Slaughter of the Wedding Cake (Sandy Bay Cozy Mystery Book 19)

by Amber Crewes

  Karen’s face fell. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  David gave her a thin smile. “It’s fine. I just had a rough start in life, and I don’t like revisiting my past. I’ve worked hard to make my way in this world, and I prefer to look to the future.”

  Karen nodded. “That makes sense.”

  He continued. “I had a history as a bad boy. I made a lot of people mad, and I made a lot of mistakes. I was lucky to find my situation with Thelma, and I worked hard when I discovered my passion for baking. Now, I’m going places. I’m rewriting my story, and it feels so good.”

  Karen smiled at him. “What an inspirational story,” she commended David as he smiled shyly. “Right, Meghan?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s nice,” she said off-handedly as she turned to look at the display cases.

  “I told your Mama that I would be baking your wedding cake for free,” he mentioned.

  Meghan’s stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

  “Meghan,” Karen muttered. “That’s rude.”

  “Why are you making my wedding cake for free? Aren’t you becoming the next Martha Stewart or something?”

  David stared into her eyes. “That wasn’t the response I thought I would get,” he murmured as he ran a hand through his dark, thick wavy hair.

  “I don’t understand,” Meghan replied curtly. “Why would you bake my cake for free? You don’t know me.”

  “I know your Mama,” he countered, and Meghan’s face reddened. “And I know that plenty of important people will be at your wedding. I want to offer my cake for free as a thank you to your Mama for giving me the opportunity to gain such exposure through your wedding. Your Mama has been so supportive of my business, and I want to offer my cake as a way of showing my gratitude to your family.”

  Before Meghan could respond, the door opened, and an elderly woman waddled in. She wore a pair of thick glasses and carried a crocodile skin purse. “Donald? Are you there?” she croaked.

  “It’s David,” David breathed as he turned to greet her. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Sherman. What can I do for you today?”

  Mrs. Sherman wrinkled her nose. “I want to return something,” she announced as she reached into her purse and retrieved a small box. “This cake is no good. I ordered a banana cake with chocolate icing, and you gave me a chocolate cake with banana icing.”

  David furrowed his brow. “I remember taking your order,” he told her. “And I remember that you ordered a chocolate cake with banana icing. I believe I even have the receipt…”

  David opened the cash register and dug through the tray until he found a small white slip of paper. “Here it is. Two days ago, you ordered and were given a chocolate cake with banana icing.”

  He slid the receipt toward her, but she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it behind her shoulder. “I don’t think you understand,” she insisted. “I am a dissatisfied customer, and I would like a refund.”

  Meghan saw David force himself to smile. “Of course, Mrs. Sherman,” he told her. “With pleasure.”

  “She reminds me of someone,” Karen joked as Meghan giggled.

  “Oh? Who would that be?” Meghan teased. She knew they were both referring to Mrs. Sally Sheridan, one of Sandy Bay’s oldest residents. Mrs. Sheridan was known for being cheap, and she was constantly trying to swindle Sandy Bay businesses into giving her her money back when she did not like a purchase.

  David finished helping Mrs. Sherman and escorted her to the door. “Thanks for coming by,” he said sweetly as he held the door for her. “It was so good to see you.”

  She waved goodbye, and he turned back to Meghan and Karen. “So sorry,” he sighed. “Mrs. Sherman comes in at least twice a week to make returns. I’ve told her a thousand times over that I have a no-return policy here, but she doesn’t quite understand. At this point, it isn’t worth my time to argue with her, so I let her come in and make her returns.”

  Meghan gave him a slight smile. “I have a customer like that at the bakery I own and operate.”

  “Tell me more about your bakery,” David said with genuine interest. “Your Mama tells me it’s one of the best in your area.”

  Meghan felt the sting of rage as he mentioned her mother, but before she could tell him about Truly Sweet, the door burst open.

  “Mrs. Sherman, I won’t--” David began, but it wasn’t Mrs. Sherman.

  David’s face paled. “Can I help you?” he asked as five police officers burst into the bakery. “What can I do for you?”

  Doug Liman walked in; his face grim. “David Major?”

  “Yes?”

  Doug cleared his throat. “You’re under arrest,” he declared.

  “For what?” David choked. “Are you serious?”

  Meghan tapped Doug on the shoulder. “Doug? What is this?”

  Doug narrowed his eyes at Meghan. “What are you doing here?”

  “We just popped by,” Karen offered.

  Doug shook his head. “You keep showing up in the middle of my investigation,” he hissed at Meghan. “If you want to keep your family’s name out of the mud, you need to lie low.”

  Before Meghan could reply, an officer was snapping a pair of handcuffs around David’s wrists.

  “Meghan? Tell your Mama. Tell your Mama they’re taking me to jail,” he called out as the officer led him away.

  “Tell my Mama?” Meghan wondered as she watched David being put in the backseat of a blue squad car. “Why on Earth would David Major ask me to tell my Mama about his arrest? What is going on between them? Something has to be going on, and I will get to the bottom of it.”

  17

  M eghan and Karen stared at each other. “What now?” Karen asked quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Meghan frowned. “I don’t want to talk right now,” she muttered as the sounds of sirens faded away.

  Karen softly rubbed her shoulder. “I get it. That was a lot. I have an idea, though. Something that will undoubtedly get your mind off of things.”

  “Yeah?”

  Karen smiled. “Let’s bake.”

  Ten minutes later, they were pushing a cart through the local supermarket. “This was a good idea,” Meghan admitted as they admired cuts of fresh fruit. “I needed to get my mind off of things, and baking always helps.”

  “It’s cheaper than therapy,” Karen joked as Meghan picked up a pineapple and examined it.

  “This looks divine,” she moaned as she held the large fruit to her nose and inhaled. “And smells divine. You can’t get fresh fruit like this in Sandy Bay… there is just something about the South.”

  “Meghan? Meghan Truman?”

  Her head turned as a young mother pushing a cart and holding a toddler by the hand approached her. “How are you?”

  Meghan’s face flushed. She had no idea who the woman was, but she did not want to be rude. “I’m so well. It’s good to see you.”

  The woman’s eyes shined. “You as well. We are so looking forward to your wedding. Ted and the kids couldn’t be more thrilled.”

  Meghan gave her a weak smile. “Of course. I am so excited to see Ted and the kids…”

  The woman pushed her toddler, a sleepy-eyed boy, toward Meghan. “Go give the bride a hug.”

  Meghan stood awkwardly as the little boy reached out his arms for her, and she patted him on the head. “What a sweet little guy.”

  The woman grinned. “You will be the most beautiful bride. Marriage is a gift, Meghan. It is truly sweet. All of your stress will go away once you say I DO.”

  Meghan laughed, but realized the woman wasn’t joking. “Oh?”

  “The man is the head of the household,” she earnestly explained. “He makes the decisions for everyone. You just get to enjoy!”

  Meghan bit her lip. “I don’t know if that’s how we’ll do things,” she muttered, but the woman retrieved her child and started waving. “So good seeing you. See you at the wedding.”

&nbs
p; Karen stared at the woman as she walked away. “Who was your friend?” She asked. “She sure has a traditional perspective of marriage…”

  “No idea,” she replied. “But apparently I’ll be seeing her, the little boy, Ted, and the other kids on my wedding day…”

  They continued browsing, but before Meghan knew it, another Peach Tree Grove resident was walking over to her, a smile on his bearded face. “It is so good to see you, Morgan.”

  “Meghan,” she gently corrected the middle-aged man. “Good to see you too.”

  “Are you nervous?” He asked kindly. “I was nervous before my big day.”

  “Nervous about the wedding? Not really,” she told him.

  “I heard it’s going to be the biggest party to ever be thrown here in town,” he said with excitement. “My wife is excited about the special surprise.”

  “Special surprise?” Karen interjected. “I’m Meghan’s friend, Karen. Nice to meet you…”

  “I’m Bob,” he told her as he reached out to shake her hand. “I’m a close friend of the Truman family.”

  Meghan had no idea who Bob was, but she nodded politely. “What is the surprise?” Karen asked Meghan, feigning shock. “I didn’t know there was a surprise.”

  She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Bob leaned in. “My wife said that Mitzee Frahan is performing at your wedding.”

  “The Grammy-winning, Las Vegas Residency-performing singer?” Karen asked.

  “Yes, my wife loves her, and she heard that the Trumans are flying her in to sing your first dance song,” Bob cried gleefully. “We can’t wait.”

  “Me either.”

  “Well, we need to be going,” Karen told Bob. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “So good seeing you,” Meghan chimed in as Bob waved goodbye.

  “Morgan?” Karen giggled. “He seems like such a dear friend of your family,” she said sarcastically.

  Meghan shook her head. “I don’t even know who Mitzee Frahan is,” she whispered as they approached the checkout lane and the cashier began ringing up their groceries.

  “She’s a tacky former model and current singer, and there’s no way your mother would let her within a mile of your wedding,” Karen informed her. “Why are these Peach Tree Grove folks thinking they are invited to your wedding? Are they?”

  Meghan shook her head. “No idea,” she told her friend. “No idea…”

  They left the supermarket and popped into the coffee shop next door. “That’s Stanley Bull,” Meghan hissed as they opened the door and saw Stanley ordering at the counter. “Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t feel like socializing right now.”

  “Let’s talk to him,” Karen insisted. “Come on, Meghan. Don’t be a grump.”

  She took Meghan by the hand and dragged her over to where Stanley was ordering. “Hi,” she greeted him as Meghan nervously raised a hand to her mouth and bit at the cuticle around her thumb. “How’s it going, Stanley?”

  Stanley’s face paled. “Hey, ladies,” he greeted them anxiously, his eyes red and his face puffy. “How are you? Good to see you again.”

  “We’re fine,” Karen told him. “Are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

  Stanley hung his head. Meghan noticed his clothes were disheveled, and there was a musty smell coming from his direction. His hair was limp, and his eyes and nose were matching shades of strawberry-red. “I’ve been better,” he shrugged as the barista handed him his cup of coffee.

  “What’s wrong?” Meghan asked him.

  “I’ve been out of work since Thelma died,” he explained somberly. “There aren’t a lot of job opportunities for a guy like me, and I’m worried about paying the bills.”

  Karen nodded. “That’s hard,” she sympathized.

  “You have no idea,” he grumbled. “I hated working for Thelma; her moods and bad attitude were a lot to take. I hate being down on my luck more, though; it’s scary to not know whether you can pay your rent.”

  Meghan’s heart sank. She felt bad for Stanley; he was clearly in need, and though she did not know him well, she wished she could help him.

  “Is there anything we can do?” She asked kindly.

  He glowered at her. “I don’t think I’ll ever get work in Texas again,” he lamented before taking a long swig of his black coffee.

  “Why do you say that?” Karen asked.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Cameron Barrington.”

  “Cameron Barrington?” Meghan wondered aloud.

  “Thelma’s husband,” he explained. “He always hated her staff, and he was always particularly rude to me. I think he was jealous that Thelma and I were close.”

  “You two were close?” Meghan asked in surprise. “You didn’t seem close when you were at my house.”

  “You just didn’t know her,” he sighed. “She could be terrible, but she could also be a lovely, inspirational, powerful woman. I liked that about her. Cameron didn’t like that I admired his wife, and he always was out to get me.”

  Karen shook her head. “That’s terrible.”

  Stanley frowned. “It gets worse. I went to Cameron after she died. I had some questions about my employment and some documents, and he was rude to me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I asked him if I could work for him,” he sighed sadly.

  “At the newspaper?”

  “Exactly. I thought I could help with editing, or even do a column on food or baking. Cameron laughed in my face, though. He said he would never employ me, and that he was sick of seeing my stupid face following his wife around.”

  Meghan gasped. “That is so rude.”

  Stanley shook his head. “Cameron Barrington is a jerk,” he declared loudly, causing other customers to stare at him. “And Thelma is better off without him.”

  “Better off? She’s dead,” Meghan mumbled awkwardly.

  “Cameron is a cad and a jerk,” Stanley insisted. “Wherever she is, she’s better off without him, mark my words.”

  18

  “T his cake is sumptuous, Meghan,” Henry complimented as he licked the fork.

  “Henry,” Rebecca chastised her husband. “Don’t lick the fork. That’s rude. We have guests.”

  Karen waved her hand. “Don’t worry about me,” she told Rebecca cheerfully. “I consider myself to be like a cool aunt or a big sister to Meghan, so that makes me one of the family. Lick your fork. I don’t care.”

  It was eight in the evening, and Meghan and Karen had arrived home from David’s in time for dinner with the Trumans.

  “Are you going to tell your mother about David?” Karen had asked as they walked in the door.

  “I don’t know,” Meghan admitted. “They hauled him off to jail, Karen. For murder. I don’t know what he and my mother are up to, but I don’t want her to be caught up in whatever trouble he is in.”

  Karen had shot her a look, but they joined the Trumans for dinner, and at the end, Meghan served them the dessert she and Karen had baked the previous evening.

  Meghan’s phone rang. “Meghan? No phones at the table,” her mother chided.

  “Mama,” Meghan protested. “It’s Jack.”

  “You know the rules,” Molly teased.

  Meghan gave her sister a look, and then she rose from the table. “I haven’t talked to him today,” she announced to her family. “I’m going to step outside and take this.”

  Her mother protested, but Meghan left anyway. “Babe?” she answered as she stepped outside into the humid Texas air.

  “Hi, honey,” Jack greeted her, and she smiled at the sound of his voice.

  “It’s so good to hear from you,” she told him as she walked aimlessly around the patio. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” he told her. “How is it going down there?”

  She sighed. “It’s crazy,” she informed her fiance as she swatted at a gnat that was creeping up to her face. “As per usual. The Trumans seem to be magn
ets for trouble. I’m ready to be an Irvin as soon as possible.”

  He laughed. “I’m ready for you to be an Irvin too,” he agreed.

  “How are you?” she asked. “How are things in Sandy Bay? Are the dogs okay?”