Trick or Murder: A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Book 12

by Point, Rosie A.

  “Sort of.”

  “Uh oh. What’s up?”

  That was all it took. My concerns about the murder investigation and my unhappiness about my friend not wanting to investigate came pouring out in a big rush of information. Jamie listened patiently until the tirade finished.

  “Wow,” he said. “Seems like trouble follows you wherever you go.”

  “Right?” I stopped and sat down on a bench. I’d lost myself in Prattlebark Village’s twisting roads, but I recognized the library across from me. I was a block away from the guesthouse.

  “So, you think that this Jack guy is innocent, Bee thinks he’s guilty, and she doesn’t want to look into it anymore?”

  “Precisely.”

  “That’s a bit selfish of her,” Jamie said, and I could almost hear his frown.

  “I wouldn’t say selfish. I can’t force her to check it out if she thinks it’s a lost cause.”

  “Yeah, but Ruby, haven’t there been times when you haven’t wanted to get involved in a case and she swept you up in it anyway?”

  There had been multiple times. “Yes, but there was always a part of me that wanted to know… the truth.”

  “Still,” Jamie said. “Doesn’t matter, though. Like you said, you can’t force her to help you if she doesn’t want to.”

  I bit my lip, staring over at the library. It was a grand building, two floors high, brick walls, its polished doors thrown open on a view of the entryway, filled with light and bookcases, likely groaning under the weight of the knowledge they held.

  “But you definitely want to figure this out?” Jamie asked. “There’s no way you’ll drop it?”

  “I want to help Jack.”

  “Then you need to think about all the information you have. The suspects. The people who were in closest proximity to the crime scene.”

  “Yes, OK.” This was what I needed. Advice from an ex-detective.

  “Try not to focus too much on one suspect or the other,” he continued, “but follow the leads. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, perfect sense, thank you.” My shoulders relaxed.

  “It’s nothing, Ruby. I just want to see you happy.”

  Why? “Thanks. Uh, you too.”

  “I’ve been thinking about coming down there to pay you a visit,” Jamie said. “I’ve got nothing else to do in Muffin, and things have been mostly quiet since you left.”

  “Mostly?”

  “No murders.”

  “Oh, well that’s good,” I said. “Glad to know it’s just us that’s inundated with them.”

  His laugh warmed me from the inside out. “Would you like me to visit you? I’m ready to drive up, but I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  My brain short-circuited, and I blinked, trying to gather my brain cells together to formulate an answer.

  “Too soon?” Jamie asked. “No problem. Maybe another time. Listen, I’ll let you go. I’ve got to take the car to the—”

  “Jamie, wait!” I squeaked.

  “Yeah?” The mirth in his tone brought heat to my cheeks.

  “I would—I’d like it if you came to visit. I think we’ll be here for a few months, so that would be nice. I mean, there’s no rush, but it would be nice.”

  “Maybe for Christmas,” he said. “I’ve got a gift for you all picked out.”

  “You do?”

  “I do,” he replied.

  Oh heavens, that meant I’d have to find him the perfect gift. And I didn’t have nearly as many resources as he did, given that he was now a multi-millionaire.

  “Please don’t get me anything too big,” I said. “I’d hate it if I couldn’t get you something equally nice.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” Jamie replied. “And for heaven’s sake, let me spoil you.”

  “Jamie!”

  He chuckled, sending a shiver over my skin. “See you soon, gorgeous.”

  He hung up, and I was left with swirling nerves and a sputtering heart. Was it normal to be swept off one’s feet like this? I’d never experienced anything like it. Not even with my ex-fiancé, Daniel. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom why Jamie, handsome, smart, super rich thanks to his inheritance, with an amazing personality, was interested in me.

  That wasn’t just my insecurity talking. I was so normal. And he was so… not normal.

  Focus! Focus on what he said about the investigation.

  The sooner I figured this out, the sooner Jack would be out of trouble, and I could get back to being besties with Bee without the awkwardness between us.

  I opened my notepad app on my phone and jotted down the names of my suspects.

  Leslie—witch dressed as hippie. Was there and sort of accused the clown. Thought Jack didn’t do it. No evidence. More research?

  Bobo the Clown—terrifying. Fake knife. Said he saw Jack push Vera. Leaving town now, and Snodgrass is letting him go. Probably not the murderer? Motivation?

  Jack—money motivation, but why now? He’d lived with his sister for years. Jules said that they had an argument, but she also victim-shamed Vera. Don’t know about this…

  The girls—two college-aged girls talking about a boy at the crime scene? Least connection to Vera, and I don’t even know what their names are. Definitely need to talk to them. Get more info here. But how?

  I didn’t know the young women. I had to find them somehow. Maybe if I asked around. Oh! I could speak to Francescan. She knew everybody in town and—

  Two figures emerged from the library, arm-in-arm, both on their cellphones. They exchanged a few words, but their attention was consumed by whatever was on the screens. One had brown hair cut to her chin, and the other raven black hair sweeping to the small of her back. They wore matching striped shirts and blue jeans.

  It was them. The girls.

  This had to be a sign from above that I was meant to help Jack. That or this was a small town and it was easy to run into people.

  What do I do?

  Chase after them? Question them?

  I rose from the bench, tucking my phone into the front pocket of my apron.

  Follow them.

  12

  I wasn’t built for stealth. Yes, I had a black belt in karate, but it was a miracle I’d achieved that in my younger years, given that I was about as elegant as a walrus on a beach. I tried to make myself small, following along behind the young women as they ambled down the sidewalk and into a wealthier suburb of Prattlebark Village.

  It was the same area where Mayor McKene stayed, so at least I’d find my way out of here when this was over.

  The girls’ obsession with their phones worked in my favor. They didn’t look back once. But they also weren’t talking, which wasn’t a great help for the investigation. Gosh, could I really call it that when I’d done nothing of use except annoy my friend and worry about a man I barely knew?

  “Ha!” One of the women stopped mid-stride. “Becca, we nearly walked past my house. Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Uh, I’m not exactly your keeper, girl. I’ve got to control where you walk as well as where I walk? Get real.”

  OK, so the one with the long black hair is Becca.

  The girls backtracked and entered the yard of a gorgeous two-story home with pristine white walls. They didn’t enter the front door, however, with its scary pumpkin head door-knocker, but walked around the side.

  My heart sat in my throat.

  Are you just going to stand here? Do something!

  It went against my gut instinct, but I hopped over the white picket fence and followed Becca and her friend down the side of the house. I reached the corner in time to witness them clambering up a wooden ladder attached to a massive oak tree. They disappeared into a treehouse wedged between its boughs. The tree house had a single window, and, thankfully, the girls didn’t look out of it.

  “What now?” I murmured.

  It looked as if nobody was home, apart from Becca and her brunette friend. Now was my chance to e
avesdrop on their conversation and find out if they knew anything. It probably wasn’t a good idea to climb up the ladder and start questioning them. They’d call the cops.

  Detective Snodgrass would drag my booty over coals if she found out I was here. Breaking laws. Again.

  Sweat gathered on my upper lip, and I brought out a tissue and wiped it away.

  You can do this.

  Silent as a squirrel, I darted to the tree and grabbed hold of the first rung of the wooden ladder. My clammy fingertips threatened to slip, but I clung to the wooden rungs for dear life, climbing silently, one-by-one.

  The trapdoor that led into the treehouse proper was open, and the girls’ chatter drifted down.

  “—Laci.” Becca’s voice was nasal, haughty even. “You know that’s a bad idea, so I don’t see why you’d want to even talk to him about it.”

  “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend?” Laci, who had to be the brunette, countered. “I-I don’t know, Becca, I just feel like we should talk to Heathcliff. He’d totally know what to do.”

  “You’re insane. You want to involve more people? If Heathcliff found out, he’d dump you so fast, your head would spin.”

  “It was an innocent mistake,” Laci said. “He’d understand. He’d help us.”

  “Help us?”

  Tense quiet followed. One of the college girls struck a match. The scent of cigarette smoke drifted down, and I wriggled my nose, begging myself not to sneeze. That would be so like me at this point. Sneeze and give away my position. Gosh, if Laci’s parents came home and looked out their kitchen window, they’d have a heart attack.

  What must I look like, clinging to the side of a tree like a spider monkey, unmoving and sweaty?

  “You know,” Becca said, sucking on the cigarette and releasing a loud breath, “if you had just listened to me in the first place, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “I know.” Laci was downtrodden. “Becca, I’m scared. What if they find out about it?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Becca replied. “I told you I’d help you and trust me when I say that telling Heathcliff about this is not the answer. You’ll regret it, OK?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t keep it inside anymore.”

  “Laci.”

  “Fine. Fine. I won’t say anything,” she replied. “I wish… I wish we’d just gone to his house for the Halloween party.”

  “Yeah, well.” Becca flicked her stub out of the treehouse’s hatch, and it struck me in the forehead, spitting flecks of hot ash onto my skin.

  I bit back a yelp and shook my head. It dropped past my ear and out of sight.

  “—you’re fine.”

  “That haunted house was so creepy,” Laci said.

  “Don’t talk about it. I’ve already got nightmares thanks to that place. And that… lady.” Another cigarette was lit, and I blinked. Apparently, Becca was a chain smoker. That or she was nervous about something.

  Were they talking about the murder? Or was the conversation Laci wanted to have with her boyfriend about something else? Something college girls would be worried about? And why on earth was a guy from Wuthering Heights involved?

  “So, what do we do now?” Laci asked.

  “We chill,” Becca said. “Wait for it to blow over. Besides, we’re leaving in a few days, you know?”

  “My mom’s already asking questions.” Laci put on a high-pitched whine. “Why haven’t you gone back to college, Laci? Why haven’t we seen you studying, Laci? She’s convinced I’m about to drop out.”

  “Is she wrong?”

  “Forgive me for not wanting to—”

  A second cigarette butt flew out of the bottom hatch of the treehouse. This one got caught in my hair. I shook my head again, my sweaty fingertips slipping on the wooden rung.

  “What’s that smell?” Becca asked. “Ew. Kind of smells like burning hair?”

  My eyes widened. I sucked in a gasp, reached up with one hand and ruffled my hair, frantically. The cigarette butt fell free, but it was too late for me. My fingers slipped off the ladder and I fell, an involuntary yip erupting from my lips. I landed, splat, in a bush near the base of the tree.

  “What was that?” Laci asked.

  Becca’s face appeared in the treehouse’s open hatchway. “Hey!” she screeched. “Hey! There’s someone down there.”

  I scrambled upright, taking half the bush with me, and ran for the back fence. I slammed into it, oofing in the most ladylike fashion, and hooked my fingers over the fence’s edge. Up and over I went, while Becca and Laci screamed blue murder and ‘intruder’ at the top of their lungs.

  I sprinted through a back yard, leaped over another fence, and finally emerged into a road in suburbia. The girls’ distant cries followed me, so I jogged for it, cursing myself—not only had I been discovered, but I was seriously unfit.

  By the time I reached the town square, the adrenaline had worn off and been replaced by pain in my lower back, and shame that radiated through my chest.

  I had found out that the girls had something to hide. But that didn’t mean anything because I had no idea what it was, and if it was even relevant to the case.

  I limped back to the truck, drawing stares from the customers lined up in front of it, and entered the side door.

  Bee looked up from the register. “Good heavens. You look like you need a coffee.”

  At least I could rely on my friend. Even if it wasn’t to help with the investigation.

  13

  The following morning…

  The aches and pains were way worse after a bad night’s sleep, but I didn’t complain. Bee would ask questions, and I was worried it would drive an even bigger wedge between us. She’d been subdued last night and had barely said anything this morning.

  The Oaken Branch Guesthouse’s dining area was packed with diners this morning, chatting, paging through the newspaper, or tucking into their breakfasts.

  Bee ate her cheesy omelet, her gaze fixed on the newspaper laid out on the table.

  I’d already demolished a croissant with jam, and had moved on to two eggs, sunny side up, on English muffins. Apparently, investigating made me hungry.

  “These eggs are amazing,” I said.

  “Hmm.” Bee paged through the paper. “Good as always. I was thinking we should go out to have lunch somewhere else, today. You know, explore the town a bit. Not the Diggin’ It Diner, though.”

  “That sounds good to me.” Assuming I wasn’t following a lead.

  But I didn’t have anything of note, other than this Heathcliff guy and the two girls. With nothing else suspicious going on, I didn’t have a choice. I’d have to find out where he stayed and go from there.

  Which called for a visit to the one and only Francescan. Something Bee would never go for, as she hated the all-pink most popular woman in Prattlebark Village.

  “Reading the newspaper?” Jules arrived at our table. “Did you see the article about Snodgrass?”

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “Oh, it’s a raving piece of how well she did bringing down Vera’s killer,” Jules said, smiling. “Didn’t I tell you it was that Jack who did it? He was pretending the entire time. Ha. I should be an investigator, you know. I’ve always had the knack for it.”

  Bee paged until she found the relevant section of text and read it, skepticism written all over her face. “While I agree that Jack is the murderer, I can’t support this.” She flicked the newspaper page. “Snodgrass did her job. That’s about it. It’s not like she did a great one when the previous murder happened.”

  “True,” Jules said, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of gossip. “So, you think she’s not a good detective?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Bee folded the newspaper and set it aside.

  “Right. Enjoy your breakfasts, ladies.” Jules swept off, but I doubted that she’d let go of what Bee had said. If anything, it would be all over Prattlebark Village before the end of the day.

  �
�Ready for the day?” Bee asked.

  “Just about,” I said. “I was hoping to go for a morning walk first.”

  “Rather you than me,” Bee replied. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. I need two more coffees before we hit the truck. Meet you there in forty-five minutes or so?”

  “Make it an hour and you’ve got a deal.”

  We shook on it just for fun, and I grinned at Bee. Thankfully, there were no awkward vibes between us, and it would probably stay that way if I didn’t bring up the murder investigation. Hopefully.

  I finished off my eggs then got up and waved to Jules. It was time to get investigating.

  Boy, who’d have thought I’d ever do this type of thing on my own?

  * * *

  “Francescan?” I stopped next to the most popular woman in Prattlebark Village. She didn’t make me nervous, but the thought of talking to this Heathcliff guy did. “Hello, Francescan?”

  She sat on a bench on the sidewalk across from the town square. It was her favorite morning spot, where she’d catch up on all the ‘goss’ as she called it, from the local residents, before heading over to the truck for what she assumed were carb-free treats. No matter how many times we told her they were carb-heavy, she didn’t register the truth.

  “Francescan?”

  The pink-haired, pink-glossed, pink-clothed woman looked up from her iPad. “Oh hi,” she said, then did a double-take. “Oh hi! You’re the cookie woman.”

  “Ruby,” I said.

  “Right, yeah, of course. Ruby. What are you doing here? Where’s the truck?”

  “We’re opening a little later today,” I said.

  “Oh, well, that messes up my plans. Like, totally wanted to grab a no-carb donut before I got to work.”

  “Work?”

  “Yeah, I’m, like, a social media influencer, so it’s super important that I share everything and connect with my followers all the time. They’ll be expecting a donut post this morning,” Francescan said, rolling her eyes.

  “I, uh, well, I can give you a whole box of donuts later on, if you’ll just, uh, help me with something?”