by Holly Plum
Joy carefully undid her seatbelt. Before she could open the door, Daisy was there opening it for her. Joy narrowed her eyes, remembering what Teresa had said at the bakery.
“Who are you?” Joy managed to ask Daisy. "Is your name really Daisy?"
“I think you have a concussion," Daisy replied, "You’re not thinking clearly.”
Before Joy could say anything more, Daisy pulled something from her pocket, and then in a flash held something sharp against Joy’s neck. Joy froze, her eyes flying to Daisy’s face. Daisy stared at her with a cold gaze as she held a syringe to Joy’s arm.
“What are you doing?” Joy blurted out. She didn’t even recognize the look on Daisy's face.
“You know too much,” Daisy whispered.
“You’re working with Tyson, aren’t you?”
“No way." Daisy laughed. "Tyson is a fool. He still hasn't figured out that I was the one who broke into the Nickel and Dime Antique shop. Poor Sunny. I didn't mean to kill him."
Surprise laced Joy’s insides. There was no trace of remorse in Daisy’s voice.
"You are the killer?" Joy said quietly.
“Shush." Daisy began pressing the needle into Joy’s arm. "This will all be over before you know it."
Joy thrashed and shoved Daisy with all her might. She knocked her off of her feet, and Daisy went sprawling out over the road while the syringe flew through the air.
Joy clamped her fingers over her arm, hoping that the poison in the syringe hadn't gone into her bloodstream. She’d reacted quickly, but had she been fast enough? The commotion had drawn a small crowd. Joy looked around and realized that she was across the street from The Sugar Room.
“Help!” Joy cried out. “She’s trying to kill me!”
A couple of men darted across the street as Daisy fled the scene. Joy heard a siren in the distance and knew it must be for her. She hoped whatever Daisy had planned had been tanked. Though Daisy's attempt on her life didn't make sense, Joy knew that she would soon get the answers she had been searching for.
***
“You should really try answering your calls,” Joy chided as Randy held her hand. She sat in the back of an ambulance while an EMT dabbed at her head. Enough time had passed that they knew whatever Daisy had in the syringe hadn’t gotten into Joy’s system. They had collected the syringe for testing so that they could charge Daisy, or Rita Cross, for her crimes.
Randy looked guilt-ridden as he looked his cousin. “I’m sorry, Joy. We were out on the beach, and my reception wasn’t the best. We were searching for the jade dragon after you told me that Sunny spent a lot of time out there.”
“Oh?”
Randy sighed. “Yes, and we found it.”
Despite everything that had happened, Joy smiled. “That’s good news.” She was pleased that she had been able to help.
“Yes.” Randy squinted as he looked toward the patrol car where Daisy was cuffed and sitting in the back seat. “It is too late for Sunny I’m afraid.”
“Yes,” Joy murmured, feeling sad for Sunny and Randy. “I’m sorry about Daisy.”
Randy’s eyes went back to Joy. “What did you say her name is?”
“Rita Cross.”
Randy sighed. “I’ll have to run that name and see what I come up with.” He hitched his belt up higher, not looking too depressed for a man who had just found out his fiancée was a murderer. “Something tells me this isn’t her first time committing some rather large crimes.”
Joy did wonder what had made Daisy change her name.
"Well, there goes my ideas for the donut display," Joy teased.
“Do you think you could still make it even though I'm obviously not getting married anymore?”
"Um, sure." Joy’s brow creased. What the heck was he going to do with all those donuts?
“Good," Randy responded. "I’ll be working overtime this weekend, and I think the boys would appreciate it down at the station. Everyone’s been working hard lately.”
Joy gave him a smile. “You got it.”
“Donuts half off!” Maple leaned out of her bakery’s door, shouting at the small crowd of onlookers. “Get them while they’re hot!”
Joy rolled her eyes. “That Maple.” She was always ready to take advantage of any situation.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I’m sorry you had to call off the wedding,” Joy said quietly to Randy as they ate their donuts.
“It’s okay,” Randy responded. He shamelessly licked the white powder from his fingers. “It was for the best. I wasn’t quite… sober when I popped the question.”
Joy laughed.
The two of them were in the break room at the police station, a small murmuring crowd of officers gathered around the donut display Joy had just brought in. Everyone was in a good mood now that the case had been solved and the townsfolk could rest easy.
“We found out what happened the day Sunny died, and I got some background information on Daisy. Or should I say, Rita Cross?” Randy shook his head.
Joy looked at him with raised eyebrows, indicating that he should proceed with his story. "Go on."
“Turns out she worked for James Wang-”
“The man who sold Sunny the jade dragon?” Joy finished.
Randy nodded. “James wanted Sunny to give the dragon back, but when he wouldn’t James hired Daisy to steal it back. Daisy thought the dragon was in the store, so she broke into it early that morning. It turns out Sunny was already suspicious of Vincent Fox, so he’d set a trap for him. Sunny caught Daisy instead, who knocked over a bunch of those heavy shelves Sunny had full of antiques.” Randy ate the last bite of his donut. “Unfortunately, it killed him.”
Joy was quiet for a moment. “What about Daisy?”
“She worked at a furniture store in Georgia.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The police there found out that most of her goods had been stolen. But she fled before they could catch her.” Randy brushed his hands together. “Apparently she was also trying to get in good with the police so she could find out if anyone had managed to steal the dragon away from Sunny. Hence the reason why she…uh…” Randy cleared his throat. “…was overly interested in me.”
“You should start running background checks on your dating prospects,” Joy suggested.
Randy chuckled.
***
Joy sighed as she finished her weekly deep clean of the bakery. For the first time in a while, she didn’t have the seed of anxiety gnawing at her insides. Sunny's murder had been solved, Daisy had been locked away, and the huge success of her donuts meant that she could finally hire another person to help run the front.
Now, she thought as she took in the fluffy ball that was Cheesecake who lay curled up on a chair if I could just get my kitchen under control so Cheesecake can go back to guarding the house while I’m at work. She smirked at the thought.
The last thing she had to do before she closed up for the weekend was take a quick inventory of her ingredients to see what she needed to order for the week. Joy headed to the back and meticulously went through her list, checking off what she had and circling what she needed. It had been a while since she’d checked her food coloring stores, so she decided to see how much she had.
Joy went off to her storage room where she kept them and opened the cupboard. But to her surprise, the cupboard was already open a crack. Joy noticed a few stray, vanilla colored pieces of fur clinging to the edge of the cabinet door. Cheesecake. She frowned. That cat and his obsession with cabinets.
When she opened up the cupboard the rest of the way, Joy was in for another surprise. Next to the boxes of food coloring was an eclectic collection of random items, including a bracelet, two wallets and a set of keys. The Patty Cakes Bake Shop thief had been Cheesecake all along.
A Preview of MURDER CON CARNE by Holly Plum
CHAPTER ONE
Mari Ramirez swore quietly as she pulled into the parking lot of her family's Mexican restaurant. Her brothers, Alex and David, wer
e supposed to have opened it by now. But of course, the restaurant was empty. Steve Wilson, the meat delivery man, stood near the glass doors with his hands in the pockets of his oversized jeans. He casually smoked his cigarette. Mari wondered why he hadn’t moved to the back of his truck where it was cooler. Summer mornings in Texas could be vicious. Sweat was already dripping down Steve's neck.
Steve held up one hand as Mari emerged from her car. It was a half-wave, half-salute. Mari’s bulldog leaped out of the passenger's seat and began growling. Tabasco was not a fan of most delivery men, especially Steve.
“Tabasco, hush,” Mari said sternly. Mari's dad hated it when she brought him inside, but Mari knew better than to leave a dog in a parked car on a warm summer day. Tabasco peered out from behind Mari’s ankles and glared with all the might he could muster. He hated Steve and Tabasco took the opportunity to make his feelings known whenever he saw him.
“Took one of ya long enough,” Steve commented, though he didn’t sound angry. “I’m almost positive your dad’s in there, but either he can’t hear me or he’s too busy to come to the door.”
“That sounds like Dad.” Mari jangled her keys by way of apology. “He usually shuts the door and tunes out the world when he goes over the accounts.”
“Sometimes I think he sleeps here,” Steve responded.
“Well, that’s the way we do things at Lito Bueno’s Mexican Restaurant.”
Steve laughed as Mari unlocked the door. In the reflection of the glass, she saw the sun glinting brightly with the arid, blue sky around it. A single red pickup truck sat parked across the street at the Lucky Noodle, her least favorite restaurant, and her family's main competitor. For twenty years Mr. Chun, owner of the Lucky Noodle, had been trying to run them out of business with no luck. The town had one Mexican restaurant and one Chinese restaurant, and that was how people liked it.
The lock had jammed, and it was only after several minutes of patient coaxing and a few minutes of impatient knocking, that Mari was able to pry it open. It was a relief to be in that cool room. Not just because of the heat but because the tension between her and Steve was like a third wheel that followed them wherever they went. Steve had liked Mari since her first year of college, and he had asked her out once. She'd said no, and Steve had never quite gotten over it. Now and then, when he thought no one was paying attention, a flicker of that old yearning would glimmer in his eyes for a moment. Mari was instinctively kind to him, half out of genuine affection and half out of pity.
As Steve made his way to the freezer, Mari took in the whole room with a single glance. When she was a little girl, her brothers had often gotten her into trouble by daring her to run around the restaurant in the middle of business hours. They would set up their own obstacle courses and take turns trying to dash from one end of the room to the other, amid the square tables with their red tops and the long-legged strangers who were constantly getting up and sitting down again. Whoever made it all the way back without bumping into someone or being caught by their dad would get a prize. The prizes varied—anything from bubblegum to cherry soda. It was well worth the spanking she had gotten when they'd gotten home that night.
In an hour or two people would begin pouring into the restaurant for lunch. The tables would be stacked with steaming plates of paella, homemade tortillas, enchiladas, chile rellenos, and the overhead speakers would play traditional Mexican music. At that moment, however, Mari heard nothing but the clicking of a calculator coming from a back office.
Mari walked into the office, Tabasco tagging along at her heels.
“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” Mari said by way of introduction.
“I thought you were Steve,” her father replied, without bothering to glance up from his books. “What is that dog doing in my office?”
“He followed me inside. I told him no, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
José Ramirez let out a deep sigh. “You know the problem with kids these days? They don’t respect their elders.”
This was an argument they had been having for so long that by now it was almost a game. Mari played the role of the difficult child while her father feigned world-weariness.
“I bet things were better back in Mexico, huh?” Mari commented.
“They were,” José stated. “When you told a woman to do something, she did it.”
“Okay, Dad.” Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Mari turned and left the office. Her father was an old-fashioned man with dated ideas about a woman's role.
Steve emerged from the freezer as Mari filled up the napkin dispensers. He was out of breath, and his black-and-yellow protective gloves were covered with small shards of ice. As she had done so many times before, Mari took pity on him.
“Hey, before you go,” she said, “I think we have some Carne Asada left over from last night.”
Steve grinned shyly. “You know I don’t speak Mexican, Mari. What does that mean?”
“It’s meat that’s been marinated,” Mari answered. “I’ll warm some up for you with a side of rice and beans.”
Mari walked past her dad's office, and he flung open his door.
“Don’t encourage that boy,” José growled as he glanced at the kitchen. Mr. Ramirez wasn't a fan of freebies, and he could spot them a mile away.
"Relax, Dad," Mari assured him. "It's just a small plate of food."
"Marisol, how many times do I have to say it?" José was one of the few people who still called Mari by her full name. "Every penny counts."
Mari nodded, acknowledging that she understood. She then quickly made Steve a plate of food anyway.
Steve sat at the back of the restaurant, eating the meal with a hungry relish. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten all morning or maybe it was Mari's unexpected display of kindness, but for some reason, Steve seemed happier than usual. Most mornings he skulked to the freezer like a man with no purpose. This morning he seemed cheery, and more alert.
Mari left Steve to his food and finished filling up the napkin dispensers. With a jingle of bells, the front door opened and Mateo the bus boy came into the room. Shrugging sleepily, Mateo slung his backpack down behind the counter.
“Hola,” Mari said brightly, determined not to be intimidated by his gruff manner.
“Hola, yourself,” Mateo replied as he washed his hands. Mateo was in his mid-thirties, but his baby face made him look more like a high-schooler.
It was clear that Mateo had been up late the night before. Judging from the circles under his eyelids, Mari was inclined to suspect he hadn’t slept at all. She tried to think of a delicate way to approach the subject as they filled the salt and pepper shakers.
“So, are you dating anyone?” she asked him. Mateo’s last relationship had flamed out in spectacular fashion when his girlfriend admitted to working for the Lucky Noodle. Mr. Chun, the owner, had paid her a considerable sum of money to learn the secret family salsa recipe. He had planned to offer it in his buffet just to spite Mari's father.
“I'm not with that same nutbag anymore if that's what you're asking,” Mateo responded, though he seemed to be studiously avoiding her gaze as he said this.
“I was just making conversation,” Mari said, over the yapping of Tabasco from the other side of the restaurant. Mateo managed a small smile.
At that moment, Mr. Ramirez rushed out of the office looking as grumpy as ever. “Mari, would you silence that animal? Do whatever you have to do. I don’t care.” With an ominous gleam of malice, he crept back inside.
Mari ran out of the kitchen, past the bar and into the cool dining room. She prepared herself mentally to have to pull Tabasco away from some enraged customer. But there were no customers in the restaurant at this hour. That is to say; there were no live ones. The half-finished remains of last night’s Carne Asada were sitting on a table at the back of the room.
And under the table lay the body of Steve Wilson.
CHAPTER TWO
Two hours had passed, and Lito Bueno’s Mexica
n Restaurant was already closed for the day. But the dining room was not empty. A small team of detectives was gathered around the body, taking pictures and collecting evidence. An unfriendly looking woman in a gray coat who couldn’t have been much older than Mari walked slowly through the restaurant with a phone in one hand. She appeared to be recording the crime scene.
“Is she even allowed to be here?” asked Mr. Ramirez. He was upset because the restaurant had been forced to close for the day.
“She is, Dad,” Mari answered. “She’s collecting evidence.”
Her father sniffed disapprovingly as if to insinuate that where he came from, women knew better than to become police detectives. Between this and the fact that he seemed more concerned about the business than a man’s death, Mari was beginning to feel annoyed.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about, anyway,” she said in her most sarcastic voice. “The whole family gets a day off, and business is going to go through the roof. Everyone will want to eat at Lito Bueno’s. I bet they’ll be lining up to sit in the chair Steve was stabbed in.”
“Forgive me if I don’t share your enthusiasm,” Mr. Ramirez replied. “And you shouldn't speak of the dead like that.”
“I have to joke about it.” But Mari stopped short of explaining why. Thinking about her friend being murdered while she stood in the other room filling salt shakers with Mateo was too much to process. Mari would reflect on it when she was alone and not surrounded by reporters and policemen. “Anyway, you don't look too sad yourself.”
But Mr. Ramirez barely seemed to be listening. “What happened was very tragic.” He said it in an unconvincing tone. “If your brothers had been at work when they were supposed to be, it might never have happened.”
“Yeah, where were they?” Mari asked.
José shrugged. “Hopefully this will teach them. How many times have I said we must never leave the dining hall unattended during business hours?”