Cinnamon And Secrets (A Cupake Shop Mystery Book 1)

by D. S. Mowbray

  Copyright © 2017 by D.S. Mowbray

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way without express written permission of the publisher. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Cinnamon and Secrets

  Series: A Cupcake Shop Mystery

  Volume: Book 1

  Genre: Murder Mystery/Investigation

  Published: September 2017

  Standalone: Yes

  Cliffhanger: No

  According to Ainsley’s friend, what was going to keep the cupcake shop from going down the line was a big party where everyone in town attended. While hosting this party Heather didn’t consider that someone would get killed and turn everything into a total disaster.

  Mr. Gleason was the nicest person in town and he never held a grudge, so everyone is surprised that he got murdered. With the police getting involved, Ainsley soon realizes she might be a suspect, since her cupcake shop was now a crime scene. But she can’t think of anyone who would want to kill him.

  So she starts making an investigation on her own, that somehow made her life more complicated than it already was. Things get rough when she thinks that the guy she’s having a crush on might be involved into the murder. And she’s afraid that she won’t be able to get to the bottom of this without messing things up.

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A Letter to the Reader

  “I’m going to close the place and open a haberdashery shop instead,” I look at the single-story cupcake shop for what seemed to be like an everlasting second, and sigh wistfully.

  “But, sweetie,” Heather, who’s been my BFF for as long as I can remember, supportively touches my arm and looks at me with compassionate eyes, “this has been your family’s special property for generations.”

  “I know,” I say protectively, “but there comes a moment when things get out of fashion. It happens all the time.”

  “What if we could do something to save the shop from going down?”

  “Oh, I’ve tried everything. New recipes, endless discounts. Nothing worked. Maybe it’s about time.” The afternoon wind blows on my face and flips my hair on my back.

  “And what are you going to do then?” she keeps insisting that I don’t put an end to it. Heather loves my cupcakes. And somehow the idea of a cupcake shop had seemed too cozy for the little town of Lazulville where nothing special and out of ordinary ever happened.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. And I really mean that. It’s not like I’ve got many options on the table. None, to be honest. But if I don’t do something about it soon, then it’s going to smash me, financially speaking. Lack of profits, undue bills.

  “How about this?” she turns my way with eyes sparking in a way that looks like she’s been hit by a brilliant idea. Well, I don’t seem to share the same enthusiasm. After all, it’s not like I have so much hope. I’ve tried everything. I did. But for some reason the people of Lazulville are too busy with their lives and the idea of a cupcake shop doesn’t lure them anymore. “I’ll throw a party at the shop. A themed party. People will come enjoy your food. I’ll handle everything. You do what you do best. Prepare that delicious party food of yours that people can enjoy and which would remind them that there’s nothing more enjoyable than flavored cupcakes fresh off the oven.”

  I sort of know what would happen with what seems like a very hopeful idea of my friend. A lot of people would attend, because Heather is that good of a host—she’d gather lots and lots of people in my shop and they’d sure have a lot of fun, and the next day, wham, it was like nothing happened. They’d forget all about it and move on with their own lives.

  But the fact that she seems so cheerful about it makes me go on with it. Part of this decision was even the love that I have for my friend, who’s always been there for me. We are, as what many people like to say, inseparable.

  “Okay, I’ll let you help me.”

  “Oh, thanks,” she bursts out in laughter and joy. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “Now, let’s go grab our coffee,” I tell her and open the door to my shop, going inside.

  The nice scent of cupcakes and coffee always has me going. I love it when the place is filled with people (which rarely happens nowadays) and laughter and little conversations. It gives me so much life and motivation.

  “I want my usual pumpkin spiced latte,” says Heather delightfully. The PPL season had not officially began, but you know my girl, she’s your ordinary chick that likes grabbing a PPL cup on the go and posting pictures on her social media accounts.

  “You know the summer has barely ended,” I mumble. Yeah, to be precise, it was still the end of August. My favorite time of the year. And it meant that pumpkin spiced latte wouldn’t make it to my shop menu until October, but I didn’t want to upset Heather, that’s why I’d ordered early pumpkins and ingredients to make her latte.

  “And yet it feels like October,” she says, and breathes in the smelt of my cupcake shop.

  I’m focused preparing her latte and when I’m done I go back with my tray of pumpkin spiced latte and tea bread to the table that she’s occupying. You see, I’m a tea person. I like to cozy up in my shop during afternoons with a hot mug of tea and a piece of tea bread or biscuit. Heather still can’t understand my addiction to tea and it seems a mystery to her since she’s a coffee person, and I, on the other hand, am a tea person. Neither of us had had a change of heart until now.

  “Oh, this smells like…aughhhhh, you know?” her nose is stuffed inside the cup, as she always likes to sniff her drinks before tasting them. “I needed this, after what happened with Chase, I needed something to console my mind. Something pleasant and divine. And what better thing to indulge myself into than pumpkin spiced latte?”

  Yeah, whatever, I want to say, but don’t. I’m not really into latte, and I still don’t get the addiction of people with PPL. Okay, it’s not like I despise it. I just don’t get the whole lure of it entirely.

  “He has no idea what he’s missi
ng on,” I say to comfort her. Chase dumped her in the worst of ways. He ran off with Heather’s kindergarten friend, Shelby.

  “Really? ‘Cause it looks to me like he’s enjoying his summer in Hawaii very much with his new girlfriend, while I’m all stuck here, desperate and lonely.”

  “You’re not desperate,” I place my hand on hers, while she looks away sadly. “Nor lonely. You have me.”

  “I do, don’t I?” she meets my eyes with a bit of hope. “At least I’ll never lose you.”

  I understand that she’s coming from a place of despair and uncertainty. I’ve been there, six months ago. Now, my story is one that I don’t even want to remember. But hey, I recovered. I’m here now all happy and hopeful. Well, not so hopeful if we take my shop situation into account…but still.

  “So, about the party, how many people are you planning to invite?”

  “Well, as many as I can, we want them all to remember how it feels like to spend time in a cupcake shop. The cozy feeling, and delicious food, and joyful company.”

  “But,” I mumble, “how can you know they’ll attend?”

  “I’m sorry, are you questioning my organizing skills?”

  “Oh, I’d never do that,” I sigh, as if this is something I’d never imagine doing. But to be honest Heather is known for her wild party skills, although with time passing even her organizing skills have, let’s say, vanished.

  “You’d see the biggest event this shop has ever had, and all you have to do is enjoy.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I’m still not convinced that this would work.

  “Save all your gratitude for when the party is over. I expect something expensive in return. Like a fancy jewel, or I don’t know, something.”

  “What happened to the ‘I do this as a friend’ thing?”

  “Oh, you expect too much of me. Always had.”

  I smile at her answer. She’s always known for a wild partier and an impulsive person. But we’ve been friends for all our lives and I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

  My white cat, Coral, circles my feet. Coral might sound like a very weird name, but if you saw him you’d get it. Coral has a little pink fluff on his white tail that makes him adorable—and that’s where his name comes from.

  “And, please, do me a favor,” Heather proceeds. “Don’t bring your cat to the party.”

  Coral and I have a conventional relationship. I give him food, he gives me love and at the end everyone is happy. Heather thinks the way how I take him everywhere that I go is a little odd. I say, she’s just jealous.

  Coral is always up my alley. He likes looking for things that other people find boring. He sees details other people can’t. And I love him for that.

  Coral loves eating my food, while I love cooking it for him. I’ve inherited my cooking passion from my parents, who decided to retire earlier than they should’ve and subjected me with the cupcake shop management, which I won’t complain, I was very fascinated with the idea at first, but now with the business going so slow, I don’t think that I share the same passion for it anymore.

  At an early age, you would find me in the kitchen, making a mess around it, trying to come up with original recipes. Our housekeeper at the time, Mrs. Lucy, always hated the idea of me messing it up in the kitchen, because that just caused more cleaning for her to do. But my parents, who were so busy running a cupcake shop, always encouraged my passion, hoping that their little girl would someday take over the shop and turn it into a successful family business. And yet here I am, struggling my way around it.

  Something fussy comes from outside and I look over the kitchen window at Mr. Gleason’s yard. I spot Braiden, who looks so disturbed, shouting something at Mr. Gleason that I can’t hear.

  I’m a bit startled at their angry discussion to be honest, since Braiden is the town’s sweetheart, and the heartbreaker per se. He’s always so generous and easygoing. He’s the person everybody wants to keep around them or be around to.

  And he’s so skillful with handcraft work. You see, he helped me build my closet cabinets when I couldn’t. And he’s been nothing but nice to me. He’s always smiling and looking at you like you’re the only person who really matters.

  Heather thinks I have a crush on him. But if we’re being honest, who wouldn’t have a crush on sure-handed Braiden? For all I know, everybody loves him, men, and women. Even Coral loves him. Which says a lot, since there’s not a lot of people that my dear cat is keen on.

  I hurry my way outside immediately, Coral chasing after me.

  “Braiden?” I howl as soon as I make it to my porch. He turns my way and looks so angry. I’ve never seen him like this. He doesn’t talk to me, but he’s approaching. “What’s going on?” I can’t just ignore my lust for learning.

  “Augh, nothing important,” he says angrily. It seems like his anger is directed at me. And I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but for some reason I do. And it’s hurting.

  “What were you and Mr. Gleason talking about? He looked so angry.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to talk about it, Ainsley. Like I said, nothing important.” I hinge a little at his reaction. He’s never talked to me like this before.

  “Do you want to come inside?” I ask. “I’m just making raspberry pink lemonade. You’d love it.”

  “As lovely as it sounds, I’m a little swamped at the moment. Maybe another time?”

  “Okay,” I shrug and look at him going away. But I can’t stop but wonder, what was happening there, in the house next door? Mr. Gleason is the dearest person of the town, and I’ve never seen him being angry with anybody, really.

  Maybe I should go over and talk to him, but I fear receiving another dishonest reaction like Braiden’s. So I just refrain myself.

  • • •

  “Look who’s here,” Heather says in a playful way, waddling over my foyer on her summery white tee and shorts, holding something in her hands. “And look what I brought,” she tips her chin at her hands.

  “What’s that?” I ask uninterestedly, while enjoying my raspberry iced tea. The mint in the glass makes all the difference.

  “Your party invitations. I had no idea this many people would rsvp in such short notice.”

  “They have?” I ask, shocked. For some reason, I thought this was going to be another unsuccessful effort of my friend. But from the looks of it, she’s taken it very seriously.

  “Mm-hmm,” she nods joyfully. “So tell me, how is your cooking going?”

  “Well,” I mutter and realize that I haven’t even given it much of a thought. Knowing that this party idea by many chances would not have worked, I haven’t thought about the cooking options.

  “Oh, God,” she gives me a criticizing look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even started with it?”

  “Well, it’s been such a busy morning, and then Braiden got into a fight with Mr. Gleason. And after that I had to feed Coral.”

  “Oh, you treat that cat like a special jewel or something.” She rolls her eyes. “But anyway, what were you saying? Braiden and Mr. Gleason were fighting over something?”

  “Yeah, such a shocker, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve never seen Mr. Gleason argue with anybody. He’s the nicest person in the town. And Braiden seems like such a well-mannered city boy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “What was the fight about?”

  “I don’t have a clue. I tried digging information from Braiden, but he didn’t tell me anything. But I guess it might’ve been important, since it made Mr. Gleason so furious.”

  “Anyway. About the party—don’t you think we should start getting on with it now? I don’t think those muffins are going to bake themselves.”

  Heather manages to convince me to start thinking about the catering section of the party. I have to come up with ideas and prepare cookies, snacks and drinks. Which means that there’s a lot of work waiting for me.

  Bu
t if Heather’s plan succeed after all, I think my exhaustion will be worth it.

  “I never took you for a coffee lover,” Heather notices the cups above the counter in my cupcake shop’s kitchen.

  “Well, I’m not, but you have to see things from the customers’ perspective for a party to be successful. And statistics say that people love coffee. That’s why I’ve added various types of coffee on my menu. But if it were for me, then I’d put all the possible tea flavors on a counter for people to enjoy.”

  “Your tea addiction is getting stranger with time,” she notes.

  “It’s not strange. I take that from my parents. They love tea, and I grew up with cabinets filled with all sorts of flavored teabags.”

  “Yeah, right, you’ve told me a million times.”

  “And yet you still think it’s strange.”

  I take a sip from my tea, holding my mug under my chin, while Heather is focused on her tablet computer when her eyes bulge on something. “Look,” she tells me, basically swinging the tablet around and shoving it on my face. I squint, blear-eyed, and look at it. “This amazing piece of jewel was stolen last night from the house of some rich person in town. The missing-goods report was filed a couple of hours after the thievery happened. Isn’t is precious?” she says, dreamingly.

  “The thievery?” I bulge my eyes open, shocked.

  “No, the jewel.” She protests. “It even has a name of its own—Jewel of Luck.”

  I shrug and look at it. Heather has always had an eye for expensive stuff. As for me; I don’t get impressed quite as much.

  “What is your cat doing here?” she looks angrily at Coral hissing at her. Their dislike for one another is common.

  Anyway, I focus on my menu and let her deal with it by herself. As I get more tea bags from the cabinet, and let Heather have a serious discussion with my cat, teaching him manners, I am so excited to have a lot of people gather around the shop and celebrate.

  The party theme is ‘summer nights’. I know, it is so cliché and uncreative, and a huge motive for the girls to dress as lightly as possible and for men to, secretly, catch sight of their exposed, thought-provoking body parts. I guess, I really was expecting too much of my friend. But, however, if this experimenting party of hers works out after all, I think it will be all worth it.