Bodies & Bundt Cake

by Nancy McGovern

  Contents

  Bodies & Bundt Cake

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  One More Thing

  Let's Connect!

  Disclaimer

  A COMFORT CAKES COZY MYSTERY

  BOOK 4:

  Bodies & Bundt Cake

  By

  Nancy McGovern

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  At the end of this story there is an offer to join my mailing list, through which you will receive updates, special offers & discounts on my future books as well as information about joining my Street Team. Plus, you will receive a FREE BOOK as a Thank You for signing up! If interested, the link is immediately after this story…

  Chapter 1

  The Judgment

  With a lake in the center and acres of slightly hilly grassy grounds surrounding it, Shoreline Park was a favorite with Swaddle’s citizens on a hot summer day. Another time, Rachel would have brought a book with her and paused to enjoy the scene: little children in swimsuits and puffed-up swim vests were screaming and diving into the lake while teenagers kicked a football around, and couples holding hands were gazing coyly at each other over ice-cream cones. Today, however, she had no time to pause. Today, she was going to be a judge.

  Rachel felt a little flutter of anxiety in her stomach at the thought of it. Having to sit on a panel while an entire crowd stared at her was definitely not her cup of tea. She’d have much preferred to be at home baking, or maybe running around the park with Scooter at her heels. She was a confirmed introvert, and perfectly happy being that way. Living in a friendly little town like Swaddle, however, was slowly forcing her to be more social. Case in point—the Fifth Annual Shoreline Park Cake-Off. The competition was for homemade cakes only, which meant Rachel was automatically disqualified from participating. Consequently, she'd promptly been snapped up as a judge. After the competition, the cakes would be sold off to the audience slice by slice, with the proceeds going to the Shoreline Park Fund. Ahead of Rachel, a little platform was being set up and plastic folding chairs were being set out on the grass. Rachel gulped.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw a familiar figure holding out an ice-cream cone.

  “Scott?” She gasped. It was really strange to see her boyfriend—and the town sheriff—out of uniform at this time of the day.

  “Rachel?” Scott did a double take, and froze. The ice-cream cone dripped chocolate onto his hand, and a young boy suddenly snatched it.

  “Come on, Dad!” The young boy exclaimed. “You promised to teach me new karate moves.”

  Rachel stared. Whoever this child was, she’d never seen him before. Scott was giving him a fond stare, but looked a little embarrassed to see Rachel. Nervously, he gave Rachel a nod, mouthed that he’d see her later and then put a hand around the twelve-year-old’s shoulders. The two of them walked away toward the playground.

  Rachel felt her anxiety suddenly surge. Dad? The boy had called Scott "Dad"? She didn’t even know Scott had an ex-wife! Or a son! It felt like someone had suddenly scooped up her insides. Why would Scott lie about it? Why hadn’t he told her? Was it possible that he was still married… no. Impossible. Scott’s sister Emily was a good friend of Rachel’s, and she’d been to Scott’s house several times. He lived alone, that was for sure. But how could he keep such a huge part of himself away from her?

  As she stared after them, a hand flung itself around Rachel’s shoulders. Tricia Crane, owner of Cranium Books, and good friend, pressed her cheek against Rachel’s. “How’s it going, cupcake!” Tricia exclaimed. “Ready to stuff your face with some cakes, made by other people, for once?”

  “I don’t know...” Rachel said. She wasn’t really in the mood to do anything now.

  “What’s this?” Tricia raised her eyebrow—or what was left of it. She’d accidentally shaved it to a thin little wisp in a regrettable “new razor” accident a few months ago. In an effort to hide the disaster, Tricia had cut her hair into bangs, and then, in a fit of inspiration, she’d colored them neon green. The entire effect was rather haphazard, but Tricia was so confident about it that she managed to pull it off anyway.

  “I’m kind of nervous,” Rachel said. It was true, too. She had stayed up half the night worrying about being a judge. Now, it all seemed to be floating in the back of her mind. “Will they expect me to give a speech? I’ve never given a public speech, you know.”

  “You? Nervous?” Tricia gave an exaggerated double take. “You, the woman who took down not one, not two, but three different murderers? Nervous about a simple little thing like a speech?”

  “Oh, come on, Tricia. You know those were all just flukes. Besides, public speaking is really not my thing.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Tricia assured her. “As long as you don’t burst into one of those hysterical laughs which go on and on which you have no control over.”

  “You’re just making me more nervous!” Rachel exclaimed. “Now I’m sure I’ll laugh onstage.”

  “Oh, nonsense. You’ll be fine. Of course, maybe your pants will rip down the middle… or you’ll have spinach on your teeth...” Tricia said.

  “Tricia!” Rachel stopped in her tracks and glared at her friend.

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Tricia raised her hands. “Or am I?” she teased.

  Rachel groaned. “Just kill me now.”

  “Nobody’s dying today,” Tricia said. “Come on, Rachel. Keep your chin up. This is for a good cause, remember? All proceeds go to the Shoreline Fund and help maintain our beautiful park.”

  “That’s true,” Rachel said. “At least that’s what Annie Pegg told me when she railroaded me into this.”

  “I was the one who suggested you to her.” Tricia smiled.

  “So you’re the dirty rat!” Rachel grinned. “I should have known. You and Annie are best friends, right?”

  “A librarian and a bookstore owner. We’re a match made in heaven, don’t you think?” Tricia asked.

  “Someplace a little more to the south, maybe.”

  Annie Pegg approached, and gave Tricia a big hug. Unlike Tricia’s peacock-inspired outfits, Annie dressed like a librarian ought to: gray suit, dark skirt, navy blue shirt. Still, there was a hint of mischief and a general jolliness to her that matched Tricia perfectly. Rachel smiled at the obvious affection between the two.

  “Hi Rachel! All set?” Annie asked.

  “Yeah...” Rachel fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

  Tricia cocked her head toward Rachel’s, nearly banging their temples together. “This one says she’s scared of public speaking.”

  “Oh, don’t worry!” Annie exclaimed. “You don’t have to speak at all. In fact, you probably wouldn’t get a chance to even if you wanted. Not with Gina Graham on the panel with you. That one hogs the mike like she’s on a talk show.”

  “I don’t see her around.” Tricia commented, looking around.

  “Typical.” Annie sighed. “She promised to be here by noon, and it’s nearly half past. I’ll be sending someone to look for her if she’s not here in five minutes.” Annie tapped her feet then looked back at the setu
p where two teens were trying to hoist up a large banner proclaiming, “Come Taste the Cake of the Year!”

  “Want me to go round her up for you?” Tricia asked.

  “Yes, please,” Annie said. “I’d be forever grateful.”

  “Consider it done,” Tricia said. “As long as you promise to save me a slice of Mrs. Bingham’s bundt cake.”

  “What’s that?” Rachel asked.

  “Ahhh. Mrs. Bingham’s bundt cake.” Tricia smacked her lips and closed her eyes reverentially. “What can I say about this glorious, moist, satisfyingly sweet and yet not too sweet...”

  “Don’t rub your bias off on the judges!” Annie exclaimed.

  “Oh, please. Mrs. Bingham’s won the competition four years out of five,” Tricia said. “The judges are already biased.”

  “Well, that’s why I wanted some fresh blood who wouldn’t be swayed by local legends.” Annie grinned.

  “Speaking of which, I don’t see Mrs. Bingham nor her cake this year.” Tricia frowned, looking at the crowd which was slowly forming around the platform. “Isn’t she taking part?”

  “Oh, we’ve started a new system this year after the red ant fiasco last year,” Annie said. “The participants all dropped the cake-off at Gina’s home this morning. That’s why I’m so worried she’s not here.”

  “Red ant fiasco?” Rachel asked.

  “Well...” Annie sighed. “Let’s just say that some of the cakes weren’t in ant-proof containers, and the park is like Disney for ants this time of the year. We opened a few containers to find some fat, happy ants just lounging around. Must have made their day. We only had about five cakes destroyed, but a hundred complaints somehow.”

  “Complaining about things is Swaddle’s favorite pastime.” Tricia grinned. “Want to come with me Rach? Your van is actually perfect for hauling the cakes in. My little mini cooper would probably bend under the weight.”

  “Just be back in half an hour, tops,” Annie said, looking really worried now. Behind her, the teenagers stepped away from the banner, having finally hoisted it up. It promptly fell down to the ground with a crinkling thud. Annie gave a gasp of horror and ran to them, forgetting about Tricia and Rachel completely.

  “She’s really fun, Annie is,” Tricia said in the van, as she directed Rachel to Gina Graham’s house. “But she can go quite crazy when she’s organizing things. Everything has to be perfect or someone’s going to get an earful. Turn left here.”

  Rachel asked, “So, Gina Graham... is she the owner of Graham Boutique on Main Street?”

  “That’s her.” Tricia nodded. “She has impeccable taste, I’ll give her that. But I never step into that shop, just on principle.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, this is before your time, of course, but a new shop opened up next to Gina's that started selling handmade shawls from Nepal. They were very popular, and the shop was doing well. Next thing you know, Gina’s selling the same thing at her shop.”

  “Oh,” Rachel said. “I guess that must have upset the other shop owner.”

  “It did. But there was nothing the owner could do, really. In the end, she sold her shop to Gina and that was that. But as a small business owner myself, I vowed never to step foot in Gina’s shops. So did more than a few others.”

  “How did Gina react?” Rachel asked.

  “She laughed at us. Said good riddance.” Tricia shrugged. “There’s not a lot of love lost between us, I can tell you that. Here we are—the third house on the right.”

  Rachel parked behind a red sedan. Tricia hopped out and sailed past the car, then paused and tapped on the window. The door opened, and a blond woman with plump cheeks and a vacant expression stared up at Tricia.

  “Well, hello Mrs. Bingham! Would you believe I was just rhapsodizing about your lovely cake to my friend Rachel? But what are you doing here? Surely you dropped your cake-off earlier? The deadline was for 9am today, right?”

  “Me?” Mrs. Bingham blinked. “Yes. I, well...”

  Tricia’s brow furrowed. “Have you come to see Gina as well?”

  “I...” Mrs. Bingham bit her lip. Rachel gave Tricia a sideways look. Was the poor woman suffering from heatstroke? She looked pale and shaky.

  “Mrs. Bingham?”

  In reply, Mrs. Bingham suddenly slammed the door of her car, revved the engine, and took off down the street, nearly running over Tricia’s foot in the process. Tricia leaped back and gave a little yelp. She stared at the disappearing car in wonder.

  “What’s gotten into her!” Tricia exclaimed. “She’s normally so friendly! I hope she’s feeling well.”

  “She certainly didn’t look well,” Rachel said.

  “And I don’t know what she’s doing here, either,” Tricia said. “Annie was very strict about that 9am deadline. If the cake wasn’t at Gina’s by nine today, it wasn’t in the competition. That was written in bold in the rules.”

  “It’s almost a quarter to one.” Rachel looked at her watch. “Let’s get Gina and the cakes and get out of here, shall we? There’ll be time for explanations later.”

  “Yeah. Let’s..” Tricia walked up the driveway to Gina’s house and froze. Rachel’s eyes followed hers. Gina’s house was a mid-sized, red-brick ranch house with a cheery yellow, three-panel door and well-kept lilac hedges dotted around it. It was an immaculate home that should have looked bright and happy on a sunny day like this, yet, a sudden feeling of dread flew down Rachel’s spine.

  The door to Gina’s house was very slightly ajar.

  Tricia tried to give Rachel a confident smile, but her eyes were troubled as she walked up to the door. “Gina?” she called out, peeping in. Nobody answered. Tricia took a step inside.

  “Tricia—” Rachel was about to warn her, when a scream shattered the calm afternoon. Tricia came running back out, her face a mask of terror.

  “It’s Gina!” Tricia cried. “Something’s wrong, Rachel! Something’s very, very wrong!”

  *****

  Chapter 2

  The Body

  Tricia sat out on the curb, her head between her knees, breathing rapidly. Rachel, who had immediately called the police on hearing Tricia’s shouts, headed inside the house to try and help.

  Immediately, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Gina’s home was a mess. The foyer had papers scattered all over it. In the living room, furniture was upended and slashed. Drawers hung open, and closets had their contents strewn across the floor. A smashed vase lay glittering in the light near the TV.

  Gulping, fearing the worst, Rachel moved to the kitchen. She only took a few steps toward it when she saw a hand stretched out on the floor. Gina Graham was dead. Rachel clutched the doorframe, feeling a sudden dizziness sweep through her. There was nothing peaceful about this death nor any dignity in it. A few times before in her life, Rachel had come face-to-face with pure evil, malice that had taken root in a heart until it blossomed into sheer destruction. This time, though, she felt as though she were in the presence of something angrier—more violent.

  With a deep breath, Rachel forced herself to calm down, and think things through. The police would be here in no time, and she needed to be as useful as possible in the meantime. There was no way she could help Gina, but perhaps... perhaps she could help find something that would help catch the killer.

  Rachel rushed forward into the kitchen and nearly slipped on a puddle of water in the doorway. Righting herself, she stood still, and decided to stay put instead of risking any contamination of the crime scene.

  There was no blood on the scene, and one of Gina’s hands was clutching her throat. A cake lay smashed on the floor beside her, while several others sat on the countertops, still untouched. Avoiding the puddle of water, Rachel stepped forward and looked carefully at the smashed cake.

  The cake had yellow frosting, and had completely crumpled over on one side, though it had retained its distinctive ring shape. A cardboard box lay next to it with a label saying, “Mrs. Bingham, Lemon Bu
ndt Cake.”

  Rachel heard the sound of sirens on the street and then footsteps running up the drive. She had time enough for one more look around the kitchen. The kitchen door leading to the backyard was ajar too, and Rachel’s eyes rested on a strange, red object near the mat. A broken heel, probably belonging to a stiletto from the looks of it.

  “Rachel?” She turned around and faced Scott. He was still in the same clothes she’d seen him in: faded khakis and a navy polo. He had a grim expression on his face that she knew all too well, the “I’m going to catch this murderer” look that she’d once been on the receiving end of.

  Part of Rachel desperately wanted to talk to Scott, to ask him exactly who that little boy who called Scott “Dad” was, and why Scott had never told her about him. But another part knew that this was not the time.

  “Are you alright?” Scott asked.

  No. She was most certainly not alright. She was the opposite of alright. She’d just found a dead body, and her boyfriend was possibly cheating on her or had mysterious offspring he’d told her nothing about. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Scott looked as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. A hint of impatience appeared on his face. “Rachel—” He began.

  “Need me to get out of here while the forensics team does their thing?” Rachel asked with a watery smile.

  “I’d appreciate it very much. Take Tricia with you. But are you sure you’re okay? It’s never easy finding something like this… we can talk about it if you want.”

  Touched at the real concern in his voice, Rachel stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on finding whoever did this, first.”

  Their own private troubles could wait. She was being selfish even thinking about it. Right now, all that mattered was that a woman was dead.

  Scott’s eyes swept around the kitchen, and he said, “No blood. Looks like she was poisoned.” His eyes rested on the crumpled cake next to the body, and the few crumbs that were visible on Gina Graham’s fingertips. Rachel felt a little sick.