The Annie Graceland Cupcakes Cozy Mystery Box Set #2: Books 5 - 7

by Pamela DuMond

  “Especially the Packers,” she said.

  I dropped the weight onto the ground. Maybe I really should start going to the gym. “What’s that room over there?” I pointed to a door that appeared to lead to the area Hildy had entered. “Another exercise studio?”

  “No, that’s Fit-Pro Camp. Hildy Crawford trains some of the top athletes during their off-seasons.”

  “Oh,” I said. “What if I wanted to train there?”

  “They don’t take on a lot of weekend warriors.”

  I glanced up and immediately longed for a tissue to wipe the condescension that was thick as a toddler’s snot off Glenda’s face. Instead, I walked toward the door, and pulled on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “Name sounds familiar. Hildy Crawford, the supermodel?” I smushed my nose against the glass, tried to peer inside, and bought myself some time. “I did a little modeling in my youth. I could swear we ran into each other from time to time.”

  “You’re thinking of Cindy Crawford. No relation to Hildy. Besides, double chin up, Ms. Graceland; there’s no sense pining for the old days.” She tugged on my arm. “Come with me, I’ll show you our new cross-training area. That’s a great place to start. You could even sneak in a workout today. My treat.”

  I allowed her to tear me away. “Do you think any of the Green Bay Packers train with Hildy during the off season?”

  “Who wouldn’t want to train with Hildy?” she said. “Oh look. Over there in the far right corner—we just got in the newest Z1000 rowing and stepping machine. You can plug into Facebook while you’re doing cardio.”

  “God forbid I miss a second of those updates. I wouldn’t want to turn to stone.” Suddenly, through the thumping of the music, the clanging of the weights, the whirring of the treadmills, and the folks chattering, I heard a familiar sound. A distinctive “Meow-rl,” penetrated the air. That cry could only belong to one cat. My cat. Theodore von Pumpernickle.

  I whip turned and saw his rotund, grimy self, checking out the garbage in the parking lot. Tears flooded my eyes, I threw a kiss to the heavens, and thanked God he was alive.

  “Theodore von Pumpernickle!” I hollered. “If I catch you eating the trash around this germ-infested place, I’m going to kill you.” I pushed through the crowd toward the fence. “Stay put. Your mother loves you.”

  A guy in spandex shorts, that were seriously way too tight, checked me out and grunted. “Hey, aren’t you on the wall at The Juiced Bar?”

  My eyes dropped from his face down to his clingy shorts where I spotted his own personal meet and greet package. “No,” I said.

  A girl with boob implants bigger than my head regarded me, sniffed, and returned to her bicep curls. “You guys, your beauty tips, and your obsession with the wall. I’m sick of hearing about it.”

  I nodded and couldn’t help but wonder how I would look with Double Gs. “I’m siding with Booby. I meant—Blondie.”

  “At least someone agrees with me,” she said.

  “Meow-rl.”

  “Talk later. Must run.” I tore myself away from the circus and skirted around a few elliptical machines. I tripped over some dumbbells scattered across the floor, fell face forward, and lucky for me, caught myself on my elbows. “Theodore, don’t you move a muscle.”

  A guy with knobby knees frowned at me.

  “I didn’t mean you,” I said. “I’m talking to my cat.”

  “Right.” He sighed dejectedly and wandered off.

  “Ms. Graceland.” Glenda caught up with me. “Legally you’re not allowed to tour the gym’s facilities unattended. It’s a liability. Not that we’re liable, mind you, should any injury or malfeasance happen on the premises, because you read and signed the release form.”

  “You mean the paper that asked for my height, weight, nickname, and my goals?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I thought that was a dating site application.”

  “It was our waiver. You signed it, right?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “And then I threw it in the trash. I don’t volunteer that kind of information.”

  “Rrr!” She tore at her hair. “Tour’s over. Let’s return you to the front desk.”

  “I’m not touring. I’m rescuing my cat. I just spotted him in your back parking lot.” I pushed myself to standing and pointed to the lot. “My apartment was broken into last night, he got out, and I’ve been looking for him ever since. Where’s your back door? I need to grab him, now.”

  She latched onto my arm. “We get a few strays around here. Poor things. You’re tired, stressed, and over-fed. That kitty probably resembles your cat. Silver’s is nothing but humane. We have the pound come and pick them up once a week.”

  “The pound?” My voice cracked. “But isn’t the local pound a kill shelter?”

  “We can’t keep all the animals. Let’s sign the release form and then I can introduce you to a few of the trainers. Some specialize in working with curvy girls.”

  Hildy slammed through the back door into Silver’s gym, holding her cell phone in her one hand, and the black, shiny briefcase in her other. I was torn between following John Fartier’s new right hand girl, now my prime suspect in Anthony’s murder, and my need to scour the gym’s chain-link perimeter to find a way to rescue my cat. Glenda didn’t seem to care about my preferences as she pinched my arm to encourage me to walk faster.

  As luck would have it, Hildy headed toward the fence. I was good at multi-tasking; why not kill two birds with one stone? I shrugged off Glenda. Okay, she wasn’t all that easy to get rid of, and I had to pinch her back.

  “Oh lucky us, I found the release form in my purse!” I pulled out the most recent letter from the California Tax Board stating in giant letters that I owed them more money. I signed it with a flourish, and thrust it at her. “I adored the tour and will probably sign up for a three-year gym membership. But, I simply must ask Hildy if she’d make an exception to her rule and find it in her heart to train me.”

  “She doesn’t—”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Thank you so much for your time.” I swiveled and waved to Hildy. “Oh, Ms. Crawford! I loved your Winter Wonderland layout in Vogue. I’m your biggest fan.”

  Glenda bit her lip, turned, and walked away.

  I spotted Anthony mincing his way through gym headed in my direction. His Dracula costume hadn’t changed one bit. Blood still seeped from his chest, but his cape was immaculate. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I, on the other hand, looked a little worse for wear.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Anthony waved one hand. “I need to talk to Mr. Fartier.”

  Oh crap. My landlord wore a muscle T-shirt and board shorts, lay on his back in all his steroid-y glory, and pressed dumbbells as big as my mother.

  “This is his chest and triceps workout day,” Anthony said. “He’ll be doing bench presses. Oh… I see Hildy’s here. Shocker. Wherever John is, Hildy is. Hildy’s always here. Is she spotting for him? Or is Meat helping out? Yoo-hoo, Mr. Fartier. I’m happy to assist, you. Don’t forget, I’m your right hand man. Anthony Spiggottini is there for you rain, or shine, and even in a pinch. I’m so sorry about those missing reports and documents, but I promise it won’t delay your important business plans.”

  I snuck behind a body-builder doing squats at a large weight deck. His legs were so thick they squeaked like a creaky Halloween cellar door as they rubbed up against one other.

  Theodore approached the gym headed in my direction, and I scanned the area looking for a door, or an opening, a frigging crack where I could reach through and grab him. I thought about scaling the fence but it ran nearly to the top of the twenty-foot ceilings.

  Hildy maneuvered purposefully through the crowd. She had changed into a tailored, tasteful business suit, but it didn’t look like she was going to help anyone work out unless it involved moving numbers on a spreadsheet. Why she didn’t just leave through the front door of her office was a mystery. As much as I liked to solve mysteries
, I had my priorities to attend to, and securing Theodore was miles above figuring out who murdered Anthony Spiggottini. I gazed back at the spot where last I saw my cat, but he was gone, and my heart sunk.

  A piercing shriek penetrated the gym’s harsh background noise. It wasn’t the sound of bad workout music, or the peals of happy people after an exercise class. It could have been delivered by a person whose foot had just been smashed by a dumbbell, but it wasn’t, because it was the sound of a cat in distress.

  “Theodore!” I hollered. “Where are you?”

  Chapter 20

  Belly Scratches

  Theodore (The Cat)

  I was not the kind of cat to take an insult sitting down. Okay, let me rephrase that. I was the kind of cat to take an insult sitting down, but only if it was accompanied by wet food, some really great nip, or a belly scratch from… anyone.

  Oh yes, I’d heard, “Oh look at his precious, chubby stomach,” on numerous occasions. I’d learned that was simply code for a human wanting to scratch my belly. I’d encourage them by rolling onto my back and gazing hypnotically off into space. That made them think they were special and it worked like a charm.

  But this latest insult by Mary just got under my skin. Goaded by anger, hunger, and my delusions of hearing Annie, I raced as fast as my nimble legs could carry me, and dove through the hole in the fence.

  But there was one problem.

  Apparently the gap was smaller than I estimated, and now I was stuck half in and half out of this hellhole. I tried to wriggle forward but a metal prong impaled my side and I winced.

  “What’s the problem?” Mary asked.

  “I’m stuck.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I might be bleeding to death,” I meowed.

  She peered at me. “I don’t see any blood. You’re just stuck,” she said. “Stop screaming.”

  “I am not screaming! I’m simply alerting those around me to my unfortunate situation. What do you want me to do?” I huffed. “Should I just wait here quietly another day until I enter the third phase of starvation? Perhaps then I can slither through unimpeded. Great plan, by the way. Remind me never to let you be in charge again, Ms. Bossypants.”

  She swatted me. “Bossypants?”

  I blinked. “Yes, you, Queen Mary. HRH To-the Manor-born. I know your type. You come from a privileged background, never had a hard day in your life, and you think you can lord and lady that over the rest of us average cats.” I squirmed but something deadly poked into my delicate ribcage. “Ow!”

  “Look who’s talking,” Mary said. “You’re the one who’s overly pampered and precious. Master Spoiled von Pumpernickle. Your owner probably stirs your wet cat food in the middle of a meal after you’ve stopped eating it.”

  I shivered. Was she psychic as well as a spirit?

  Suddenly, a sweaty man wearing a muscle T-shirt, with a constipated look on his face, stomped toward me. “Hey furball, no animals allowed in the gym.”

  Mary’s eyes grew huge and she leaped on top of a treadmill. The woman on it flinched, and jumped off.

  “Hurry it up, Theodore,” Mary said. “I don’t like the looks of this guy.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, that I am stuck? I’ve fallen far behind on the X-Files re-run marathon. I miss my mom, my home, and the wet food with the chicken slices in gravy. I don’t want to be here,” I said. “If that makes me a Scare-dy cat, then fine. Will someone just rescue me, please?”

  A woman with multiple paintings on her skin knelt down on the floor next to me. “Hey, big guy,” she said. “You’ve got yourself in a bit of a predicament. Maybe I can help.” She scruffed my neck and I went weak in the knees. She wriggled me through the fence, scooped me up in her arms, and cradled me to her ample bosoms.

  I gazed up into her face, and felt protected for the first time since I’d left my apartment. I couldn’t help but purr. “Thank you,” I meowed.

  “I appreciate that someone rescued you,” Mary said. “But I could swear that the lady over there who’s jumping up and down is your person. Her name’s Annie, right?”

  The art on my rescuer’s skin was colored green, red, and blue, and a fun, ring-shaped cat toy pierced her nose. I reached up and batted it. I was smitten. “What person?” I asked.

  “The one who’s yelling bloody murder,” Mary said.

  “I can’t hear anything.” I purred loudly and allowed the woman to massage my neck.

  “No collar on you, big guy. You look hungry,” my rescuer said. “Let’s get you out of here and feed you. Silver’s Gym is no place for a cat.” She pulled a key from her purse, and unlocked a nearly invisible door within the chain-link fence. She walked outside, still holding me tight against her. “I hope you like freshly seared ahi tuna. The Omega-3s are great for your skin and everybody could use a little more protein in their diet.”

  Mary followed us. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “It’s the best idea I’ve heard in weeks.” I purred.

  “Theodore!” Some strange woman hollered in the distance.

  Chapter 21

  Spooky Surprise

  Annie

  “Anthony’s killer has my cat. If she touches one precious hair on his head, I will smite her!” I was tempted to throw my phone across my living room, but I was in the middle of calling Fit Pro Camp for the tenth time. So, instead, I threw a cupcake.

  Grady ducked and it sailed over his head. “You don’t know for certain that Hildy Crawford killed him.”

  Cody caught the confection in one hand and took a bite. “Technically, she’s just a suspect. This cupcake is exceptional. Cookie dough? You ever think about opening your own baking business?”

  “Of course it’s cookie dough,” I said. “Did you think I forgot to bake them? They’re Spooky Surprise Cupcakes by professional baker, Laura Devries. And no, I’m done with owning my own baking business.”

  “For now. Annie’s crabby,” Julia said. “Ignore her.”

  “How would you feel if a killer stole your pet?” I asked.

  “Animals don’t like me all that much,” she said. “Besides, after hanging out with you, maybe that’s one of the reasons I don’t have pets.”

  I frowned. “Did I hear knocking? Cody, is there someone at my front door?”

  He turned and squinted. “I don’t think so.”

  I shot dagger eyes at my best friend and mimed zipping my lips.

  “Mozart,” Cody said, and the dog’s ears perked up. “Go to Julia.” He pointed and the dog moved toward her. “Now, sit.”

  “Enough with the obedience lessons.” I stared morosely at my phone. “I’ve left five messages at Fit-Pro Camp and Hildy Crawford hasn’t called me back. No one’s called me back.”

  “They’ll call you back,” Grady said.

  “Mozart, do you like Julia?” Cody prompted.

  The dog thumped his tail on the ground and cocked his head.

  “Where’d you find him?” I asked.

  “Some nice chick grabbed him as he was nosing around a trash bin in an alley about twenty blocks away,” he said. “She put his picture on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. I spotted him on Venice 311. He had an excellent adventure and then I gave him a bath at the dogromat. Mozart. Shake.”

  The Shepherd offered Julia his paw.

  “Thank you, Mozart.” She smiled. “He’s such a sweet dog. I’m so glad you found him.”

  “Me too,” Cody said. “But who would put this weird leash on him?” He held it out and looked at it. “It’s not even a leash. It’s just a thick exercise strap with buckles, and “The Juiced Bar” printed on the handles.”

  “Did you say ‘The Juiced Bar?’” I asked.

  “That’s hilarious, Philip,” Anthony said as he walked through my front door. And by ‘through’ I didn’t mean he opened it. He simply materialized with the ghost of Derrick Fuller on his heels, right behind him. “I thought I was the only one who called folks and told them t
o let Prince Albert out of the can.”

  I shook my head and mumbled, “My life. In the crapper. Save me. I beg you.”

  “What?” Cody asked.

  “They’re here aren’t they?” Grady asked. “Your dead guys are—”

  “Dead guys?” Cody asked.

  “Bread guys.” Julia raised her eyebrows. “Annie, do your bread guys usually deliver this time of day?”

  “Who delivers bread in Venice, California?” Cody asked.

  “Every takeout restaurant imaginable,” Julia said. “You don’t know this because you haven’t lived here all that long. What do you do on that TV show you work on?”

  “Assistant Director,” he said.

  “Aha,” Julia said. “What does Mrs. Cody do?”

  “There is no Mrs. Cody,” he said. “Want to fill out a job application?”

  “You’re a flirt.” She batted her eyes.

  “Takes one to know one,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Is there a phone number on that leash thingie?”

  “Yup.” Cody reeled it off.

  I picked up my phone and called.

  “Hey, Graceland, I heard mention of bread. What do you have to eat around here?” Anthony asked. “Your man’s a little hungry.”

  “Sod off,” I said.

  “She really is crabby, isn’t she?” Cody asked.

  Julia nodded. “Why don’t you give me the grand tour of your new place?”

  He grinned and stood up. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Can I come, too?” Grady asked.

  “No!” Julia and Cody said.

  “Juiced Bar and Grill,” a guy answered on the other end of the line. “How can I help you?”

  “I heard about the Meet and Greet,” I said. “When’s the next one?”

  “Thursday night. Who wants to know?”

  “Someone who’s on the wall,” I said.

  “Yow-sa.” He whistled, low, under his breath. “Free drinks for whoever’s on the wall,” he said. “Tell the bouncer on your way into the place. But then again, he’ll probably recognize you. Can’t wait to meet you in person. What’s your name?”