The whole room went quiet. Deputy Valdez looked at the Sheriff, and if Faith wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw a tiny flicker of relief pass over his face.
“But wait,” the Sheriff said. “How can you explain poison being found inside the cupcake the cherry was found on?”
“It must have leaked out of the cherry she’d bitten half into, and into the cake itself,” Faith said. “I don’t know why she put the cherry back on top of the cupcake. Maybe she’d realized what she’d done and still wanted to make my life a misery, even as she was dying. Ooh!” she exclaimed, realizing something else. “The cherry was on a chocolate-chip cupcake with maple syrup and peanut butter frosting, right? For one thing, you’d never really put a cherry on a cupcake like that. But for another, I’d brought her two of that type of cupcake. If the poison was in one, surely it would have been in the other, too?” She looked at Deputy Valdez.
“No,” he said. “It was not.” He then puffed out his chest and stood tall, evidently trying to reign back some control. “We will get the cupcakes from your freezer, Miss Franklin, and test them.” He then leaned in to speak in low tones with the Sheriff. “If they are clear, you are free to go.”
Laura clutched her. “Yes!” she said.
“I’ll bet five of the cherries were poisoned,” Faith said. “And one wasn’t. And she mixed up the last one. She ate one that was meant for me.” She gasped suddenly as she realized something new. “And she probably wanted Laura and Nathan to die, too. I mean, six cupcakes is a lot. I could have never eaten them by myself.”
“But then who attacked me?” Ellis asked, looking quite put out, like he had been hoping Nathan and Faith were guilty.
“I think it was those boys who threw stones at you,” Faith said. “It wasn’t Nathan or me, and Josiah’s cousin can vouch for his alibi, too.”
“We’ll check all that out,” the Sheriff said, then turned to go in his office, looking extremely annoyed. “Valdez,” he said in terse tones. “You come with me. And uncuff Nathan Edwards first.”
The room fell into silence again. Valdez turned a deep shade of red as he removed the cuffs from Nathan, who was grinning from ear to ear.
Then Josiah said angrily, “Then what was all that baloney, Ellis, huh? About you knowing who did it. You didn’t have a clue, did you?”
“Unless…” Faith said, a horrible possibility dawning in her mind.
Stephanie looked confused. “Unless what?”
“Unless Ellis knew what Joanne was doing,” Faith said. “He was the one who brought those cupcakes to me, even after she’d died. Maybe he wanted me to die, because she did. He was the one who said he knew who did it, maybe trying to throw suspicion on someone else. And he was the one who tried to pin it all on Nathan, even though he’s innocent.”
Everyone turned to stare at Ellis.
“So?” Tonya said softly. “Is this true?”
Ellis looked down at his hands, saying nothing. He was hunched over, looking almost like he was about to fall asleep. Then, without any warning, he launched himself across toward Faith, his hands reaching for her neck.
“It’s your fault she’s dead!” he cried out, his strong hands closing around her tightly, making it hard to breathe. She tried to fight him, but it was futile. He was so big and heavy, even her hardest punches made no difference. “If you hadn’t come here…” He descended into growls, and put Faith in mind of a ferocious bear.
“Permission to shoot?” someone barked.
“No!” someone else hollered. “Too crowded!”
People were clawing at Ellis, trying to pull him off, but it seemed like he had some kind of super human strength. He was clinging on to Faith’s neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. For a moment, Faith thought it was the end. Her vision went black. Then everything stopped.
After what felt like a long time, but was literally less than a second, Faith came back to reality, to find Ellis on the floor, clutching his eyes. Nathan stood over him, his fingers outstretched in victory, while the Sheriff and the Deputy rushed back in to stuff his wrists into cuffs.
“Good job,” the Sheriff said to Nathan.
“I learned it in aikido,” Nathan said. “When they’re great huge guys, you’ve gotta go for the vulnerable parts. And the eyes are one of the worst.”
Faith took a deep breath out, watching Ellis be led away to the cells. “Wow,” was all she could say. “Wow.”
*****
Faith had never felt so free in her life. She sat in her Grandma Bessie’s old rocking chair on the veranda of Slice of Paradise, catching her breath from rushing around so much. She’d been up on her feet all morning, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Nathan came whirling through the door and collapsed on a chair next to her. “This whole waiter thing is a lot harder work than landscaping,” he said. “I never thought I’d say that.”
Every single seat in the tearoom was full, both outside in the veranda, which was now beautifully finished and painted, and inside the tearoom, where the curtains fluttered on the breeze and a steady stream of happy chattering flowed.
Grandma Bessie was just about walking again, and hobbled out from inside, grabbing on the doorframe. Nathan leapt to his feet to help her into his seat.
“Oh, don’t fuss, boy,” she said. “What’s your name again?” She didn’t give him enough time to open his mouth before she continued, “Well, I’ll just call you handsome young gardener.”
“His name’s Nathan,” Faith said with a smile. “But you could also call him life saver.”
“Oh, he’s the one that got that horrid Ellis off, is he?” Grandma Bessie said, nodding with approval. “Well done, boy. Anyway, the name handsome young gardener reminds us of better times. So that will do nicely.” She nodded at him approvingly as she sat down in the chair. “You’ve done a wonderful job with the plants, I must say. We’re in quite a beautiful place now, aren’t we?”
Faith was so glad to hear Grandma Bessie happy. Usually it was difficult to squeeze any sort of praise out of her, but that morning she’d commented positively on Faith’s lovely rose-pink summer dress, how light and fresh everything looked with the new paint work, and Laura’s baking. She and Faith had been up until crazy hours, then back again at crazy hours of the morning, making quite a spread.
Just at that moment, Laura came out with a tray, loaded with a tasting sample of everything they’d baked. “Come on, Miss Bessie. You just have to try my baking. Honestly, I’m not as hopeless as you thought.”
“She’s awesome,” Faith said.
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” Grandma Bessie said. “Now, Laura, lay them down on the table and tell me what you’ve got.”
“Okay, let’s do this,” Laura said, making Faith giggle. “Okay, we’ve got blackcurrant compote with baked buttery brioche on top.”
“Made from scratch, thank you very much,” Faith interjected.
Laura placed that down on the table, then continued. “And manuka honey cheesecake with raspberries.”
Nathan was leaning against the railings, with a casual smile. “That’s my favorite, Miss Bessie. You’d better keep your eyes on that or it’ll be gone before you know it.”
But Grandma Bessie was studying the desserts carefully, too involved to listen to his jokes.
“A peach puff pastry tart with almonds,” Laura continued. “A summer pavlova with strawberries and blueberries. And of course, the cakes. Raspberry layer cake, chocolate orange cupcakes, chocolate and caramel éclair cupcakes, and my personal favorite, peanut butter and jelly cupcakes.”
“Well,” Grandma Bessie said seriously, picking up a tiny cake fork, “you’ve certainly been busy.”
Something about the way she said it made Faith burst into giggles, and then Laura followed suit, then Nathan, until they were all laughing, and Grandma Bessie was looking up, bemused. “What on earth is so funny?” That only made them laugh all the more, until Grandma Bessie got annoyed and th
ey all stopped.
“Laura,” Grandma Bessie said, looking up at her.
Laura’s face was open, hoping for approval.
“Ten out of ten, girl,” Grandma Bessie said. “Good job.” She then looked over at Faith. “You mustn’t be a bad teacher, Faith.”
“I try, Grandma.”
*****
That evening, Nathan, Faith and Laura sat on the cream carpet in Faith’s apartment, eating leftovers until they couldn’t stand to so much as look at another cake again. Nimbus was curled up by Faith’s feet, and Cirrus prowled around Nathan, pretending not to be sleepy. Nathan would play little games with him, striking a high five and holding his paws and doing little dances.
They’d thrown the balcony doors open, and the sunset streamed in, painting the room in a warm glow of oranges and pinks and yellows.
So, Faith thought to herself. I really did it. We really did it.
The fundraiser had been a great success. Everyone was talking about how wonderful Slice of Paradise was, and giving Grandma Bessie their best wishes. Since Bessie was a very proud woman, Faith had waited until everyone had left, then had taken her into a quiet corner of the garden. “Grandma, we’ve raised two thousands dollars today,” she’d said. “And I want you to take all of it, toward your operation.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma Bessie had said.
But it hadn’t taken long for Faith to persuade her, and soon Grandma Bessie was calling her “you sweet girl” and giving her a kiss on the cheek, pretending there weren’t tears in her eyes.
Faith knew she would hold that memory in her mind for a long time. And as she sat in her little apartment with Cirrus and Nimbus and Laura and Nathan, she knew she was in exactly the right place.
The End
So…what do you think? If you liked the story, the other four books in this series are available on Amazon, once again, either INDIVIDUALLY OR in a BOX SET (at a discounted price)! Plus, each story includes one of Faith’s delicious dessert recipes! And the box set comes with a FREE BONUS prequel that you cannot get anywhere else!
*****
Continue for a FREE SNEAK PEAK at a book from another series…
SNEAK PEAK:
A COMFORT CAKES COZY MYSTERY
BOOK 1:
Murder & Marble Cake
By
Nancy McGovern
Chapter 1
Caking & Entering
The sound shouldn't even have woken Rachel up. It was very faint, just a tiny clink, as though spoons had rattled against each other. Yet within seconds she was wide awake with her blanket hugged around her, and fear crawling down her spine. She snuck out her phone from under her pillow and groaned—three a.m. She wasn't going to go back to sleep anytime soon. She paused, straining her ears, but could hear nothing more from downstairs.
"Steady, girl. It's only your second night here, you aren't used to it, thats all," Rachel said aloud. "Let's just take deep breaths and think good thoughts. You'll be fine. You're just anxious about the opening, the day after tomorrow."
Talking to herself was a little quirk she'd picked up since moving back to Swaddle, California. She told herself it was only because after years of living in cramped apartments with a rotating cast of roommates, the space and emptiness of her aunt's old house was palatial in comparison. Part of her, though, wondered if it wasn't a sign of impending madness.
She hadn't so much moved to Swaddle as been driven to it. Only three months ago, she'd lived in a different universe. She’d been on the brink of being a millionaire, had been engaged to Mr. Right, and was regularly giving interviews to Wired Magazine about succeeding in start-ups. Like the stage of a play that changed within seconds of the curtain going down, her life had been upended too. And here she was in her Aunt Rose’s home facing an uncertain future in a strange town.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rachel said out loud.
The day after tomorrow, she'd be reopening the bakery that her late Aunt Rose had run all her life. There was a lot of pressure on her not to mess up. Goodness knows the locals hadn’t exactly been supportive when Aunt Rose had passed away a few months ago. Emily Frank, the owner of the café opposite her, had made Rachel a generous offer for Aunt Rose’s bakery. Rachel had considered it for a very long time and nearly signed on the dotted line—when disaster had struck. Her fiancé, Brandon, had betrayed her in the worst way possible, and Rachel had wanted nothing more than to run away from San Francisco. So here she was, back in Swaddle. Emily Frank had been less than pleased when her offer had been spurned, and when Rachel went to greet her new neighbor with cupcakes, she’d been met with a sniff and a frosty “Thanks.” Rachel couldn’t completely blame her; they had been so close to reaching an agreement. But on the other hand, the whole Brandon incident had given her no choice…
She shuddered now, as she remembered it all. For two years she had put her heart, soul, and bank balance into creating a new business. And Brandon—her charming, handsome Brandon—had supported her every step of the way. They had gone through lean times together, with cornflakes for dinner, and twenty-five cent ramen for lunch, but Rachel had always known that the future was bright. She’d believed with all her heart that her company would succeed—and it had. Unfortunately, that was when Brandon pulled the rug out from under her.
"You'll just give yourself anxiety if you rehash the past," Rachel said out loud. "Think positive. Think positive." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to conjure up something comforting.
A memory floated up—herself, eight years old, in a strawberry-colored dress, with flour on her nose, and hands. Aunt Rose, wearing a green apron, thumbing through a yellowed book with dog-eared pages, and a brown-leather cover. "Now crack two eggs into the mix," Aunt Rose was saying. "Be careful not to let the eggshells fall in."
It had been autumn, three days before her birthday; Rachel's eyes drifted shut, and her body relaxed as she remembered the scene. Outside the window, a gingko tree was laying a carpet of yellow under it, and stray leaves floated in the air as a cold wind blew through the town. Inside the warm, tiled kitchen, Fleetwood Mac floated through the air, sounding tinny as it emerged from Aunt Rose's vintage boom box.
"Here, I'll help." And Aunt Rose had picked her up so that Rachel was floating above the bowl, eggs in hand. They'd both high fived when she cracked the eggs in one go, without letting any shells inside.
"Excellent! You'll be a baker in no time." Aunt Rose had smiled. "Now mix it all up like you're a DJ!" And they'd raised their voices together to the song as Rachel furiously mixed eggs, flour, milk, and sugar together.
Clink.
Rachel shot up, instantly alert. She wasn't imagining this sound. It wasn't the creak of an old house settling or the hiss and groan of a refrigerator. Someone was in this house with her. An intruder.
Still hugging the blanket to her, she stealthily tiptoed outside the room and stood on the landing, staring down into the darkness. She stood there for five minutes, breathing heavily, and wondering if she should grab a weapon of some kind. Her apartment in San Francisco had never been broken into, mainly because thieves wouldn't have found much they cared about. Back then, she'd been mugged once by a junkie, in a small alley off Mission Street, but she'd taken that in her stride as the cost of living in a big city. Swaddle was supposed to be safe—a small town covered in bubble wrap—where kids still walked to school alone and neighbors left doors swinging open in the daytime. The last thing she'd expected was burglars. Well, in any case, if the house had been broken into, the sensible thing to do was to call the police and hide in her room until they came.
She was about to turn back, when something inside her protested. No. She'd already let her fiancé chase her away from San Francisco. She wasn't going to let anything—real or imagined—bully her inside her new home.
She took a deep breath and let her blanket fall to the floor. Grabbing a small Ikea stool from her room, she cautiously tiptoed downstairs. She probably looked crazy, with h
er bedhead, pink-and-blue pajamas, and a stool for a weapon. Despite herself, a grin formed on Rachel's face. No doubt she'd be back in bed in five minutes and laughing at herself for being such a fool, in the morning.
Her aunt's house stood on the edge of Main Street, the small strip of downtown that Swaddle proudly showed off. It was a two-story, red-brick structure with living quarters upstairs, and a small bakery downstairs. The stairs led down to a passage with her aunt's small study on one side and the kitchen on the other. Directly in front of her was the counter, behind which were two small tables standing in front of a picture window. Streetlights shone in, casting weird shadows on the walls. Rachel shivered. The front door was closed, and there was not a soul in sight. The kitchen was empty too. Rachel’s heart gave a little gallop, though, as she noticed that the back door in the kitchen was very slightly ajar.
Then she heard it again. This time, a scraping sound from inside the study. Her hands shook slightly as she paused by the study door. Someone was inside. Not letting herself think, Rachel pushed open the door and stepped in, brandishing the stool, and screaming at the top of her voice.
"Freeze sucker! I got you—I got you!"
She was met by an answering scream, thin and shrill, and a figure in black cowering behind her aunt's desk. Sliding her hand on the wall, Rachel flipped on the lights.
"You?" She dropped the stool and stared.
Emily Frank, dressed in dark jeans and a black turtleneck, had her hands up in front of her face and was doubled over behind the desk. Rachel's eyes swept around the desk, and immediately noted the messed up papers, and the open drawers. Anger pulsed through her. Emily Frank owned the café opposite the bakery, and she hadn't exactly been enthusiastic about Rachel moving into her aunt's house. But Rachel hadn’t imagined her displeasure would carry over into . . . whatever this was.
The Milburn Big Box Set Page 213
