerful.
Once she stepped into the lobby of the Paradise Inn, an idea smacked her right in the face. She spotted Chad and Tamalynn sitting in a lounge area adjacent to the lobby, with their backs to her. She could see through the glass door that they were nursing drinks. Chad was reading a broadsheet newspaper, while Tamalynn scrolled on her phone. And, just like that, an idea, fully formed, popped into Faith’s head. She didn’t know exactly what she was trying to achieve, even then, but she felt she was doing the right thing.
She put on a confident smile and strutted to the front desk. “Hey, there,” she said to the nervous looking young woman who stood behind it, with the name tag Eva.
“Hello, Miss,” Eva said, like she was reading from a script. “How can I help you today?”
“Oh, this is so embarrassing,” Faith said, leaning over the front desk. “But I’m part of a contest today. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it? It’s the Cynthia Rochford Cupcake Marathon. But two of the judges are staying here, right. In fact, all of them were, but I’m sure you heard about the tragic incident?”
“Oh,” Eva said, her eyes wide. “She was a judge in the contest?”
Faith nodded. “Yep. That was the second murder. The first was a contestant.”
Eva’s eyes looked about to pop out of her head. She looked this way and that, eyeing everyone who walked past, as if they could be the killer. “Oh, right,” she said, trying to sound casual.
“Look, the problem is, two of the judges, husband and wife, they want to sabotage me.”
Eva frowned. “Huh?”
“There’s huge prize money,” Faith said. “Really huge. So they were actually being paid by the other competitor to make him come out on top.” The story came flying on out of Faith’s mouth, without her even having to think about it. Who knew she was such a natural born liar? “But then the organizer, Marigold, got wind of it.” Faith lowered her voice. “But she didn’t want to cancel the contest at the last minute. So she says she’s going to supervise their judging to ensure they give a fair verdict, right? I think that’s fair, don’t you?”
“Oh, well, yeah, I guess.” Eva looked doubtful. “Although… they could still just make him win and insist they were being honest.”
“I know,” Faith said, making her face fall. “I’ve been trying not to think about that. Just think positive thoughts and all that, you know? But the point is, right, that since Marigold found out, they’ve been trying other ways to sabotage me.”
“That’s so unfair!” Eva said, just like she and Faith were friends.
That gave Faith a pang of guilt in her stomach.
“I know,” Faith said quickly. “Now I know this is crazy. Super crazy. Super not allowed crazy. Okay? I know that. But I’m in a real bind here. I need to win this prize money. My grandma desperately needs an operation but can’t afford it.” Heck, at least the sob story was real. “But basically, these people have totally ruined my chances. They stole my recipe book.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“Right?” Faith shook her head. “So…” She grimaced. “I know this is crazy, but I have to do something. All I’m asking is that for two minutes, when the maid goes in their room to clean, I can just dash in there.” She saw Eva’s brow creasing with worry. “Seriously, just a couple minutes. Then get my book and I’m out of there. They only stole it yesterday, so it’s probably somewhere in reach.”
Eva opened her mouth, looking like she might protest.
“And,” Faith said quickly, “I absolutely promise you that if I can’t find it within the time the maid’s in there, or even quicker, whatever time limit you specify, then I’ll just get out anyways. But, seriously, Eva, I really need this book.” Faith couldn’t even believe her own ears. She’d never done anything like that before.
Eva frowned. “But what if they’re in the room? What if they don’t
use housekeeping today?”
“It’s okay, they’re not in the room,” Faith said quickly. “They’re in the seating area over there having juice or smoothies or something. Maybe breakfast?”
Eva bit her lip, then said, “What are their names?” as she turned to her computer.
“Chad and Tamalynn… Schwartz,” Faith said, just about remembering their last name.
“Okay, okay…” Eva typed and clicked away and eventually said, “All right, they’re in room 308.” She checked her watch. “The housekeeping up there wouldn’t even start for another hour or so.”
“Oh, man,” Faith said, bouncing up and down on impatient toes. “I have to wait all that time?”
Eva stood still for a moment, thinking. Then she went into a back room and came out with the same young man whom Faith had seen on duty before. She flipped a keycard over in her hand. “I’m just showing this lady to her room,” Eva mumbled quickly to him, then hurried out from behind the desk.
Faith couldn’t believe her luck. She followed behind Eva to the elevator, down the other side of the hall to the staircase. Eva tapped the button then leaned into Faith and said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, right?”
“Thank you so much,” Faith whispered back. “And I swear I never would.”
When they got out of the elevator at the third floor, Eva whispered, “I’m going to stand outside the door, and you can go in for two minutes. But please, please don’t take long. And if anyone comes I’ll say your name. Wait, what is your name?”
“Faith Franklin.”
“Okay, I’ll call you. And you come out and say… I don’t know, that the room’s already occupied and I’ve brought you to the wrong one.”
Faith knew Tamalynn and Chad would still find it strange if they caught them, because there was no reason for her to check into a hotel. But that was a chance she was just going to have to take.
The Blackmail Flour Trail: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (Slice of Paradise Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Page 11
