The Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Rosie A. Point

  “No.”

  “Then you’re wasting my time.” And he slammed his office door in my face.

  10

  After my abrupt ejection from the offices of the town council, I’d taken up a spot opposite the building in the play area with a cup of coffee from The Nodding Frond and a bagel to fill the gap in my stomach. My gaze wandered up and down the street but was always drawn back to the offices.

  Why had Hanson been there?

  And why had Harry slammed the door in my face after I’d asked about Moira? That might mean he was hiding something, or that he was an exceptionally busy and a rude man. Though, he’d been all smiles when we’d first started talking. His attitude had only changed after Moira had come up.

  I took a bite of my bagel and chewed, mechanically.

  There had to be an explanation for his behavior. People were driven by problems—that was what I’d learned as an investigative journalist. The more problems a person had, the more willing they were to do terrible things to make those problems go away.

  “What kind of problems do you have, Harry?” I whispered.

  The door to the town council offices opened and the man himself stepped out, as if I’d summoned him.

  Harry held a phone to his ear and talked pompously, flinging an arm wide. He paused, shook his head then hung up and set off walking.

  Walking.

  How strange. A man like Mr. Dean was the type to drive wherever he wanted to go, or have someone else drive him there.

  Curiosity got the better of me, and I abandoned my bagel. I kept a few feet behind Harry and a few people between us, but it was easy to follow him without being noticed. So easy that it kind of creeped me out—how many times had I been followed in the past?

  Now, you’re just being paranoid.

  Harry swaggered around corner after corner, greeting people along the way. Soon he entered the richer part of Muffin and made for the front gates of a mansion. Violet’s mansion.

  I slowed down and ducked behind a row of hedges.

  Harry hit the buzzer on the front wall of the mansion and the gates clicked and swung inward to admit him.

  It’s now or never, Ruby. What are you going to do? What would Bee do?

  I counted to three then ran for it, slipping between the closing gates in the nick of time. I practically dove into the bushes on the right side of the pathway. Harry was just ahead of me, now, his hands balled into fists as he made his way toward the front of Violet’s mansion. The grand front doors were open, and Violet emerged, her red hair brushed by the breeze.

  “What took you so long?” she called, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

  I crouched lower, though I was already well-hidden among the bushes and trees that populated her yard.

  “You were the one who insisted I walk, Vi,” Harry said. “So, I walked. Now, here I am, and you’d better have something cold in there for me to drink.”

  “Always complaining,” Violet replied, a sharp smile parting her lips. “Get in here, old man.”

  “Who are you calling old?”

  They entered the house, leaving the doors open.

  I wasn’t brave enough to follow them in, especially not when there were surveillance cameras on the sides of the house, and… one in the garden on top of a statue of a cherub. It pointed directly at the front, toward the living room window.

  But I had to do something.

  I’d come all this way, and I was locked in until the gates opened again, whenever that might be.

  “Cameras,” I whispered.

  I remembered them from when we’d first set up at the house on the afternoon of Moira’s unfortunate incident. Bee had mentioned them to Violet, in fact, and had asked her whether she realized she had poor coverage because the entire kitchen side of the mansion, along the right of the house, didn’t have surveillance.

  And Violet dismissed it. She didn’t seem worried about it at all.

  In retrospect… could Violet have wanted the kitchen to be a security blind spot?

  Either way, it perfectly served my purposes now. Boy, Bee was going to have a heart attack when she found out what I was up to.

  I crept through the bushes, keeping close to the walls. I rounded to the side of the mansion and came to the spot directly across from the kitchen door. A quick glance left and right told me Bee had been right about cameras, and I skedaddled out of the trees and up the back steps.

  The kitchen door was unlocked. I entered the mansion and sucked in a deep breath of lemon-scented air. Seemed like Mrs. Keller had been doing some cleaning in here.

  Muffled voices spoke nearby.

  I positioned myself in the kitchen’s archway, listening hard.

  “—don’t see why this is a necessity,” Harry said.

  “You wouldn’t, my dear, but your days of fun and games are over. When I tell you to come, you don’t walk, you run. Is that understood?”

  “Violet. People are starting to ask questions. You really should have come to the office today.”

  “And you should have stayed faithful to me!” Violet snapped.

  I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

  They’re having an affair!

  “That’s ridiculous, Vi. You know I can’t stay faithful to you in the traditional sense. I’m married.”

  “Your wife doesn’t count,” Violet said. “But Moira does, and I warned you about her. I warned you and warned you and now this has to happen.”

  “No, darling. It doesn’t. I do love you, you know that, I just… I need more time,” Harry said. “Give me some time to fix this.”

  “I’ve given you enough time already.”

  “But I can’t do anything until she—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Violet replied, cold as a hunk of ice. “You’ve got a day to figure this out or I’m going to tell everyone your dirty little secret.”

  “You don’t have any proof.”

  “Don’t I?” Violet laughed.

  Silence followed, and I held my breath.

  “I’ve got to go,” Harry said. “I’ve got that appearance tomorrow. It’s national television, Violet. You’re needed at the office.”

  “That’s fine. I was just leaving. And so were you.”

  Their footsteps clicked down the hall. A door shut a few minutes later, and I let out a breath. Good heavens, what on earth had I just overheard? Violet threatening Harry with… something. I wasn’t sure what yet. And all because he’d had an affair with Moira. And with her!

  This was complicated. And a motive for murder.

  A day. She said he has a day. To do what? Murder Moira?

  A thought occurred to me, and I pushed off from the wall and slunk out into the hall. The mansion was two floors high and packed with rooms, but I needed to find out exactly what Violet had meant about Harry’s “dirty little secret.”

  The interior of the house didn’t appear to have any cameras either. Violet seriously needed to upgrade her security system. I rushed from room-to-room until I finally found what I’d been looking for—the master bedroom.

  “If I was going to hide something important…”

  I checked under the bed, behind paintings—because Bee and I had found a safe behind one before—and opened the closet doors. The gentle blip of an alert notification drew my gaze back to the bedside table. I opened the drawers and found Violet’s iPad.

  Quick as a flash, I unlocked it and tapped through the different apps. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Ah! What was this? Violet had written herself a note in her Notability app—a four-digit code.

  5437.

  Make them pay for embarrassing you!

  I exited the app, put the iPad back where I’d found it, and studied the room with fresh eyes, repeating the code to myself under my breath. The safe—it had to be the code for a safe—wasn’t any of the places I’d checked.

  I made for the closet again and entered it.

  “Gotcha!”
<
br />   The safe—small and silver with soft buttons—sat under a shelf to my right in Violet’s walk-in closet. I tried not to ogle her gorgeous dresses and glittery shoes. I punched keycode in and the safe door clicked open.

  Violet had hidden a box of jewelry inside, several stacks of cash, and a folder of documents. I removed the documents, hyperaware that I had officially crossed the border into illegal. Then again, I’d done that the minute I’d trespassed.

  I opened the folder and started reading, my eyebrows rising higher and higher by the minute. I took a couple of quick photos of the information then slipped it back into the folder and into the safe. Now, all I had to do was break out of Violet’s mansion, get all the way back to Bee and tell her what I’d just discovered…

  That Harry Dean had the means and the motivation to get rid of Moira. And that she was in grave danger.

  11

  The following morning…

  “I can’t believe you did that, Ruby. I mean, that takes real donuts, if you know what I’m saying. Breaking and entering like that? You could’ve been caught; you could’ve been arrested. You’re lucky you got out of there unscathed.” Bee spoke between furious chews of her omelet. She’d wolfed down breakfast after a day in bed, and was, thankfully, feeling a lot better this morning.

  I hadn’t touched a bite of food. Only because I’d spent the night going back and forth over what to do with this new information and my appetite was gone.

  I couldn’t call the police and tell them anything other than the fact that Moira was in danger, and they’d already assured me that she was perfectly safe.

  “So, let’s go over this again,” Bee said, biting off a piece of toast and gesturing with it. “Violet is threatening Harry.”

  “Heavens, Bee, keep your voice down. You know what a huge fan Mrs. Rickleston is of the man.” The other diners in the Runaway Inn’s grand dining area hadn’t overheard, and the tables closest to ours—in front of the windows that looked out on the sunny street—were empty.

  “You’re jumpy.”

  “I just found out that one of the suspects has a vicious criminal history,” I whispered. “Of course, I’m jumpy. What if Harry finds out that we know and comes after us?”

  “Hmm. Doubtful.”

  “Why?” We’d talked it over last night, but Bee hadn’t been at her brightest. Now, she was better and firing on all cylinders.

  “Let’s think about this logically,” she said, putting down her toast and grabbing her coffee cup. “Violet is angry with him for having an affair and she wants him to do… something.”

  “We’re not clear on what it is yet,” I put in.

  “Right.” Bee clicked the fingers on her free hand. “It could be that she wants him to do away with Moira. And she’s forcing him to do it by holding his past over his head.”

  “Or it could be that she wants him to do something else,” I said, hopefully.

  “You really do try to see the best in people.” Bee took a sip of coffee. “Harry’s an interesting suspect because he might actually want Moira out of the way because of his affair, but then, surely he’d want Violet out of the way too, especially if she knows something he doesn’t want her to. The criminal history.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Yes,” Bee said, “but my gut says that’s not the case. Think about it. Harry could have easily gotten rid of Violet by now, with or without the information she has on him, but he hasn’t. That leads me to believe that Harry is trying to move past the person he used to be.”

  “So, you don’t think he’s going to hurt anyone?” I asked.

  “It remains to be seen. All I want to know is—”

  “Good morning, everyone!” Mrs. Rickleston strode into the dining area, dressed in her finest dress—a deep red velvet gown that swept past her knees—and wearing a string of pearls. “Attention please, I have an important announcement to make.”

  Everyone turned their heads. I picked up my croissant, absently and flaked off some of the pastry.

  “Sorry to interrupt your breakfasts,” Mrs. Rickleston called, clapping her hands. “But this is important. This morning, the president of the Muffin Town Council is going to be on the national news! This is a historic moment for the town. Frederick! Hit it!”

  One of the waiters lifted a remote control and the TV at the other end of the long room blared to life.

  And there was Harry Dean, larger than life, smiling as he was interviewed by a reporter.

  “—very important that we take crime seriously in Muffin. We’re usually a peaceful town.”

  “Is it true that a woman was recently attacked?” The reporter pushed the microphone toward Harry. “Your mayor is refusing to speak about it. What does the town council have to say?”

  “That everything is under control. There are very fine detectives working round the clock to track down who harmed the victim.” Harry’s accent kind of reminded me of JFK’s. Boston Brahmin, straight out of another time.

  I tuned out the interview and turned back to Bee. “What do we do about this?” I whispered. “He’s a pretty popular man. I doubt the police will take us seriously if we come forward with accusations like this, especially since he was never caught doing any of these horrible things.” Racketeering, stealing cars, and assault were all on Harry’s list of past evils.

  “We don’t know that we have to say anything yet. Let’s gather more evidence first,” Bee said. “Evidence we can actually give to Wilkes.”

  She was right. Besides, we were due to get our truck back this afternoon—there was more than just attempted murder to worry about in Muffin.

  We finished our breakfast and escaped from the dining area and the incredibly loud TV interview, interrupted by the occasional exclamation of support from Mrs. Rickleston.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I asked Bee. “A stroll around town? Mrs. Rickleston told me about this museum that—”

  “Ruby.” Bee’s hand came down on my arm.

  Hanson had just walked through the inn’s open doors. Annoyance bubbled through me. I’d been so caught up in worrying about Mr. Dean’s criminal history that I’d managed to set aside my anger at Hanson for lying to me.

  He’d told us that he was on vacation, when really, he wasn’t a detective anymore. And he’d been speaking to Harry yesterday morning, likely trying to push him for information about the case. That was alarming in itself—because the only person who stood to gain from Moira’s incident and potential murder, was Hanson himself.

  “I don’t want to talk,” I said, as he reached us. “Everything you say will be a lie.”

  “Ruby!” I hadn’t told Bee about running into Hanson at the town council offices. “There’s no need to be rude.”

  “There’s a lot of need to be rude,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Mr. Hanson, I understand that we’re not exactly friends, but I would have expected you to at least have the courtesy to be honest with us. If you’re here to press me about information about—”

  “I need help,” Hanson said, his voice gravelly. Now that I looked closer, he had a five-o-clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes. “Please.”

  “I offered you help before I found out that you lied to us about being on vacation. Quite honestly, you’re going to need to wait until the police figure out who harmed your grandmother. I think that—”

  “She’s dead.”

  Ice streaked down my spine. “W-what?”

  “My grandmother is dead.” Hanson’s bottom lip trembled. “Someone murdered her a half an hour ago. I just got the call.”

  12

  Bringing Hanson back into the dining area of the Runaway Inn probably wouldn’t go down well—he was upset, and the TV was still blaring away—so we brought him into the library just off the lobby. Bee hurried out to get some refreshments from Mrs. Rickleston, that was assuming she could pull her away from the TV.

  That left me with Hanson.

  “Hanson, is there anything I c
an do to help you?” I asked, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the library, across from the fireplace.

  Hanson gripped his head in his hands, blond hair caught between his fingers. “I don’t think so. I mean, you could help me figure out what’s going on here.”

  Now?

  That was what he was concerned about right away? Surely, he’d want emotional support after such traumatic news.

  “What’s going on here,” I repeated his words back to him.

  “Yes. My grandmother has been murdered.”

  “I don’t understand how it happened,” I said. “I thought she was safe in the hospital. The cops—”

  “They didn’t do anything to help her,” he replied. “They didn’t even put an officer outside her door. She was… they didn’t tell me how it happened, just that it happened. And now they’ll want to speak to me. I didn’t know where else to go, Ruby. You were a great help during my last investigation.”

  That wasn’t the experience I’d had with cops in the past. Usually they were annoyed that we’d gotten in the way.

  Bee entered, carrying a tray of coffees and set it down on the table. “How are you holding up, detective?”

  “He’s not a detective,” I said, without thinking. “Sorry. Sorry, Hanson.”

  “Call me Jamie, please.”

  “Sorry, Jamie.”

  “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wasn’t on vacation sooner. Things have been very complicated for me lately, and it looks like they’re about to get even worse.”

  Bee sat down, tucking her skirt underneath her, and frowned at Hanson. “Do you know of anyone who may have wanted to do this?”

  “No,” he replied. “And I don’t think it matters who I think did what. I’ll be considered the main suspect.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “My grandmother was going to leave me her estate. She was very wealthy. She invited me down here to talk about her will, though we hadn’t actually gotten around to it yet. I don’t think she made the changes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe this is happening.”