The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6

by Katherine Hayton

“Oh,” Holly said, rubbing her stomach. “That was good.”

  “Doesn’t your boyfriend take you out for a meal? I thought that’s what most dates centered around.”

  “Can you just call him Aidan?” Holly said, pouring hot water into the sink. “When we’re at the stage that you can define him by our relationship, I’ll let you know.”

  “Like that, is it?” Crystal teased but Holly refused to let herself be drawn. She quickly dispatched the few dishes, then smothered a yawn against the back of her hand.

  “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

  “Night,” Crystal said. “I’ll stay up and troll the single men of Hanmer Springs online for a while.”

  Holly laughed as she walked out of the room. “I don’t know whether to be scared for them, or for you.”

  The next morning, Holly was out front and center in the bakery, wishing that the weekend would hurry up and get there. The bakery was nicely warm, with the redolent sweet smell of vanilla cupcakes baking. A far cry from the chill that had been in the morning air when Holly and Crystal had walked to work that morning. The faint dusting of snow on the surrounding mountaintops indicated that summer was well and truly over for the year.

  The tinkle of the bell on the front door brought Holly out of her reverie. “Meggie!” she said, delighted to see her friend. “Do you have time for a coffee?”

  “You certainly know the way to a girl’s heart,” Meggie said, walking behind the counter to give Holly a quick hug. “I’ve no appointments booked until midday, can you believe it? I thought it would be much nicer to hide away in here for the time being.”

  “Stay as long as you like. I’ll just rustle up a latte out back.”

  “Thanks. You know, you should drop in some time and let me give you a free trim in return. Otherwise, I’ll start to feel guilty for taking advantage of your hospitality all the time.”

  “Nonsense,” Holly replied, bustling back through with coffee and cake. “It gives me an excuse to make one for me and Crystal as well.” She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to check her sister hadn’t followed her through to the shop. “Otherwise, she’d never let me have a break.”

  “I can hear you, you know,” Crystal called out. “And it’s your bakery, too. If you want the two of us to sit around all day eating our own product rather than selling, then you’re welcome to the bills.”

  There was a second’s pause while Meggie’s eyes widened with shock, then Crystal’s laugh came tinkling through from the baking room, and Meggie joined in with relief.

  “And I will take you up on that trim,” Holly said, fingering the curls that kept falling into her eyes. “Perhaps you could squeeze me in before next weekend?”

  “Got a date, do you?”

  Holly blushed while Crystal gave a wolf whistle from out the back. She stuck her head around the doorway. “Holly’s always got a date these days. She and Aidan are practically inseparable.”

  “That’s not true!” Holly protested, then laughed and shrugged when her sister crossed her eyes. “I only have dates on the weekend. If you listen to Crystal for too long, she’d have you thinking I’m about to waltz up the aisle.”

  Meggie held her hand up. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have another wedding in town for a while. Not after what happened with the last one.”

  “Oh, go on.” Crystal stuck her head back through again. “I’m sure that Inglefield Manor would offer you a discount, if you asked them nicely.”

  “Both of you stop this at once.” Holly banged her hands down flat on the table. “I’ll have you know that Aidan hasn’t even kissed me on the lips yet. So stop this foolish nonsense about me getting married.”

  Meggie shifted uncomfortably at the vehement outburst, but Crystal took the whole thing in stride. Teasing was a sibling’s forte, after all. She caught Meggie’s eyes and winked. “You wouldn’t protest so much if there wasn’t something to protest about.”

  Holly picked up her cupcake wrapper and threw it across the room at her sister. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very aerodynamic and hit the counter front, then fell limply to the floor.

  Meggie gave a small giggle and finished off her cupcake. “I must say, whatever the status of your relationship, it’s doing wonders for your complexion. When I saw you walking in this morning, I thought you’d lost ten years.”

  Holly shook her head and smiled as she cleared away their table. “If I’d known how much trouble this relationship would be, I would never have bothered to embark upon it.”

  “But aren’t you so glad that you did?” Meggie asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  Holly nodded before she could stop herself. “Okay. I’ll admit it. There are certain attractions.”

  “Yes,” Meggie said with a teasing smile. “I see it every time that Aidan walks away from me.”

  Holly picked up a towel from the counter and flapped it at her friend before wiping down the table. “Has your work really slowed down that much? Or is it just a one-off today?”

  Meggie sighed and shook her head. “It always slows down a bit as winter comes along. Hair doesn’t grow as fast and no one likes to leave their homes for anything unnecessary. The tourists get so cold on the trip from the pools to the changing sheds that they can’t be bothered to stop by any of the shops before leaving town.”

  Holly cast a worried glance at her friend. After the trouble that both their businesses had suffered at the hands of a thieving accountant, she wasn’t sure that there was any fat in Meggie’s ledger to withstand a lackluster season. Perhaps picking up that vibe from her expression, Meggie shook her head and a smile suddenly lit up her face.

  “I forgot to tell you something.” She gestured for Holly to lean in closer. “Guess who’s been helping my business out with a loan that doesn’t need to be paid back?”

  Holly’s eyes widened as she ran through a list of the townsfolk, but she shook her head as she got to the end, still coming up blank. “Who?”

  “I suppose I should have prefaced that by saying you’ll never guess. It’s Brian Masters. He’s been doing it for a few of the businesses around town.”

  Although Meggie looked pleased with herself, Holly felt a thrill of trepidation run from the nape of her neck down to her toes. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure that he lent me the money or sure that he doesn’t need it back?”

  “Either. Both.”

  Meggie nodded. “I’m sure. After everything that’s come to light this year, I made sure to pass it in front of a lawyer before I signed anything. Not a local one either,” she hastened to add, perhaps reading Holly’s expression. “I traveled up to Christchurch and hired one specifically for purpose. He swears that everything’s on the up-and-up.”

  “Well, that must be a relief!” Without any firm evidence to the contrary, Holly decided that congratulations were in order. “I’m thrilled for you, Meggie. I hope it all works out.”

  “I’m sure it will.” Her friend stood and dusted off the crumbs from her skirt. “Even with the slow season coming, I’m still clearing a lot more income now that I don’t have someone skimming off the top. Even though Brian said I didn’t need to pay him back, I think by this time next year, I’ll be able to do that and be in the clear.”

  She waved goodbye, and Holly smiled as Meggie left, then wandered back to the internal doorway with an eyebrow cocked in Crystal’s direction. “Did you hear that?”

  Crystal nodded. “I heard. I’ve also heard it from the horse’s mouth when Derek and I’ve gotten together for support.”

  Although not common knowledge, Crystal was Derek’s AA sponsor, a job that she took even more seriously than the bakery—if that was possible.

  “I think that two close calls in such quick succession might have led Mr. Masters to reevaluate his business ventures. I’m not saying that he believes that putting money back into the community will stop people from trying to murder him and his family, but I’m sure it crossed
his mind that it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Well, I won’t say that I’m glad that either attack happened, but I am glad that he’s able to lend a helping hand.” Holly glanced back out the front door as though seeing an echo of Meggie still standing there. “It would have been terrible if shops closed down when he had the ability to prevent it.”

  “I think it’s really helped Derek with his recovery, too.” Crystal pulled out a batch of cupcakes and slammed the oven door closed with her hip. “I’m sure that people having a bad opinion of his dad didn’t help out any.”

  “Do you want a hand with decorating?” Holly asked as her sister waved an oven tray over the cakes to cool them down more quickly. “Foot traffic seems to have died off this morning.”

  “Mm. I’ll need to start scaling back on the bakes if this keeps up. No use making the same amount just to feed more stale cakes to the pigs.”

  While Crystal continued to encourage the vanilla cupcakes to cool, Holly started to whip up a ganache to cover the chocolate ones baked earlier. She walked a line from bench to doorway as she did so, keeping one eye on the entrance.

  When a man came striding in through the door, in a suit that Holly was sure would cost at least a month’s income if not more, she put down her bowl of ganache and went to greet him.

  “How can I help you?” Holly asked with a broad smile.

  “You’re—” he paused to look down at the notepad in his hand “—Holly Waterston, daughter of Trevor Waterston?”

  Holly nodded, not sure she liked this stranger knowing her name. The surname may be emblazoned on the shop frontage under Sweet Baked Treats, but her given name shouldn’t be such fair game.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, extending his hand. When Holly went to shake it—a puzzled frown on her face—he clasped it and gave it a squeeze instead.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Steven Willoughby is dead.”

  Chapter Two

  Holly stared into the man’s eyes, shaking her hand free as her mind tried to place the name. The suited gentleman in front of her had raised eyebrows, obviously expecting some expression of grief in return. Even though she knew it would be a letdown, the question had to be asked, “Who?”

  Holly could hear Crystal move to the connecting door behind her. She turned toward her, in a whisper asking, “Do you know a Steven Willoughby?”

  When Crystal shook her head, Holly felt a small degree of relief. It would have been awful for him to be a close friend from childhood or something, but she now had more reassurance that she didn’t know him at all.

  Crystal moved to stand beside Holly at the counter. “Was Mr. Willoughby from around here?”

  The man nodded, the action performed with such vigor that his tie flapped up and down.

  “I’m afraid I can’t recall him,” Holly said with a small frown. “Perhaps he only knew my father?”

  The man sighed. “Perhaps. I’m Marshall Brent, the lawyer charged with taking care of his estate. My client left a set of very particular instructions for his funeral and one of them was to have catering provided by your store.” Marshall gave a small bow. “I presumed that there must be a connection, but I understand now that was wrong. Can we start again?”

  Crystal leaned forward against the glass casing that enclosed the day’s cupcakes on offer. “I didn’t know that funerals were catered. Don’t the ladies from the church look after all of that?”

  Thrown off course again, Marshall offered a weak smile as he re-tabulated his position. After a long silence, mostly spent staring into middle distance, he gave a short nod. “Many churches do provide a catering service, or can arrange for outside suppliers if that’s the family’s preference. However, my client isn’t having his funeral at a church venue and he definitely didn’t want to have it catered by any old ladies.”

  After crossing the room, Marshall laid his briefcase down on the table and popped it open. He withdrew a folded sheet of paper from inside and shook it out.

  He recited from it, “I do not—I repeat not—want my body or any part of my funeral or my family to set foot inside a church in connection with my demise. I insist that my funeral be held in the viewing room of the Statesman Hotel, so my family can stare out at the spectacular view while I’m laid to rest. My body is to be cremated and my family can scatter my ashes wherever they wish. It makes no difference to me, after all, I’ll be dead.”

  Marshall cleared his throat while Holly and Crystal stared at each other with wide eyes. “The catering is to be provided by Holly Waterston from the Sweet Baked Treats Bakery. If anybody brings anything other than a cupcake to my funeral they are to be immediately disinherited and their portion of the estate to be divided between the remaining family members.”

  After clearing his throat again, Marshall folded the sheet back together and replaced it in his briefcase. “It goes on from there but nothing that concerns you.”

  Holly didn’t know whether to smile or not. It seemed to her that the instructions must have been written at least half in jest, but Marshall Brent’s expression was so severe and solemn that after a moment’s tussle she decided she didn’t dare to crack a smile.

  Crystal showed no such restraint and Holly gave her a light elbow in the ribs and her sternest frown. Her sister turned to her, shrugging her shoulders and mouthing the word, “What?”

  After a quick jerk of her head toward Marshall, Holly turned to see he was staring at her, watching their interaction with concern.

  “We’d be happy to organize the catering for your client’s funeral,” Holly said. “If you let us know what date and time and how many to cater for, we’ll deliver everything you need to you on site.”

  Marshall’s face turned into an expression of relief, then a frown clouded over it again and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t leave.”

  A chill crept down Holly’s spine, setting her nerves on edge. “What? Do you mean, never?”

  At that, Marshall laughed. The change of expression suited him. Holly also realized that although she’d pegged his age as being close to hers, that was a mistake. Without the solemn expression to age the man, Marshall appeared at least a decade younger than her. Maybe even more.

  The laughter came to a gradual halt and Marshall wiped a tear from his eye. “Sorry,” he said. “That didn’t come out right at all. I just meant, if you want to attend the ceremony you’ll be most welcome. I’ve been getting quite emotional lately.”

  “Were you and Mr. Willoughby close?” Crystal asked.

  Looking into the middle distance again, Marshall nodded. “My mother used to work as a cleaner for the vacation house he had up here, years ago. Even though he only needed her services for about six weeks per year, he still paid her an annual salary to keep the place nice. I found out when he died that he was the one to pay for me to go through University. Not just the fees, he provided my mother with an allowance, so I could room near the campus. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d still be struggling to fund myself through law school.”

  “Would you like to take a seat?” Holly moved around from behind the counter and gestured toward the table. “The shop’s likely to remain quiet for another half hour, so why don’t I fetch us all a coffee and we can have a break while you explain the terms of the will.”

  Crystal sat down next to the lawyer while Holly bustled out the back. Fair enough. Holly had already taken one morning break with Meggie. As she walked the coffees back through to the shopfront, Holly cast a regretful eye at the hardening bowl of ganache.

  With his briefcase now by his chair legs, Marshall and Crystal were in close conversation when Holly placed the mugs in front of them.

  “We’ve just been talking about how much has changed in the past ten years,” Crystal said as Holly joined them. “The township seemed to almost double overnight.”

  “Double in housing, not double in permanent residents,” Holly added. “I’m guessing that when the winter strikes us fully, half these new places will sit e
mpty.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Crystal said. “The foot traffic dies down a little when it’s really cold, but the tourist population actually increases.” She sat back and stared out the window, across to where the hot pools had a layer of steam rising into the crisp sky. “There’s something attractive about sitting in the hot springs while everywhere around you the land is white with frost or snow.”

  “I hope they’re all hungry, then.”

  Marshall Brent smiled and sipped from his cup. “I’m sure they will be. If Mr. Willoughby was fond of your baking, then it speaks very highly of your product indeed. I also need to find a florist to meet his demands but he didn’t even mention a shop for that one, let alone a name.”

  “Why not me?” Crystal demanded. “I’ve been at this bakery a lot longer than my sister. Surely, he should have chosen me to perform the task.”

  While Marshall shrugged, Holly frowned in thought. “I can give you a recommendation for a florist if you need one. She works in a lot of exotic plants and blooms so she might challenge your budget if there is one, but she’s worth it.”

  “That would be great,” Marshall said with a relieved smile, “and there’s no worry about the budget. In fact, if you both wanted to attend—” he nodded at Crystal “—then I’m sure his estate won’t mind covering the costs for someone to mind your shop for the day.”

  “No, thanks.” Crystal stood up and sniffed. “If the dead guy didn’t invite me, then it’s no skin off my nose. I’ll have a much better time here, doing the job I love, than stuck in a funeral for the whole day.”

  As she turned to walk away, Holly grabbed her sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Thankfully, Crystal must not have been too miffed because she squeezed back before letting go.

  “It does all seem very odd,” Holly mused. “But so long as there’s no harm in it, I won’t say no. The florist I recommend is Wendy Tahoe. She raises both common and exotic plants out on her property and has a wide selection of blooms to choose from.”