Crumb Cake, Corpses and the Run of the Mill

by Rachael Stapleton

  “I’ve caught you crying several times now and you won’t tell me why.”

  Pike looked at Finn and they smiled.

  “Why are you both smiling like that?”

  Finn laughed and Pike gave her a hug. After a moment, Pike took hold of her hand. “Look, it’s just...” She started to cry again.

  “Pike!” Juniper said, pulling her in for a hug. “What’s going on with you?”

  Finn laughed, “Just tell her already.”

  Pike tried again but only cried harder.

  “Oh, Junie, the reason she’s been crying so much is hormones.”

  Juniper shook her head in confusion and then looked over at Jack who’d just wandered up with a plate of snacks for her. “Hormones. Why . . . I don’t understand.”

  Pike grabbed the plate out of Jack’s hand and started devouring the cheese.

  “Hey!” Jack said.

  Finn smiled and shrugged lightly. “She’s pregnant. We were waiting for all of this craziness to be over before we told you both.”

  Juniper gaped at him and then Pike. “A baby?”

  Pike’s cry switched to a laugh. “Yep.” She sniffled, finally collecting herself. “And you’re in shock. So were we. This is still so new but then again we’ve known each other forever.”

  Juniper wiped away a tear and gave her another hug. “I’m so happy for you guys,” she whispered.

  Pike handed the half-eaten plate back to Jack, “So, if you and Jack plan to choose a wedding date then you either have to do it now or you have to wait until after this baby comes so I can fit into a bridesmaids dress again. I don’t want to be swollen and grumpy for your photos.”

  Juniper looked at Jack and smirked. “I think we’ll wait.”

  Jack nodded. “Of course, after all that’s what our wedding is all about. How you look.”

  Pike lightly punched him in the arm and he feigned hurt.

  “It would take us at least a year to plan it anyway, Pike, so no worries.” Juniper said. “But I guess this means we better pick up the pace on that house of yours.”

  “Yeah, perhaps we could put a sign asking people to stop committing murders there. That would really help speed up our timetable.” Jack teased.

  ***

  Days later, in a police lineup, Retired Police Captain Bruce Stone was identified by a hospital security guard. The guard swore that the last time he’d seen Stone, the guy was wearing a pair of blue scrubs and walking into the third-floor intensive care unit, where Frank Patone had been a patient. The evidence was piling up, and Stone was finally forced to confess to killing Frank, as well as Belinda Battams and her unborn child. The watch that Albert used to scare Bruce had his fingerprints on it as well as Belinda’s blood. Kaden and Cody assumed he dropped it before he shoved her body into the roller. Then he packed her clothes into her messenger bag and tossed it inside the built-in ironing board cupboard. Apparently, he’d searched high and low but hadn’t found it, thwarting his plan to frame her father for the murder. No one knew why he’d stayed away for the last twenty-eight years. Why he hadn’t returned to clean up his mess sooner but Juniper suspected it had something to do with the Doctor’s ghost. Perhaps he’d seen or heard Albert during the Belinda incident.

  Whenever he was asked, he said no one would believe him and clammed up. His excuse for killing Frank was that he was being blackmailed by him. Apparently, Frank had been hedging his bets, thinking that either Bruce or Oliver had to have killed Belinda. Frank had seen both father and son out at the old mill, when he himself was secretly following Belinda.

  Frank Patone was a horrible person, but Juniper didn’t suppose that was reason enough for him to die. She did have to admit secretly, though, that life was easier with him gone.

  Epilogue

  U nlatching the French doors, Juniper opened them, allowing the cool evening breeze to sweep inside, sending the curtains fluttering. She’d searched the Inn twice over for Victoria. The front parlor, the wine cellar, even the graveyard but then she reminded herself: the ghost wasn’t here for her amusement, nor was she a regular person anymore. Both, Victoria and Albert had their own agenda, their own sense of time and place. She still had a lot to learn about this whole spirit thing.

  Jack came up behind her, placing his hands at the base of her neck and rubbing. She sighed in contentment.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m sore but okay,” She said. After the near drowning—she was supposed to spend twenty-four hours in the hospital under observation. She’d left after two.

  “Thought I should warn you,” said Jack. “I was talking with Mom at the festival about some energy-saving ideas to incorporate into the vineyard and she turned the conversation to the wedding. It seems she’s started planning and she’d like to set the date for August 25th.”

  “This August? That’s two months away.”

  “I know. How do you feel about that?”

  “What about the wedding invitations? Catering? Flowers? I don’t have time to plan any of that.”

  “That’s the thing. She did have the time and she’s already taken care of everything. All we have to do is agree on the date and everything will happen.”

  “But my family…”

  “Has already given their blessing. They’ll stay at the vineyard. The date works for everyone.”

  Juniper studied him for a moment, and mentally planned things out with Pike’s renovation. They’d have things wrapped up just in time.

  “Well… say something. You’re making me nervous.”

  “I love it, Jack! I love everything about it and I love everything about your family. I’ve wanted to marry you since January. I just don’t know the first thing about weddings. I can plan a house renovation like nobody’s business but add in flowers, wine and cakes and I’m lost.

  “So,” said Jack. “Can we postpone the running off to Paris thing and give mom the go-ahead?”

  I rose up on the steel toes of my work boots and kissed him softly. “Hell, yes!”

  “There’s just one little problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Which one of us is going to break it to Pike.”

  “Let’s ask your mom to handle it. She’s so good at damage control.”

  “I’ll go call her now.”

  “But it’s almost midnight.”

  “She’s been waiting on pins and needles to know your answer.”

  Juniper laughed. “Well, don’t keep her waiting any longer, and send her my love.”

  She stood there for a moment longer after Jack left the room, looking out at the darkness, breathing in the night air, then she heard her name. Quickly turning around, her heart lurched as she came face to face with Albert.

  “I thought maybe you’d moved on,” Juniper said excitedly, wishing briefly that it was possible to hug a spirit. “Thank you for saving my life, but how did he see you? I thought you couldn’t leave the mill.”

  “I couldn’t! But then I saw you out the window and I knew he was going to kill you just like he’d killed that girl. I’d been powerless to stop it that day. Too emotional to control my touch but I was determined not to let it happen again. Too many times in my life I watched a Stone get away with hurting people. Next thing I knew I was out there with you and I remembered why I’d kept that watch. Why I’d hid it after he dropped it in the basement and I remembered everything. I remembered walking into the mill and catching Almer with our maid, Trephinia. I remembered her begging me to save her from him. And I remembered Victoria telling me how Almer planned to murder me. Suddenly I knew I could use the watch to save you.”

  “Thank you so much. I can never repay you or Victoria. You’ve both saved my life. So, what are you doing here? I take it you’re no longer stuck since you’re standing in my home—well, your home too, I guess,” Juniper smile.

  “I can go anytime. I’m just waiting... ”

  “On the rapture?” Juniper teased.

  Albert smirked.
>
  “You need to move on, Albert, and be at peace.” Juniper murmured.

  “I am at peace… thanks to you,” Albert took a deep breath and said, “I’m waiting on…”

  “Yes?”

  “There she is. My little volcano.”

  Juniper turned her head and there was Victoria. She reached for Albert’s hand and they both wore a grin.

  “I guess we can go now.”

  “So, that’s it. You’re just going to waltz off into the sunset. I thought the two of you didn’t get along.” She turned to Victoria, “You helped plan his murder.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, that’s just married life. If you don’t wanna kill your husband a time or two, you just ain’t been married long enough. You give it time.”

  “My god, Victoria, didn’t you hear her man? He’s just finally got her to agree to a date. Don’t scare the poor girl away.”

  “I’m just setting realistic expectations.”

  Albert chuckled and pecked his wife on the cheek, “I don’t know why but I’ve missed you.”

  She patted his stomach, and smiled sweetly, “Well, you sure didn’t miss my crumb cake.”

  Thanks for reading Crumb Cake, Corpses and the Run-of-the-Mill. In the mood for more Bohemian Lake stories? Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next Penning Trouble mystery series: Murder, Ye Bones.

  Private investigator Penny Trubble is all for an island vacation, but warm sand and surf comes at a cost. Her friend, Danior Vianu, is spending the summer working at a relative’s paranormal resort in San Paolo, Brazil, where the paranormal activity that is part of the resorts charm has gotten a bit too real for some; several guests, including a personal acquaintance, have gone missing, and Danior wants Penny to find out why. What she finds is trouble.

  The vanished guests appear to be victims of a long-dead housekeeper who practiced voodoo using the bones of her victims. The past comes back to haunt them when Daemon Wraith, searches out the mysterious Voodoo Queen.

  Working together to find a connection and stop the supernatural killer, Penny and Daemon are compelled to research the history of the haunted island. Has the Voodoo Queen found a way to transcend time in her quest for blood and sacrifice or are Penny and Daemon dealing with a copycat?

  Prologue

  The cemetery off the coast of São Paulo, Brazil, was quiet when seen by the gentle glow of the moon, with shaded trees and ten-foot rows of sugarcane forming a ceiling and three walls, the cemetery gave the effect of being a room, and a low ground fog swirled in a faint breeze that seemed to carry with the promise of the supernatural. The gaps between the sugarcane and the tree crowns were like high cathedral windows. There were no manicured lawns or polished stones, the grounds were relaxed and unkempt by design, as if mother-nature ruled supreme here. Tiny saplings grew from cracks in the headstones; plots filled with berries; headstones sunk so deep into the topsoil that the dates of birth and death were obscured; trees dazzled with their diversity—banana trees, copaiba trees, coconut trees, and caryota palms.

  Two women wandered in the dark, picking their way carefully around the gravestones, carrying a lantern and a shovel.

  “Where are we going?” Lise Trix asked nervously as the moon slipped behind a cloud and the shadows deepened.

  “Not much further,” The Voodoo woman said, lifting her lantern higher. The woman paused to stare back at her, contempt in her eyes. “If you are afraid, child, we can turn around.”

  Lise shook her head. She hadn’t been afraid before; it had all seemed like a lark, but now she was walking in a shadowy graveyard by night, hearing nothing but the rustle of the leaves and the moan of the wind in the branches, and she was a fool ever to have thought that this would be an adventure.

  “Here we are,” The Voodoo Queen said.

  “And what now?” Lise demanded, looking around. They had passed a mausoleum, and now stood by a small broken wall, where mist curled around the oldest plots that were laid out against the sugarcane wall at the back of the church yard.

  “Now, you dig,” She said. Her voice dropped to a whisper, so soft that Lise felt a sudden chill.

  Lise did as she said and began to dig a hole.

  “You still have the coin, right?”

  Lise told herself that the ominous tone was all part of the voodoo queen’s act, but even so, she shuddered as she reassured herself that she still had the coin she’d stolen from her employer; it was wrapped so tightly in her hand that she had practically forgotten she was carrying it.

  “Yes.”

  “And the picture of the man you love and the woman you hate?” She asked.

  “Yes.” Lise paused in her task and took the photo from her pocket. She looked down. Emilion’s dark brown eyes stared back accusingly at her from the photograph. She handed them both over.

  The Voodoo Queen approved with a solemn nod as she accepted the gifts. “Good. Now drink this, my girl.”

  The Voodoo Queen held up a small bottle filled with an inky liquid.

  Lise stared at her.

  “It’s herbs, Lise, just herbs. But they create magic.”

  Lise wanted to refuse. What was the matter with her? she wondered. But her friend had gone to this woman for potions and spells. She said the Voodoo Queen had a talent for knowing what was going to happen—like the Vianu ladies. Not only could the Voodoo Queen foretell the future, she could make things happen.

  This was an adventure, Lise told herself, and maybe—just maybe—the potion would work.

  The woman was standing in front of her, smiling in her shawl and tignon like some West African Voodoo Priestess. She pressed the small bottle into Lise’s hand and helped her lift it to her lips. The concoction was sweet, not bad tasting, but it carried an aftermath of fire that sent slivers of steel running through her blood.

  Suddenly crimson darkness descended, making a stygian pit of the cemetery, a fiery globe of the moon.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore,” Lise said. Her voice sounded like a whimper. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  The Voodoo Queen laughed, making her large hoop earrings shake, frightening her further. “You’ve had the potion, it’s time.”

  Lise wished she had never come.

  But she didn’t want to run away either and leave the Voodoo Queen. Something told her to do so would be to seal her fate.

  And yet what were her choices.

  Stay and tamper with the dead, or flee through a boneyard of shadowy cherubs and decomposition, with only her thundering heart to guide her?

  “In seconds, my sweet, you will be on the road to all that your heart desires. You came to me for help. You wanted love. You wanted revenge. Now, it’s time to get you everything you deserve,” The Voodoo Queen said. She sprinkled what looked like blood across the disturbed earth of an antique grave, then lifted her arms to the moon and began to chant. The words were unintelligible, a mix of Portuguese and something more ancient. As Lise watched her, she felt herself becoming almost spellbound. It was as if her limbs were made of marble like the statues that surrounded her, and any desire to flee left her. The tombstones and ominous vaults, even the gargoyles, began to appear as natural a setting as the cozy parlor of the Caravan Manor, welcoming her.

  The low-lying fog seemed to dance around her, wrapping her like a blanket, encouraging the heaviness of her form. But even as the sense of well-being warmed her, an inner voice warned her that she needed to shake off the leaden blanket and run.

  Because the ground was trembling, erupting like a volcano, shifting the old stones that lay askew nearby. A shower of dirt skittered over her.

  That inner voice screamed at her to run, but it was too late.

  The shadow man approached her, pure evil, but she was paralyzed. She couldn’t move, and no sound escaped from her lips. Whatever had been in the black drink was paralyzing her. She could still see the Voodoo Queen, standing there now with a satisfied smile, and she knew that all the Voodoo Queen’s promises had been no more than a ruse
. She saw and felt the essence of the zombie, heard the rasp of its fetid breath, and in that moment everything was so clear but it was too late—oh, God, far too late—to know and see and understand, to know that this had nothing to do with a love spell.

  She had not come to dig up bones as an offering to the love goddess. She had come to dig a grave—her own grave—for she was the offering.

  Chapter One

  Green mountains, emerald waters and golden sand beaches. The archipelago off the mainland of Brazil was a kaleidoscope of natural wonders, and the water went from shallow to deep, from sloping sand to a sudden drop-off leading to a misty and strange world of tangled plants and fish. I was looking forward to getting into my scuba gear later to get a closer look.

  In the meantime, I meandered to the water's edge of São Paulo, half-empty coffee cup in hand. The sand was hot on my toes, so I dipped them into the Atlantic Ocean to cool them down. It was late afternoon, and last I’d checked the temp had risen to the high eighties. My cotton dress clung to me like wet wallpaper, but there was nothing as glorious as the salty São Paulo air and I was content.

  I’d devoured three mini coconut rolls while waiting for Danior Vianu to return from one of the shops. She’d just picked me up from the São Paulo Airport.

  I closed my eyes, relishing the start to my Island vacation—well, not technically a vacation; somehow, I’d been roped in to working a case at the Paranormal Plantation Resort. A colonial mansion on the beautiful island of Ilhabela, off the coast of Brazil. It was owned by Danior’s cousin, Vera Donazan and had a reputation for paranormal activity thanks to the fact that it used to be a mortuary. It catered to an eclectic group of socialites, rock stars, and kooky artists. To add to its mystery, it had private huts and cabins that looked more like run-down haunted houses from a movie set.

  Vera had spent every last cent buying the place and her fingers were crossed that it would pay off. Unfortunately, she was having some staffing issues and so Danior and her boyfriend Emilion had flown down a week ago to help out for the summer. Apparently, the paranormal reputation was a little too real for some. Especially since a couple of the guests had recently gone missing. The most recent being Lise Trix—the receptionist from Caravan Manor. She’d decided to tag along, much to Danior’s annoyance. The young women were not exactly the best of friends, but Lise was due for a holiday and when she offered to pay her own way and work for free, Nana and Vera had both agreed. So, she hopped the next flight out following Danior and Emilion by a day, but she never showed up at the plantation and Nana was worried.