BDM02 - Donuts, Antiques and Murder

by Alabaster, Stacey

  Donuts, Antiques and Murder

  Stacey Alabaster

  Fairfield Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Message to Readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Copyright © 2016 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you and hope that you are just as thrilled to read them.

  If you would like to know about all my new releases and have the opportunity to get free books, make sure you sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/cozy-newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Blood red jam seeped out as I pressed down on the pastry, causing it to drip from the center of the donut.

  The smell of fresh cinnamon sugar sprinkled all over the donut hit my nose. I need to taste test it for the good of the business, I justified to myself before I popped the soft, warm donut in my mouth. Mmm.

  I started coughing and Pippa had to thump my back as the first customers of the day started to pour into my shop, Rachael's Boutique Bakery. I straightened up and put on my brightest smile, my eyes still watering from my near-choke-experience. It probably served me right. I looked down at the trays of jam donuts and then at the line of early bird customers. We'd be lucky if we had enough to last the morning rush.

  One after another they came, flooding the shop and making my heart leap for joy. Only a few months earlier I had thought my poor little bakery was going to perish, but now it was flourishing more than ever before.

  Only one little teeny tiny problem: success can lead to complacency. Worse than that, it can lead to boredom.

  My fingers were itching, and not just to knead dough, but to solve a mystery.

  "Oi!" Pippa reached over and gave me a playful shove. "Stop daydreaming about solving mysteries!" Her hair was bright blue this month and it was often a talking point for customers when they came into the shop. "It's blueberry," she would say with a wink, before trying to sell them one of our fresh blueberry muffins. At least she was creative.

  "I'm not," I said, standing up quickly, embarrassed. "That's all in the past. I'm one hundred percent focused on the bakery now."

  Pippa shot me a skeptical look as a lock of bright blue hair fell into her eyes. "Doesn't look that way to me." She took off her apron, the morning rush over, and began to count the money in the cash register, one of her new tasks as assistant manager. "Besides," she said with a cheeky lift of her brow. "You know I've got plenty of real mysteries for you to solve, if you're into paranormal stuff."

  I groaned. "I wouldn't call those 'real' mysteries, Pippa. I wish you'd stop hanging out with those people." I couldn't care less about hunting cryptoids or chasing ghosts, or whatever it was that Pippa and her new friends were into. I'd had a taste of the real thing; solved a real life murder. And, although I've never wish for harm to fall on anyone, I couldn't help missing the rush that had come with being an amateur detective. Belldale had been quiet—and, yes, boring—for the past two months.

  "Our best morning yet!" Pippa announced with glee as she pushed the register closed again. "A new record."

  We high-fived and I grinned.

  Sure, solving mysteries was fun, but it didn't put money in the bank. The bakery did. I had to remember that.

  Besides, a new record day meant I could finally take the plunge and do something even more exciting than solving a murder mystery.

  I took a deep breath and followed Pippa over to an empty table as she took her break. I let her eat anything she liked on break and today she had chosen a Danish pastry.

  "Guess what, Pippa?" I sat across from her, too excited to eat anything as I readied myself to tell her the exciting news.

  I could see her mind already starting to work as she looked up at the ceiling and poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

  "Hmm, you're finally going on a date with Detective Whitaker!"

  "Pippa! No! Don't be silly."

  "Well, has he called you yet?"

  "Pippa...no...that doesn't matter. That's not my news and I wouldn't be excited about it if it were. Keep guessing."

  She put her Danish down and chewed on it, still pondering.

  "You've found another mystery to solve? Is that it? I know that would make you excited."

  I shook my head. "That's not it."

  She threw her hands in the air and said she was ready to give up. "Besides, cookies need to come out of the oven," she said, hurrying over to the oven to pull out the tray before she gave one last wild guess. "You've won the lottery?"

  "Nope!" I said, pleased that she hadn't guessed. "Pippa, we're expanding the bakery. I'm purchasing the antiques shop next door!"

  The tray of cookies she was carrying crashed to the ground.

  Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Was she happy? Excited? Her wide eyes said otherwise.

  "Rachael," Pippa whispered as she gripped the collar of my shirt. "You can't purchase the antiques shop!" Her face was as white as a ghost.

  "Pippa!" I shook her off and brushed at my shirt. "Why-ever not? I thought you would be pleased for me? For us." Pippa had a...let's just say 'issue' keeping a job longer than a week. Her tenure at my bakery, two months now, was the longest she had ever stayed at a job. I thought she would be thrilled to know that she had secure employment in a blossoming business.

  "I'm pleased that the bakery is successful." Pippa stopped and glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the antiques shop, as though she could see through the brick wall. She shook her head slowly. "But you can't buy the shop next door." She turned back to face me, her eyes still as wide as pies.

  "Rachael, that place is haunted."

  I scoffed. "Oh, come on, Pippa. I know you believe a lot of outlandish things, but this is too much."

  "Rachael!" Her voice was high and indignant. "You must have heard the rumors."

  I walked back to the counter in a little bit of a huff. I felt as though Pippa was raining on my parade. "No, I haven't heard any rumors." I shot Pippa a look. "But I don't really frequent the same places you do."

  I was talking about the Belldale Haunted House tour and the Belldale Paranormal Club. Pippa had recently joined and had attended several of their tours, which took place after dark and involved dragging locals and tourists alike around Belldale's 'most haunted' locations. Pippa had come back to our apartment following these tours and given me several breathless accounts of how amazing and eye-opening they were, while I tried to listen with a straight face.

  Pippa let out a deep sigh. "Well, yes, the haunted house tour was very informative when it came to the antiques shop."

  "Pippa, that whole tour is just a scam to get money. It's a bit of entertainment. You can't take the stories too seriously, and you can't let them impact a business decision."

  "But the rumors have been around for way longer than the tour has been running!" Pippa caught my skeptical expression and lowered her voice. "You know that painting that's been sitting in the corner for years—the one of the young girl and boy."

  I s
wallowed. I knew the one she meant. A large watercolor in a bronze frame of a pair of children, painted like they were in the 1940s, but cartoon like. Both children had been painted with large cartoon-like eyes that dwarfed their faces, and the eyes seemed to follow you. I always hurried past it, it gave me the creeps. The painting had been in the store, in the same place, in the front window, for as long as I could remember.

  "What about it?" I picked up a cloth and began to wipe the tables, as though I wasn't really interested in what Pippa was saying, when actually I had my ears keenly pricked, waiting for her response.

  "They say that painting is haunted. That's why it never sells. No one wants it in their home."

  I stood up straight. "Well, that's the silliest thing I've ever heard." I shook my head. "That painting doesn't sell because it’s over-priced. Not to mention ugly. Besides, the painting won't be there once I buy the store, none of the antiques will."

  Pippa shook her head. "The rumors say that the boy and girl live in the painting…"

  "The boy and girl are painted onto the canvas," I corrected her.

  Pippa ignored me. "The story goes that they live in the shop. They've lived there for decades. That's why the painting never sells. They don't let anyone buy it. They can't be moved from their home. Rachael, if you buy the shop and try to get rid of the painting, then the children will be very upset. They will curse you."

  I stood there staring at Pippa like she had gone out of her mind. "Okay, Pippa, that's a great story. But unfortunately, some of us have to live in reality. Some of us have a business to run."

  "Rachael, I am warning you. If you buy that shop, and try to get rid of the painting, you will pay the price!"

  * * *

  I told Pippa I needed to run to the post office so that she wouldn't try to stop me, but as soon as I was out the door, I went off in the opposite direction, towards the mortgage firm where I was meeting the landlord of the antiques shop--a tall, thin man named Bruce who had a pencil thin mustache and eyebrows that always looked raised.

  He pushed the contract over to me and I gave it a look over. "That should all be in order."

  Yes, I decided. This is the right time to do it. Time to take the plunge.

  "Great," I said, smiling at him. "I'll give it to my lawyer to look over, and then sign it. I should have it back to you by tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?" he asked nervously, his raised eyebrows disappearing even further up into his forehead. "Why can't you sign them now? I can assure you everything is in order."

  I stood up as a show of confidence. "I just need to make sure everything is in place. Tomorrow will be fine, won't it? Not much can change by tomorrow!"

  As soon as I stepped out of the bank, the heavens opened and I stared up at the sky, mouth agape, to find the sky, which had been a bright blue before I'd stepped into the bank, was now practically black, filled with angry swirling clouds that spewed icy rain all over the streets.

  And I didn't even have an umbrella with me.

  Using my purse as a shield over my head, I raced back to the bakery, cursing the fact that I hadn't looked at the weather forecast.

  "It wasn't predicted by the weather weather man," Pippa informed me warily as I shook myself off, causing a small puddle to form in the entryway of the shop. "Where have you been?" She stopped frothing the milk for the cappuccino she was making and looked me up and down.

  "I told you, the post office."

  "The way to the post office is totally covered. You've been the other way."

  Sprung.

  "Okay, fine," I said with a sigh, pulling the contract out of my bag to show her.

  "Oh, Rachael..." Her face was grave. "Aren't you going to listen to anything I told you?"

  "Pippa, it will be fine. I can't be put off by a silly superstition."

  She handed the contract back to me and crossed her arms. "It's more than that, Rachael." She shivered and looked up at the ceiling. "You've set events in motion now by taking that contract."

  "I haven't signed it yet," I pointed out. Not that I believed anything she was going on about.

  "That doesn't matter, Rachael. It will already be starting."

  I sighed and took off my soaking wet red peacoat and hung it on a hook by the door. As I stepped back towards the counter I heard a snapping sound and heard my heavy coat fall to the floor, the hook taking off a chunk of paint and plaster with it as it tumbled after the coat.

  "It's just an old hook, Pippa," I said, staring at it. "And the coat was heavy from the rain."

  "I'm telling you..."

  There was a crashing sound and all of a sudden we were encased in darkness. Outside, the sky was so dark that without lights in the shop, there was no light at all.

  Pippa let out a shriek and rubbed her arms as though she had the worst case of the chills the world had ever seen.

  "It's just a blown fuse, Pippa," I said, catching the gleam of the whites of her eyes. I could tell what she was thinking before she even said it. "Or a power line has come down in the storm. Calm down, Pippa. Think rationally."

  "It's the curse, Rachael. It's already started."

  Chapter 2

  Curses were just going to have to wait. As soon as I had confirmation from my lawyer that I wasn't getting ripped off, all it required was my signature.

  My hand hovered above the blank line. It wasn't Pippa's curse getting in my head. It was a different kind of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failing.

  It hadn't been that long ago that I'd thought my bakery was going to go under. Could I really take a risk like this? What if disaster struck again?

  What if there really was a curse?

  I shook myself off. That was the dumbest fear of them all. Trying not to let my worries get a second look in, I scrawled my name across the dotted line.

  "There!" I said proudly. "Done." Now it was just a matter of handing it in. "See," I said out loud as I grabbed my coat. "I knew nothing would happen between yesterday and today."

  Pippa was still fast asleep on the sofa. She had enough money now to afford her own place, but she'd said she'd gotten into the habit of sleeping there and was in no hurry to hunt for apartments yet and my sofa was a great rent saver. Truthfully, I thought the stories from the paranormal club had gotten to her and she was too scared to live alone but didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I didn't mind her living with me, I only wished I had a second bedroom. I glanced down at the contract, hot in my hands. All my extra funds had to go into the business for the time being, not into a bigger apartment.

  "Come on, Pips, I can't wait for you forever," I called out.

  Pippa lifted her head off the sofa and pouted with her arms crossed over her chest. "Well, you're going to have to. I'm not coming. I can't be a part of this curse."

  I stood there with my mouth wide open. "What do you mean you're not coming? Thanks for the support, Pip. This is kind of a big deal for me, you know. I was counting on my friend for moral support."

  A look of guilt interrupted Pippa's pout. She tossed the covers off and stood up with a sigh. "Fine. I will come with you to hand over the papers. But if anything spooky or scary happens, I am out of there."

  "Nothing spooky or scary is going to happen, Pippa. Come on."

  * * *

  I had spoken far too soon.

  "What the heck is going on down there?" Pippa stopped short in the middle of the street while I stood next to her, shivering and wanting to get a move on. There was a definite winter's chill in the air and I was keen to get indoors.

  "Don't get distracted, Pippa. We've got to get to the antique shop."

  Pippa pointed. "That's where all the fuss is, Rach. Look."

  I stopped and looked towards where she pointed. In front of the antiques shop was a bunch of police vans, and the entire store had been taped off with police tape.

  "What the..." I murmured. I began to hurry towards the shop, but Pippa grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back.

  Please just let it be a brea
k-in, I thought.

  "Rach, I told you, if anything scary happens..."

  "Pippa, I'm about to be the owner of that shop that is surrounded by police! I need to find out what is happening." I broke free of her grip and hurried towards the scene where I saw a familiar face.

  "Detective Whitaker," I said, coming to a stop.

  Uh-oh. If he was here, that meant it was serious. It was unlikely to be just a simple robbery.

  It seemed to take him a few moments to register who I was. I tried not to take it personally.

  "Rachael," he said as he stopped whatever he was writing on his notepad.

  "Jackson, what's happening?" My voice came out far more vexed and breathless than I'd intended it to. I tried to push past, craning my neck to get a better look at what was happening inside the shop, but Jackson stopped me.

  "This is police business, Rachael. You can't get back there."

  "But I'm the owner of the store. At least, I'm about to be." He frowned so I pulled the contract out of my coat pocket and waved it around in his face, as though the act might grant me access to the crime scene.

  "But you're not the owner now?" Jackson looked very serious.

  "Well, no," I said helplessly. "But I'm buying this shop. Please, you need to tell me what is going on. I need to know if I've made a huge mistake." I looked up at him and made my best damsel-in-distress face. "Please, Jackson," I whispered. "As a friend."

  I wasn't sure that's what we were, exactly, but he looked left and right at the crowd and then nodded at me slightly.

  "There's been a body found inside," he said quietly, not quite looking at me as he spoke. He glanced all around him to make sure that no one overheard us. "A young man by the looks of it."

  "A body?" My heart froze and I could feel a hard lump in my throat.

  Not again.

  "Like...a dead body?" I whispered.