Ain't Seen Muffin Yet (Lexy Baker Cozy Mystery Series Book 15)

by Leighann Dobbs

  “Yes, it’s about a case.” Helen sounded important. “One of the doctors here.”

  “Henry Maguire?” Joanna asked. “I know he was arrested. It’s a shame because he was a good doctor. I can’t imagine he killed his wife.”

  “We’re not sure he did kill her,” Ruth said.

  “Really?” Joanna looked thoughtful. “Why do you say that? I thought he was arrested.”

  “He was, but his grandmother thinks he was set up,” Ida said.

  “We’re looking into it for her.” Nans glanced at the other emergency room occupants, and then pulled the group farther away from them. “Henry said he’d lost a patient that night and had to drive around to clear his head. No one can corroborate that since he was alone. So we were trying to get more information. Were you working that night? Did he seem upset?”

  Joanna made a face. “What night was that?”

  “The twenty-second,” Nans said.

  “The twenty-second. Hmm… I work in the ER Tuesday and Thursday so I’m not sure…”

  Helen whipped out her smartphone and pulled up the calendar. “It’s a Tuesday. Two weeks ago.”

  Joanna narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? We haven’t lost an ER patient in a few months.”

  Nans and the ladies exchanged a glance. “Are you sure? Maybe on another night that you didn’t work.”

  Joanna shook her head. “No. Losing a patient is a big deal. There’s counseling and reviews of what happened. I would know.”

  “So Henry lied?” Lexy asked.

  “Sounds that way.” Ida opened her purse and looked inside. “I’m fresh out of snacks. Looks like we’re done here, so I guess we should head to the bakery.”

  Nans grabbed Ida’s arm as she started to walk off. “We’re not quite done yet.” She turned to Joanna. “Did you know Henry well?”

  “Not really. I worked with him a bit, but we weren’t friends. He seemed like an okay guy, but that’s what they said about Ted Bundy.”

  Ruth nodded. “Yeah, true. What about the scandal that Henry was involved in?”

  Joanna’s eyes clouded, and she glanced at the receptionist. “Where did you hear about a scandal?”

  “From his grandmother, Muriel Maguire.”

  Joanna nodded. “Well, it wasn’t really a scandal. More like a misunderstanding.”

  “What happened?” Nans asked.

  Joanna glanced around again. “Look, I don’t like to talk about hospital business like this, but some drugs were unaccounted for. But it was nothing. They took another look at the supply lists and it turned out they actually were accounted for.”

  Nans’s radar pinged. “Really? Drugs?” She glanced around at the group. “Do you suppose this all has something to do with drugs?”

  “Of course not,” Joanna said. “The drugs were all accounted for.”

  “I know, dear. I was just thinking… Well, we won’t keep you.” Nans smiled at her. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.”

  “You’re welcome.” Joanna looked a bit uncertain, like she wished she hadn’t mentioned the drugs. She hugged Helen and disappeared back through the door.

  “Well that was interesting, now wasn’t it?” Nans asked.

  “Sure was. And you know what? I worked up an appetite talking to her. Let’s get to that bakery and see if they have the offending corn muffins.” Ida strutted toward the door without even waiting to see if they’d follow.

  As they followed behind her, Nans said, “Looks like Henry might have had more going on than we thought.”

  Chapter 17

  “Do you really think Henry is the killer?” Ruth asked as she pushed open the door to Sugar Daddies and gestured for the others to enter.

  Inside the shop, the sweet smell of baking spiced the air. It was a small place with a black-and-white tile floor and gleaming pastry cases. It was clean, but there were no cafe tables to sit at and enjoy your purchase. Lexy felt selfishly happy about that—not that she was in competition with Sugar Daddies as it was a few towns over, but she liked to think the Cup and Cake was on par or better than the others in the area.

  “I’m not convinced on that,” Nans said. “The clues do seem to be pointing to him. And he has lied a few times. I just can’t help but feel that if we can find out who bought the muffins, that will either clear him or seal his fate.”

  “Henry said the killer brought the muffins. That might have been a clever tactic because at first glance, it makes it sound like the killer was a visitor who brought muffins… but if Henry is the killer and he brought the muffins, it’s not actually a lie,” Helen said.

  “But Henry is already in jail, so isn’t it kind of anti-climactic to prove he’s the killer?” Ida asked.

  “Maybe, but at least we’ll have tied the case up better than the police,” Helen said.

  “And we need proof to give to Muriel.” Nans’s eyes softened with sympathy for Muriel, and Lexy could imagine that if she were ever accused of anything, Nans would defend her to the end. That’s what Muriel was doing for her grandchild. “It will be hard for her, but if Henry is the killer, she needs to have concrete evidence in order to accept it.”

  “I guess I would need to see that if it were my grandson being accused,” Ruth said.

  “But what does all this have to do with the missing drugs and the heist?” Helen asked. “There’s still a tie-in with the Blondinis.”

  Nans nodded. “That’s likely, but I suppose only Henry—or the killer—can answer that.”

  “A lot hinges on figuring out who brought the muffins,” Ruth said.

  “But it’s very unlikely that someone would remember that purchase unless the buyer was a regular that the bakery staff knew personally.” Lexy had dozens of customers that she knew personally, but if someone had only come in a few times or just once, she wouldn’t remember what they bought or what they looked like. Hopefully the corn muffin buyer came frequently enough so as to be recognizable.

  “Even if the bakery staff does remember who bought the muffins, how do we prove that person is the killer?” Ruth asked as they stood in front of one of the cases.

  She had a point. Just proving someone bought muffins that were at the scene of the crime wasn’t necessarily concrete evidence. The police would laugh them out of the station if they ever tried to insist the purchase of the muffins proved someone was a killer. But Lexy had an idea as to how it could help. “The sales system at the Cup and Cake records the items purchased and the time and date. If the killer used a credit card, their name would be linked too. Maybe we could use that time and date to prove that Henry—or whoever the killer is—had time to drive from here to the apartment and kill Rosa.”

  Nans nodded. “If there are CCTV cameras along the route, we might be able to tie that in.”

  “Nice try, but this bakery doesn’t have that kind of system.” Ruth pointed to an old cash register, and Lexy’s hopes plummeted. She used to have the same system, and it only recorded the financial transaction and the time, not the item that was purchased.

  “Darn,” Nans said.

  “Look at how thick the chocolate is on those biscotti. Lexy, you need to get on the ball with that.” Ida tapped on the bakery glass, behind which sat a tray with several rows of golden biscotti, one end thickly coated with shiny dark chocolate.

  Lexy frowned. Ida was right, that biscotti did have more chocolate. She made a mental note to see if she could up her game in that department.

  “Lexy’s biscotti are very nice. Every bakery has things that they excel at, but this one doesn’t have cupcake tops at all.” Helen’s words placated Lexy. Cupcake tops were a unique and popular item in her bakery with people that wanted more frosting and less cake.

  “And the cookies here are smaller,” Ruth whispered. Lexy knew the ladies were trying to make her feel better about Ida’s observation on the chocolate coating of the biscotti.

  “But where are the muffins?” Nans glanced around the shop just as someone dressed in a w
hite baker’s shirt and puffy baker’s hat came out with a tray of freshly baked muffins.

  Ida gasped.

  Helen choked.

  Ruth snorted.

  “Eureka!” Nans yelled much to the surprise of the baker.

  Sitting on the tray was a dozen golden yellow corn muffins, and the tops were loaded with sparkling crystals of sugar.

  “You must really love muffins,” the baker said to Nans. She was a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman with turquoise-rimmed glasses and curly gray hair sticking out from under her baker’s hat in unruly curls.

  “We do. Especially the corn muffins with sugar crystals on top. You don’t see those every day.” Nans stood on tiptoes to see the tops of the muffins, and the baker lowered the tray so she could get a better look.

  The baker smiled proudly at her muffins. “It’s an original idea. I started making them a few months ago.”

  “Are they popular?” Ruth asked.

  The baker frowned. “Well… umm… they haven’t quite caught on yet, but they will.”

  “But some people must buy them.” Nans gestured to the tray. “Otherwise you wouldn’t keep making them.”

  “Oh, some people do.” The baker slid the glass doors on a case and started rearranging things to put the muffins in.

  “I suppose you remember the customers that bought these, especially since they are so unusual,” Ruth said.

  The baker glanced up through the glass. “I try to remember all my customers, but I suppose I do know the repeat corn muffin buyers.”

  Nans waited for her to put the last muffin in the case then asked, “Is one of the buyers a man in his early thirties, with glasses and dark-brown hair and a thin mustache?”

  The baker looked thoughtful. “Hmmm, let me see… there’s Mrs. Masserelli, from down the street. She’s about ninety if she’s a day but still spry. Then there’s a pleasant young man with a man bun. Does your guy wear a man bun?”

  Nans shook her head.

  The baker shrugged. “Well, then I don’t recall a pencil-mustache man, and the rest are all women. Men tend to shy away from the crystal-sugar-topped items.”

  Lexy nodded in agreement. She’d noticed the same thing in her bakery, and it was probably because men didn’t have the same sweet tooth as women. In general, they tended to go for the less sugary items like hermits, but there was always an exception. She supposed that Henry would stand out as one of those exceptions and thus the baker would remember him. Did that mean that Henry wasn’t the killer, or did more than one bakery sell these corn muffins?

  Helen stepped up to the counter. “What about an older man with arthritis in his hands?”

  The baker shook her head. “Nope, don’t remember him.”

  “Darn.” Helen stepped away and perused the bakery case, apparently disappointed that her description of Mario Blondini didn’t strike a chord.

  “So, what can I get you?” the baker asked.

  “I’ll have one of those corn muffins.” Ida nodded at the muffins she’d just placed in the case. “Wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

  “I’ll have an eclair,” Ruth said.

  “Me too,” Nans added.

  “Nothing for me.” Helen patted her stomach. “Trying to watch my weight.”

  “At least you aren’t cutting out carbs like before,” Ruth said. “You were hard to live with.”

  Helen scowled at Ruth. “I was not!”

  “Were too,” Nans and Ida said in unison.

  Helen smiled. “Well, maybe I was a little.”

  Lexy also declined to order for the same reason, and they left with their purchases.

  Out on the street, Ida reached into her sky-blue bag. Lexy only had white bags at her bakery, but this one was pretty. Maybe she would get pink, with her simple Cup and Cake logo stamped on the top, similar to the simple bee logo stamped on the bag Ida was holding.

  Ida pulled out the corn muffin and took a bite. “This thing’s not bad. Too bad the baker didn’t recognize any of our suspects.”

  “That is disappointing.” Nans pulled her eclair out of her bag, holding it carefully so as not to smudge chocolate all over her fingers. “Maybe we should show her a picture of Henry to be certain.”

  “And Mario,” Helen piped up.

  “She said only the man-bun guy and women bought the muffins, Helen.” Ruth gave Helen a sideways glance. “You might have to admit that Mario is innocent.”

  “Henry or Mario could have had a woman buy them for him,” Ida suggested as she crunched on a sugar crystal.

  “You mean, so that the police couldn’t trace it and he could use the muffin to throw them off track?” Ruth considered this as she chewed on her eclair. “That would be something a strategist like Henry would do.”

  “Indeed,” Nans agreed. “But either way, we need more proof. Henry would have known how to puncture Rosa’s carotid artery with a butter knife, he really has no alibi, and he’s a good strategist. He has at least one motive—the life insurance money—but might even have another if her death had something to do with the heist. Of course, we can’t prove he bought the muffins, so that’s disappointing.”

  “What if Henry really is the mastermind behind the heist and Rosa wasn’t involved? Maybe she found out and threatened to tell,” Ida said.

  “That would be an additional motive,” Nans agreed.

  “Or maybe Rosa was involved and Henry wasn’t and when he found out, he killed her in anger,” Ruth said.

  “Not as strong of a motive.” Nans finished the last of her eclair and wiped the chocolate off her fingertips with a napkin.

  Ruth sighed. “Right. Well, I suppose we are back to square one. Two steps forward and one step back.”

  “Not necessarily.” Helen had stopped in front of a grimy storefront about fifty feet back, and they all turned at the sound of her voice.

  “Why do you say that?” Nans asked.

  “And what are you looking in there for? Are you thinking about getting a tattoo?” Ruth asked.

  “‘Helen for President’ would look great on your bicep,” Ida joked.

  Helen turned and gave Ida a sour look. “If you must know, I think I might be on to something here.” She pointed to the window. “Look.”

  They gathered around Helen, and Lexy squinted at the section Helen was pointing to, where a large piece of paper had samples of the tattoo artist’s work. Smack-dab in the middle was a sample of a very detailed snake tattoo in vibrant greens, reds, and blacks, winding around an arm.

  Nans turned toward the group. “Well ladies, looks like Helen just found our next clue.”

  Chapter 18

  Lexy was surprised at the level of detail in the tattoos pictured on the walls of the shop. The artist was very talented, and each one was a mini work of art. She couldn’t help but smile when picturing Jack’s reaction if she showed up at home with a tattoo. Where would she put it? She’d probably get a cupcake, or maybe her logo.

  “Do you have any samples of cat tattoos?” Lexy’s thoughts were interrupted by Ida’s question. She was at the reception desk talking to a young girl with silver-and-blue hair. The girl’s pierced brows were raised almost to her hairline as she studied Ida, probably trying to determine whether or not she was serious.

  “Dudly does a great tiger.” The girl gestured toward a painfully thin guy who was currently working on a parrot tattoo on the calf of a three-hundred-pound bald man. He glanced up and gave them a gold-capped-tooth smile.

  “Hmmm, not a tiger. I was thinking more like a Persian or a Maine Coon.” Ida flipped through a binder full of tattoo samples.

  “Are all you ladies getting tattoos?” the girl asked. “We have a group rate…”

  “We’re not sure what we want,” Nans said.

  Lexy bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the image of the four ladies all with matching tattoos. Maybe they would get a magnifying glass with a thumbprint to match the logo on their business card. Where would they put it? Upper a
rm? Behind the neck? Of course, Ida would probably want it on her backside.

  “We have some nice butterflies in this book.” The girl flipped open another binder.

  “I was thinking something more reptilian. We have an acquaintance with a snake tattoo like the one in the window. Now, what was her name…” Nans scrunched up her face as if trying to recall the person’s name. “Rita?”

  “No, I think it was Susan,” Ida said, playing along with Nans’s trick of trying to get the name of someone who’d had that tattoo done. This wasn’t the first time Nans had conveniently pretended to forget the name of someone in order to get the person they were questioning to supply her with the actual name.

  “Or was it Debbie?” Nans looked at the girl apologetically. “Sorry, the memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  “Do you mean Ruby? Lives down on Elm Street in that old mill they made into apartments? I did the snake tattoo in the window on her,” the girl said proudly.

  Nans snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s it! Such a lovely tattoo. We were all admiring it.”

  The girl glanced at their wrinkled arms, probably trying to figure out just how she’d replicate such an intricate work of art on the flabby skin. “I guess I could do a group deal on that. It takes a long time. Would be quite a few visits.”

  “Oh dear.” Helen sighed, looking at her watch. “We don’t have a long time. I need to get back on the campaign trail. I’m running for senior community center president, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Ida chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe we should think more on this.”

  “Good idea. Sorry dear, you know how us old ladies are. Change our minds a lot.” Nans headed for the door with Ruth, Ida, and Helen on her heels. Lexy smiled apologetically at the girl behind the counter and followed them out.

  “Thanks for driving us over here, Lexy. I know you have a business to run,” Ida said as they pulled up in front of the brick building on Elm Street.

  “No problem. It’s a slow time of year, and Cassie can handle things without me.” It was the truth, but Lexy had another reason to want to accompany them—she wanted to be there just in case the ladies got into trouble. Ruby was a suspect, and you never knew when things could turn sour. Even though they were very spry and able to handle themselves, they were getting a bit older. And she had to admit, she also wanted to be in the thick of things with the case.