Confection is Good for the Soul: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery

by Ruth Hartzler

  I was relieved I hadn’t worn any after all. “She came in often?”

  “Yes, every few days. And before you ask me, she always paid with cash. The police asked me that too.”

  “I see.” I was quite disappointed.

  “Thank you for that. You’ve been ever so helpful,” Eleanor said. “I’ll just fetch you one of my cards.” She put Mr. Crumbles on the ground and made a show of looking in her purse. “Oh dear, I must have left them back at the office. Could I write my number down for you and maybe you could call me if you remember anything else?”

  Sue readily agreed and handed Eleanor a piece of paper and a pen.

  As soon as we were out of the post office, I made to say something to Eleanor, but she put a finger to her lips. “Wait until we’re back in the car.”

  We were about to walk down the concrete steps when Mr. Crumbles suddenly sat down.

  “Come on, Mr. Crumbles,” Eleanor said in an encouraging tone.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked her.

  “He wants treats,” she said. She threw some treats at the bottom of the steps. Mr. Crumbles leaped forward, jerking the leash and nearly pulling Eleanor down the stairs face forward. She did what looked like a complicated gymnastic move and landed on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.

  I was stupefied. “How on earth did you do that?” I asked her.

  “You know that Matilda makes me do yoga with her,” she said dismissively. “Quick, let’s get back in the car and discuss this while it’s fresh in our minds.”

  Once we reached the car, Eleanor said, “Don’t drive off just yet. We should find a café and make notes, but let’s discuss things quickly first.”

  “Well, it seems it’s either Karen or Selena,” I said.

  “Why would you say that?” Eleanor asked me.

  “The post office lady said it was a woman.”

  “It could have been Brian or James disguised as a woman,” Eleanor pointed out.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Why would they do that?”

  “As a disguise, obviously.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Of course. What do you think?”

  “I think the location is all-important. We need to find out why the murderer shipped packages from this particular post office. Surely the murderer would know the police would come here and ask the staff if they remembered anything.”

  “She didn’t remember much, though,” I said. “Nothing helpful anyway. She only remembered that the person wore sunglasses, a large hat, a scarf, and horrible perfume.”

  “It’s obvious to me that I’m missing something,” Eleanor said. “Anyway, we’ll discuss this in depth at a café. I’ve got a pen and some paper for you to take notes.”

  “Will any cafés allow us to take Mr. Crumbles inside?” I asked her.

  “There’s an outdoor café in this town,” Eleanor said.

  She directed me to the café. I found a parking place readily enough. There were five sets of black metal tables and chairs and all of them vacant. A bright yellow umbrella hovered over every table. We chose the closest table and I lowered myself into an uncomfortable metal chair. The building itself was quite pretty, pale yellow with green trim and plenty of potted ferns. The pavement, however, was uneven and I made a mental note not to trip. After all, I didn’t have Eleanor’s gymnastic skills.

  A waitress came out to take our order and stopped still in her tracks when she saw Mr. Crumbles.

  “Cats aren’t allowed here,” she snapped.

  “Says who?” Eleanor said.

  The woman looked at a loss. “Dogs aren’t allowed.”

  “Does Mr. Crumbles look like a dog to you?” Eleanor stood up and folded her arms over her chest. “I hope you realize that guide dogs for the blind and companion animals are allowed in cafés, and even so, most cafés permit any animal outdoors. Can I speak to the manager?”

  Mr. Crumbles hissed at the waitress. She stepped backward. The woman’s tone changed although her expression remained bitter. “No, that’s quite all right. Feel free to keep your cat here. What can I get you?”

  We both ordered coffee and a Danish. When the waitress left, Eleanor leaned over to me. “People are usually much friendlier in small towns.”

  “Maybe she got out of bed on the wrong side or something,” I said.

  Eleanor simply shrugged. “Jane, don’t you love the smell of fresh air! Pass me my laptop, would you?”

  I did as she asked and pushed the laptop over to her side of the table. “Oh, Jane, would you find out the Wi-Fi password?”

  I stood up, not wanting to speak with the unpleasant waitress again, but there was a big sign on a blackboard directly inside the café, and thankfully, it displayed the Wi-Fi password. I took a photo of it with my phone and walked back outside. I handed it to Eleanor, and she in turn handed me a notepad and a pencil.

  “This is not far from the route that goes straight to Strasburg from our town,” she said. “We need to discover if any of our suspects have a connection with Strasburg.”

  “How do we do that?” I asked her.

  “There are four suspects and they’re all on social media,” she said with a smile. “This might take me a while.”

  “I’ll call Rebecca and see if she wants us to hurry back,” I said.

  “Even if she does, it will take us one and a half hours to get back, and by then things will likely have changed,” Eleanor pointed out rather sensibly.

  “I’ll call her anyway because I feel guilty,” I admitted. I needn’t have felt guilty because Rebecca soon reassured me that she and Matilda were not having a busy day.

  “Have you discovered anything yet?” I asked Eleanor as soon as I hung up.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I’ve started with Brian and I can’t find that he has any connections to Strasburg. He doesn’t have good privacy settings and I’m seeing where his friends live. Actually, he doesn’t seem to have any relatives on Facebook, but he has friends and so far none of them live in Strasburg or even in this state. Of course, it’s hard to tell because some of them do have good privacy settings.”

  “So that’s the way you’re looking for links, by going through the suspects’ Facebook friends and relatives to see if any live in Strasburg?”

  “For a start,” Eleanor said. “Actually, I started by searching for the names and the word ‘Strasburg’ and then I moved onto their Facebook friends. After that, I’ll have to look for any other links, such as business links.”

  “It seems like looking for a needle in a haystack,” I lamented.

  Eleanor shook her finger at me. “The murderer shipped these items from this particular post office for a very important reason. We don’t know what that important reason is yet, but once we do, it will blow the case wide open.”

  I hoped she was right.

  Chapter 16

  We had spent a pleasant Sunday where nothing untoward had happened. That was a pleasant change. Just when I thought, possibly a little too optimistically, that I would spend an uneventful Monday working in Rebecca’s store, my lawyer’s office called, requesting to make an appointment for that morning.

  Rebecca had insisted that I go, saying that Matilda and Eleanor could help her in her store. And that was how I found myself sitting in my attorney’s waiting room. The room itself was pleasant—gray carpet and cream walls which somehow made the heavy wooden furniture and wooden trims less oppressing, but my stomach churned. I was about to find out whether or not I would actually get some money out of my marriage.

  At the time of my separation and divorce, all I had wanted to do was to get away from Ted. Since my divorce, I had heard time and time again that many women in my position had a similar reaction. They simply wanted it all to be over and had not taken much thought for the future, only to regret it in hindsight.

  I sure did regret it in hindsight.

  I looked around the room once more. The fluorescent light overhead was flickering in a rather irritating fashion,
just like the visual disturbances at the beginnings of migraines from which I sometimes suffered. A large vase of white lilies sat on the reception desk. I could smell them from where I was sitting. I wondered how many other people associated lilies with funerals.

  The efficient secretary was sipping slowly from a huge polystyrene cup while tapping away at her at the computer. A flower arrangement of what looked like artificial flowers sat in a big vase on a small table near me. I was sitting in a row of stiff, high backed chairs. The upholstery on the seat was generous, but the backs were hard and made me sit upright, which made me feel as though I were back in grade school. Small, framed pictures were dotted around the walls, but I couldn’t make out the content as my reading glasses were in my purse.

  I had been waiting for an hour and there was still no sign of my attorney. I finally got up and walked over to the reception desk. “Just checking the time I was supposed to be here,” I said.

  She looked up at me. “Oh yes, Mrs. Delight.”

  “Miss Delight,” I corrected her.

  She ignored me. “Mr. Burkes is kindly fitting you in due to a last-minute cancelation given that your matter is urgent. It’s not a regular appointment, but rather, it’s one made at the last minute.” Her tone ended on a note of accusation.

  I was tempted to tell her that her office had called me to make the appointment, but she was already back to sipping her coffee.

  I sat down once more and thought I had better call Rebecca’s store to tell her I would be late.

  Rebecca answered on the first ring. “It’s me,” I said. “My attorney hasn’t seen me yet and the receptionist doesn’t know when he can.”

  “That’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said. “Matilda is helping me and so is Eleanor, although she pops out from time to time to check on Mr. Crumbles.”

  “I’ll hurry back as soon as I can,” I said.

  “No you won’t, Jane.” Rebecca’s tone was firm. “You do so much unpaid overtime for me. I insist you go and have lunch somewhere and just try to relax. I’m sure this is stressful for you and it would be good if you could take some time to yourself.”

  I made to protest, but I knew there was no swaying Rebecca when her mind was made up. “Thanks so much,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

  The receptionist cleared her throat. I looked up at her and she said, “I’ll show you in now.”

  She walked me a little way down the corridor and knocked. “Mrs. Delight to see you,” she said. She shot Mr. Burkes a wide smile.

  Mr. Burkes walked over and shook my hand. “Please take a seat.” He gestured to two large chairs upholstered in a dark green fabric behind a massive wooden desk covered by scattered paperwork.

  I sat on the chair closest to the wall. Mr. Burkes returned to his chair and shuffled through some papers.

  I was surprised that his office was so unlike the waiting room. Whereas the waiting room had been all gray and cream, the walls of this room were painted in a deep burgundy color, and as well as framed degrees hanging on the wall, there were also some examples of modern art.

  “I have some news for you, Miss Delight,” he said.

  No kidding, I thought, somewhat unkindly. Aloud I said, “What is it?” I hoped he would soon come to the point.

  “I’m pleased to say it’s in your favor. Are you familiar with the terms, comingling or transmuting your inheritance?”

  “I have an inheritance?” I asked him.

  He frowned deeply. “No. However, you did have an inheritance quite early in your marriage.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said. “My parents passed away in a buggy accident. Rebecca and I sold the farm and split the money. Rebecca and Ephraim were newly married too and they bought their present farm.”

  “And what did you do with your share?”

  “It was just after Ted and I were married, and we used it to make a down payment on our home.”

  Mr. Burkes nodded slowly. “I don’t want to bore you with the details. However, New York case law is unlike some other states. If your asset appreciates in value after you inherit it, that appreciation will remain your separate property. However, this only applies if your husband had no part to play in creating the increase in value of the asset.”

  I concentrated, doing my best to take it all in.

  He pushed on, ignoring my blank look. “For example, if you placed your inheritance in the stock market and dividends were created, then that would be passive appreciation and it would be yours to keep. However, you used your inheritance to make a down payment on your home. That amount is yours to keep, but if your husband contributed to improvements and the maintenance of the house, then that is an active appreciation and in theory, he would retain part of that increased value.”

  My head was spinning. “That’s good, right?”

  However, he said, “No. At least, not as far as a share of appreciation in value. However, as far as I can see, and I have consulted with a colleague in New York where you bought the house and lived the entire time of your marriage, you have not comingled or transmuted your inheritance. Therefore, there is no burden of proof on you to identify portions of an asset. It is my view that the court will not have any problem finding equitable distribution equations. Are you following me?”

  “Not at all, to be honest,” I said. I could feel a headache coming on. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “I’ll put it in a nutshell,” he said. “You made a financial contribution from your inheritance to your marital property. You can prove to the court exactly what that contribution was. Is that so?”

  “Yes. Every last cent of the inheritance money went directly into the house,” I said.

  “In that case the inheritance money remains yours under New York law. Your contribution from your inheritance remains your separate property.”

  “I see,” I said doubtfully. A wave of optimism washed over me, but I tried not to get my hopes up. “Does that mean Ted owes me all my inheritance back?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “And likely more than that, but the inheritance sum is the very least you will get back. The bad news is that it might be all you will get back. Even if that’s the case, it’s still a considerable sum of money.”

  “But what about the pre-nup?” I asked him. “When I divorced Ted, I paid what little money I had left to a lawyer and he told me I couldn’t get anything back at all.”

  Mr. Burkes made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I’m afraid I don’t agree with that lawyer’s findings.”

  “So are you saying the lawyer lied to me or at least got it badly wrong?” I asked, somewhat taken aback.

  “What I am saying is that the law is quite clear in the case of inherited property under New York case law,” he said.

  “But why did the lawyer tell me differently?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. There could be any number of reasons.”

  “Like incompetence?”

  The lawyer simply smiled at me.

  I wondered if that lawyer was a friend of Ted’s. It wouldn’t surprise me at all. It’s just something Ted would do and I knew from experience that Ted was not the most honest person on the face of the earth. I could feel myself growing hot. Mr. Burkes must have noticed it too because he asked, “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  “It is good news,” he said. “I’m sure it comes as a shock.”

  “But how do I get the money out of him?” I asked. “Do I call him and tell him to hand it over?”

  Mr. Burkes looked horrified. “Goodness gracious me, no! Leave it to me, Miss Delight. It’s best if I speak with your husband or his attorneys directly.”

  “Ex-husband,” I said.

  “Quite so. Are you happy for me to handle the negotiations?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. That would be good.”

  The receptionist entered the room, smiled widely at Mr. Burkes, and then shot
me a tight-lipped smile. “Here’s your water,” she said in a sugary voice before depositing the glass down a little too firmly on the polished oak desk.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I had a cancelation this morning and I wanted to get you to my offices quickly to tell you the news,” he said.

  “Thanks ever so much.”

  He showed me to the door. “Goodbye, Miss Delight. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have further news.”

  It was only as I walked out of the attorney’s offices that I realized I hadn’t even had a sip of the water. I decided to do as Rebecca had suggested, and hence go to the little café where I had been previously on occasion. I was hungry and unsettled. I couldn’t believe I would have that money. What would I do with it? I should be able to afford to buy a little house. I would miss Matilda, Eleanor, and Mr. Crumbles. Still, I could get a little house with some land and put the naughty goats there and maybe even buy a horse.

  My breath was coming in short bursts and I felt dizzy. This was quite a surprise. I had come to terms with the fact I had left the marriage with nothing and Ted had wanted me to sign away my rights to my inheritance. On the one hand I was furious, but on the other hand, I was happy to find out I had money after all.

  I walked into the café and got a shock when I saw a uniformed officer leaving with a bagel. I’d forgotten this was a place where the police liked to hang out. Or maybe my subconscious hadn’t forgotten, and had led me there in the secret hopes I would see Damon.

  Still, my stomach rumbled. I needed some coffee to calm my nerves, not that I thought coffee ever calmed anyone’s nerves. I was feeling quite muddle-headed. After all, I’d had a terrible shock. I sat there, my elbows on the table waiting for the waiter.

  I looked at the menu once more. I decided upon a garlic infused crêpe with steak, red onions, eggs, cheddar, and hash browns. I needed to comfort eat. Still, I wanted to leave enough room for the fresh berry cheesecake with bananas and Nutella. Maybe I’d have some whipped cream with that.