Murder in the Oven: A Camellia Cove Mystery Book 1

by Jessica Preston

  Kim bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “I like Betts's sense of humor. She might take it a little too far sometimes, but she has a way of cheering me up. That's more than I can say for some people.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Candace snapped.

  Kim sighed again. “Listen, Mom. I’m under suspicion of premeditated murder. I can't work at my shop anymore, so I might as well relax and enjoy a good book while I have the chance.”

  Candace waved her arms in the air. “Don’t you realize that's exactly what I'm talking about? Ivor is cashing in on the murder to drive the last nail into your coffin.”

  Kim froze. Then she shut her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “He set up a big billboard right next to the turn-off to your cookie shop,” Candace told her. “He's advertising a Rat Poison special.”

  Kim's mouth fell open. “What did you say?”

  “You should see it,” Candace went on. “It's black with Halloween writing, and it's got a witch with a warty nose and a pointing hat putting cookies into the oven.”

  Kim gulped. “What's this about rat poison?”

  “That's what I'm trying to tell you,” Candace shrieked. “You can't keep hiding your head in the sand and saying he isn't attacking you. His monthly special I told you about earlier was ten percent off a baker's dozens of donuts. This is a fifty percent discount for all your loyal customers who come over to his donut shop. He's offering seventy-five percent discount if anyone can show your loyalty card at checkout.”

  Kim gasped. “He wouldn't do that! Not even he could go as low as that.”

  “When are you going to wake up and smell the coffee?” Candace asked. “When are you going to realize not everyone is as naive and trusting as you are?”

  “Are you sure you understood the billboard?” Kim asked. “Are you sure there isn't some mistake?”

  “How could I misunderstand that?” Candace asked. “How could I misunderstand a witch putting cookies into the oven with rat poison in them?”

  Tears sprang into Kim's eyes. Then all of a sudden she stopped and studied her mother. “Rat poison? Who said anything about rat poison?”

  “The poison in Pat's cookie was strychnine,” Candace replied. “That's a common rat poison. The pest control people use it all the time.”

  “They do?” Kim asked. “I didn't know that.”

  “Everybody's talking about it,” Candace replied. “They're saying you had rats in your bakery, and Pat found out about it, and you killed him to stop him from shutting your cookie shop down.”

  “But I don't have rats,” Kim exclaimed. “I never did.”

  “That doesn't make any difference,” Candace replied. “All that matters is that everybody thinks you did, and now Ivor is cashing in on your misfortune. So what are you going to do about it?”

  Kim sank back down on the couch. “There's nothing I can do about it. If he wants to advertise my misfortune and make a killing on it, he can.”

  Candace scowled at her. “That's not funny.”

  Kim burst out laughing. “I didn't even realize I said it until you mentioned it. But now that you mention it, it's hilarious.”

  “So you're just going to sit here and wait for them to put you in prison for Pat's murder?” Candace asked. “You're going to lie down in defeat?”

  “What do you suggest I do?” Kim asked.

  Candace waved her hands again. “Fight, girl! Fight for your life. Get out there and attack, attack, attack.”

  “That's three attacks,” Kim pointed out.

  “How can you joke around at a time like this?” Candace screeched. “How can you pretend this is no big deal? Don't you want to clear your name?”

  “I would love to clear my name if you have some concrete suggestion on how to do it,” Kim replied. “So far, you've said I should fight and attack and all that, but you haven't actually said what I ought to do. All the evidence implicates me for Pat's murder. How am I supposed to attack that?”

  Candace shrugged. “How should I know? But you won't accomplish anything by sitting here reading a book.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Kim replied, “I can think better when I'm relaxed. I figured I would have a better idea of what to do about the case if I took some time to clear my thoughts.”

  Candace threw up her hands. “I just don't know what to do about you. You don't seem to care what happens to you. Where's that going to leave the rest of your family?”

  Kim nodded. “So this is about the rest of my family? I thought it was about me.”

  Candace smacked her lips and turned away. “I can see you're not going to do anything, so it's up to me.”

  Kim frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to solve this case,” Candace replied. “I'm going to do what you can't, and I'm going to clear your name.”

  Kim stood up. “Don't do anything foolish, Mom.”

  Candace didn't pay any attention. “I don't expect any thanks from you. I know better than that. Just remember this moment when Pat's murderer gets arrested. Remember it's me who cleared your name.”

  Chapter 4

  Kim relaxed into the silence Candace left behind, and she pulled her book toward her again. She flipped the pages, but the conversation with her mother haunted her.

  How could Ivor, or anyone else with blood in their veins, really cash in on a man's murder to steal somebody's customers out from under them?

  Her encounter with Ivor on the loading dock outside her bakery came back to her. If Ivor snuck into her storage room, he could have poisoned the cream cheese frosting without her knowledge. She really was as trusting and naive as her mother said she was.

  She never thought twice about leaving the rolling door open during the day. Camellia Cove was a safe little town where everybody trusted everyone else. And now Ivor had a motive to murder Pat. Candace was right about that, too. He wanted to drive Kim out of business and make a bundle of money on her failure.

  She couldn't sit still a moment longer. The idea of Ivor's calculating duplicity drove her into a rage. She paced around the house for a while, but not even that cleared her thoughts. She rushed out into the streets.

  Night blanketed the world, and stars twinkled overhead. The murmur of the surf on the coast whispered over the town. Lights shone from the windows, and parked cars lined the streets. Decent people were in their houses getting ready for bed right now. Who but an accused murderer would be prowling around the streets at this time of night?

  Kim cast a quick glance at her own house. Winslow sat in the upstairs window and gazed down at her. His rotund shape blocked out most of the window, but he didn't make a sound. The silhouette reminded Kim of the typical Halloween witch's cat. No wonder people thought she killed Pat. She hurried away from the house as fast as she could.

  Camellia Cove looked different at night. She hadn't seen it in the dark in years. Eric never let her out of the house during their disastrous marriage, and in the months since she opened Pembrooke Bakery, she went to bed early so she could get up in the morning to start her baking.

  The starry sky gave the historic buildings a mysterious appearance. The library and the art museum peered down at Kim and whispered their cryptic questions at her. What did she hope to find in the center of town in the dark of night? Didn't she understand capital murder was no place for an upstart baker to muddy her feet?

  She ought to go home and stick her nose back in her book, but something called to her out in the world. She just had to see for herself what this town held in store for her. She found herself next to the turn-off leading into Pembrooke.

  She stopped when she saw the back of the billboard. Did she dare look at the front of it? What could she accomplish with that? But her mother was right about something else, too. She couldn't lie down and let Ivor or whoever else killed Pat to bulldoze her into the ground. She had to kick and fight and struggle to keep herself afloat. If Ivor wanted to play dirty, she better see for
herself what he was saying about her behind her back.

  She strode around the billboard and looked up. Blood dripped from the words, and a fat, fluffy cat sat on the counter next to the witch. She cackled with maniacal glee while she slid her cookie sheet into a big black oven. A box of rat poison sat next to her mixing bowl. Under her pointed hat, she wore her brown hair parted on the side and layered down either side of her face, just like Kim.

  Kim groaned and turned away—and ran face first into a big soft body. “Holy smokes!” Betts exclaimed. “Why don't you watch where you're going?”

  Kim gasped. “Betts! What are you doing out here?”

  “I should ask you the same question,” Betts replied. “I just heard about this monstrosity, and I had to come and see it for myself.”

  “I did the same thing,” Kim replied. “I didn't think it could be as bad as this, but it's worse than I ever imagined it could be.”

  “You ought to sue that guy,” Betts told her. “You haven't been officially accused of Pat's murder, and here he is, slandering you all over town. You should strike back.”

  Kim's shoulders sagged. “You're starting to sound like my mother.”

  Betts snorted. “For that, I would have to tell you to get a bazooka and blow his Dappley Donut shop to kingdom come.”

  “What do you recommend instead?” Kim asked. “Don't tell me you want me to put strychnine in his donuts to steal back my customers.”

  “No, no,” Betts replied. “Nothing as drastic as that. I was thinking more about suing him for every penny he's got.”

  Kim dropped her eyes. “I don't think I'll do that. But this billboard has got me thinking. Ivor could be shooting himself in the foot with this advertising campaign.”

  “How do you mean?” Betts asked.

  “So far,” Kim replied, “I'm the only suspect. I'm the only one with access to the cream cheese frosting, even though no one has come up with a credible motive for me.”

  “What about the rat poison theory?” Betts asked.

  Kim winced. “So you heard about that, too? But think about it. They only came up with that theory after Ivor came out with this billboard. He's making a mint on this murder, so he has a motive to kill Pat.”

  Betts put her head on one side. “I didn't think of that.”

  “And early today I caught him poking his nose into my loading dock,” Kim went on. “I always left the rolling door open during the day to let air through the shop. I never thought twice about someone coming into the storage room during the day without my knowing about it. But anybody could have done it and poisoned the frosting.”

  Betts cocked her head the other way. “But it had to be someone who knew Pat. The killer must have known he liked cream cheese frosting. Pat never went to Ivor's donut shop except to carry out his health inspections. He always loved your cookies, so Ivor couldn't have known he liked frosting.”

  Kim frowned. “I didn't think of that.”

  Betts clapped her hands. “I know. Let's go around to the donut shop and look for clues.”

  Kim started back. “What? We can't do that. We're not detectives.”

  “Well, how else are we going to clear your name?” Betts waved at the billboard. “We can't take this lying down.”

  “All right. We'll go,” Kim replied. “Just promise me we won't do anything illegal.”

  Betts grinned. “Sweet, innocent little me—do something illegal? Kim, I'm shocked at you. Your reputation is perfectly safe with me.”

  Kim snorted. “I don't have a reputation—not one in need of protection, that is.”

  Betts turned away with a laugh. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Come on.”

  Kim followed Betts with a sinking heart. How did she get roped into this?

  She didn't even know the way to Dappley Donuts. She'd never been there before. Betts led her into the heart of town. They stopped in front of a row of heritage brick buildings across the street from the courthouse. Dappley Donuts occupied a central position, with freshly painted white cornices over the windows and door. A row of blood-red roses flowered along the brick walkway leading up to the entrance.

  Kim stared at it from across the street. “Well, this is just great. I never should have come down here. How am I ever going to compete with this? He's got everything going for him—prime location, beautiful presentation, fancy signs. I don't know why I bother.”

  “We're not here so you can feel sorry for yourself,” Betts told her. “We're here to solve a murder.”

  “We agreed we wouldn't do anything illegal,” Kim reminded her. “Even if Ivor was stupid enough to leave his loading door open—which he isn't—we couldn't go inside without trespassing. The best I can do is stand here and feel sorry for myself.”

  Betts pointed up at the building. “Look. There's a window open.” Before Kim could say a word, she started across the street.

  Kim tried to grab her arm. “Stop right there, Betts. You're not thinking of going in there, are you?”

  “What do you think Ivor's going to do?” Betts shot back. “Do you think he's going to put the evidence of his own guilt into a paper airplane and fly it out to us? The clues aren't going to fall into our laps while we're standing out here.”

  Kim dashed after her. “We can't do this, Betts. I'm already in trouble over this murder. If I got caught….”

  Betts called back over her shoulder. “You won't get caught. Now stop arguing and come on.”

  Kim fell silent, but she couldn't help hanging back when Betts pushed her way through the rose bushes to the open window. Without ceremony, Betts threw one of her chunky legs over the window sill and toppled over into the black interior. She grunted and complained.

  Kim peered into the blackness. “Are you all right?”

  “Criminey sakes!” Betts exclaimed. “Where's my purse? I can't find my mascara. I thought I had a butterscotch in here somewhere, but all I can find are peppermints.”

  Kim couldn't help but smile. At least Betts wasn't hurt. “Can you see anything?”

  “I can see pink elephants,” Betts replied, “and I can see green kangaroos, and purple ostriches. I can see blue carnations, and Brad Pitt is offering me a chocolate cupcake with a scoop of Jamoca ice cream.”

  Kim snickered. “I meant, can you see anything in the way of evidence?”

  A crash answered her. “I guess I found something.”

  “What was it?” Kim asked.

  A long pause followed. “I suppose it must be some sort of machinery, but since I can't see a thing, I couldn't exactly say what it was. You better come in. You'll be better at finding clues than I will be.”

  Kim glanced one way and then the other. Not a living soul populated the town. Not even a car passed along the street. She took a deep breath and swung her leg over the window sill. She didn't fall over when she got to the other side, though. Her feet touched the floor, and she lowered herself into a crouch.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and after a minute or two, she realized the glare from a nearby streetlight illuminated most of the building's interior. Betts squatted a short distance away. Her friend grinned at her in the dark.

  Kim scowled. “Don't tell me you cooked up all that nonsense about Brad Pitt and pink elephants just to get me in here.”

  Betts sat back on her heels and grinned. “It worked, didn't it? Now let's have a look around.”

  Kim examined the shop. Stainless steel work tables and equipment filled the shop. The display case stood empty near the front window. They wouldn't find anything here. Kim hesitated, then she stood up.

  “What are you doing?” Betts asked.

  “I'm not crawling around on the floor like a thief,” Kim replied. “If we're going to search the place, let's do it. Come on. We'll go back to the supply room. There won't be any evidence of murder in the front where the customers might see it.”

  She stuck her nose into doorways and closets until she found the back room. Boxes and pallets lined the walls, and t
he walk-in cooler sat in the corner. A padlock hung from the door. Kim studied the room with an experienced eye. A thousand restaurants and bakeries all over the country couldn't be much different.

  Betts stumbled into her from behind. “Now what?”

  Kim shrugged. “He'll probably have his office locked up, too.” Then she noticed a cork board by the door. The standard Health and Safety notices crowded the board, along with a schedule and the fire evacuation plan. Then Kim spotted something she'd never seen before.

  She took a step toward the board and squinted through the gloom. She could just make out the writing by the light coming through the window. “Notice to Fix: Pursuant to our written warning of July 31st, you have until September 1st to remedy the Health and Safety violation documented in your last inspection report. If the violation is not remedied by this date, a court injunction will be levied against your establishment, and you will be forced to cease operations until you produce evidence of remedy. Chief Health and Safety Officer, Pat Malloy.”

  Kim gasped. “So that's another motive Ivor had to kill Pat. He committed some Health and Safety violation, and Pat was going to shut him down.”

  “What was the violation?” Betts asked.

  “The letter doesn't say.” Kim looked around her. “But I can't see anything wrong with this place. It looks as clean and safe as my shop.”

  Betts went over to a pile of boxes. “Maybe he didn't wash his hands after he went to the bathroom.”

  Kim snorted. “Look at this place. It's immaculate. I can't see a guy who runs a business like this making a mistake like that.”

  Betts kicked one of the boxes, and it skidded across the floor. “Another dead end. Let's get out of here. I'm starving.”

  “You're always starving.” Kim started to turn away. Then her eye fell on something in the corner, and she came to Betts side. “Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle.”

  “You can't be a monkey's uncle,” Betts replied. “You're female, and ‘uncle' is a name for a male. Aunt, maybe. Uncle, no. You should say you'll be a monkey's aunt.”