Cinnamon And Secrets (A Cupake Shop Mystery Book 1)

by D. S. Mowbray

  “While your passion is admirable, I’d rather you stay out of this. Let us handle it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she raises an eyebrow at him audaciously. “And how are things going on for you so far? Any leads at all? Because it’s been days, and it feels like the investigation has stopped.”

  “This is more complicated than you think.”

  “Well, I know that it is complicated. But it wouldn’t be, if you let townspeople help you with it. Don’t you think?”

  While I enjoy their interesting banter, I remember the last time the detective was at my shop. We didn’t leave things on the best note possible, as I remember. But I’m not one to hold a grudge. Or am I? All I know is that for now I want to focus on the bright side. We just get so hung up on disappointment and anger and all this nonsense and imperceptibly we let our life slip by.

  But I’m going to try to stay positive from now on.

  “Detective,” I barge in. “What can I get you?”

  “The usual,” he tells me and keeps chit-chatting with Heather. It’s strange how everyone is going crazy over her newsletter. And to think that I decided against it in the beginning.

  But I’m still not sure about it. Heather is drawing so much attention all of a sudden. And I don’t know whether that’s good in the middle of an open investigation.

  “Detective, can I ask you something that I know you probably wouldn’t answer?” I ask him, when I get back and he nods. “Do you think any of Mr. Gleason’s nephews would be connected in any way in him being killed?”

  I wait quietly, knowing that he’d probably sidetrack this, or worse, he’d tell me that it’s none of my business and that I shouldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. But instead he comes with a more appropriate answer.

  “Most of the times, when the assaulters are connected with the victims, there’s a higher chance for relevant motive to get them to do that.”

  I thank him for his answer with a smile. And he greets me and Heather and heads away. Meanwhile, another man enters the room, and my heart jerks with concern. It’s because this person is heading over the counter so ferociously as if he’s ready to attack or something that’s making me so jittery.

  “Kamron?” I ask surprised and look into his enraged eyes. They are pink and swollen.

  He looks in a very bad condition.

  Heather turns her attention from her computer to Kamron and he looks enraged.

  “What is going on?” I ask, trying to see past his rage. This is just so strange. He never paid a visit to the cupcake shop before, and now that he does I know it’s not for the right reasons.

  “How about you tell me?” he turns to Heather, who doesn’t even flinch a little. I guess that those consequences I’ve been telling her about are now appearing before her.

  “Um, what are you talking about?” Heather mumbles uninterestedly.

  “Your crappy article. What do you think you’re doing creating stories in your mind for the purpose of sharing them with the whole world?”

  “Um, they’re not imaginary stories. They’re based upon trustworthy, accurately dependable resources.” Those resources being Mrs. Hopper, the town’s gossip mill.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?” his eyes flicker in a threatening way.

  “I’m a journalist, Kamron, it is my duty to shed some light to the truth. The people depend on me.” It’s still funny how she believes this is all more than just a ferocious hobby that is getting out of hand.

  “You’re not sharing the truth. You’re just feeding people with your mentally questionable, good for nothing imagination.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stand here, while you offend me unsupportively.”

  “I think you should consider your actions, before you involve yourself in a vortex that you cannot escape from.” His eyes flicker with threat.

  “Are you threatening me, Kamron?” Heather asks, quietly, maintaining looks with him.

  Kamron looks at her in a way that creeps the living daylights out of me, and stays like that for a couple of seconds, soundlessly. Heather eyes him unflinchingly too, like a professional journalist that she is (I mean, that’s questionable, but still).

  After that, it seems like Kamron makes up his mind and swings around, hitting the streets. There’s an awkward silence in between for a moment even when Kamron is conspicuous by his absence, while Heather and I look inconveniently in the air, until I make up my mind to break the silence.

  “So that happened…” I note, but I refrain myself not to tell her that I told her so. Now it’s not the moment for that.

  “He thinks that he’s going to stop me by crusading against me, but you know what I get from all this. He’s complexly connected to this mystery. Otherwise, how would you explain him getting all enraged about it?”

  “Heather, you advertised his life just for some credit. How would you have him react?” I try to reason, but it’s useless considering that Heather’s all determined about her crusade being all purposeful and for the right reasons.

  “I don’t think that’s the case. He just doesn’t want his hidden agenda to come out in the open. Contrary to what you believe, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I think this job-related research is my golden ticket to the top.”

  I just shake my head and realize that no matter how much reason I’d try to put into her, she’s made up her mind that this crusade of hers is only going to bring her success.

  Meanwhile, I try catering to my customer’s orders, doing what I’ve found to be a successive therapy to get my mind off of things—managing the cupcake shop.

  Lately, I’ve been trying to see into the reasons that made Braiden do the crazy things that he did. Would I have ever burned my house if I wanted an escape? I mean, maybe I would, if I were as rich as him. I’m just starting to see behind the façade of being filthy rich. You just push your descendants over and over so that they can live up to your perfect example of success. And it’s so hard for them, because they’re just kids, and they want to live simple for the time being. I mean, I’ve been trying to look for any explanation into what he did. And the way I see it, there’s a lot of strange things you would do under the hot pressure of not meeting the expectations that you’re expected to fulfil. And Braiden did this out of pressure and fear. I mean, one could take it a little too far, when desperate enough.

  And it’s so strange how we judge people, and even things, based on impressions. To me, Braiden was the irresistible hunk that had his entire life sorted out, and everything about him seemed just perfect to me. But putting things into perspective, there’s much more into people than what we like to see. Somehow we create this perfect mirage about things that we want, and nothing irrelevant crosses our minds, and so we forget that a façade is something more than just a façade. And behind that there’s so much more that we cannot see.

  I mean, does these little issues somehow interfere with the perfect epitome of Braiden that I created on my mind? Sure they do. But even when the perfect aureole somehow crashes, there’s another part of him that makes him more tangible…more human. More like me.

  And maybe, probably I love him more for that.

  Right now, I’m relaxing in the brew, together with Heather, waiting for her boyfriend to make an appearance. I see Heather scoffing, distressed.

  “He told me he’d be here on time,” she huffs, and I hate to see that flicker of anxiety in her eyes.

  “I’m sure he has his reasons. Something might have popped up unexpectedly. You never know,” I try to excuse him, not because I want to, but just to calm her.

  She’s been trying to text him, call him, but he’s not picking up. But after all, it is not a big deal. These things happen all the time. And besides we can turn this date from a luncheon into a casual outgoing. I’d enjoy it just as much.

  But the same doesn’t go for Heather on the other side. She was so pumped to introduce me
to her boyfriend and show him off, so that his not showing is making her miffed.

  The waiter takes our orders, when Rylan shows up by the door. I know it’s him because he’s approaching with a huge smile on this face, maintaining looks with Heather while he wanders close by. Heather’s face when she spots him is laurel-worthy. Her eyes flicker passionately as though she’s won the golden ticket or something.

  He bends down to give her a peck on the cheek when he’s nearby, and then he reaches his hand out to me, which I shake gracefully, while Heather is introducing us.

  “It’s nice to meet you, finally,” I point out, while he sits next to Heather and wraps his arm around her waist playfully and they look so in love.

  But that’s only for the first moment or two. His phone starts buzzing and it looks like he’s got business to attend to.

  He’s typing and typing unstoppably and I spot Heather’s annoyance in her eyes, when she grabs his thigh with her hand in a way that suggests he should get back to us. I imagine her snapping her fingers in front of his face and saying: ‘Earth the Rylan!’

  “So, Rylan, what do you do for a living?” I ask, just to grab his attention off of the phone.

  “Oh, I thought Heather would’ve already told you,” he frowns rudely, and I’m taken aback by his behavior. Heather did tell me, but I just wanted to get him to focus on our luncheon here.

  “So, babe,” Heather notices the awkward vibe in the air so she jumps in to the conversation in spur of moment. “Would you place your order, already?”

  “Didn’t you pick up something for me?” he raises an eyebrow at her audaciously, and I’m getting more at more startled at his behavior.

  Delightfully, I decide to disregard it for once.

  “I mean, I didn’t know what you’d like.” She shrugs excusably.

  “Figures,” he says to her and now I’m officially hinging. Somehow when Heather depicted her relationship with Rylan I was under the impression that they had this perfect, all-the-marbles thing going on, but the way that how he treats her, and the way how she lets him to is just too much to cope with. It’s because Heather’s normally an impulsive person who likes to be her own master, and to have her let him treat her like this is shocking.

  It’s like she’s yielding herself to him of her own accord. And that’s so not her.

  He’s acting like a jerk. That or, like an uncommitted, childish brat who’s used to always having it his own way.

  Heather, on the other hand, looks discomfited, she’s trying to grab his interests by any means possible, but it’s not that easy. The man can’t just be tamed.

  When his clover-leaf roll makes its way into our table, he starts eating it, while Heather and I are looking at him silently. When I imagined coming into this luncheon with them, for some reason, I pictured laughter and amicable conversations, but nope, I guess this cringe-worthy moment is all that I get.

  “Rylan,” I mutter, still desperate to grab his attention. “Do you have any hobbies that you like to indulge yourself in your free time?”

  “I do, but that would be awkward to talk about with you.” He flickers a kinky look at Heather which she confusedly takes in, but I’m just startled at how indecent he is proving himself to be.

  “Um,” I try to quickly switch the conversation. “How did you guys hit it off? I mean, I want to hear your side of the story.”

  “I just looked at her,” he, for once, takes the attention off of the food, and looks endearingly at Heather, rubbing her chin delicately with his fingers, and that’s all that it takes for Heather to gleam in a loving way again. “And I knew it right off the bat, that she was special.”

  “Aw,” Heather mutters affectedly.

  He gets back to his desert, again, when his phone starts buzzing. He rummages through the cushions where he threw the phone prior and when he finds it, he loses into it.

  “Don’t you want to ask anything about me?” I am struck dumb by the way he’s ditching me.

  “Oh, I know everything about you,” he rolls his eyes and his hand altogether in an annoyed way. “For some reason, Heather just can’t stop gabbling about you. I know you own a cupcake shop. That you’re so taken with some guy you used to think was a murderer, but you don’t have the guts to tell him that. I know that you render about a boring life, and drinking lots and lots of tea. Like, really, even I find your tea addiction strange.”

  My jaw just drops open and I’m left speechless. I didn’t expect this. Obviously, and he’s nothing like I expected him to be. So no wonder I’m taken aback.

  Even Heather is looking at me in an excusing way, but she doesn’t say anything. Which is such a surprise. She’d always hop in my defense whenever it comes to it.

  But seemingly she’s so addicted to him, she’ll let his rude manners slip by. As for me, if I was trying to justify his behavior before, I’m running out of excuses now. So instead, I get on with my tea, trying to let my mind calm and thinking about something else other than this situation.

  Meanwhile, Rylan was scrolling through his phone, and for a moment he turned to Heather, casting his charming smile at her. “Babe, I got to get going now. It was nice to meet you Ainsley,” he tells me and it looks more like a question.

  When he’s gone, Heather and I share a bizarre look, and I’m at a loss for words. But even Heather can’t come through the awkward moment, it seems like. I’m not sure what to make of that, so the rest of our luncheon goes by awkwardly.

  The door buzzes at the arrival of another customer and I’m surprised to see Braiden approaching over the counter. He looks calm and beautiful, wearing a slightly loose khaki tee with irregular dark dots that give such a nice touch to it, and red shorts that go above his knees.

  Boy, I’m going to miss summer so much.

  It’s so nice to see him here again, lighting up the room with his presence, and in an uncrushable way a smile adjoins, while I gawk at him.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer of all times,” I say when he’s almost tangent the counter.

  “Hey, Ainsley,” he smiles boyishly, and I’m swooning. “It’s been a while,” he notes and peers around the shop as if he missed it already. “I’m accustomed to dropping by every day, or more.” Sometimes he visited the shop multiple times a day. And each moment he was in was my favorite part of the day.

  “Well, you’re like an ornament to this place.” I note foolishly. “It’s not the same without you.”

  “Oh,” he chuckles lightly, and it melts my heart. I think I might cry. “I see you’ve made changes to the pastry cart. He looks above my head to the black trolley filled with hand-written white tea names.

  “I thought it was about time for same changes.” I add.

  “Change is good,” he smiles and ponders what he’d like to have. “I’ll have the ginger ale, and a piece of walnuts and chocolate rugelach.”

  I hop in the kitchen delightfully, trying to get his order ready as fast as I can, not wanting to spend a second away from his presence and taking in his charm and beauty, while I have the chance. I mean, you can’t expect one to have the most alluring guy come into their shop, and leave him unaccompanied for the time being.

  “There you go,” I place his beverage and desert on the counter nearby him, as he’s taken the nearest chair to the counter while looking at me as if he’s trying to solve a mystery in me or something. I just suppress a flattered grin, and let him relish in looking at me.

  “Thanks,” he points, and almost jumps as if he’s dragged here from another dimension, when the glass clinks the counter with a delightful sound.

  He takes a sip from his ginger ale, while I’m dealing with another customer who’s stopped by. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the running clientele and all, but when Braiden is around, not so much. I’d rather enjoy his huskiness instead. When I get back at him, he seems to have fetched up his entire rugelach.

  “This is everything,” he points
his fork to the rugelach, and I can see how much he enjoyed it in the way he closes his eyes with relish. “I almost forgot how great your cookies taste.” He says, and for some reason I turn crimson, taking the compliment.

  “How have you been, anyway?” Since after our meeting at the brew, we haven’t been able to talk, and I just want to check up on him, concernedly.

  “I’ve been hanging in there, trying to figure what I should do with my life.”

  “Where are you staying at the moment?” my mind goes to his destroyed house. “If you need a place to stay to meanwhile, you know my house is always available.”

  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’m checking in a hotel for the moment, until I decide what’s coming next.”

  While he takes the last gulp of the beverage, I take delight in his beauty, and every move he makes in the air, with his hand, or the way he tilts his head. I know I should probably keep my unmanageable infatuation in check before it goes over the edge.

  Kamron and his parents have not settled in a stable way of life. They’ve been travelling all around, but it was only six months ago when he decided to come back into Lazulville, where he’s spent separate parts of his life. And that’s when my life took a determinant turn for the better.

  Having Braiden around just made everything seem magical. It’s like he cast dust of sparkle anywhere he went.

  “Kamron, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” I tilt my head to one side, maintaining looks with him. “Where did you go that night at the party after you left me and Marcus?”

  “Oh,” he squints forward as though he’s trying to remember. “I went over to talk to my cousin, Kegan.”

  “Kegan was at my party?” I frown, not recalling such fact taking place.

  “He was! I wanted to tell him to stop…” he stops as if thinking whether he should share what’s about to come out.

  “Yeah?” I bend my chin in a way to help him go further.