Dead Velvet Cake

by James, Emily

  Dead Velvet Cake

  Emily James

  Stronghold Books

  Copyright © 2020 by Emily James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. It’s okay to quote a small section for a review or in a school paper. To put this in plain language, this means you can’t copy my work and profit from it as if it were your own. When you copy someone’s work, it’s stealing. No one likes a thief, so don’t do it. Pirates are not nearly as cool in real life as they are in fiction.

  For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.

  Emily James

  authoremilyjames@gmail.com

  www.authoremilyjames.com

  This is a work of fiction. I made it up. You are not in my book. I probably don’t even know you. If you’re confused about the difference between real life and fiction, you might want to call a counselor rather than a lawyer because names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are a product of my twisted imagination. Real locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, and institutions is completely coincidental.

  Editor: Christopher Saylor at www.saylorediting.wordpress.com/services/

  Cover Design: Mariah Sinclair at www.mariahsinclair.com

  Published September 2020 by Stronghold Books

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-988480-29-9; Print Book ISBN 978-1-988480-30-5

  Contents

  Also by Emily James

  Free Tips for Amazing Cupcakes

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Recipe: Red Velvet Cupcakes

  Letter from the Author

  Maple Syrup Mysteries

  About the Author

  Also by Emily James

  Maple Syrup Mysteries

  Sapped: A Maple Syrup Mysteries Prequel

  A Sticky Inheritance

  Bushwhacked

  Almost Sleighed

  Murder on Tap

  Deadly Arms

  Capital Obsession

  Tapped Out

  Bucket List

  End of the Line

  Slay Bells Ringing

  (also contains a Cupcake Truck Mystery novella)

  Rooted in Murder

  Guilty or Knot

  Stumped

  Cupcake Truck Mysteries

  Sugar and Vice

  Dead Velvet Cake

  Gum Drop Dead (coming soon!)

  Free Tips for Amazing Cupcakes

  Each book in the Cupcake Truck Mysteries includes a cupcake recipe, but even when you have a great recipe, baking the perfect cupcake can sometimes be hard.

  To receive the top 10 tips for amazing cupcakes (inspired by the Cupcake Truck Mysteries sleuth, Isabel), sign up for my newsletter at www.subscribepage.com/cupcakes.

  (If you’re already a member of my newsletter, no need to worry. I’ve emailed you a link to the tips too!)

  1

  Rule #1 of self-preservation: Never run toward a scream.

  The raised woman’s voice that cut through the thick afternoon air wasn’t exactly a scream. It was more of a don’t touch me, but it seemed like the ingrained human instinct would still apply. Your average person didn’t run toward a cry for help. It’s why the first thing women are taught for self-defense is to yell fire instead if you’re being attacked. People will come if they think there’s a wreak they can gawk at or if they might need to protect their property from a threat.

  The voices reached me again. My stomach felt like it’d tumbled over a cliff, and I paused midway through locking down the flap on my food truck.

  That instinct to run from danger kept people safe. Very few people will run toward danger to protect someone else. It’s why I always believed that police officers and other first responders should be paid more than men whose only talent was to throw, catch, or whack a ball.

  I finished securing the flap, every muscle in my back so tense they ached like I’d fallen on something unyielding.

  The voice of Fear in my head told me I’d be stupid if I went toward the potential danger instead of away from it.

  But that wasn’t what I’d want someone to do if I were the one screaming. In fact, I’d be dead now if someone hadn’t helped me when I needed it. Janie would be dead now too, and the world would be a much darker place without that little girl in it.

  I quickly locked the door on my truck and pocketed my keys.

  There was a very good chance I’d regret this, but I didn’t want to be one of those people who heard a scream, did nothing, and read about a murder or rape the next day in the newspaper. How did those people justify it to themselves?

  I marched toward where it seemed like the original call had come from. The closer I got to the corner, the louder the voices became. A man’s and a woman’s.

  I slowed. Based on the volume of their voices, they were on the main street. No serious harm could come to someone out in the open like that. We were at the end of the lunch hour. The rush was down to a trickle, but the streets of the downtown business district were still far from empty.

  I could head back without leaving the woman in any real danger surely.

  “No,” the woman’s voice came again, clearer this time. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  Her words sounded firm, but there was a tremor to her voice, as if she wasn’t sure she could back up what she said.

  Worse, I recognized the voice.

  It belonged to Eve. She was one of my testers. If I had a new cupcake flavor available when she stopped by, she got it for free in exchange for honest feedback.

  Even before she’d joined my small, brave team of testers, she’d once been kind to me when I needed it. I’d accidentally served her barbecue sauce on what should have been a cherries jubilee cupcake. Instead of being angry, she’d checked to see if I was okay.

  I wouldn’t have called us friends, but we chatted more than I did with almost any other regular who came to my truck.

  She’d been at my truck not ten minutes ago and left with a strawberry shortcake cupcake.

  I don’t know if I’d have turned back had the voice belonged to a stranger, but I couldn’t since it belonged to Eve. Turning my back on someone who’d once shown me a kindness wasn’t something even Fear could convince me to do.

  Silly as it probably made me look, I planted my hands on my hips and threw my shoulders back into a Superman pose for a second. According to an article in The Positivity Project, it was supposed to make you more confident. The article had been specifically talking about doing it in a bathroom stall before a job interview, but it should apply here as well.

  I forged forward around the corner.

  Eve stood on the sidewalk in front of me. A tall man with muscles visible even under his dress shirt held her by the wrist. His grip didn’t look painfully tight, but the way she leaned back from him clearly said she wanted him to let go.

  People slowed and swiveled their heads to watc
h the scene as they passed. No one had stopped.

  My blood thrummed in my chest and buzzed in my ears. Interrupting wasn’t my place. I wasn’t big or strong. I certainly wasn’t brave.

  But if a normal person like me didn’t say something when another person was in distress, what kind of world did that leave us? A world where men like my husband Jarrod won.

  If this man was Eve’s Jarrod, I wasn’t going to let her suffer in silence the way I had. I certainly wasn’t going to let him bully her back into submission.

  I sucked in a breath big enough that my lungs seemed to stretch, and I practically stomped over to Eve’s side.

  The sunglasses that she always kept perched on the top of her head had fallen to the ground.

  I scooped them up and held them out to her. “Are you okay?”

  Eve’s gaze flickered from the man to me. Her head shook a tiny bit. The movement was so small that had her earrings not swayed, I might have missed it.

  “I’m fine,” she said in contradiction to her head shake.

  I leveled my gaze to the hold he still had on her wrist and back up. “Are you sure?”

  The man dropped her wrist. “This is a private conversation.”

  My insides felt about as stable as melted chocolate. I really wasn’t brave enough for this.

  Apologize, Fear hissed in my head. Walk away while you still can. This isn’t any of your business.

  Despite Eve’s words, the skin around her eyes was red and tight in a way that said she was trying not to cry.

  I couldn’t leave her here.

  I just had to pretend I was Claire. No one messed with Claire. She was like an earthquake and a tsunami in a human body. That quality had terrified me when I’d first met her after being hired to cater her grandfather’s hundredth birthday party, but the longer I’d known her, the more I’d come to respect it.

  What would Claire say? Claire would tell him that if it was a private conversation, they should probably be having it in private.

  As much as I might like Claire’s bravado right now, I was no Claire.

  My only other role model for tough situations was Nicole Fitzhenry-Dawes—a friend and criminal defense attorney who lived in a different town. Nicole would have had a brilliant diplomatic way out of this, tricking the man into believing that it was his idea to walk away.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t Claire or Nicole. All I was good at was hiding and running.

  And maybe being a bit deceptive in order to stay safe.

  Fear might have had the right idea.

  I plastered an I’m-no-threat smile on my face. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” I shifted my gaze to catch Eve’s for a second. “I think you forgot your wallet at my truck, Eve. I wanted to catch you before you got too far away. Could you come back and see if it’s yours?”

  My voice sounded only marginally steadier than Eve’s. At least we had strength in numbers now.

  She lowered a hand to her oversized purse. “My wallet?”

  The confusion in her voice was so genuine that I wasn’t sure if she believed me or if she was a better actress than I was.

  “Mmm hmm,” I said. “I think it’s yours anyway.” I tried to signal her with my eyes that this was her opportunity to get away if she needed it.

  The look the man gave me said he thought some species of bugs were smarter than I was. “And you couldn’t have brought it with you?”

  At least he bought my ploy. I didn’t know whether he was abusive to Eve or not, but he certainly thought he was the smartest person in any room, and that worked in our favor.

  I dropped my gaze as if I should have thought of that. “I thought it’d be safer locked in my truck. I didn’t want to risk losing someone else’s wallet.”

  Come on, Eve, I silently urged. We’ve talked enough times that you should realize I’m not this dense.

  The man huffed a sigh.

  Something flashed across Eve’s face. “That makes sense.” Her voice pitched a little too high to be natural. “I’ll run back with Isabel for a second.”

  The man’s eyebrows drew down, making him look a bit like the hand-drawn pictures of Neanderthals in my old high school textbooks. It contrasted with the pressed shirt, trendy tie, and dress pants he wore. “Or you could be sensible and check your purse. If your wallet’s in there, you won’t waste any more time on this. If you were more careful with your belongings, we wouldn’t even have to wonder.”

  Shoot. Checking in her purse made complete sense.

  Eve opened her purse and poked around slowly with one finger. “I don’t think it’s in here.”

  The man snatched her purse from her hands. So much for the societal convention that men don’t go into a woman’s purse. Jarrod had never followed that rule either.

  He pulled her wallet out immediately. “What’s this then?” He shoved her wallet back in and tossed the purse at her. “What’s going on here?”

  I couldn’t bring in enough air, as if I had a piece of cloth over my face. I stepped back before I could stop myself. Butting in to their argument had been foolish. If this guy turned out to be abusive, I’d now made this so much worse for Eve.

  I should have known better.

  The only thing you could do to help someone in an abusive situation was to get them out. Aggravating their abuser only made things worse.

  Eve rolled her eyes. I think she meant it to lighten the mood, but she looked a bit like a spooked horse. “I don’t have my contacts in. You know I can’t see a thing without them.”

  She held out her hand to him, not meeting my gaze. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to tell her I should have known better. I wanted to tell her that if she wanted out permanently, I’d find a way to help her.

  And I couldn’t say any of it.

  “We’re already late.” He took her hand, his grip tight. He turned a knife-sharp look on me. “Stay away from us, and mind your own business. People who butt in where they’re not wanted make trouble for themselves.”

  I heard the threat underlying his words as clearly as if he’d stated it bluntly.

  I couldn’t meet up with him again, even accidentally. I couldn’t risk that he’d follow through with his threat. I couldn’t risk that Eve would stand up to him one day, and he’d blame me—seeking me out where he knew I’d be every day. I couldn’t risk that he’d see us together even innocently and punish her for it later.

  The best way to stay safe and to protect Eve was to give up my regular lunchtime spot and never return to it again.

  2

  Janie curled her feet up onto the dining room chair so that she looked a bit like a bird perched on a fence. The sit-squat was her usual routine for near the end of the meal, when she really wanted to move around, but knew she needed to wait.

  Claire—unlike usual—didn’t reprimand her for it, and Dan simply pointed at her plate to remind her to eat as well as talk. I didn’t say or do anything, even though her method of eating in a squat on a chair tended to make me worry she’d choke on something if she slipped. I’d been eating Sunday dinner with them for the past two months since we’d been thrown together by the murder of Claire and Dan’s grandfather, but I wasn’t really a relative. I didn’t want to overstep my place.

  Janie shoved a piece of roasted chicken into her mouth and gave a wiggle. “Which one do you think I should get Isabel?”

  I shoveled a bite of now-cold green beans into my own mouth to buy myself some time. I hadn’t been paying as much attention as I should have to Janie’s chatter. Normally, hearing all about her week cheered me up even after the most lackluster day.

  Today, my stomach felt full with the anxious feeling I’d had since my run-in with Eve and the man. My body didn’t have room for anything else—thoughts or food.

  But none of that was Janie’s fault.

  “Which one do you want more?” I asked.

  Given enough time, she’d fill in the gaps over whether we were talking about stickers vs a bubble blower
or whatever she’d been offered.

  “I want both, but Daddy says I can only have either a puppy or a kitten, not both. I tried to tell him that six is old enough to take care of both. And you or Auntie Claire might still need to get me a birthday present so you could get me the one I don’t get from Daddy.”

  Dan lifted his napkin to his mouth, but I caught a glimpse of a grin before he did. “You’re only allowed one, at least until we see how well you take care of it.”

  Janie pouted out her bottom lip and swirled her remaining green beans around on her plate. I glanced at Claire, but she didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Okay.” Janie’s frown vanished as quickly as it’d come. She focused back on me again. “Which one would you pick?”

  “I love both. Are you going to get them from the shelter where the ones who most need a home are?”

  “Yup. Daddy says people forget about those ones, and they’ll be the most excited to be in our family.”

  So the cost of the future pet wasn’t an issue. The adoption fee from the shelter was minimal. What was probably more important here was which pet Janie would find easiest to care for long-term. Or which pet Dan would find easiest to care for if this experiment failed. I knew Dan was too responsible to abandon a pet simply because Janie didn’t follow through on her promises.

  I tapped my lips as if considering my answer. “You know doggies need to go outside to the bathroom even in the winter when it’s cold.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds as if thinking that through. “And Daddy says I have to clean up the poopy of whatever I get.”