by Milda Harris
Chapter Two
I slumped to the ground with Penelope in my arms. Cameras continued to flash, but for once I barely noticed them. I was all too conscious of the dead weight in my arms. I knew I had to do something, but I couldn't think straight.
People ran toward us. I laid Penelope down flat on the ground. I'd taken a CPR class for Girl Scouts as a preteen, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what to do. I needed to take a refresher, although I don't think any kind of a class could ever completely prepare me for a situation like this.
I think I was also in shock. I'd never seen someone drop dead before. I'd only ever been to one funeral, so this was the second dead person I'd ever seen. Yes, I was assuming Penelope was dead, but someone should still try and save her in case I was wrong. Luckily, other people were reacting.
As a blur rushed past me to Penelope's side, someone pulled me away from her body. I looked up to find Easton's arms around my waist. Normally I would have been totally thrilled, but at the moment I was too preoccupied with the mayhem going on around us.
Someone was giving Penelope CPR. I blinked, trying to focus my vision. It was her manager. He'd just been in the way as we were setting up for the grand opening, but now I was glad for his hovering. Maybe he could save her. I hoped he would. I didn't want her to be dead.
“Are you okay?” Easton asked, peering down at me.
He still hadn't removed his hands from my waist. I could actually feel the heat from them through the thin Celebrity Cupcakes and Coffee cotton T-shirt I was wearing underneath my apron. I turned away from Penelope to look at him. His green eyes were searching my face. Feeling my cheeks burn pink yet again under his gaze, I moved away from him and he dropped his hands.
“Are you okay?” Easton repeated.
“Yeah. Just shocked, I think,” I managed to say.
“Understandable,” Easton said.
‘That's an understatement.” The full force of it all was just starting to hit me.
I was definitely going to make the news. I wondered if the paparazzi would hound me about Penelope and what it felt like to catch her as she collapsed. I felt sick. I didn't want to even think about it. I glanced over at her. Her manager was still trying to revive her. I looked back at Easton.
Easton noticed and gave me a wry smile, “You know, ironically, this is just like one of the episodes of Whodunit.”
He watched Whodunit? Actually, that made sense. Half the male population probably watched it for Penelope since she was gorgeous.
“Except the main character just died and now the show's going to be cancelled.”
“Well, we don't know that she's dead yet,” Eason reminded me.
“Yeah...” I said. I glanced over at her again. I couldn't stop myself. I kept hoping that I was wrong and that Penelope was sitting up and laughing at all the unnecessary attention, but she was still immobile. “Although, I'm pretty sure that she is dead. Call it a gut feeling.”
“Then that probably means it was the cupcake,” Easton said.
My mind turned this information over, horror replacing my shock. “Wait. You think she was murdered?”
Easton nodded. “Definitely.”
“But... But maybe it was an aneurysm or a heart attack or something,” I said, even though I didn't believe my own ideas. Another sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach believed that Easton was right and that I'd just been a front row eyewitness to a murder. The paparazzi were definitely going to want to talk to me now.
Easton shrugged. “That could be the case, but she's really young and way, way too famous. I'd bet on murder over natural causes.”
I looked over at her again. Penelope still hadn't moved. The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach twisted and I felt even more ill. Her manager looked like he was starting to get exhausted, but he wasn't stopping CPR.
I could hear sirens from an ambulance trying to make it down Hollywood Boulevard and past all of the gawking tourists in their cars. I hoped they could help her. It hadn't been too long yet to save her, right?
That's when I spotted the probable murder weapon: the cupcake. It was half smashed underneath Penelope's body, having fallen out of her hands as she collapsed. I didn't realize I'd laid her down right on top of it. I hoped the police could still do forensics on it.
A thought popped into my head and I turned to Easton, “But how would the cupcake have killed her?”
“Poison? Maybe she was deathly allergic to a particular ingredient? It has to be the cupcake,” Easton said.
He was right again. Those were obvious theories. I was just having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that Penelope might have been murdered. “But who would do that?”
Easton followed my gaze to the baked good turned murder weapon. “Well, I guess the question to ask was who had access to the cupcake?”
I looked back at Easton. Our eyes met and even though I didn't really want to say it because I already liked her, I blurted it out anyway, “Well, Nina. She made it.”
Easton's eyebrows shot up. “Are you accusing our boss of murder?
I felt like I needed to backtrack, “Uh. No. I'm just saying. She made the cupcake and if anyone was going to put something in it then she had the most hands-on access so...”
“It had to be her,” Easton finished my sentence.
I shrugged. I glanced over at Nina. She was frozen, staring down at Penelope's lifeless body. She didn't look like she'd just murdered her. Then again, maybe she was a good actress. I wouldn't know. I didn't know her that well, even if she had been a cool boss so far. Besides, it's not like I'd ever met a murderer before. Truthfully, I would have been quite happy to have lived my entire life without this whole experience.
“What would she have to gain by killing Penelope, though?” I asked out loud as I thought it over.
“Press like you wouldn't believe,” Easton gestured at the cameras flashing around us.
The paparazzi were having a field day. I resisted the urge to check the internet on my phone. I was too afraid I'd see a picture of myself holding a dead Penelope Rose. I wasn't ready to see that yet.
“But who is going to come to a place with killer cupcakes?” I asked.
Easton looked at me. “You'd be surprised at people's morbid curiosity. Besides, Killer Cupcakes is a catchy name.”
“I don't think Nina did it,” I really didn't.
It would be stupid of her to bake poison into her own cupcake. Nina was going to be the police's first suspect. If she wanted to kill Penelope, it was not the smartest way to murder her.
“Do you know her?” Easton asked.
“Well, no,” I admitted. “I only talked to her at the interview and, well, today when she put me to work getting the store ready. It's just a feeling.”
“I do actually know her,” Easton said. “She's my aunt.”
My mouth dropped open and then I shut it. He was obviously joking. “She's way too young to be your aunt.
Easton smiled. “Not really. My mom and her are about twenty years apart in age or something like that.”
“Oh.” I hadn't thought of that. “And you just let me accuse her of murder?”
Easton smiled. “Well, if we're actually trying to solve the case, she has to be a suspect.”
“Wait. What? Are we actually trying to solve the case?” I asked.
I thought we were just talking and theorizing, trying to make sense of the insane situation we were in. I hadn't actually been trying to play amateur sleuth. I'd mostly been relishing distracting myself with Easton.
Easton looked at me, “Do you have anything better to do right now?”
I looked around. The scene was chaos. I didn't think the bakery was actually going to be open today. That was too bad. All of the cupcakes were going to go to waste and they looked absolutely delicious.
“No,” I admitted, because the only other thing I had to do was totally freak out. Solving a mystery might help continue to keep my mind off things.
“Well, then, let's figure out who did this,” Easton said.
“Wait. Why are you so gung-ho about this?” I asked.
Easton shrugged.
“Oh. Come on. Why?” I wanted to know.
Easton smiled, “Well, first off, I've always loved a good mystery. It started in grade school with Scooby Doo.”
“Really?” I returned his grin.
“I also admit to reading all of the Sherlock Holmes books in high school.”
“You're dedicated,” I joked.
“Exactly, and now we're knee-deep in a murder mystery. Plus I don't really want my favorite aunt to go to jail. Besides, aren't you curious who did it? You're a writer, right? Have you ever played amateur sleuth? It might be an experience worth writing about someday.”
Wait. What? “How did you know that?”
“I heard you talking to my Aunt Nina,” Easton said.
Whoa. Easton had eavesdropped to learn more about me? Was he possibly interested in me? I studied him for a clue as to if that might be the case, but I couldn't tell. Still, he'd taken the effort to learn something about me. So, maybe. Definitely, maybe.
“Well, what are you?” I asked.
“What am I?” Easton asked back.
“What do you do besides work here?” I clarified.
Easton smiled again, “I'm an actor/writer/producer.”
I raised my eyebrows. “A triple threat?”
“Yeah,” Easton said.
I had a hard enough time sitting down to write scripts, so those multiple ambitions made him seem even more attractive. “So, why are you working here?”
“My Aunt Nina said I could have a flexible schedule. That's a plus when I'm trying to shoot shorts in my spare time. I'd like to eventually get some into film festivals. Plus, I like to cook and baking is an offshoot, so I figured it would be fun too,” Easton said. “How about you? Are you into baking?”
I laughed. “No. Not at all.”
I didn't add that I didn't even cook my own regular meals for the most part. I usually settled on quick, microwavable foods or soup from a can. Truthfully, all of my forays into cooking for myself usually ended in disaster. Easton definitely didn't need to know that before he got to know me. Wait. Did he want to get to know me? Whoa. Was it possible he'd cook for me someday?
“So, why are you here?” Easton asked, breaking into my fantasy of him cooking me dinner without his shirt on.
Still, butterflies continued to flutter around in my stomach at his question. It sure sounded like Easton wanted to know more about me, “Well, I'm good with coffee. I worked at a coffee shop for two years in college. I actually just graduated and moved out here. Rent is crazy expensive so I needed to get some money coming in while I write. When I ran into Nina and she mentioned the barista slash cashier job, it seemed like fate.”
“Maybe this is fate too,” Easton said.
“Huh?” My cheeks burned again. I really hated my fair skin sometimes. It gave me away too often.
“Maybe you and I are meant to solve this case,” Easton grinned.
“Are you making fun of me for believing in fate?” I asked, hoping Easton hadn't realized where my brain went when he mentioned fate.
“I think you make your own way in this world and your choices define what happens next in your life,” Easton said.
“I still believe in fate too,” I said. “I think it's a little bit of both.”
“Well, fate or not, what do you say? Solve this mystery with me?” Easton asked.
I wanted to ask him why he picked me, but I was afraid. Besides, I think the answer I wanted from him was something like: I chose you because you are super hot. In actuality, he might have picked me because I was in the right place at the right time and he was bored.
Either way I already knew what my answer was, so I gave it to him. “Alright. I'm in. Let's solve this.”
Easton put up his hand in a high five gesture. I raised mine in return and he slapped his hand into mine. A jolt of electricity shot through my body as his palm touched mine. I wish it had stayed there for more than an instant.
“And you just made fun of me for believing in fate?” I asked.
Easton laughed. “High fives are classic.”
“Uh-huh. If you say so,” I said.
“I do,” Easton's eyes met mine.
My stomach flipped and in an effort to get Easton's attention off of me in case my cheeks were turning colors again, I said, “Anyway, back to the case.”
Easton took the bait, “Okay, who are our main suspects, besides my Aunt Nina?”
“Well, Penelope's manager should definitely be on the list,” I looked over at him.
He was collapsed on the ground next to Penelope, trying to catch his breath. He didn't look immaculate anymore. His impeccable suit was rumpled, his hair was disheveled, and he looked completely worn out. Another person had taken over doing CPR. I hoped the ambulance arrived soon. If Penelope had eaten a killer cupcake then she had to get to the hospital right away to try and get the poison out of her system. Well, if she had any chance at all. I was still pretty sure she'd instantly dropped dead from whatever was in the cupcake.
Easton followed my gaze. “Her manager should definitely be on the list. Maybe he was stealing money from her.”
“Or maybe he'd profit because of her death,” I added. “She won't just be a flash in the pan celebrity now. She'll be famous forever.”
“Ironically, just like Marilyn Monroe. She's going to be immortalized as a beautiful woman who died too young.”
“That just brings the suspicion back around to Nina,” I said. “She's the one who named the cupcake.”
“I know,” Easton said.
“Okay, who else is there?” I asked.
Easton looked around the crowd. “Well, I'd say fans and paparazzi, but none of them had access to the cupcake.”
“But we all did,” I said.
“What?” Easton turned to look at me.
“Every one of the employees at Celebrity Cupcakes and Coffee had access to that cupcake.”
Easton nodded. “That's true. If Nina left it alone, any one of us could have put something in it. Although, that means... Are you saying I'm a suspect? I had it in my hands for a little bit too.”
I nodded reluctantly because I sure hoped Easton didn't do it. I hadn't really included him in my initial thought, but technically he had to be in the pool of suspects. He'd held the cupcake in his hands. In theory, he could have put something in it. The thing is, I was developing a huge crush on him. It would be a major turnoff if he turned out to be guilty of murder.
Easton continued, “Don't look so glum about accusing me. After all, that means you're a suspect too.”
Oh no. That was true too. In fact, I was the one that handed the cupcake to Nina before Penelope took it and ate it. I swallowed hard as realization hit me. Once the police arrived, I'd be one of their main suspects. In fact, my name would probably be on the list right after Nina's and Easton's. Suddenly this wasn't a fun, distracting game that I was playing with a hot guy. My freedom might be at stake if I didn't solve this case.
