Previous Confections

by Ruth Hartzler

  I was shocked. “Arrested?” I could scarcely believe it.

  Cherri shook her head. “Well, not arrested exactly.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “They think he did it.”

  “And what makes you think that?” Eleanor asked her.

  “Because they questioned him for a long time and then Ted told me the police think he did it.”

  “But what possible motive could he have?” Matilda asked her. “The police do need a motive, you know.”

  Cherri sipped her coffee and pulled a face. She set the coffee mug down with a clatter. “The police say they have a motive, but Ted says it’s all lies, lies!” Her voice rose to a high pitch.

  Mr. Crumbles had just come into the room. He fluffed up his tail and fled under the sideboard.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said, scratching my head. “The police say Ted has a motive for murdering Marcus, but Ted said he doesn’t. Is that right?”

  Cherri nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s right, darling.”

  I knew Ted was far from truthful. “What motive is he supposed to have exactly? Do you know?” I asked after an interval.

  Cherri shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s gone way over my head. It’s something to do with blackmail.”

  “Blackmail?” I repeated.

  “Yes, you know, blackmail. The police think Marcus was blackmailing Ted. Ted could go to prison. They say it’s all his fault, but it isn’t true!” She burst into tears once more.

  Matilda and I exchanged glances over Cherri’s head. “But Marcus was awfully friendly with Ted tonight,” I pointed out. “It didn’t seem as if Melissa or Marcus had a grudge against Ted at all. They were nice to him. Ted also seemed quite friendly with Marcus. If Marcus was blackmailing Ted, then why were the two men on such good terms with each other?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Cherri said. “That’s right! The police are making it up. They just want to have a suspect, so they’re pinning it on my poor Popsicle.”

  I took a deep breath and said in the most soothing tone I could muster, “Now Cherri, the police wouldn’t make something up. Someone must have told them this information.”

  “It’s all lies!” she screeched.

  “Yes, well, if it’s lies, then someone has lied to the police to try to implicate Ted in Marcus’s murder,” I said. Matilda and Eleanor nodded their agreement.

  Cherri spun the coffee cup around. “Oh I see,” she said slowly. “So someone is trying to frame Ted.”

  “Possibly,” I said, “but we really don’t know enough about it at this point.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’ve come to see you, Jane darling,” Cherri said.

  My hand flew to my throat. “Me? You said you wanted me to help you, but I can’t see what I could possibly do.”

  Cherri pouted. “But you were married to Ted.”

  I was going to say something rude, but I caught myself in time. After all, I knew just what a liar Ted was. “But how can that help?” I said. “Ted needs a lawyer.”

  “But he is a lawyer,” she protested.

  “Yes, but he needs another lawyer, someone else,” I said patiently. “Someone needs to understand the law to figure out what’s going on.”

  “No, we need someone who has solved a murder before,” Cherri protested. “And Jane darling, you and your friends here have already solved a murder.”

  I gasped. “How did you hear that?”

  “I overheard the two detectives talking about it. I can’t remember their names. One had a funny accent.”

  “Aha. Detective McCloud.”

  She nodded. “Yes, something like that.”

  “What did they say about me, exactly?”

  “I can’t remember.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue once more. “They just said that the three of you figured out what happened with the last murder. Now I’m asking for your help with this murder. I can tell the police aren’t going to be any help at all.”

  “Why don’t you give them some time,” Eleanor offered. “Give them a week or a month and see what they come up with.”

  Cherri pouted once more. “My poor Popsicle could be imprisoned by then and awaiting bail.” She shook her head. “No, poor Ted entertains me with stories of criminals and now he’s been treated as one. Jane, you’ve got to help me! There’s no one else I can turn to. You’re my only hope.”

  I rubbed my eyes with my hand. “Look, I’ll do what I can, but I really don’t know what I can do. I’m running the cupcake store full time by myself now that her sister has broken her arm.”

  “Eleanor and I can help you with that,” Matilda said, earning herself a glare from Eleanor. She turned to her sister. “Oh come on, Eleanor, another investigation will be fun. Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy investigating.”

  Eleanor shut her eyes tightly and then opened them. “Okay, I suppose you’re right,” she said in a weary fashion.

  Cherri jumped to her feet and hugged each one of us in turn. She sat back down and drank the rest of her coffee in one gulp. I figured it couldn’t be too hot. “All right, what do we do first?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea, to be honest,” I told her. “What can we do? And by the way Cherri, I think Ted is going to be very angry that I’m helping you.”

  “We won’t tell him,” she said quite happily.

  “But he’ll find out,” I said.

  Cherri’s eyebrows shot skyward. “How would he find out?”

  “We will need to ask him questions at some point, surely.”

  “No, Jane darling. If you want to ask Ted questions, just ask me and I’ll ask him for you. Besides, I’m sure he’d rather answer questions if I asked them. No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” I said dryly. I knew she was right. “Okay then, if you’re happy about keeping it from Ted, I suppose we’ll have to be happy too.”

  “Fetch the laptop and make notes,” Matilda instructed Eleanor. She scratched her head. “Now what would Miss Marple do first?” She looked up at the ceiling. “Yes, she would gather all the information. Cherri and Jane, I want you to draw a table and chairs and write everyone’s name exactly where they were sitting tonight. Also, we need the names of everyone present and the names of any staff who approached the table at any time. Cherri, I don’t suppose you know what the poison was?”

  “No.”

  Matilda patted her knee. “Never mind, it’s far too soon to know. I was hoping the paramedics had suggested something to the police. We need to know that poison as soon as possible. Now, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in your contacts. It won’t do if Ted knows you have Jane’s number. Tell me, Cherri, does Ted know my name?”

  “I don’t think he does,” she said.

  Something occurred to me. “Cherri, how do you know where I live?”

  “Ted had your address on the contract,” she told me. “I happened to see it when he handed you the papers.”

  I was a little suspicious. “You must have a good memory.”

  She shook her head. “I only saw the street name, but I remembered that Ted said that your twin sister has an Amish cupcake store and that you live above it. I drove along the street until I saw the cupcake store.”

  I nodded slowly. “I see.” I wondered if she was telling the truth. I wondered if in fact Ted didn’t have a private detective following me after all. Still, I couldn’t see what good it would do him, so I figured Cherri was probably telling the truth.

  “I put my name just as Matilda in your phone. No surname. Will you remember that?”

  Cherri nodded. Matilda punched some keys and then handed the phone back to Cherri. “I just called my number and so I can put your number in my phone. Feel free to call or text me at any time day or night. Do you understand?”

  Cherri looked surprised but nodded. I wondered if Matilda had ever been in the military, because she was certainly quick-witted and good at giving orders.

  Just then, Cherri’s phone rang. She almost drop
ped it with it fright. “It’s Ted,” she whispered before putting her finger to her lips.

  “Where are you, Pumpkin?” Ted’s voice said. Cherri had clearly set the phone to Loud. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I’m in the car, Popsicle,” she said. “Are you still at the restaurant? I’ll go straight back there. I’ve been driving around because I’ve been so upset about the police suspecting you. Do they still suspect you?”

  “I’m afraid they do.” Ted’s voice was grim.

  Cherri hung up and then turned to me. “Thanks so much, Jane darling. It’s so good of you. I’ll be in touch.” She hurried for the stairs with Matilda on her heels.

  “Call us as soon as you know any more, and call us if you hear what the poison was,” Eleanor called after her.

  I watched Cherri’s departing back. This was the last thing I ever expected, to help my husband who was a suspect in a murder case. I for one would be happy to throw him in prison myself.

  Chapter 5

  It was a fun morning at the cupcake store, if you call listening to Matilda recite a long list of fast acting poisons and their symptoms fun. I finally had to ask her to stop.

  Eleanor and Matilda had both been helping me in the cupcake store, and they seemed quite good with the customers. I wondered again what the incident was. Rebecca had refused to speak about it.

  A regular customer came in to buy five Shoo-fly pie cupcakes. Shoo-fly pies were not normally in cupcake form, but my Amish sister had modified Amish recipes to produce delicious cupcakes. Shoo-fly pies were a concoction of molasses goodness, all sugary and delectable.

  When the lady saw Matilda, she gasped. “It’s you!” she said. “If I bring in my calendar, would you both autograph it for me?”

  Both Matilda and Eleanor beamed widely. “Yes, but you had better bring it in soon, before Rebecca returns,” Matilda told her.

  The lady nodded. “Oh, yes, of course. I see.” In brighter tones, she added, “I’ll bring it in tomorrow!”

  As soon as the lady left, I rounded on Matilda. “Okay, my curiosity has finally gotten the better of me. What was this incident that Rebecca doesn’t want to talk about?”

  Matilda looked at me as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said slowly.

  I turned to Eleanor. “You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

  Eleanor opened her mouth, but Matilda put her fingers to her lips. “Shush!”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I really want to know. Come on, it can’t be that bad. I’m going to find out sooner or later, so why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Your sister really doesn’t like talking about it.”

  “Rebecca isn’t here, is she?” I said. “It seems now is a good opportunity for you to tell me what happened.”

  Matilda let out a long sigh. “It was the cupcake calendar.”

  “The cupcake calendar?” I parroted. “You’ll have to explain a bit better than that.”

  I held my breath, hoping a customer wouldn’t interrupt just when I was on the point of finding out about the mysterious incident. Rebecca kept the details to herself.

  “We had the best of intentions,” Matilda said. “We were trying to raise money, you see.”

  Eleanor nodded vigorously. “That’s right! All Rebecca’s Amish friends were trying to raise money by doing a fundraiser.”

  Matilda interrupted her. “Yes, because the barn of someone in their community burned down and they were raising money to have a new one built. We were only trying to help.”

  Eleanor agreed. “It was just before Christmas, so we thought it was a good time of the year to do a calendar for the following year.”

  Matilda tut-tutted. “Obviously, Eleanor, because it would have been silly for us to do a calendar in the middle of July, wouldn’t it!”

  I held my hand to forestall the bickering that was sure to follow. “Please just tell me what you did. It surely wasn’t that bad.”

  Matilda looked highly offended. “It wasn’t bad at all. I have no idea why Rebecca was so upset.” She bit her lip and then continued, “Well, I can understand why Rebecca was upset because she’s Amish. We should have thought about that, shouldn’t we, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor nodded. “We should indeed. But we weren’t going to sell them to Amish people. We were going to sell them to non-Amish people, and I think we would have sold a lot.”

  “A lot of these Amish calendars?” I imagined the beautiful Lancaster countryside, cornfields under a golden sunset, or trees dripping with snowflakes, maybe beautiful green fields with buggies being driven across the foreground.

  They both giggled. “They weren’t Amish calendars, Jane,” Matilda said through her chuckles. “But they sold well and we would have sold more, only Rebecca stopped us.”

  I rubbed my forehead with both hands. “Okay, let me try to piece this together. You two were going to sell calendars to raise money for an Amish barn that had burned down. Is that correct?”

  They both nodded.

  “And so did you buy these calendars to resell them or did you produce them yourself?”

  “We had them professionally printed, of course,” Matilda said. “That was our contribution and then we were stuck with them.”

  “Why were you stuck with them?” I asked slowly.

  “Well, because Rebecca wouldn’t let us sell any more,” Eleanor said. “Luckily we’d already sold enough to cover our costs. They were awfully popular, especially with the old man from the bowling club. He bought a whole box.”

  “Yes, Eleanor and I took it in turns to take the photographs,” Matilda supplied.

  I was getting more confused by the minute. “I see, so you took photographs. Did you take photographs of the lovely countryside nearby?”

  They both giggled once more. “Not exactly,” Matilda said. “Rebecca specifically objected to the photographs.”

  “Yes, she only objected to the photographs and not to anything else,” Matilda said. “What a shame we had to stop selling them.”

  “Rebecca objected to the photographs?” I asked them. Then I realized what must have happened. I nodded. “Oh yes, I see. The Amish don’t like having their photographs taken. The reasons differ from community to community, but the reason in my sister’s community is that photos are considered graven images.”

  I wondered why Matilda and Eleanor looked so surprised, but Matilda said, “No, we didn’t take photos of any Amish people.”

  I was still puzzled. “Then what were the photographs of exactly?”

  “Why just of us, of course,” Matilda said.

  “Rebecca objected to photographs of you and Eleanor?” I asked Matilda.

  “Oh yes. We also asked one of the nice young firefighters if we could take his photo and he agreed as well,” she said.

  “I can’t see why my sister minded,” I said. “Do you have any idea?”

  They both flushed beet red and I wondered why. “Could I see one of the calendars? Do you still have any left?”

  “I’ll go and fetch you one,” Eleanor said. “I have to pop upstairs and check on Mr. Crumbles at any rate. I’ll put him at the top of the pole again.”

  I was horrified. “Why would you do that? I thought you objected when Matilda did it?”

  “I did,” Eleanor said, shooting a glare at her sister, “but we all gave him so many treats afterwards that now he insists I put up the top of the pole so he can swing down and get treats.”

  “You’re training him badly,” Matilda said. “If you didn’t give him any treats, then he wouldn’t expect you to put him on the pole.”

  Eleanor was already halfway out the door waving over her shoulder at Matilda.

  Before I could pump Matilda for more information, a customer came in and asked for six peanut butter cupcakes. I boxed them, he said, “Oh, I forgot to ask. Do these cupcakes have nuts in them?”

  “Yes they do,” I said, wondering if my day could get any worse. “T
hey’re called peanut butter cupcakes because they contain peanut butter.”

  “So do they have nuts in them?” the man said.

  I simply said, “Yes.”

  He pushed the box back at me. “I’m sorry, nuts make me sick.”

  I had been working in the cupcake store long enough that I wasn’t even surprised by what the customer had said. I spent another five minutes going through the varieties of cupcakes with him before he finally decided on salted caramel cupcakes.

  Eleanor had returned halfway through the customer looking at each cupcake in the shop. I reached for the calendar she was clutching to her chest. I couldn’t understand why Rebecca had objected to the calendar. That is, of course, until I opened the first page.

  I gasped and all but dropped it.

  “I can’t believe it!” I squealed.

  “They’re rather good photographs, aren’t they,” Eleanor said proudly. “I don’t know which ones I like the best.”

  “I like the one of me with the firefighter the best,” Matilda said. But then she added in a grudging tone, “Although the November one of you with the firefighter is good too, Eleanor.”

  “But you’re, um, nude!” I stammered, horrified.

  Both ladies looked aghast. “We are not!” Matilda shrieked. “We have cupcakes covering our naughty bits.”

  And they were right. I took a deep breath to steady myself and flipped through all twelve calendar months, each month sporting a photo of Eleanor or Matilda, some with the young firefighter. In each photo, cakes were placed strategically, although I fervently wished there were more cakes, to be honest.

  “Don’t tell Rebecca you saw it,” Matilda said.

  “And don’t tell her we have any calendars left,” Eleanor added. “We would like to frame them and hang them in the apartment, but we’re scared Rebecca will see them.

  Matilda tapped her chin. “You know, why don’t we frame them? We could put them somewhere where Rebecca doesn’t go.”

  “That’s a good idea, Matilda,” Eleanor said.

  I couldn’t believe Matilda and Eleanor had produced such a calendar. I shut my eyes and handed it back to Eleanor. I would rather hear symptoms of fast acting poisons than look at that calendar one more time.