3 Cupcakes, Pies, and Hot Guys

by Pamela DuMond

  Mr. Bloomer did the catwalk. He was smooth, debonair, and practically danced on air.

  Grady tried to steer the crowd back on course. “Like your style, Mr. Bloomer. Perfect—just like beautiful Lake Como in your town.”

  Lila stared at Annie and held her fingers up to her ear and mouth like a phone. She mouthed, We need to talk.

  Annie plucked at her dress. Thank you, she mouthed back. No way they needed to talk. This could potentially be a problem. Since his death, Frank was becoming increasingly enamored with Lila. He was supposed to be concentrating on finding his killer and passing over. Not falling in love with his old sweetheart.

  Bzzz sounded next to Annie’s other ear. Oh, for God’s sakes! She glanced around. There were like a thousand cameras in the room. She was not going to overreact and be one of those gullible persons who made complete idiots out of themselves while some opportunistic moron captured the moment on camera and placed it on Youtube where it went viral.

  Yes, she felt increasingly stressed, but she was strong and she could handle it. She’d been through worse with that asshole ghost Derrick Fuller. She discretely flicked her ear with her index finger.

  Mrs. McGillicuddy eyeballed her and frowned.

  “What?” Annie whispered. “What is it this time? Am I tardy? Did I write a shitty book report? Do you not approve of my outfit? Am I living a wild and lascivious lifestyle in L.A.?”

  “Yes, but—” Mrs. McGillicuddy said.

  Mr. Butternut strutted across the stage.

  “Butternut is a dream location for outdoor enthusiasts!” Grady announced.

  “Yeah there, I’m barefoot. I’m getting divorced. Did you know that getting divorced takes at least six long, painful months in the State of California?”

  “No, but—”

  “I have a confession. I never liked Greek literature,” Annie hissed. “I wanted to rip my eyeballs out when you made us read The Iliad.”

  Bzzz.

  “I like reading novels that thrill me, chill me, or make me laugh. Give me a clever mystery, a fun romance or a thriller any day. Throw in a cupcake and a cocktail and color me happy.”

  Bzzz. Bzzz.

  “But—” Mrs. McGillicuddy said.

  Annie swatted her left ear. “Enough with the buts! I am telling you now. And I will tell you again.” She swatted her right ear. “I’m doing the best I can do. If you think I am going to sit here and do nothing until I get your approval, you’re wrong. That was high school. And I am no longer there.” She turned away from Mrs. McGillicuddy, crossed her arms over her daisy-clad chest and harrumphed.

  “It’s a B,” Mrs. McGillicuddy said.

  Annie wondered if she had heard that correctly. Had the Chicago Cubs won the World Series? She smiled. “OMG?”

  Mrs. McGillicuddy nodded. “Definitely a B.”

  “After twenty plus long years you’re finally giving me a B? Sweet Jesus, I need a cupcake.” Annie lunged to hug Mrs. McGillicuddy who screamed and jerked away from her.

  “What? You don’t like cupcakes? Who doesn’t like cupcakes? I’ll make you a baker’s dozen. A combo of your faves.”

  Mrs. McGillicuddy stumbled backward away from Annie. Suddenly all the cameras swiveled from the Hot Guys and focused on the drama playing out on the judge’s stage. The drama involving Annie and Mrs. McGillicuddy.

  “I’ll spike them with your favorite old-lady liquor. I mean… I will make you Grasshopper Cupcakes!”

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  “What’s that freaking buzzing!” Annie realized she’d yelled it into a completely packed, albeit deadly silent ballroom.

  Mrs. McGillicuddy slowly backed away from Annie. “You’ve been gone a long time. But how could you forget it’s bee season in Wisconsin? They do love the daisies.”

  Annie glanced up and spotted seven bees circling her head, her dress. One dove toward her cleavage. “Aw, frick.”

  “Let the voting begin!” Grady said.

  But the cameras stayed on Annie. She stood and turned to bolt.

  “You have to vote,” Mrs. McGillicuddy said.

  “Come on!”

  “Every self-respecting judge must vote.”

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  Annie grabbed her ballot, chose a contestant and marked a name. Then ran to the ballot box next to the podium. Grady backed away from her.

  “Et tu, Brute’?” She looked up. Twenty bees circled her head. She shoved her ballot in the box and bolted across the stage as flashes from dozens of cameras popped, nearly blinding her.

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  “A big round of applause to thank Frank Plank, Mr. Oconomowoc, for providing these gorgeous tuxedos,” Grady said as Annie fled out the ballroom door.

  Annie had zero lead on the bees as she pushed her way through a hallway firedoor and rushed outside onto the grassy backyard. Maybe it would have been smarter to gently disengage all the flowers from her pageant outfit. Maybe she’d only get stung twenty times, as her bee friends had apparently invited their bee-FFs to this party.

  The Olympic-sized pool was just yards away. She peeked up and spotted forty bees buzzing around her. She screamed. Made it to the gate surrounding the pool area, her arms flailing overhead at her growing personal hive. One sting. Ouch! Two stings—Double ouch! Three stings—Like, what had she ever done to offend the Bee Kingdom except for wearing daisies?

  “Getting a B from your high school English teacher is over-rated,” Annie said. “And you all can bite me.” Apparently they decided to do just that as a small swarm rose from a hedge of daises and flew toward her.

  She flung the kid-safety gate open and raced to the pool’s edge. She dove over the elderly couple in the shallow end who appeared to be having a Cialis moment. She hit the crystal clear water fully clothed and descended to the bottom of the pool where she held her breath for as long as was humanly possible.

  Nineteen

  Bee-licious

  Frank gazed at her on the pool’s floor. Strangely, his hair didn’t float in ridiculous directions. It just stayed in the same place and appeared gently rumpled.

  Annie squinted at him, threw her hands up and burbled, “I’m trying to find your murderer and you can’t keep me safe from bees?” Unfortunately, underwater her complaints sounded like, “Burble-Burber-Bee?”

  But Frank understood. “I think they’re gone by now.”

  “‘Oh, you can trust Lila,’” Annie said. “Head’s up, dude. That’s your penis talking.” Which totally sounded like, “Burble-Gurgle-Pee,” as she inhaled pool water, clutched her chest and hacked.

  “Noted,” Frank said. “Next time penis talks—tell penis to be quiet and re-evaluate the situation. Your face is turning blue. It’s time to breathe. Air, not water.” He pointed toward the pool’s surface.

  “Whatev.” Annie stomped her foot on the pool’s concrete floor and breast stroked ’till she popped above the water’s surface in the pool’s deep end. She shook her head and bobbed. The chlorine burnt her eyes, her vision was blurry and despite the chill from the pool’s water, she felt surprisingly warm.

  She barely made out the muscular male hand extended and gesturing toward her from the pool’s edge. She swam toward it. The man wrapped his hand around hers, pulled her flush against the pool’s decorative tiled edge and hauled her out.

  “Thanks, Frank.” She looked down through the chlorine fog. Her styling outfit and hairdo were drenched and ruined. She was soaked and wearing a clingy, for-the-most-part transparent hotel sheet. “Any bees?”

  “No bees. I’m Jamie. Frank’s dead.” He held her hand for longer than necessary. “Drinking and swimming, Ms.?”

  She screamed and yanked her hand away.

  “What?” Jamie asked.

  “I didn’t think it was you!” She slapped her hands over her boobs and other parts that were usually, but not always, private.

  “Who the hell did you think my hand belonged to?”

  Frank put his index finger to his
lips. “You screwed up with Lila. Don’t tell him.”

  Annie shook her head. She spotted the bee stinger embedded in her cleavage. It was turning an angry beet red and throbbing. Thinly disguised nudity be damned. She reached for it and winced.

  “I’ll help,” Jamie said.

  “No!”

  “Remember when I was ten years old and discovered the bee hive on the back corner of our garage?”

  She nodded and peered at the stinger that was embedded in her arm. Also red and swelling fast. “You proclaimed, ‘No more paper route for me. I’m going to harvest honey and make a fortune!’”

  “I got stung five times. You called my folks. They couldn’t or wouldn’t come home. You wanted to take me to the emergency room. My folks said no. That I was a magnet for trouble, as well as bees. That I’d never been allergic and hopefully would learn a lesson from my latest adventure.”

  “I remember.” Annie tried to pull out the stinger from her chest. But her hand shook.

  “You sat with me and pulled every stinger out. Even the one by my—”

  “Remember that one, too.”

  “Payback time.” Jamie plucked the stinger out of Annie’s arm and flicked it away. “Are you allergic? Do I need to call the paramedics? I’ve got an Epi-Pen in the SUV…”

  “No idea.”

  “When’s the last time you were stung?”

  “I’m still divorcing him.”

  “Bees, Annie! Concentrate. You’re not feeling woozy?”

  “Definitely not woozy.” She swayed.

  Jamie grabbed her arms, held her upright and led her several feet to a pool chair. “Sit,” he said.

  “I’m not your German Shepherd. Ask me nicely.”

  “Please sit in this lovely lawn chair before I arrest and detain you.”

  She vaguely wondered what the “detaining” thing might entail. Hmm.

  “When’s the last time you were stung?”

  “Twenty years ago on high school graduation day. Sucker snuck up under my robe and nailed me on my upper thigh. I swelled up something fierce.”

  “But you didn’t pass out.”

  “Only once.”

  “Not helpful!” Jamie said. “You don’t know if you’re still allergic? You’re breathing a little heavy.”

  “You try running out of a ballroom packed with maniacal blood suckers.”

  “The bees don’t suck your blood, Annie.”

  “I was talking about the paparazzi.”

  Jamie leaned in close to her and lifted her soggy hair off her collarbone. “Light-headed?” He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and smoothed it onto the rest of her drenched locks that dripped down her back.

  “No.” Her heart pounded.

  “Bear with me.” Jamie placed his hand on her cheek and gently turned her head toward her other shoulder. “Hmm.”

  Annie felt her heartbeat in her ears. What was wrong with her? Jamie’s face was inches from her face, his breath warm on her skin. Which tingled. Probably from the bee venom. Or adrenaline. Or both. “What are you doing?”

  “The stinger’s imbedded right behind your ear. In your hairline. The location’s a little tricky. I’ll pull the whole thing out.”

  “Right.” Like—how many times had she heard the “I’ll pull the whole thing out” line before. She squirmed.

  “Stop fidgeting.”

  “I’m not fidgeting.” Maybe if he wanted her to stop fidgeting he shouldn’t resemble a young Brad Pitt. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Hold still!”

  “Hold still, please?” She asked. Maybe if he really wanted her to hold still his mouth wouldn’t be an inch from her skin, breathing warm sweet air onto her neck and giving her goosebumps. If he was serious about this not-moving-thing he wouldn’t be that lethal combination of the nicest guy in the world, the hottest man in town, possess a killer sense of humor and share history with her. “I have a new boyfriend, you know?”

  “Lucky guy,” Jamie removed the stinger from her hairline and threw it away. He leaned back, cocked his head and regarded her cleavage. “Let’s get that last one out.”

  Annie squirmed. “Nah. Thanks for ze help. I’ll say happy twails to you.” She pushed herself to standing and swayed. “Bye-bye.” Her knees buckled and she passed out.

  Annie woke up. Her eyes were closed, but she felt a carpet of grass beneath her skin. From the feel of it, she was lying on a cushy lawn. The air was humid and warm, which meant she was lying on a rich green cushy summer lawn. Her eyes dragged open. Everything was a little hazy, but she saw her mom, Julia and Grady sitting on the ground next to her. Jamie paced back and forth behind them. Lila rubbed her feet. Dead Frank hovered next to Lila. Her entourage did not look happy.

  “Crap,” Annie said. “I’m dead, aren’t? You’re all here ’cause I’m dead and you’re mourning. Or wondering if I left you anything in my will.” She waved her hands in front of them. “Hello, can you hear me? ’Cause I can see all of you. None of you are psychic, or empathic. So I am reaching out from beyond the grave to my closest blood relative—my beloved mother.”

  Her mom wiped a tear from her eye. Just like Demi Moore’s character in Ghost, the movie. She didn’t want her mom to end up all whiny and sad and pathetic like Demi. “No matter what I say or do, Mom,” Annie said. “When I was still alive or in the Afterlife, I’ll love you forever.”

  Annie’s mom sniffled.

  “While I adored Julia I did not bequeath her my “Sculpt-Your-Curves through Pole Dancing with the Reverend Tawny Fuller” DVDs. I donated them to the library.”

  “But you promised!” Julia said.

  Annie and Julia locked eyes.

  “I’m not dead?” Annie asked.

  “You passed out. Wuss,” Julia said.

  “She had an anaphylactic reaction,” Jamie said. “I need to take her to the emergency room.”

  “No!” Annie, her mom and Julia chimed in.

  “Annie hates hospitals.” Julia pinched Annie’s arm. “I can’t believe you’re not bequeathing me the pole-dancing DVDs.”

  “Suck it, Julia. Borrow them for a month,” Annie said. “If you lose five pounds, I’ll give them to you.”

  “Deal!”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lila said. “If I’d known you were allergic to bees, I wouldn’t have gone the daisy route.”

  “It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could you have known,” Frank said.

  Annie sat up. “No worries.”

  Jamie knelt next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You okay? Should we go to the hospital?”

  She shook her head. A wave of exhaustion hit her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  Julia’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and eyed the number. “It’s a 310 area code. L.A. is calling.”

  “Answer it,” Annie said.

  She did. “It’s Julia. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Raphael Campillio. I’m worried about Annie. I’ve called multiple times. Everything goes straight to voicemail. I can’t get through to her. Sorry, Julia, but I tracked down your number. Is she all right?”

  Julia lifted an eyebrow and looked at Annie.

  Annie motioned to Julia with her hand.

  Julia passed her the phone. “Raphael. It’s so great to hear your voice!” Annie mouthed ‘Please.’ Nancy, Julia, Lila and Frank walked away and gave her some room. But Jamie stayed, his arm tight around her waist like a brace.

  “I didn’t get your messages,” Annie said. “I got stung by bees and apparently I passed out. I still don’t have any clothes and I’m feeling Ver-tuzed.”

  “You need to come home. You need to come back to L.A. Now.”

  Jamie shook his head.

  “Why, Raphael?” Annie asked. “Are you okay? Is something wrong? Tell me.”

  “I can’t explain it,” Rafe said. “I have a bad feeling. Something’s not right.”

  “I can’t leave here, yet. I’m
thinking this trip will be done in a couple of days. Everything will be over by then.”

  “Wrong.” Jamie shook his head again. “Everything’s finally starting.”

  “The contest ends tomorrow,” Raphael said. “Who’s that in the background?”

  “A friend. Practically part of the family.” Annie stared up at Jamie.

  “Not part of the family,” he said.

  “Contest ends tomorrow. But I’ve got a few things I need to finish here.”

  “Things you need to start,” Jamie said.

  She turned away from Jamie. Cradled the phone. “I’ll come back soon, Rafe. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I don’t want to miss you forever.”

  “That won’t happen,” Annie said. But he’d already hung up the phone. “Dammit!” She handed the phone back to Julia.

  She took it and grabbed Annie’s arm.

  “Ow!”

  “Let’s find you something festive to wear for the BBQ and the fireworks.” Julia tore her away from Jamie.

  “You’re bruising me!”

  “Some day you’ll thank me for this.” Julia dragged her back toward the Lodge.

  “I’ll help!” Lila followed Julia and Annie.

  “Me too.” Frank followed Lila.

  “We have business, Annie Graceland,” Detective Jamie Ryan yelled after her.

  Annie stopped in her tracks. Swiveled, stared at him, and nodded. “But it’s not here, Jamie. And it’s not now.”

  Julia tugged on her arm, and she walked away from Jamie. So not fair that her skin still tingled all the places he’d touched her.

  Back at their hotel room, Julia flipped through her extensive wardrobe. “I can’t freaking believe you’re jeopardizing your new relationship with the coolest, smartest, most handsome man west of the Rocky Mountains for a hometown kid who used to stick frogs down your pants.”

  “My shirt. And by the way? I’m jeopardizing nothing.”

  “Right. And I’m virgin, just like Madonna back in high school.” Julia rifled through her clothes and pitched tops, skirts, pants and dresses onto the bed.

  Lila picked through Julia’s wardrobe. She tossed one outfit to the side. “No on this one. Cheap department store slutty look won’t work for the BBQ and fireworks.”