Cinnamon And Secrets (A Cupake Shop Mystery Book 1)

by D. S. Mowbray

  “It took you so long, dear. And yet you are the only one who found out. I mean, beside Kegan. He almost uncovered my secret. I sneaked up on him and hit him with a mallet. It all happened so fast, he didn’t realize what was happening. He fell unconscious. And next thing he knows, he’s tied up to this chair.”

  “But, I’ve got the feeling that’s not the only delinquency you’ve carried on since after the party, right? You’ve been at his house before too?”

  “This is an obsession. You can never stop. And, yes, the night that Kegan chased me was not my only time at the house. I had to stop by before, you know, just check whether there was anything there that I might appreciate. And I’ve found just the right thing.” She waddles over the room at some stacks and grabs an exquisite vase that I’m trying to remember. “I borrowed this one, right here. It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she looks at it with such admiration, and I’m starting to understand that all this thievery is giving her a lot of relish.

  “You can’t have my uncle’s stuff!” Kegan yells, and a vein pops up on his neck. He’s furious.

  “Nobody says so. If I want something, I can have it. That simple.” She gapes at the vase with fear, as if somebody would grab it out of her.

  “No you cannot have everything that you want. You’ve had such a long life so as to have figured this out by now.”

  “You’re sounding like my therapist. It’s pathetic.” She says with distaste. “You see, when you are kleptomaniac, you start perfecting your art; you start figuring how to get anything that strikes your fancy, and how to leave no trace behind. And who would think that an old lady like me would want to steal luxury goods? Like what would I do with them? Why would I need them? I’m so old and with a very mundane life, or what's left of it, anyway. But you see, this is an obsession. You cannot help it. I cannot help myself!” she growls and goes out of the room to come back in with a big box which she puts upon the rug. “Here’s the stuff that I take relish in.”

  Oh, God, I’m looking at the box of her thievery, filled with stolen goods. This is pure evidence of what’s she’s been up to her entire life, I guess.

  “It’s just amazing how happy and powerful you feel when you manage to sneak something out. It’s what gives me satisfaction the most. And I know it's wrong. But that’s who I am. I’m a kleptomaniac. I cannot go around without hiding something under my scarf, or slipping goods into my pockets.”

  “But you're sick. You need treatment.” I try to put some reason into her, though I don’t think that it would be of any use.

  “Maybe. But I am happy. And I wouldn’t change the overindulgence of borrowing something for anything.”

  “You have to seek therapy.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe in therapy. I pursued therapy many, many years ago. And it’s a whole big bunch of nonsense. Yeah, right! Show me some dignity. Why would I want to give away the one thing that gives me gratification the most in the world?”

  “Because it is wrong!” I demand but it comes out like a question instead. I don’t think it’s possible, however, to put some sense into this woman.

  “Who says so? Most people don’t even notice they’re missing their stuff. They’re so rich and overabundant, they don’t even realize I’m getting away with their things.”

  “But,” I squint, coming to understand that the woman is crazy, but meticulous nevertheless. I guess her disorder has got her to polish off her art of stealing to perfection. “Why would you wear a stolen necklace in public?” if it weren’t for that necklace, I wouldn’t have been able to solve this mystery whatsoever.

  “Now, this is something that slipped by me. I’m very careful, you know. I keep all my precious collection with a lid on. Literally. But I guess, when I’ve put the box out of the closet to actually take delight in the evidence of my compulsion of stealing, I must’ve forgotten some stuff out. And they’ve mingled with my other personal—as in not-borrowed—things. My memory is not what it used to be anymore. I must’ve thought this didn’t belong to the box actually. It’s starting to get overloaded with borrowed stuff, I’m starting to lose counts. I’m very careful not to uncover my secret delight. And you know, it’s funny, I don’t even need those things. I’m well-situated, economically speaking. But this is bigger than I am.”

  She stops for a moment, focusing on her box of stolen goods. She looks at it as if that box is her entire life, her full purpose. It’s so sad.

  “You had to ruin everything,” she turns back to Kegan, enraged. “Now I have to get rid of this. Do you know how hurtful it if for me to let go of the collection I’ve been working my entire life for? So many moments and memories. I’m obliged to let it go. Because you had to chase me.” There’s anger and rage in her voice. “Everything would be different if you decided not to come after me. If you hadn’t uncovered my secret, I wouldn’t carry on with what I’m about to right now.”

  What is this crazy lady up to, now? I’m starting to get scared. Being here, as dizzy and confused as I was, there was something that I sniffed all along, and it kind of bugged me.

  “I won’t let that happen,” she proceeds, and she looks like she’s losing it. “I won’t allow you two to blow everything. And even if it means that I have to give away everything I worked for my entire life, then so be it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kegan asks her contemptibly.

  “I would burn it all. Everything. The house together with my collection. It’s hard for me, but I cannot risk disclosing my secret to the world. Just imagine what it means for a kleptomaniac to give away all their borrowed things. But it’s come to it. There’s no other option.”

  “Mrs. Hopper, how can you do this?” Of course, she can. She’s nuts.

  “I can’t have you two go out there and tell them everything. It’s not just the things I ransacked. It’s the homicide. Just think of how I would come across to them. They’d think I’m crazy. But, no, no.” She shakes her head, as if she’s talking to herself, trying to come to a decision. “I have to do this. One lit match. And the whole thing will blow out.”

  It’s gasoline. She’s drenched her entire house in gasoline. That’s what I was sniffing all this time.

  Oh, God, the woman is going to put her house on fire.

  “Mrs. Hopper. You’re better than this. You can control your obsession. You don’t have to make it any worse.” I almost beg, but it’s come to it. It’s my life and Kegan’s we’re talking about.

  “No, no. I have to. It didn’t have to be like this, Ainsley. You didn’t have to find my secret. You brought this to yourself.”

  She goes over at the stack and she’s looking for something. She’s confused, and uncertain, but it seems like her crazy part is taking its toll. Once she finds what she’s been looking for, she comes back with a box of matches in hand.

  “I have to go now. Say hi to Mr. Gleason on the other side.” She looks at us foggily, and tries to swing back.

  Fear and jitteriness subsumes me like never before.

  Maybe I should’ve taken detective’s advice and didn’t carry on with my inquiry.

  “But how are you going to explain it when they find me and Braiden in your house?”

  “I don’t think there’s much they’d find out. But your being here would really get them confused. And let’s say that they would suspect you were after a hidden agenda. Because, let’s be honest. Nobody would think that I would want to burn my own house. Who does that?”

  Well, I can think of one person. But that’s not relevant.

  Meanwhile, in an instant, everything moves so fast, it feels so bleary.

  Kegan has managed to untie himself. How did he do that? Anyway, he lingers around the house and knocks the old lady down. Kegan, it’s rude to knock old people down. But this one deserves it.

  After that, there’s noise outside of the house. Detective and his crew are here.

  “This party is awesome,” says one of the school boys, ho
llering with excitement, so that the liquid splashes out of his cup and I hope it’s not booze.

  Heather has decided to throw another party in honor of the now solved mystery. Hopefully this one doesn’t turn out like the last.

  “I heard that Mrs. Hopper’s lawyer is trying to convince the jury to settle for community work. He thinks that depending on her age, the judge will see it fitting to negotiate.” Heather is here, with the latest gossip as always.

  “I’m just glad this is finally over.” I tell her and look around. Everything seems so joyous and calm. It seems like we’re back to normal again.

  “I couldn’t believe I almost lost you,” she leans in for a hug, and splits of delight come out of her mouth.

  “But I didn’t, because of your call.” It was Heather who decided to call the detective, when he came to my rescue a week ago.

  “It was crazy to go about dealing with the murderer on your own.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve heard.” Literally, I don’t know how many times I’ve been hearing this sentence lately. “But now I know.”

  “Oh, isn’t this party amazing?”

  “It sure is,” I smile and look around.

  Autumn has exquisitely settled among us now, together with sudden vortex of pensiveness and warm-fuzzy feelings in the air. Everything just seems so magical. Like, when you get out and the wind blows on your face in a tender and embracive way, it just reminds you that the season of pumpkins and cozy indoors nights and tea has decided to settle in and it isn’t planning on hitting the bricks for a while now.

  Kegan has grabbed a cup of booze, and he’s coming my way with a huge smile and boyish recklessness that make him look amazingly good. He hugs me with one hand, while with the other he’s trying to balance his cup in the air.

  “Look at you,” he tells me, keeping my fingers up in the air, so that he can take a full glance at me. “You look dazzling.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I smile and all of a sudden everything feels so swell, and I’m just afraid; I have this tiny little fear that something would crack up and things would go down the line.

  But they don’t.

  I guess obsession is something that keeps you under wraps in a compulsive way.

  I somehow feel bad for Mrs. Hopper having to go through everything that she did, because she was kleptomaniac.

  But after all, like she said, isn’t everybody a little crazy sometimes? I guess that we live in a crazy, perplexing world. And I’m just trying to make my way through it. Hopefully it would go better than it did for those people involved to this mystery. I’m just trying to learn from their mistakes. I’m just trying to figure what put those people into doing what they did. What I learned from all this, is that you never know what hides underneath people’s façade.

  A façade is just a façade, after all. What hides underneath, might get you strikingly aghast.

  “Ainsley, my uncle would be so proud of you. And you also saved my life. I guess I owe you one,” he smiles and takes a sip of his booze.

  “Sure, you do.” Heather barges in, in my defense.

  Sure, I’ve been so swamped with everything that happened, and managing the cupcake shop, but something confuses me right now, and I try to understand what it is.

  “It’s just so sad that Rylan couldn’t make it. Something popped up, like always,” she scowls, and I realize what I was trying to remember.

  I’ve been procrastinating. I’ve been putting this off for quite so long, but I think that now it’s about time. Sure, this is a party and people are supposed to have fun at parties, but you cannot have fun when you’re dredging up in a way to protect yourself from unpleasant realization. And I think that’s exactly what Heather is doing.

  “Heather, can I talk to you for a minute, in private?” I tell her, and her complexion narrows immediately.

  I drag her toward a quieter spot on the party and when we’re alone I look at her. She looks fascinating. And somehow it’s just sad to make grudging notes to fascinating people. So this is going to be hard.

  “I know I asked you this before, but, is everything okay?” I raise an eyebrow and don’t carry on with another expression or word, because I don’t want to add more to the situation.

  “It is perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”

  “I mean, Rylan. What are you doing with him?”

  “Ainsley, I’m not following.”

  “Heather I know wouldn’t give the time of the day to a guy who didn’t treat her like a royalty, like you deserve to be treated. And truth is, he’s not even close. It only makes me wonder, is there something more?”

  She takes a deep breath, and sighs hurtfully. “Ohh, Ainsley, he never shows up in time. There’s always something on the way. And I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to upset him?”

  “You didn’t do anything, sweetie. The only bad thing you did is letting that man into your life.”

  “It’s just that I’m so afraid to feel sad. I want to postpone on my sad realization more and more. And I feel like if I put it off, eventually it would vanish away, but it doesn’t. It always is there, waiting for you to make up your mind and deal with it.”

  “Oh, darling. It’s okay to feel sad. It doesn’t mean that you’re not okay. It just shows that the world around you is full of glitches that don’t come up to your expectations. And you don’t have to hold on to someone or something random just because you need validation. Because they cannot give you that. Nobody can give you validation but you.”

  She starts sniveling, but I know that it’s purposeful. And she’s been putting these tears off too, but now it’s the time that she comes to her senses. She’s an amazing girl, and what her ex did to her cracked her somehow. But she’ll be okay. So long as she doesn’t hold tight on deferment anymore.

  “How about,” I hold her gaze after I draw back from hugging her. “You brush these tears away, and come back inside to enjoy the party that you threw?”

  “That’d be great,” she smiles, and I know she’ll be okay.

  When I get back to the party, I let the music, the nice smelt of coffee and tea, and the noisy clutter embrace me. As I’m heading for my cup of tea, someone gets in my way.

  “Detective Cassidy,” I smile amicably.

  “Ainsley, quite a nice party you got going here.” He looks around and his index finger points out, as he’s holding a cup in his hand, while the other is shoved into the pocket of his pants.

  “Thank you. Actually it was all Heather’s idea. I thought that I was done with partying for good.”

  “I’m glad to see you recovered so fast.”

  “Yeah,” I blush. “Actually, I never had the chance to thank you for saving me.”

  “Actually I should be thanking you.” He says and I’m officially confused. “You saw things that none of us did. I think we’d still be fumbling around, if it weren’t for your excessive curiosity. But how about you try to stay away from mysteries from now on? I think you learned your lesson with this one.”

  Well, have I? I don’t know whether I can promise him that, but I can grant him a smile instead.

  I keep moving around toward the tea tender. I’m actually craving for my tea, and it’s funny because I just had one a couple of minutes ago.

  I guess all this refinement is making me desirous.

  “Hey, Ainsley,” I hear a criticizing voice, as another person wards off my way. I recognize who she is immediately. There’s only one person in Lazulville who hates me so much so that her voice becomes awkwardly pitchy when she talks to me.

  “Macey,” I mumble. But I’m not in the mood for whatever mean-spirited thing she has to say.

  “Nice party. Although I was surprised you actually made it out safe and sound out of that mystery.”

  “Um, thank you?” I wrinkle my eyebrows, looking sideways in the air. I just don’t get what she’s trying to say, but I don’t care. I need my tea.

 
“He always cared about you,” she mumbles while I’m heading toward the tea section.

  I turn back immediately, facing her again, curiosity arousing “Huh?”

  “Braiden, I think he had a thing for you too. It wasn’t just you who were stupidly in love with him.”

  “I wouldn’t say stupidly, but—” I cannot object to the letter.

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles and heads away.

  And now I can peacefully reach my cup of tea, without someone else interrupting me from my overindulging moment. I wonder for a moment whether my addiction for tea could affect me in a dissident way, like any other addiction in the world.

  Would I turn into a kleptomaniac for tea?

  I’d rather not answer that.

  What bad could come from indulging in a tea addiction anyway? I lean against the counter, mug of tea in hand, and look toward the crowd of invitees relishing the party. And I smile.

  I know I’ll be fine, as long as I have a cup of tea in my hand.

  The Cupcake Shop Mysteries return!

  Don’t miss the latest, Pumpkins and Trickery,

  Available in October 2017 on Amazon!

  A Letter to the Reader

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read my book. It really means the world. I believe that writing is an incredible way to connect to people, share experiences and emotions.

  So, thank you for being part of this journey.

  Please, if you enjoyed the book, consider leaving a review on AMAZAON and GOODREADS.

  I hope to be part of your bookshelves again with my next release on the series.

  xoxoxo,

  The Author.