Speak With Confection: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery

by Ruth Hartzler

  “We don’t want anybody to know we’re investigating, though,” I said.

  “Especially not Jane’s detective.” Matilda chuckled.

  “He is not my detective,” I said and then quickly added, “He’s not even on the case. Detective Stirling is the one who impounded my car and took Matilda and Eleanor in for questioning.”

  A knowing look passed over Wanda’s face. I expect Waneta had told her mother what she thought of Detective Stirling’s investigation.

  We thanked Wanda once more and took our cups into the kitchen. She insisted we take the remainder of the dry bottom Shoo-fly pie with us. “It’s wonderful you have a new house, Jane,” she said.

  “You must come and see it,” I said. “Bring Waneta too. You must come over for dinner.”

  “Denki, that would be gut.”

  As we walked away, Eleanor said, “See, I told you I was learning Pennsylvania Dutch. She said, ‘Thank you, that would be good.’”

  Matilda stopped walking and stomped her foot. “Honestly, Eleanor! Sometimes I think you have completely taken leave of your senses. Obviously, that’s what it meant. Anybody would know that. Every time someone says ‘Denki, that would be gut,’ you always say ‘I know what that means.’”

  “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do!”

  “In the car, both of you,” I said. “We have to go home and figure out what to do next.”

  “I know what we have to do next,” Matilda said. “We have to investigate Horatio.” She said the words with relish.

  My stomach sank. “I hope that doesn’t mean breaking and entering?”

  Matilda simply chuckled.

  Chapter 12

  I’d had a fairly pleasant night’s sleep. The previous evening, we had driven past Horatio’s house several times and had not seen anybody. Eleanor had convinced me to drive past in the evening, but no lights were on. Just where was Horatio? We were keen to question him, under a pretext of course, but had not been able to find him.

  On the bright side, I had a dinner date with Damon to look forward to. Also, there had been no word from Detective Stirling, which I took as a very good sign

  I was sitting by myself, drinking my coffee in peace in the kitchen, hoping that Matilda and Eleanor had given up the idea of investigating, when Eleanor burst into the room. “The funeral is today!”

  I jumped, almost spilling my coffee. “Today?”

  Matilda stumbled into the kitchen. “Tell me after I have some coffee soup.”

  Eleanor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I don’t how you can eat that stuff.”

  “I liked it the first time I had it at Wanda’s house,” Matilda said. “It’s a nice breakfast with the added benefit of caffeine. You should try some, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor clutched her iPad to her chest and backed away. “No way! Anyway, did you hear what I said?”

  “Caffeine first, hearing second,” Matilda said. After her breakfast was prepared, she sat down at the kitchen table next to Eleanor.

  Mr. Crumbles jumped into Eleanor’s lap and looked over at Matilda’s food. “You wouldn’t like it, trust me,” Eleanor said.

  “What’s this about a funeral?” Matilda said.

  “Why, it’s Gemma Calhoun’s funeral obviously.”

  Matilda was visibly annoyed. “Obviously! I know that. Why is it today?”

  “How would I know why it’s being held today?”

  I thought I had better intervene. “How did you find out the funeral was today?”

  “I joined the Facebook page for the local dairy goat exhibitors and breeders in this area,” Eleanor told me. “There was a post earlier this morning that said the funeral is today.”

  “Isn’t it strange that the police would release the body so soon?” I asked them.

  Both sisters shrugged. “Not if the police have everything they need, which they obviously do,” Matilda said. “It must be cut and dried that the coolant killed her.”

  “And I think we were right to suspect the son more than anybody else,” Eleanor continued, “given that the vic is being cremated.”

  Matilda tapped her chin. “Aha! Cremation—that’s always suspicious. If the murderer has any control over the burial, he or she usually selects cremation to make it harder for the police going forward.”

  “But you said the police only released her body because they had everything they needed,” I protested.

  “I’m sure I could quote many cases where the police thought they had everything they needed but later wished they’d still had the body,” Matilda said. “Still, as much as we dislike Detective Stirling, he’s no fool. He is not as good as your detective, Jane, but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

  I clasped my hands. “Excellent! Well, that settles it then. We’ll leave Detective Stirling to get on with his job solving the case, and we’ll go back to our usual lives.”

  Matilda and Eleanor gasped in unison. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Jane?” Matilda said. “I don’t trust the man that much! No, he’s already taken us in for questioning, and until this murder is solved, we are still persons of interest to him. We need to solve this murder and do it as fast as possible.”

  For once, Eleanor quickly agreed with her. “We need to go to the funeral today.”

  “I don’t know if Rebecca can spare me from the shop,” I said, hoping Rebecca wouldn’t be able to give me any time off.

  “I’m sure she will,” Matilda said.

  And, much to my dismay, it turned out she was right. Matilda had asked Rebecca if I could attend the funeral. Rebecca had only been too pleased to let me go, despite me wriggling my eyebrows and shaking my head behind Matilda’s back.

  Rebecca ushered me out of the door. “Things are a little quiet at the moment, and there is no baking that needs to be done. Off you go, Jane.”

  When we reached the little church, I was surprised to see the number of cars.

  “Gemma Calhoun sure was popular,” Matilda said. “Or, if not popular, then she was certainly a well-known figure in the dairy goat showing community.”

  “The murderer will be at the funeral,” Eleanor said confidently. “We need to keep our eyes peeled for anybody acting suspiciously.”

  “Why would anybody act suspiciously at a funeral?” Matilda asked her.

  “You know what I mean,” Eleanor countered. “It’s just a figure of speech. I mean that we need to keep our eyes open for suspects. In particular, we need to keep our eyes on Horatio, the vic’s son. As far as we know, he inherits everything. That’s a good motive if ever I’ve heard one.”

  “It is a good motive,” Matilda conceded, “but that doesn’t mean he’s the murderer. He wasn’t seen at the goat show, and the shot glasses were in the office, according to Waneta. That means the murderer had to be physically present.”

  “You’re right for once,” Eleanor said. “If the ethylene glycol was simply in the hip flask, then it could have been put in at any time. No, the murderer wanted to make sure the vic drank enough, and to do that, the murderer needed to be present while the vic took the shots, or shot as the case may be. Surely Gemma wouldn’t have done shots with a stranger. Just because Horatio wasn’t seen at the goat show doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. We really need to look into his alibi.”

  Matilda nodded. “Yes we do, and we also need to find out…” Her voice broke off. “Jane, here’s Damon.”

  I turned around. “Damon!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be allowed.”

  Damon looked puzzled. “Wouldn’t be allowed?” he repeated.

  I was a little embarrassed and shifted from foot to foot. “I mean, didn’t Detective Stirling say you shouldn’t work on the case?”

  Damon chuckled. “Sure, but Carter isn’t my boss. He’s my partner. I’m not working on the case, but I thought I’d come to the funeral to make sure you weren’t investigating.”

  With that, Matilda took Eleanor’s arm and hurried her inside t
he church.

  “Eleanor and Matilda insisted I come to the funeral,” I said, and that was the truth, although of course there was more to it than that.

  Damon shot me a penetrating look. “Jane, need I remind you how many times you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed because you’ve been investigating a case?”

  “No, you don’t need to tell me,” I said. “I was hoping Detective Stirling would have solved the case by now.”

  Damon leaned forward. “I was hoping the same thing,” he whispered. He straightened up and added, “Jane, I wish you’d leave it alone.”

  “I would rather be back in the cupcake store baking cakes and selling them to customers, but Matilda and Eleanor are upset that Detective Stirling suspects them,” I told him.

  “He is investigating everyone who was at the goat show.”

  “He didn’t take me in for questioning, but he did impound my car.”

  Damon sighed. “Let’s go inside. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  “I’d be delighted,” I said. “So, you’re not here officially?”

  Damon shook his head but did not elaborate further.

  I walked in to see Eleanor and Matilda had already taken their seats at the back of the room, no doubt so they could watch everybody. I slid in and Damon slid in beside me. “Hello, ladies,” he said.

  “Hello, Damon,” they both said in unison.

  “Has Detective Stirling solved the case yet?” Matilda asked.

  “Not as far as I know, but I’m not on the case.” I expected Damon said that so Matilda wouldn’t ask any more questions, and it certainly worked.

  The church was crowded. Francis walked in but didn’t notice us. She walked down the aisle and took a seat several rows in front of us.

  I happened to be craning my neck, looking at the door, when Aaron walked in. He caught my eye and walked over to me. “Hello, Jane. Hello, Matilda and Eleanor.”

  I made the introductions. “Aaron, this is my friend, Damon. Damon, this is Aaron Alexander.”

  “The apartment is great,” he said. “It was very good of you all to tell me about it. And Rebecca is really nice. I can’t thank you enough.” He smiled and walked away.

  I could feel Damon tense beside me. “Who is he?”

  “He just leased Rebecca’s apartment—you know, the one we all moved out of when I bought the house,” I said. I turned to look at Matilda and wiggled my eyebrows in the hopes she would change the subject.

  Matilda didn’t take the hint. “Yes, Rebecca thinks he’s nice,” she said.

  Damon glared at us. “Why is Rebecca’s tenant at the funeral for Gemma Calhoun?”

  “Oh, it’s the most amazing coincidence,” Matilda said. “Eleanor has started taking Mr. Crumbles to Pet Protection classes and Aaron is the instructor.”

  Damon held up one hand, palm outward. “Wait a minute. Did you say you’re taking Mr. Crumbles to Pet Protection classes?”

  Eleanor nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Mr. Crumbles has saved Jane’s life on three occasions. We thought we should train him so he would know how to save her life next time in a professional capacity.”

  Damon wiped his hand across his brow and then shut his eyes tightly. When he opened his eyes, he said, “And so, what did this Aaron Alexander have to do with Gemma Calhoun?”

  Eleanor smiled widely. “He just happened to mention how he needed an apartment. He used to work for Gemma Calhoun, and he was renting a cabin on her property because he used to milk her goats.”

  “And he was her pool boy,” Matilda interjected.

  “Yes, he also milked her goats and he was her pool boy, but he has his own business in Pet Protection and he just happened to mention that he was looking for an apartment,” Eleanor continued, all in one breath.

  “He mentioned that to us at the Pet Protection classes,” Matilda added. “So we suggested Rebecca’s apartment.”

  Damon by now appeared thoroughly tense. “Let me get this straight. You took your cat to Pet Protection classes so you could question a suspect in a murder, and you have organized it so this murder suspect has rented Rebecca’s apartment. Is that right?”

  Matilda appeared unconcerned. “Aaron obviously didn’t do it,” she said. “He’s just a nice young man. And we wanted to help him. We couldn’t see him living in his car, could we, Eleanor?”

  “Goodness gracious me, of course not,” Eleanor said. “He’s very good with animals.”

  “I fail to see the connection,” Damon said through gritted teeth.

  “He loves animals, so he can’t be a murderer,” Matilda said.

  Damon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned back to the front. After a few moments, he turned to me. “Jane, do you know anything about this?”

  “Yes,” I said in a small voice.

  Damon rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Jane, what if he is the murderer? You could have a murderer living in the apartment above your sister Rebecca’s cupcake store.”

  Damon spoke in hushed tones, but Matilda must have had excellent hearing because she leaned across and said, “Don’t you worry. He’s not the murderer.”

  Damon would have said something, but the minister stood at the pulpit. I didn’t listen to what the minister’s words, because I was worried about Aaron. What if he was, in fact, the murderer? I would have to make sure Rebecca was never at the shop alone. Of course, if he was the murderer and he had murdered Gemma, then he must have had a motive. He wouldn’t have a motive for murdering Rebecca or a motive for murdering me, for that matter. Still, as much as I tried self-talk to calm myself, my stomach churned at the thought that we might have invited a murderer into Rebecca’s apartment.

  Chapter 13

  The church was filled with mourners. Several people spoke about Gemma, saying she was a wonderful person and devoted to her goats. I wondered if they were sincere, but then again, I supposed nobody ever said what they really thought of the deceased at the funeral.

  I looked around the church but could only see the backs of people’s heads. It was hardly the fact-seeking mission I’d hoped for. I noticed Detective Stirling sitting at the other side of the church. A chill ran up my spine as I realized it was more than likely that the murderer was with us right now, perhaps in close proximity to me.

  I saw some people shuffle around in their seats and looked out to see a minor scuffle between a man and a woman. After she elbowed him again, he put his head forward. I wondered what that was about and made a note to keep a close eye on them after the service was over.

  The service went on for a considerable length of time. The minister returned to the pulpit at the end and said a few more words. We all stood as a mournful hymn played. It brought a tear to my eye, and I hadn’t even known Gemma. When it finished, the minister invited everyone to the side room to have fellowship with one another, as he put it, and to remember Gemma.

  Matilda elbowed me in the ribs. “That will give us time to mingle and question people,” she whispered. I quickly turned to my right, but to my relief, it didn’t appear as though Damon had heard her.

  He tapped my elbow. “I have to go now, Jane. Remember, no investigating.”

  I nodded. Damon leaned forward and said, “I’ll be in touch about dinner.”

  I smiled, and he slipped out of the church building. I looked up to see Detective Stirling scowling at me. I held his gaze, and he looked away.

  Matilda was only too eager to get to the side room. There was a large stainless steel hot water urn alongside a large glass jar of instant coffee. “Ugh, instant coffee,” Matilda said. “It should be illegal.”

  Eleanor selected a cookie and clutched it to her. “It is good in an emergency.”

  Matilda waved her finger at her. “We’re not here for eating, we are here to question suspects. Speaking of suspects, it appears Horatio has left the building.”

  I looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere.

  The side room was smaller than I expected, given the size
of the church itself. Everyone was hemmed in, so there would be no opportunity for privacy. Still, it would give us the opportunity to overhear people’s words. I noticed the man of the couple who had seemed to have an altercation during the service. I walked past them to get a look at their faces. They both looked familiar. That was when I heard the words, “You’re here!” and swung around to see Francis frowning at me. Her words sounded like an accusation.

  “Yes.” I thought it best not to give a reason as to why we were there, although surely Francis realized we were there to question suspects. “It was a lovely service, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Francis regarded me with narrowed eyes. “I see your friends are here with you.”

  “Yes,” I said again. I nodded toward the couple I had seen earlier. I noticed the man’s eyes were red and swollen, and his wife appeared tense and angry. “Who are those people?”

  “Digby and Paisley Thompson,” Francis said.

  “Was he close to Gemma?”

  Francis took my arm and drew me to the wall. “Yes, he was a little too close to Gemma, if you get my meaning.”

  I nodded slowly. “I see. So, he’s married to that woman with him, and he was having an affair with Gemma?”

  Francis shrugged. “So the rumors go. I have no idea whether they’re true, but he is quite upset, isn’t he?”

  “He is. Maybe he’s simply an emotional person, or maybe they were simply good friends.”

  Francis made a derisive sound. “Good friends, indeed!”

  “I know him from somewhere. Wasn’t he at the goat show?”

  Francis nodded. “Yes, he was. They both were. They breed alpines. They’re probably the most successful Alpine show exhibitors in these parts.”

  “So they wouldn’t mind that you got Gemma’s goats?”

  Francis looked at me as though I were mad. “Of course not! They have Alpines, like I said. They don’t want Toggenburgs.”