The Cupcake Capers Box Set

by Polly Holmes

  Margarete swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. “Of course. All my food in nut free, Mr Hunter.”

  “Call me Logan.”

  Savannah poked her head out from behind the cool room door. “Margarete, are you sure there is sour cream in here? I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

  “Try the back cool room outside,” she said without moving her eyes from the gorgeous man in front of her.

  He smiled and Margarete’s insides did a double flip. “That’s great to know. I guess I should let you get back to work. Nice to meet you, Margarete Becker.” He turned and left, leaving her wondering if the heat rising in her body was caused by the ovens in the kitchen or the sexy McDreamy look-alike.

  She turned her gaze back to the girls and they stood, arms folded, inquisitive gazes strewn across their faces.

  “That guy is seriously into you, Margarete. Did you see the way his eyes stuck to you and only you?” Charlotte said as she popped another piece of crackle into her mouth.

  Into me? As if.

  “Pfft, don’t be ridiculous.” Break over. Margarete brushed Charlotte’s comment aside and refocused, her heart sinking a little. She was in Ashton Point to re-establish her career, not to let men get in her way. “He was just checking if there were any nuts in the food.”

  “Yeah, he did that already. Why come in here, specifically, and ask again if he already knew?” Clair asked. “To meet you, that’s why.”

  Charlotte let out an excited squeal. “Let me help you. I am the best match maker. I will have him eating out of your hand in no time.”

  Mortification hit Margarete square in the chest. It was as if she’d been transported back to high school. “No. Absolutely no. Promise me you won’t, Charlotte.”

  Margarete let out a giggle at Charlotte’s playful pout. “But–” The electric chit-chat in the kitchen was shattered by a chilling, high-pitched scream.

  “Was that Savannah?” Margarete asked as she bolted toward the back cool room. Charlotte and Clair were not far behind. Her heart plummeted and she stopped dead when she came face to face with a shaken, pale-faced Savannah against the outside wall of the cool room. Margarete’s pulse raced and her stomach was turning a hundred miles an hour.

  What is going on?

  “Savannah, what’s wrong? What happened?” Margarete asked, fear scampering up her spine. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  A shallow whimper escaped Savannah’s lips. “I… I…”

  “You what?” Charlotte asked. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  By now, everyone in the kitchen had crowded into the tiny alcove that housed the outer cool room. They were waiting for the result of the commotion.

  Savannah opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out for several seconds. Her jaw opened and closed like a silent toy chatterbox. “It’s awful. I… I… I…it’s… Oh my God.” Her voice faded out and she held her shaky hand out. She pointed toward the entrance of the cool room.

  Margarete held her breath. She edged herself toward the cool room door, her gut cramping at what she might find. She pictured a wild boar devouring the contents, or worse, dead or poisoned, with its innards splattered all over the inside of the cool room.

  Margarete pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her startled gaze fell to the floor. She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle bile that had rushed from her stomach to her oesophagus. No, no, no.

  She shook her head and her jaw dropped open. She’d never seen a dead body, let alone that of someone she knew. “Pierre?” All the air rushed from her lungs as if she’d been punched in the chest. Her knees turned to jelly, and her pulse began hammering the side of her temple. Pierre’s body lay distorted on the cool room floor, surrounded by squashed and flattened red velvet cupcakes. A knife jutted from his.

  Savannah gasped behind her, her breath skimming the back of Margarete’s neck. “It’s really him, isn’t it? He’s really dead.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Yes, it’s Pierre.”

  Clair groaned. “And unless you can stab yourself in the back, someone helped him. As in murder.”

  Charlotte, Margarete and Savannah gasped. Then they spoke in unison. “Murder.” Muffled mutterings blended behind them like white noise.

  “Wait… Margarete, isn’t that your chef’s knife sticking out of his back?” Savannah asked in a shocked whisper.

  Margarete’s heart pummelled her ribcage. Her skin flushed as heat consumed her body. “Yes, it is.” She turned to face a gang of inquisitive eyes. “But I didn’t put it there, I swear.”

  Chapter Two

  Clair placed her hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “Well, of course you didn’t put it there, but someone did.”

  Margarete grabbed her stomach. Nausea bellowed deep in her belly at the sight of Pierre’s stiff body. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Margarete almost jumped out of her skin as Charlotte placed her arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. Why don’t you take a seat for a moment?”

  A seat? I think I’m going to need more than a seat. Margarete thought, her legs swaying as she teetered toward the chair by the exit door.

  Charlotte turned to Clair. “I think now might be a good time to see if Kayne is available.” Kayne Pendleton was Ashton Point’s newest policeman. Clair had been so thrilled for her best friend, Alexandra, when Kayne had helped her out of a dangerous situation last Christmas and stolen her heart in the process. A murder would definitely be a buzz kill for his evening.

  A haze washed over Margarete and Clair’s sweet voice now seemed a hundred miles away. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right back.” She turned toward the door. “Everyone, until I get back can you all please stay here and keep the situation well…um…within the kitchen? If I’ve learnt anything in this town, it’s how quickly rumours can start.”

  The blood drained from Margarete’s face. “Rumours? Great, that’s all I need. For everyone in this town to think I’m a murderer. Just because it’s my knife sticking out of his back doesn’t mean I put it there.”

  “No-one believes that for one minute.” Savannah piped up. “I can’t believe someone could do that to poor Pierre. He was here earlier this evening and now he’s…”

  How could this perfect evening turn so horribly wrong so quickly? Searing pain bombarded Margarete’s forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut. She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples desperately trying to ignore the hurried, muffled, patter of shoes around her. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

  “Oh, it’s real, I’m afraid.” Kayne’s stern tone broke her stupor as he exited from the direction of the cool room. His gaze found hers. “I don’t suppose you know what happened here this evening?”

  Tears threatened to break through the barrier Margarete fought hard to maintain. She shook her head. “No, I have no idea. He came in earlier because the council had burst a pipe out the back of CC’s Simply Cupcakes and had to shut the water mains down to fix it. Which meant he couldn’t finish his cupcakes there.”

  Charlotte and Clair gasped in unison. “What? Really?” Clair said, surprise lacing her words.

  Charlotte grunted. “Nice of the council to let us know, since we’re the owners of CC’s Simply Cupcakes.”

  “I thought you knew. I assumed Pierre would’ve told you.”

  Clair shook her head. “No.”

  Kayne cleared his throat, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. “It doesn’t really matter now. We have bigger fish to fry, like finding a murderer hidden among seventy guests and workers before they all disappear into the darkened night.”

  Margarete’s chest tightened under the weight of his words. If the guests disappeared, the real murderer would get away with it, leaving her holding the bag. Kayne paced the kitchen as he chatted on the phone. “Darn it,” he said, ending his call.

  “What wrong,” Charlotte asked.

  “I was hoping to get Clint before he left for the weekend on
a training course, but no luck, I’m afraid. Looks like it’s going to come down to Robert and myself to solve this one. He’s on his way.” He turned toward the two red-headed women as they stood on either side of Margarete. “Will one of you ladies please go and see if Mason and Liam are around? I have a feeling we may need their help.”

  Clair nodded, spinning on her heel, her red locks swishing as she went.

  Kayne grabbed a notebook from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m sorry this has spoiled your parent’s anniversary celebrations.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” Charlotte said, her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. “We can keep the party going. No-one really needs to know what’s going on in here. You can do your police thing and we’ll make sure the guests have enough food to keep them occupied.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Charlotte.” Kayne stood his ground against Charlotte’s intimidating stance.

  Kayne sighed and Margarete sensed his unease. The tension between them could have been sliced with a knife—if the thought weren’t so ironic in her current predicament. Margarete hadn’t even realised Antony was still there until she caught his movement out of the corner of his eye.

  “I have an idea, if anyone is interested.”

  Breaking the stand-off, Kayne said in his firm policeman’s voice, his gaze now fully averted to Antony. “I’m listening.”

  “Why don’t you bring the speeches forward? That way everyone will be sitting down, focused on the McCorrsons and the real reason we are all gathered here tonight. Then, if you have to speak to everyone you can do it then. You’ll have their attention and if we’re lucky, the murderer might even make a run for it. You know, like in the movies.”

  Silence filled the air and Margarete’s pulsed raced while she waited for Kayne to respond. The longer he stayed silent, the more the tension within the room skyrocketed. A resounding bang flooded the kitchen as the door flew open, crashing into the counter behind.

  “Oops, sorry about that,” Liam said with a chuckle. “Sometimes my strength amazes even me.”

  Margarete thought her heart had exploded in her ribcage from fright. Flanking Liam were Mason and Cassidy with Clair not far behind.

  Charlotte’s hand grabbed her heart. “Seriously. You sure know how to make an entrance, sweetie.”

  “What’s going on?” Cassidy asked thrusting her hands onto her hips, her gaze shooting from one person to another. “I know when my sister is trying to keep a secret from me, and Clair was doing the worst job ever. So, spill.”

  Cassidy was the youngest of the three McCorrson sisters, but just as talented. Instead of following her sisters into the baking profession, she’d preferred to walk in the footsteps of their mother and become an award-winning interior designer. A highly sought after one at that.

  “Um, we have a situation,” Kayne said.

  “A situation?” Savannah huffed. “Is that what we’re calling murder now?”

  “Murder!” Liam blurted out.

  “What?” Mason looked from Kayne to Clair and back again. “Who’s been murdered?”

  Kayne held his hands up in a calming manner. “Now, everyone, take it easy. Getting hysterical will not help. It’s not like this is the first murder in Ashton Point.”

  “The first one in three months,” snapped Charlotte.

  “Does someone want to explain what’s going on?” Cassidy asked once more. Her demanding tone sliced Margarete’s heart.

  “It’s Pierre. Someone stabbed him in the back… Literally,” Antony said, his works impaled with a thin layer of disbelief.

  Margarete couldn’t handle their questioning stares any longer. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “With my chef’s knife and then left him on the floor in the outer cool room.”

  Cassidy’s draw dropped open, but Kayne took the floor. “Now that everyone is up to speed, this is how it’s going to play out. I’m going to need statements from everyone in this room. So I’ll need each of you to ensure you speak to me or Robert before you leave the premises this evening. I am conscious of time and keeping the murderer in the building. Ladies, can you convince your parents to start the speeches early, as in now?” All three shrugged and nodded at different intervals. “Okay, if you keep everyone focused on the happy couple, I’ll stay here and begin taking statements until Robert arrives. I’ve secured the body as much as I can. Robert can take over and advise the coroner. The rest of us can join you later, and after the speeches have concluded, I’ll make an announcement advising every one of the situation.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes. “There’s that word again, ‘situation.’”

  Please, Savannah, don’t make it any worse.

  “As I said, I’ll advise everyone of the situation. Liam and Mason, I want you to watch the exits. Just in case anyone decides to make a quick departure. Clear?”

  “Stop anyone looking guilty from running from the room. Got it,” Liam said giving a thumbs up signal in Kayne’s direction.

  ****

  Logan scanned the room once more, tapping his fingernails impatiently on the crisp, white linen tablecloth. Where are you, Margarete Becker? Surely you need to come out and see how the food table is faring.

  The drive from Sydney to Ashton Point had been uneventful, just as he thought the evening would be. Hob-knobbing with his stepmother’s society friends was hardly his idea of the perfect Saturday evening. Logan preferred a quiet night in with a great movie and a tub of caramel-buttered popcorn. He was pleasantly surprised to find the friendly people of Ashton Point welcomed him with open arms. One in particular had caught his attention.

  His interest was piqued the moment he laid eyes on the pretty, petite chef. After all, any brunette with hair styled like she should be glamming it in the 1940s had to be interesting. Right?

  Maybe she didn’t like strangers in her kitchen. He leant in close to his stepmother and whispered, “Thank you for convincing me to stay the night in Ashton Point.”

  Elaine pulled back, her eyebrows raised. “Excuse me? After all the grumbling I had to endure last night about how boring the weekend would be?”

  “Yeah, I guess I owe you an apology.” Regret simmered deep in his belly. “I suppose I was just upset with Dad for jet-setting off on another work job at such short notice and leaving you in the lurch. Forgive me?” He gave her the cutest puppy-dog eyes he could muster.

  A warm, hearty laugh burst from her lips. “Oh, Logan, there’s nothing to forgive. Your dad works so hard and looks after me so well. It’s me who should be grateful to you for changing your plans and driving me up here. I really didn’t want to miss it. Edith McCorrson has been a good friend to me.”

  “How long have you two been friends?” Logan asked, ignoring the suddenly upbeat music that seemed to ignite the dance floor with active bodies.

  Elaine sighed and a loving smile spread across her rosy cheeks. “Oh, gee, a while now. About seven years before my first husband passed away, Edith redesigned the interior of our house. It was the most amazing creation I’d ever seen. It had to be shown to the world and that’s just what I did. Got it in every interior design magazine I could, thanks to my late husband’s connections, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  Nervous energy coursed through his body and he forged ahead with his enquiries. “Does she know anything about Margarete Becker, the chef?”

  “So, my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. I could see the first moment you laid eyes on her that she’d caught your attention. She seems like a lovely lady and she can definitely cook up a storm, but Edith has never really mentioned her.”

  Her words deflated Logan, but only for a second. He sat tall with renewed conviction. “Never mind, the evening’s still young,” he muttered to himself.

  “And there’s always tomorrow,” Elaine said with a giggle just as the music died a sharp death.

  Logan’s head spun toward the stage as the familiar sound of tapping into the microphone filled the room. His gaze m
et with three beautiful, red-headed women, all looking nervous as hell. “I guess they’re not used to public speaking.”

  “Excuse me. If everyone could please take your seats, it’s time to start the formalities of the evening.” One of the women paused. The persistent chit-chat of the guests was like a buzzing in his ears. “We are here this evening to celebrate two amazing people who mean the world, not only to you, but to Clair, Cassidy and myself. Dad didn’t want too much fuss, but how can one honour thirty years of marriage, except with thirty years of memories?”

  Charlotte handed the microphone off to Clair and stepped aside. “Most of you would remember our grandmother, Betty Brookson, and the love of her life, Bob, or as they came to be known, B1 and B2. She was the reason we came to Ashton Point almost four years ago. And Mum and Dad didn’t think twice about giving up their lives in Sydney to take care of her after Bob passed away. They are the most kind-hearted, loving, beautiful people I know. We love you. Please help me cheer for the happy couple. If you would please stand and charge your glasses.”

  Logan’s chest clenched as he stood. He wasn’t a soppy romantic, but emotions were running rampant as the entire crowd witnessed the tender out-spilling of love the girls had for their parents.

  Clair held up her glass. “To Edith and Mark McCorrson, the best parents three women could ask for. Happy thirtieth anniversary.”

  Joyful mumbles filled the room as the crowd joined in Clair’s celebration.

  Cassidy relieved Clair of the microphone and cleared her throat. “Rather than stand up here and blab on about how amazing they are, we’ve prepared a little video. So, sit back and enjoy.”

  For the next few minutes, a rollercoaster of emotions worked its way through Logan’s heart as he watched the video. He’d only met the McCorrsons this evening and he felt like he’d known them his whole life. “Ooo”s and “Aah”s combined with loving laugher and sniffles from the guests filled his ears. He even had a tear form in the corner of his eye.