“Braiden,” I smile at him, like a silly girl who’s seen her crush, and he looks at me in that casual way of his that I find irresistible. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“Couldn’t miss your upgrading party,” he says, and pokes me with his forearm, while holding his glass of champagne.
“Upgrading?” I frown.
“Yeah, Heather told me this party indicates a new era for the cupcake shop. New cookies, fancy drinks, all at a reasonable price.” He seems like he’s quoting Heather’s words.
“Yeah, she’d say that, wouldn’t she?” I mutter to myself.
“Anyway, good luck on your new idea. Just so you know, I think it’s going to be awesome,” he smiles and something melts inside me.
He looks so pretty in his Bermuda shorts and aqua tee by the way, as if he’s about to go for a walk by the seashore. Oh, he’s just so enchanting. For some reason, I imagine him walking with me by the shore, sun hiding under the sea, spreading violet and pink colors in the atmosphere.
But anyway, I think I need to have a serious conversation with my friend. She’s been going around and giving people the wrong idea. I’m not planning to upgrade my shop, or the menu. Nothing whatsoever. But she doesn’t give a damn about that and goes around telling people crazy stuff like she usually does.
“Heather,” I call out as soon as I spot her.
“Oh, hey there, bestie,” she tells me flirtatiously. “Quite a party you got going here. Congratulations on your organizing skills. Oh wait. It was me!” it looks like she’s giving herself a pat on the back. But I don’t want to fuel her ego any more. She’s just messing things up for me.
“Why did you tell Braiden that I’m going to upgrade the shop?”
“I didn’t tell him that,” she says protectively.
“Oh, right?” I raise an eyebrow as if I just caught her with the cookie jar. “Because I just talked to him, and he quoted you precisely saying what I just mentioned.”
“I told everybody that you’re upgrading your shop.”
“Why would you say it? I don’t plan on doing that.”
“Darling, it’s called good marketing. People don’t care. They just need something to lure them in.” Her eyes are sparkling in a way that suggests I should thank her for that. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t think I can have any more of this discussion. I’ve had enough. It’s not like I think I can convince her that what she did was wrong. She’s stubborn and thinks she’s unmistakable.
So I just let her patting herself on the back and thinking that somehow she saved the shop from going down. If I had any hope before, I don’t anymore.
I put an end to my thoughtful state, when I see Mr. Gleason enjoying one of my cupcakes, and I walk his way, recalling his fight with Braiden.
“Mr. Gleason,” I smile at him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t resist the lure of your cupcakes for anything,” he smiles and I take the compliment. He’s always so nice, and one of the few people who really appreciate my cupcakes. Sometimes I think he does that just out of nicety. But then I snub this thought immediately. He’s just so nice to even give dishonest praise. So he must really enjoy them then. “And, speaking of which, congratulations on your new idea. I never figured why this place stopped being the way it used to. Your cupcakes outrank the best cupcake shops everywhere. I guess this party will help the shop come into sight.”
“Hopefully,” I sigh at his nice words and I’m reminded of the fight over his porch. I can’t stop myself but ask. “Mr. Gleason, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you arguing with Braiden last morning?”
“Oh, silly stuff. Nothing to worry about. My nephew just thinks that I should refrain myself a little from my large-hearted operations.”
“But that’s like your signature motive. It’s like asking you to stop being yourself.” I tell him and realize how really silly it is for Braiden to ask him that.
“That’s what I told him.” Mr. Gleason is happy to have found someone who thinks the same way. “He’s just a little fuzzy nowadays. He’ll get over it.”
“Mr. Gleason,” the cheery voice of Mrs. Hopper infuses the room. “I didn’t think you attended parties anymore.”
“Well, Ainsley throws a party—I’ll have to bring myself out of my routine and into the cupcake shop. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Well, this place seems lovely with you here.” She tells him and then turns my way. “Great party, dear. I love it that you’re going to bring the cupcake shop back to its glory days.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hopper,” I tell her. Mrs. Hopper is about the same age as Mr. Gleason, but she likes to hold herself as younger. Which is of course a nice thing.
I leave these two alone catching up with each other, and waddle across my party. Everyone is keen on Mr. Gleason. He has such a bright personality and a skill to tell everyone what they want to hear. That’s why everybody loves him. Even Coral loves Mr. Gleason. I can’t think of how many times I’ve found Coral sneaking into his porch, while Mr. Gleason gives him food.
I’m looking at Braiden being in a passionate discussion with some guy I don’t recognize and I’m making my way over there to prevent any unpleasant possible situation from happening. But Macey gets in my way.
“So a themed party to keep the cupcake shop together?” she puts one finger on her chin thoughtfully, squints in the air and comes back at me with her devious look. “You should do much better than that if you want to keep this dump of yours from falling apart. But kudos, anyway, for trying.”
She gets away with her drink now, not leaving me space to respond. Macey and I don’t get along very well. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to her for her to be so mean to me. She always has something frustrating to say to me. Heather thinks that she’s just a sadist who likes to make people question everything they do. But…I don’t know. I’ve always found her behavior very bizarre.
Anyway, I try to pretend like nothing happened and move on with my party. I waddle towards Braiden, who is still having that discussion with the foreign guy.
“Braiden, is everything okay around here?” I ask him, and as he scowls at me I realize that maybe I’m being a little too pushy. It’s not like he owes me any explanation (we’re not dating or anything), so the fact that I’m looking after him more than I should might come across a little strange.
“Yeah,” he tells me. “Why shouldn’t it be?”
“Well, I thought that…” I find myself at a loss for words. What do I have to say, anyway? Lucky for me, his friend barges in.
“Hey, you must be the host of this awesome party, am I right?”
“Yeah…” Oh, I feel like I’m blushing. “Actually, that would be my friend. She came up with the party idea. I’m just the owner of the shop.” Just. As if this is a tiny little fact.
“Well, this is an amazing party. And you have such a cozy shop here.”
“Well, thank you.” I’m not used to people being so nice to me, especially when it is my cupcake shop that we’re talking about. So, that explains why I’m totally ignoring the reason why I came over here in the first place, and meanwhile I’m focusing on the conversation with this foreign guy. You came to calm things down over here!!! My subconscious tells me. What? But things already seem so smooth around here, I demand.
“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he smiles and holds one hand out.
I’m totally confused by his smile, so I ditch his hand foolishly.
“This is my friend, Ainsley.” Braiden hops in and saves me the embarrassment, and suddenly I find his hands upon my shoulder. He’s making such a cute introduction of the two of us and it feels as if we’ve been friends our entire life. Never mind that he came to town just six months ago.
“Ainsley, nice to meet you,” Marcus says and I hold his hand into a firm shake now that Braiden has totally shaken me off my confusion.
“Likewise,” I smile at
him, while observing his face. His defined features make him look really strong and determined, and for some reason this makes me unsteady.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Braiden tells me, while he gets away. I’m a little confused by his escape, since it seemed to me like he was having a very eager conversation with Marcus here and I don’t know where he’d go. But Marcus is so pleasant and we get into a conversation together as if we’re old friends catching up. We spend minutes together while he’s telling me that Braiden has been his friend since college and that he’s here on vacation.
In the middle of this conversation I hear something that almost makes me jump up with horror. I hinge back. So does everyone in the party.
The screams of a woman fill the room and it looks like the celebration together with the conversations and the laughter and music stop in the moment.
“Somebody killed him. Somebody shot Mr. Gleason with a knife!” the woman seems so startled and horrified.
I turn back and realize that it’s Mrs. Hopper the one that is creating all this fuss. Her hands are at her temples and she looks around the room with judging eyes, as if she’s holding everyone here as a possible suspect.
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it, since her screams have got me really confused and shuddering while I try to look around the party, in hopes of detecting something suspicious. A hint.
And then I see it. There’s blood coming out from the space underneath the door to my toilet.
My heart pumps so fast, as if it’s about to get out of my chest.
“Here’s your tea,” Heather takes the nearest seat and hands me a mug of my favorite tea that she just prepared for me. I’ve been so shocked by this situation and since she’s holding up better than I am, she’s made it her duty to take care of me.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for it,” I tell her, unwillingly.
“But you’re always craving for you cup of tea,” she protests.
“Not when I host a party where a murdering case takes place.”
“Well, then,” she pretends she’s about to pour my tea on the sink, and although it’s just a pretense, even the idea of it seems too terrifying to me, so I stop her right there.
“Mmmh, give that back,” I grab the mug off of her hands.
“And by the way, you didn’t host that party. I did. So it makes me a suspect too.”
“Don’t you understand, we’re all suspects? But the most intriguing thing to me is, why would someone want to kill Mr. Gleason? He was such a bright person, with a lovely personality. I can’t think of anybody who would want to do this to him.”
“Well, seemingly there’s more to people’s lives than what they’re willing to let out. This just proves it.” She raises her eyebrows in a way that shows intrigue.
“Detective Cassidy is going to be here any minute. He insisted to interrogate me right after the party, but considering my shocked state of mind, he decided I wouldn’t be of much help like that. So he appointed this meeting today.”
“Oh, I hate being interrogated. And do you know that precincts stink? It took a murdering case to make me realize that. It was my first time getting asked by a detective about a murder. And I should tell you from my experience that it’s exhausting. So many questions. Some of them are even senseless, like ‘why do you think the murder happened at the restroom and not anywhere else?’ What are they trying to make of that, anyway?”
“I guess they want to see your relation to the case. Find any links or connections.”
“Yeah, but I already told them I was flirting with Rylan at the moment. And besides, do I even look like a suspect? I’m all so cute and fragile. Why would I ever want to kill anybody?”
“I don’t think that it’s the looks that they’re interested in.”
“Well, they should teach them that in school. Cute people don’t hurt anybody. Like, God, we don’t have time for that.”
“Poor Braiden,” I change the subject. She gets very overwhelmed when she talks about herself. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”
“Did you know that all his nephews were here, in the town, when the murder happened? Like, what are the chances?”
“Are you accusing any of them of the murder of their uncle?”
“Well, I’m just saying. Doesn’t it seem a little weird to you that they’d all be here? They’re almost never around. I mean, I understand Braiden being here. He just wanted to take some time off of college and stuff. But all his other nephews and nieces have set up their lives in distant cities. And it’s a little odd that they’d all be here. It must’ve been a special occasion.”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to wrap my mind about it. I just can’t believe it,” I sigh in grief. “I was used to seeing him taking care of his garden whenever I got out and he always had something nice to say to me. It’s not going to be the same anymore.”
“It seems to me like you’re missing his compliments more than him,” she moves her eyebrows upward and then again into place, in an I-am-just-saying way.
Coral moves around my feet in a way that feels so close to consoling me. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d probably fall for this act. But I know that he just wants food.
Pouring milk into his bowl, I hear the doorbell, and hinge back. Recently every kind of sound around me has me either jumping up or hinging, and I realize that I’m being overly sensitive to random outer impulses. It’s just crazy.
“This must be the detective,” I tell Heather and waddle over to the door.
I’m not used to staying in the house and doing nothing, but they have confined my cupcake shop for further investigation. “We need to find as many details as we can that might be of interest to the case,” the detective had told me.
I open the door to find him standing firmly, looking forward into my eyes. “Detective,” I say, and for some reason I feel guilty. Which, I know, it’s just crazy. But being questioned by authorities is not a nice feeling for sure.
“Ms. Holden, may I come in?” he asks, while I try to figure what his feelings regarding me are by looking at his expression. I get nothing out of it. He’s just so…inexpressible.
“Yes, please,” I move away, making room for him to get inside.
As he wanders inside my house, he catches sight of Heather sitting on the counter in my kitchen and eating cupcakes.
“Ms. Gauthier, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he tells her, and Heather looks at him unaffectedly.
“Detective Cassidy, always a pleasure to see you,” she says shadily. I don’t think she realizes this is all so serious; and so real. You cannot go around and talk to a detective like that; especially when you’re a possible suspect.
“Heather, I don’t think you should really eat that,” I tell her and she immediately looks at her cupcake suspiciously.
“What? You’ve never had a problem with me tasting your food.”
“I baked them over a week ago,” I start walking toward my living room with the detective chasing after me.
“Well, they look good to me,” she decides to ignore my alert, and goes on enjoying her cupcake.
“Ms. Gauthier, this is a private conversation,” Detective Cassidy tells her and she eyes him in an annoyed way.
“Yeah, right. Then I’ll go—feed the cat… outside.” She lies because a) I just gave Coral his daily portion of milk and b) because she would never feed the cat, and besides Coral likes having his food indoors.
As Heather gets out of the house, Detective Cassidy makes himself comfortable on the couch and I seat on the armchair from across him.
“How are you holding up, Ms. Holden?” he asks out of nicety.
“It’s been very…difficult,” I try to find the right words, but I feel so intimidated and I don’t think the adequate words would come to me anyway.
“I know that you and Mr. Gleason were very close. And I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,”
I mumble, indistinctively.
It’s really difficult for me imagining the empty house next door. Mr. Gleason always liked to have friends over. And he had friends of all the types and ages. Everyone loved him. Such a wise man.
“So, Ms. Holden, let’s get this started. Where were you at the time the murder happened?” he holds a yellow notepaper in his hands, but I don’t think he has any questions written on it.
“I…” I mumble, trying to recall everything. Where was I when Mrs. Hopper was screaming about someone killing Mr. Gleason? My head feels so blurred up. Oh, right. I was having a nice conversation. With Braiden’s hot friend. Marcus. “Oh, I was just mingling with my guests.” I tell him with a little forced giggle, trying to pretend that I’m an adult who can handle this thing properly and that his presence in my house doesn’t terrify me at all.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to gather as much details from his facial expression as I can. The man is petrified. Really, he’s so unaffected by all of this, and still manages to make me nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
“Can you be more specific?” he asks.
“Well, I was talking to some guy whose name was Marcus.”
“Marcus?” he expects further details. He scribbles something on his notepaper and then meets my eyes halfway. I wish he could keep writing forever. I don’t think I can remain calm when he’s looking at me with his you-might-be-a-suspect-but-you’ll-never-know look.
“Yeah, I don’t know his last name.”
“How so?”
“He just came into town. He’s a friend of Braiden’s.”
“What kind of friend?” God, Heather was right. Of what interest might this sort of information be to him?
“I don’t know. They met in college or something.”
“And what were you talking about?”
“Well, small stuff. Like, he was telling me how he and Braiden spent their times in college and how he’s decided to come here for vacation.”
Cinnamon And Secrets (A Cupake Shop Mystery Book 1) Page 2
