Curl Up and Die

by Sophie Sharp

  Molly started crying then and there.

  With great flourish, Nell and Damion pulled off the sheet and the crowd gasped. Max was turning the city center into a place where citizens and families could congregate, including a gazebo, picnic area, skate park, and more.

  Oh, how proud Opal May would be of her son.

  “Doug, please do the honors,” Max said happily.

  Doug moved the hoe forward in a red taped area and broke ground. A band started playing. Asil and the other truckies ran to their trucks to open up from the curb to join in on the celebration and serve the community.

  As the mass of people started to disperse, some toward the stage to look at the plans and clap Max and Damion on the back, some off toward the trucks, Molly caught Nell’s eyes.

  To her surprise, Nell approached her and Mia. For a moment, they all stood silent, and then Nell said, “Thank you. Thank you both.”

  “But—” Molly began. Her wise niece put her hand on her arm to stop her.

  Nell continued. “No matter how it came about, I credit the two of you with some of the prodding I needed to finally come out about being Damion’s mom.” She turned to Mia. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you. You never know what the future holds, though. Look at Max and me now.” And on that note, she rejoined her new family.

  When Doug returned from the backhoe, Detective Moat was at his side. “Hello, Molly. Miss Casey,” he said, eyeing her closely.

  Molly knew he could see what she had noticed of late too. Mia was flourishing and straight out blooming with a newfound confidence.

  “I assume you’re both staying out of trouble because I haven’t heard otherwise.”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on them. Not,” Doug joked.

  Just then, Moat’s phone went off. It was clear from his Captain America–like focus that something bad had happened. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Has something happened?” Mia asked, a little too eagerly.

  Detective Moat rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t concern you. I’ve got to run.” He raced off, casting a meaningful look at Doug.

  But Doug only lifted his hands as if helpless. “Hey, they’re adults. I can’t stop them,” he called after Moat.

  Molly smiled as she turned to her niece. A sparkle was in her niece’s eyes.

  “Well, Aunt Molly,” Mia said, “I guess we should head to our next appointment.” She winked.

  “Girls …” Doug warned.

  “See you later, honey,” Molly called and blew him a kiss, and she caught his when he blew one back.

  She grabbed Mia’s hand and the two ran to Glam Van, hot on Detective Dreamboat’s trail.

  A Glam Van Mystery, Book 2

  Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

  For a sneak peek, turn the page

  Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

  Chapter One

  Molly Casey-Locks clutched Mia’s hand on the theater chair’s arm rest and silently prayed to the baking gods that her husband, Doug, was about to get his moment to shine as the Men Bake Too King. Later they could spend their Friday night together celebrating his victory, or possibly even sleeping; her husband had spent so much time and energy preparing for this contest over the past month. She and her millennial niece were seated in the front row of the auditorium at the base of the stairs, the perfect location to run onto the stage and congratulate Doug if—no, when—he was crowned winner. Wendy Benedict, fellow contestant Gabriel Benedict’s picture-perfect trophy wife, had positioned herself at the opposite end of the row, ready to do the same.

  Or rather, Wendy should have been there, but her seat was empty.

  Hmph. Now? At the grand finale?

  Someone would have to drag Molly away by her ankles (or rather her cankles, thanks to her plump calves) before she’d miss her husband’s moment in the limelight. She’d even taken vacation hours for the first time just to be at the show. She tugged at her once-much-looser black blouse and skirt. She’d worn Doug’s favorite outfit. It still fit, but just barely. Maybe she should’ve worn her loose linen culottes instead, or even the purple muumuu from their last vacation in Kauai; she was obsessing about camera angles and if one would catch her wider-than-usual tuchus running onto the stage to celebrate with her husband. It was one thing to be tucked safely in her seat, but quite another if the camera guy went wide on the shot. If so, San Cosmas was going to get an eyeful of Molly-ness.

  Alas, sampling Doug’s practice cakes over the past several weeks had caught up to her behind. Mia had been the smart one, telling her uncle well in advance that she supported him wholeheartedly but would only have one bite of each trial run. Molly had never had her niece’s willpower.

  Wendy Benedict obviously had the willpower of Wonder Woman. Paper-thin Wendy had arrived at the contest looking drop-dead gorgeous with her blond hair flowing and her pencil skirt smoothed over her hips and thighs just as it should be. Yeah, Wendy would look amazing on camera from every angle. Except, in Molly’s humble opinion, Wendy could use the ten pounds that a camera supposedly added. Right now, Molly would gladly lend her a few of her own inches.

  Stop being so superficial, Molly. Still, at least Molly had the upper hand in the marriage department. The Benedicts’ marriage was not all it pretended to be. Molly had witnessed the facade with her own eyes these past days at the show. Being a cosmetologist, she’d learned how to read body language and subtle nuances a long time ago. The couple, with their matching golden hair, blue eyes, and Orbitz Gum–white sparkling smiles, put on a good front, but something was up with those two, and it wasn’t good.

  Gabriel and Wendy kept at least two feet between them at all times. They were like North Pole magnets. If one moved toward the other, the other moved farther away. Molly couldn’t imagine her and Doug behaving that way. Heck, she couldn’t remember the last time she and her husband were in the same room and hadn’t touched each other within ten minutes. But not in a needy way. In an I love your company way. More than once over the past few days, Molly had caught Wendy rolling her eyes whenever her paragon partner waxed on (and on and on and on) about his “culinary gift.” Molly wasn’t sure who had snorted louder at Gabriel’s self-praise, her or Wendy.

  And now Wendy was in danger of missing a moment in her husband’s life. Nope. San Cosmas’s most perfect couple wasn’t looking too perfect. There was more than a show about cakes taking place in the theater that week.

  Molly had never been a huge Gabriel fan, so she kinda didn’t blame Wendy for smirking from time to time to release her annoyance. Get it out, girl. Though Molly’s parents had moved Molly and her famous sister, Lacy, away from San Cosmas in the third grade, four years of school with Gabriel had been enough for Molly to know she preferred his brother, Brody, any darn day. Gabe and Lacy were two of those people who, no matter what they did, walked on water, while Molly and Brody got sprayed by their splash.

  “Star Appeal” is what her mother had called Lacy’s charisma just before her parents signed the dotted line on Lacy’s first ABC After School Special, hammered a For Sale sign in the front yard, bought a Winnebago, and tore Molly from her beloved school, home, and friends. Her mom had said with great promise, “You’ll love being homeschooled by me and Lacy’s on-set tutors.”

  Um, no, she hadn’t. But there had been some things she’d grown to love about living on the road, such as the intimacy of the close quarters in a Winnebago. It was why, three years ago, she’d decided to leave a shared brick-and-mortar salon to open up the Glam Van. (It was technically a bus, but Glam Bus didn’t have the same ring to it.)

  Molly checked again. Wendy still wasn’t there. Seriously? No matter what was happening between Wendy and Gabriel, where was she? Molly hoped the show’s director wouldn’t notice her empty seat and delay the announcement. They had a show to put on after all, and the director had already asked them to “be ready.” If—and it was a big if—Gabriel won, they’d want the “happy couple” shot of Wendy running on stage. Wendy woul
d probably leap on stage like a gazelle. Molly, however, would be more like a bull in a china shop, charging toward her man, eager to hug him, shouting, “You did it!”

  Come on, Wendy. Get back here. Why stick it out at the theater all week only to miss the end? Maybe things were worse than Molly imagined. Perhaps a few of her Glam Van clients at the Silver Linings Assisted Living Center were right; several had been gossiping for a while that the Benedicts were talking the Big D word. Divorce.

  She’d have to ask her bestie, Brody, later. He was watching the event live on local-access TV with his grandmother, Helen, at the nursing home.

  He’d said, “I don’t want her to celebrate alone when Gabe wins.”

  Molly had fired back, “You mean you want to console her when Gabe loses to Doug.”

  She texted him now: Are you ready to see my hubby crowned the Men Bake Too King?

  Brody responded: Only if ready means unrealistic. Sorry, Moll. Everything Gabe touches turns to gold. Even cakes. Text me when they call Doug and Gabe on stage. I want to make sure Grandma is focused.

  There was a fifteen-minute delay to allow for bloopers or censorship, hence Brody’s request, so Molly promised she’d let him know.

  Brody: I’ve heard the high school is going to play a collection of Katy Perry songs at the theater before they announce the winner. I want to record them.

  Ugh. This was news to her. Nothing against Katy Perry. Molly loved her. But it would only delay the announcement even more and she was fit to pop with excitement as it was.

  Molly: I promise to text you as soon as the winner is announced.

  Okay, this was her hubby’s moment, and he deserved her absolute attention. Just a handful of months ago, they’d gone through their own rough patch when she’d lied, by omission, to her wonderful man about her unofficial detective work and involvement in the first murder to hit San Cosmas in years. It hadn’t helped that she’d encouraged Mia to be her fellow sleuth.

  Molly glanced at the anxious audience behind her. No less than a dozen of her husband’s construction co-workers were there to root him on. They’d even had special T-shirts made that said, “Team Goldie Locks”—a name they’d given him in spite of his bald head.

  Doug could win his own show on the San Cosmas local cable access channel for one year. And the $10,000 prize would help with their dream kitchen renovation where the show would be filmed. All sorts of good things could spring from this opportunity. Like Doug always said, “Look at Sam the Cooking Guy in Southern California! I frigging love that show. If it could happen for Sam, it can happen for me. For us.” Sam had his own show and, like, four published cooking books. Oh, how Molly would love to see this for Doug too. Maybe he could give up his day job.

  She turned to the front again just as Mia slid her hand from Molly’s to flip through her smart phone. Molly couldn’t help but be nosy.

  Mia was scrolling through social media updates. Fine. At least she wasn’t still mooning over photos of her ex-boyfriend, Damion—a break-up that Molly blamed on herself, even though Mia hadn’t so much as pointed a pinky finger at her.

  Host Bob stepped on stage, followed by Doug and Gabe. “Ladies and gentlemen, your Men Bake Too finale contestants!

  Molly texted Brody: It’s starting.

  The three men took their places between two raised platforms with red velvet drapes hiding their royal bake-off podiums and final bakes that would determine the culinary culmination. Once the crowd’s applause quieted, the host turned to her husband in the middle of the stage. “Doug, what will you do with the ten-thousand-dollar prize if you win?”

  Molly already knew what was coming. Doug was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy and he wouldn’t say anything he didn’t mean, even if fibbing might garner the oohs and ahs of the judges.

  With his bald head shining under the spotlight, Doug smiled like he was talking to Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. His cheeks and forehead turned rosy with glee. “Bob, I’d remodel my kitchen.”

  The crowd laughed. Molly glanced at the judges as they remained expression-free and took notes. Doug was still grinning like a maniac when Bob turned to Gabe.

  “Gabriel, now it’s your turn. If you are crowned the Men Bake Too King, what will you do with the prize?”

  Perfect Gabe took a step forward on the stage and stared at each judge with his piercing sky blue eyes before looking at the audience. “I’d donate a portion to the soup kitchen for the homeless.”

  Doug’s smile faltered as the people and judges did indeed ooh and ah all over the room.

  Mia snorted next to her. “‘Homeless. Pfft.’”

  Molly squeezed her hand, conveying a silent, Thank you but stop. Her niece hated how people referred to unhoused residents as homeless and she made no bones about correcting anyone who got it wrong.

  “Home is where the heart is,” her niece always said. “Just because they don’t live in a socially accepted construct, it doesn’t mean they are homeless or heartless. Home is a state of mind.”

  Molly suspected her niece might be projecting a little while she searched for her own career and place in the world.

  Now Mia whispered, “He would need labels like homeless.”

  Molly squeezed her hand in warning again, but if she was honest, she wanted to laugh.

  The host nodded approvingly at Gabriel. “Such a philanthropist.” Once the applause quieted, the host said, “Now gentlemen, it’s time for the two of you to step behind your Men Bake Too curtains to reveal your final epic piece: The Opera Cake! Bakers around the world agree that this is the most difficult bake, even for the pros. You’ll be judged first by presentation and then taste.” He swung his arms toward their respective curtains on either side of him on the stage. “Bakers, please join your cakes by entering your curtain from behind so our guests can’t peek at your super manly creations.”

  Doug and Gabe shook each other’s hands and parted ways to enter their enclosed podiums.

  Host Bob said, “And now, our local San Cosmas Spartans High School Band will play us a special treat, pardon my pun: their award-winning marching band Katy Perry montage.

  As the brass and drums started playing “Teenage Dream,” Molly texted Brody: You’re right. Katy Perry’s in the house. Doug’s going to be a wreck by the time they finish.

  During the performance, Host Bob stood in front of Doug’s curtained podium. Doug must have said something funny from behind his curtain, because Host Bob started to chuckle, covering his smile with his hand. She’d ask him later what the silliness was about. Right after they toasted his win with a glass of champagne.

  Ten minutes later—ten!—the band finished. Molly’s fingernails were gone. The crowd had danced in the seats but was now restless.

  “Drum roll, please.” Host Bob signaled the band. “And now, let us eat cake!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Molly saw Wendy slide into her seat just in time. She had managed to miss the band and everything. She had luck and good timing on her side, just like Gabe.

  Each curtain and podium was under a spotlight. As Molly held her breath, the first set of velvet curtains was pulled aside to reveal Doug. Doug’s smile was nothing short of beatific. No matter what happened, he was her Men Bake Too King. His epic confection was sheer perfection. His Opera Cake gleamed under the lights, the chocolate glaze drizzling provocatively down the sides. It was a beauty.

  Mia whispered forcefully, “Uncle Doug nailed this!” She started taking pictures with her phone. Doug waved at Mia and Molly like he was sitting on a carousel at a carnival ride. Mia leaned over to show Molly the picture.

  Classic. Her hubby was as happy as a kid.

  Host Bob strode to the opposite side of the stage and, with a flourish of his hands, the other curtain swung open. At first, everyone was silent, confused by what they saw. And then the crowd gasped. But not with wonder. With utter, unbelievable terror. Screams echoed off the walls as people leapt to their feet. Molly blinked several times, struggling
to believe her eyes as well.

  Holy cowlicks! Gabriel was face down in his Opera Cake with a knife shoved to the hilt in the middle of his back.

  Fudgesicles! Molly pressed Mia’s hand like a vice. “Come with me.” She released Mia and jumped to her feet, taking the steps two at a time toward Doug, her tight dress forgotten, to make sure that no baker-hating monster was sneaking up behind him too. She vaguely heard her niece say, “I know. I’ve seen him.” And a second later, “Not again!” And then, “Where did he come from?”

  Molly turned to see what she meant, impressed with her own coordination to run and look behind her at the same time. Ah-ha.

  Detective Moat appeared out of nowhere in street clothes and leaped to the stage like Captain America. Her niece had a love-hate relationship with the hunky detective. Molly was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

  As Molly reached Doug, the detective climbed up to where Gabriel’s body slumped against the table, his head supported by the ruined cake. The detective placed two fingers on Gabe’s neck, and looked up. When he pulled his fingers away, they were covered with chocolate frosting.

  No one would be licking those fingers clean.

  Detective Moat shouted at Doug, his construction coworkers, and Molly: “Guard all the doors. Don’t let anyone leave until the rest of my team arrives!”

  Foreman Doug started firing directions to his co-workers and grabbed Molly’s hand. She was quite impressed how easily her husband switched gears from happy cook to leader. Then he said, “Get Mia and stay close to me.”

  Sigh. The damage she’d done a few months before was still there: he didn’t trust her not to start sleuthing and putting hers and Mia’s life in danger once again.

  “Go, honey,” she said. “Watch the doors. Mia and I will stay here, and I need to comfort Wendy.” And she knew Doug would be safe with his crew.

  Doug hesitated.

  “I promise,” she said with all the earnestness she could muster. She looked around for Mia. Where was she? She was just here.