Pastries and Puzzles

by Constance Barker

  “This is my masterpiece.” He exclaimed, framing the cake with his hands spread wide in the air.

  “It’s absolutely marvelous. I can’t imagine how you come up with this kind of stuff. Is it for a birthday party?” I wondered.

  “Not at all. This, chef-d'oeuvre, is going to put me in the lead over Masie to represent the bakery in the competition,” he assured.

  Oh, dear. “I need you two to play nice to each other today, please.”

  Scooter sent me a shocked gaze. I wasn’t generally one to ask in a pleading tone. Today, however, I didn’t need any extra drama. This might not have been my first dead body or my first murder investigation, but it was the first time I was seriously considered a suspect.

  I knew I hadn’t been the one to put poison in the cupcake. Logan said he didn’t believe I was guilty, but his job was to follow the evidence. If the evidence pointed to me, what could he do?

  “What’s going on? How was the catering job yesterday?” Scooter’s voice was filled with genuine concern.

  My shoulders sagged. My whole body felt weighted down, like my blood was filled with high fructose corn syrup.

  “The self-help speaker, Gilbert Lane, I found him in his dressing room...dead.”

  Scooter stared at me for a full minute before he responded. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I was,” I sighed.

  “This is a horrible habit you’re getting in, Coco. You know, finding dead bodies and all. Maybe you should let someone else find one once in a while,” he joked.

  “It's not as though I go around purposefully trying to find dead bodies. They just, sort of, appear in places where I happen to be,” I said, unamused.

  “How did he die?” Scooter wondered.

  “Logan came by my apartment to take my statement after the initial investigation of the scene yesterday. It appears that Gilbert was eating one of my cupcakes when he died.”

  “Did he choke on it or something?” His face was filled with confusion.

  “No,” I hesitated, not wanting to answer. It felt like I’d been personally attacked. Not by Scooter, of course. But, by whoever had put the poison in my cupcake.

  Scooter stared at me expectantly.

  “The cupcake was poisoned,” I finally answered.

  “What? Cupcakes are supposed to bring happiness and joy. Not death and destruction.” Scooter’s eyes widened in shock.

  “I know, right? The fact that someone used my perfect cupcake as a weapon makes me feel all icky inside. Like a cake that’s been abandoned and left to mold and rot.” My face curled into a frown.

  “That’s going to be terrible for business when people find out one of your cupcakes was poisoned and killed someone.”

  “Thanks, Sherlock,” I said.

  Masie sauntered in through the back door. She put an arm around me, and I leaned my head against her shoulder. “My cupcakes have never been poisoned before. Usually, they don’t kill people, as far as I know. What a horrible use of cupcakes.”

  “We still haven’t completely recovered from the last murder. Business is already so slow. It should be a crime,” Masie said, patting my arm.

  “Well, if lack of creativity is a crime, you must have been born in prison.” Scooter shot the insult at Masie.

  Masie snorted. “Whatever I lack in creativity, I more than make up for in taste and texture.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Scooter’s face turned crimson. “Seriously, though, we need to step up our game and do something to really stand out.”

  “I’d hoped after this catering job, people would get over the fact that dead bodies seem to show up wherever I go. So much for wishful thinking. No one is going to want to eat here if they think there’s a chance my baked goods will kill them. I truly am becoming the death baker.” I slumped down on my seat.

  “You’ve worked too hard on the bakery to let this murder affect business. Two other murders were solved thanks to your help. How hard could it be to solve this one?” Masie said confidently.

  “As much as I hate to boost Masie’s ego, she’s got a point,” Scooter agreed.

  “You’re right. I can figure this out. And when people realize I’m not a murderer, business will be better than ever,” I determined.

  Chapter 4

  Around mid-morning, the bakery phone started ringing. My heart did a little flip of excitement at the prospect of a new order coming in. Perhaps, business wouldn’t be too bad after all.

  Masie was in the front of the shop, and I heard her voice ring out when she answered the phone. “Mad Hatter Bakery. Masie at your service.”

  A few beats of silence passed, and then in a stiff tone she said, “Hold, please.”

  “Mr. High and Mighty Crotchety Pants is on the phone for you.” She frowned as she walked into the back room.

  “Who?” I had a notion of who she was indicating.

  “Mr. Abernathy from the hotel. He wants to speak to you. He sounded cranky...or his usual self.”

  I picked up the kitchen extension and took a deep breath before speaking. “Mr. Abernathy, so good of you to call. What can I do for you on this fine day?”

  “Do not try to get in my good graces, miss. I have no use for such drivel. The police have, finally, cleared the crime scene. You need to come and get your things out of my hotel before they contaminate my entire business.” His voice was cold and hard.

  “I’ll be right there,” I told him, grudgingly.

  “Don’t come through the lobby. You may use the back entrance reserved for deliveries. I don’t want my guests to see a suspected murderer entering my establishment. It’s bad for business. One of my staff members will meet you. I don’t want you poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He hung up before I could form a response.

  “That was rude,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “That man needs to pull the you know what out of his you know where,” Masie stated confidently.

  Scooter’s laugh echoed through the room. “I’d hate to be on your hit list Masie.”

  “You’re on mine. You rotten poacher, and I don’t mean eggs. I’m going to win the baking competition this year and your bag of fondant trickery can eat my sugar,” Masie warned.

  “We’ll see about that. My fondant can bake circles around your sugar, any day,” Scooter retorted.

  I imagined the frosted carnage awaiting my return if I left the two of them at the bakery together unsupervised. That was a mess I didn’t want to clean up, but I couldn’t help but snicker at their adorable insults.

  “Masie, why don’t you come to the hotel with me and help pick up the equipment?” I interrupted.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to break up with Dirk. He works there. I can help you and get rid of him at the same time.”

  Now, that was how you multitasked.

  When we walked through the back door of the hotel, Masie instantly spotted Dirk. Dirk Swift. Tall. Handsome. Clueless. He had no idea what was headed his way, the poor sap.

  “Dirk, yoo-hoo.” Masie called, waving her hand in the air.

  He turned and a wide smile spread across his lips.

  “Hi sweet-ums,” Masie cooed.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. What’s up?” He leaned down and kissed Masie’s cheek. She leaned into it, ever the loving girlfriend.

  “We’re here to pick up Coco’s supplies from the bakery. Mean Mr. Abernathy said we needed a chaperone, the old poop. He doesn’t like Coco very much. He thinks she could be a murderer,” Masie pouted.

  Dirk shot a weary glance my way.

  “Would you be a doll and accompany us, so we don’t have to deal with your boss?” She batted her eyelashes. Dirk melted like warm chocolate right before my eyes.

  “Sure, sweetheart,” he replied.

  Dirk led us to the banquet hall where the seminar had been held. Masie hung on his arm as we walked. She giggled and flirted as he talked about his job and responsibilities at the ho
tel.

  “Do you come from a large family?” She questioned, pulling him up short as I headed across the room to where my things had been left scattered.

  “I have one brother,” Dirk answered.

  “I’ve been so lonely my whole life. My dream is to have a huge family. I want seven kids. Three beautiful girls and four handsome boys. Just like their father.” Masie tweaked Dirk’s nose and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

  I snorted under my breath. The poor sucker.

  I started gathering my things as quickly as possible. Shoving everything haphazardly in any bag it would fit into, I didn’t even attempt to be neat and organized. When I was about halfway done, I glanced back towards Masie and Dirk.

  His face was pinched together and a pea soup hue pasted across his complexion. He looked like he was about to hurl. I hoped he hadn’t eaten a big lunch.

  “I’m already in my thirties. I might only have a solid ten more fertile years left in me, if that,” Masie sulked.

  While Dirk was distracted, I slipped into the dressing room. The police had mostly cleaned the place out. There was fingerprint dust atop most solid surfaces. I got down on the floor to see if I could spot anything that might have possibly been left behind.

  There wasn’t so much as a piece of lint. I was about to give up, when I spotted a couple of discarded cupcake wrappers on the floor in the far back corner under the dresser.

  My arm almost wasn’t long enough to reach them. Lying flat on my stomach, I managed to skootch them around with the tip of my finger until they were close enough to snag. I jumped up and shoved them into my pocket.

  I hurried back out to the main room and found Masie, alone, by the table. She was boxing up the rest of the things.

  “Where’d Dirk disappear to?” I wondered.

  “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. No man wants to discuss having kids and being fertile,” she snickered.

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I figure I’m doing them a favor. They think it’s their idea to break up, and I don’t have to hurt their feelings by telling them I don’t want to waste my time with them anymore.” Her logic might actually have been perfect.

  “Do you remember hearing anything negative about Gilbert before he arrived in town? You’re usually more in on the local gossip than I am,” I asked her.

  “Now that you mention it. Hestia Bloom, the librarian, started a petition to protest Gilbert coming to town. I heard most of the people who signed had been scammed by him, and they were trying to sue him for punitive damages.”

  “How did I miss something like that?” I mused.

  “You two need to leave, immediately. You’ve been here long enough,” Mr. Abernathy demanded as he walked through the door.

  “We were just finishing up,” I said, sweetly.

  “You don’t fool me, young lady. I can see right through that sweet and innocent act of yours.”

  “What?” I sputtered.

  He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at me. He honestly believed I was guilty.

  Masie and I grabbed the boxes and shuffled from the room. My eyes burned with anger.

  “That man has never liked me, and being a murder suspect sure doesn’t help,” I grumbled.

  That was it. I was going to solve this mystery and clear my name.

  Chapter 5

  “Oh, shortcake,” I muttered under my breath as I walked into the store, and slipped behind the counter to give Logan a call. It was easy to get to the counter, with my unobstructed walk past absolutely no one.

  No customers.

  When normally, I’d be pushing my way through.

  “Logan,” I groaned into the phone.

  “Hey, Coco,” he answered.

  “Letting me know you’re finally bringing back gingerbread, Christmas time or not?” He chuckled.

  “I think a custom order could be just the thing I need about now,” I mumbled to the phone. Closing my eyes, I sighed.

  “Better get on it fast,” Logan said in an overly serious tone. “Because I will be right over.”

  “Thank you,” I said, finally summoning a smile.

  I hung up feeling a little bit better and headed to the freezer for chilled gingerbread I kept for...well, mostly Logan.

  It turns out that a very traditional and sharp gingerbread doesn’t sell very well. But Logan enjoys it. I think it makes him think of his grandma’s recipe. And living up to a gran’s traditional recipe seemed frightening

  at first, but now I loved pulling it out and making the almost indulgent single batch, just for him.

  “I demand a man of ginger,” Logan called as he opened the bakery door a few minutes later.

  “He may have been flattened,” I called back out.

  “Got him with your rolling pin?”

  Snickering, I brought him the perfectly shaped little gingerbread, along with his usual coffee order...a medium roast coffee with cream and sugar.

  “So,” he said with a sigh as he dragged his hand down his face. “The coroner has definitely confirmed that Gilbert was poisoned, no doubt about it.”

  My heart sank with disappointment and I looked down at my hands and shook my head. I tried not to blame Logan because he was only the messenger and he had been so supportive and warm the whole time, but I could still feel the bitterness welling up.

  “Well that sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, but if there’s any saving grace Coco, it’s that they’re still waiting on the toxicology report from the actual cupcake. He was poisoned, we know that for sure, but it doesn’t mean that it was your cupcake that did the poisoning.”

  He took a sip of his coffee and offered me a warm smile, clearly trying to make me feel better when in fact the situation was probably a bit more dire than he was letting on.

  “Look, rumors and gossip don’t mean anything until we get the report back, okay? Besides, until we have answers no one can back up any of their claims anyway.”

  I rolled my eyes with a half-hearted smile and sighed, leaning over the counter as I shrugged my shoulders. The doubt and doom and gloom of it all was starting to pool, though I tried to keep it light.

  “Sure,” I chuckled, winking. “He was found dead right after publicly arguing with me, a half eaten cupcake that I made next to his body. No one’s going to look at me any differently after that. Clearly. Business is just booming.”

  I gestured haphazardly around the empty shop with a sigh, but he simply waved off my sarcasm and kept talking, clearly as frustrated as I was.

  “Anyway, until the toxicology report comes back, we’ve hit a dead end with the investigation.”

  He nodded at me and raised his brows in question, clearly trying to get me to talk.

  “Yes?”

  “Well,” he prodded, brow cocked, “Are you going to tell me what you found?”

  I nodded and poured myself a cup of coffee as well, taking a heavy pull from the mug as I sighed and relaxed against the counter. It was still odd to be talking about the fact that I was a serious suspect in a murder investigation. But hey, stranger things had happened, right? Maybe not to other, normal people, but my life wasn’t exactly what most would call normal, I supposed.

  “I actually found some crumpled up cupcake wrappers close by, and I pocketed them.”

  He shot me a scolding glare and shook his head, to which I simply shrugged back at him with a chuckle and kept going. It wasn’t as if he could have honestly expected me to simply ignore a potential piece of evidence, after all.

  “Anyway, I’ve got those, but the weirdest part is the fact that Warner couldn’t seem to get me out of there quick enough.”

  He frowned and set his coffee cup down, tilting his head as he looked back at me with a curiosity that I recognized all too well.

  “Really?”

  “Really. Considering the fact that he was the one who invited me back to pick up my stuff, you wouldn’t think that he’d be rushing me out. It a
ll felt very...odd to me, and I’ll be honest I really didn’t like the tone that he took with me. I know that things look suspicious for me and I get that it’s his hotel that it happened in, believe me, but...”

  I shrugged with a heavy sigh and sipped my coffee, looking back over at Logan as I continued to spill my thoughts in hope that an idea would come to light.

  “I don’t know. Why would the guy who called me to come get my stuff be the one who was rushing me out, too? It seems like there’s something else up, and I don’t like it.”

  “I can’t blame you there,” he said with a nod, thinking for a moment. “I’m definitely going to look into it, I’m glad you told me.”

  “Thank you.”

  I smiled at him and it felt like a weight was being lifted off of my chest, hopeful that I could maybe come with him when he questioned people or followed that particular lead. I had after all, been the one to give it to him. As soon as I had the thought though, it was gone, because he shot it down as quickly as I thought it, as if he could read my mind.

  “Coco, I need you to lay low and stay out of this.”

  His tone was firm but it wasn’t cold. Just his usually professional but kind attitude that he held for me. And while I appreciated it, I was also annoyed by it. Why did he get to have all the fun and be the one who had the authority to follow a lead that I found, anyway? Sure, he was a police officer, but this was my life and my livelihood that we were talking about.

  “Logan, I-”

  “No, listen to me.” He said it calmly and sighed, looking me in the eyes as he spoke. “Coco you’re a suspect in this, and a major one. You need to stay out of this and not muddle. It could be seen the wrong way, and then it only makes things worse for you. Please?”

  He was right, I knew he was, and as much as I hated to do it, I agreed. Staying out of things was probably the best thing I could do for myself and for my business.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll stay out of it. For now.”

  He gave me a warning glare and I smirked, taking another sip of my coffee. “So what made your gran’s gingerbread so good?”

  “Love,” Logan said.