Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery Boxed Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Stacey Alabaster

  But I wasn't sure I could travel out to Pottsville on my own. Not without backup.

  I needed Pippa's help.

  More than that, I needed her company. I knew that once we actually got out on the road, and actually arrived in Pottsville, that Pippa would enjoy herself. It could be a chance for us to repair our friendship. I was even fairly sure that she'd enjoy investigating again once she was doing it. Especially if she knew the painting was involved.

  I just needed to show her that.

  So I had to rely on subterfuge.

  I caught her just as she was pulling on her boots, about to head to another meeting of the Belldale Paranormal Society. "Hey, Pippa, you know how I haven't been feeling very well lately? I was thinking that some clean country air would do me a world of good. What do you say we get out of town for a day or two? Go on a little road trip, just the two of us?"

  She sat up straight, a smile curling on her lips. "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. We should pack an overnight bag, throw it in the car and just drive out to the county, see what we find. How about out towards Pottsville?"

  Pippa nodded thoughtfully. "But what about the bakery?"

  "Bronson will be fine on his own for a couple of days." Normally I would never leave a new hire in charge of my business, but there was something about Bronson I felt like I could trust. Plus, we had very few customers these days.

  "So what are we waiting for?"

  Pippa's eyes widened. "What, you want to go right now? But I have a meeting! "

  “This early?” I asked, looking at my watch. It was barely 7 A.M.

  “We’re meeting at Stanton Park to see if we can catch a glimpse of the mystical cat,” Pippa said as she stuffed her camera and extra batteries in her purse. “Everyone knows he hunts in the morning.”

  I waved my hand dismissively. "Come on, you can miss one meeting. We may as well go now, make a long weekend of it."

  It took us about three hours to reach Pottsville, an even smaller town than Belldale with a population of roughly four thousand people and a heavy reliance on apples as the prime source of industry and tourism. Neither of us had ventured there before, so it was new to both of us.

  I had the name, Maureen Tatler. And I was pretty sure of the location, even though the old website Maureen had up only had the street name, not the full address of the house that also doubled as her place of business. And even though I had to rely on memorizing a map of the area before we left so that I could make my discovery of the street look totally innocent, I figured I would take my chances on both those fronts.

  Halewood Road. I thanked my lucky stars that I'd been able to find it without driving around for hours or needing to make an excuse for why I needed to check my phone.

  I pulled the car onto the street and slowed down until I saw what I was looking for.

  That has to be it.

  "Hey," I said, trying to sound both chirpy and casual. "This place looks cool. Looks like an old antiques dealer or something. Why don't we pull over and have a quick look inside?"

  "I dunno, Rach, I've kind of had enough of antiques lately. Haven't you?"

  Oh my gosh, yes. But I didn't say that. "This could be interesting though. And, come on, it's not like there's gonna be a wealth of things to do in this town."

  She sighed. "Okay then, you've twisted my arm."

  There was only one way to describe Maureen Tatler's house, and that was...haunted.

  "It looks like a witch's castle," Pippa whispered as she stared up at the grey, gnarled building. She sounded more awe-struck than scared, though. "Tegan would LOVE this."

  I suppressed my eye-roll. "You'll have to take some photos for her then. And for the rest of the club, since you missed the meeting. Get something to show them. So, are we going inside?"

  I knocked on the door. "Hello?" Tapped again. There was no sound of movement on the other side of the door.

  Pippa read out the plaque that hung beside the door. "Maureen Tatler, PhD. Antiques dealer and artist." Pippa paused. "It says her open hours are weekdays 9 - 4. So she should be inside."

  I knocked again, harder this time, and the door pushed open thanks to the extra force.

  Pippa and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Should we just go in?"

  "What the heck is this place?" Pippa whispered as we moved through the dark creepy hallway. A spider's web hit my face and I cringed as I pulled off the sticky thread, shuddering at the thought that there might be a spider making its way down my shirt. Maureen clearly didn't have many buyers through the house. In fact, it seemed like no one had walked down this hall in weeks. Months.

  "Can you smell that?" Pippa asked. She'd always had a far more sensitive nose than me so it took a moment or two for me to realize what she was talking about.

  "What IS that?" I had to cover my nose with my hand.

  "It smells like something died in here."

  "Maureen?" I called out.

  Pippa had to run back to the car for a flashlight. We needed it as we entered the back of the property.

  "I think we located the source of the smell," Pippa said, grimacing as she waved her hand in front of her face. "It's all this junk."

  As she shone the flashlight over the room, I took in the stacks of newspapers and piles of old junk. I'd expected the property of an antiques dealer to be full of valuable items, collector's editions, stuff like armor and war memorabilia and hundred year old furniture. But this was just junk. Garbage that was festering and rotting, lining every inch of the room.

  I still wasn't convinced that was what the smell was, though.

  "How are we going to get through to the next room?"

  We'd come to a dead end, a wall of newspapers blocking our way in the maze.

  The papers smelled as bad as anything else in the house.

  "I think we should just get the heck out of here," Pippa said. "This is dangerous, Rach. I don't know what we're here for anyway."

  She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm. "Wait, you can't go yet, Pippa. We have to find Maureen!"

  She stared at me. "What’s going on, Rachael?"

  I was going to have to come clean or she was going to run out of there, leaving me to locate Maureen under a pile of garbage on my own. "I'm just worried about her, is all," I tried to say. "What if she's hurt? Or worse? We can't just leave her in this house in this state."

  "Rachael, she’s the one who made the mess. Looks like this is just how she lives. She's clearly a level five hoarder. This is not our monkey, and not our zoo. I don't want to die in here."

  She made a move to leave and I grabbed her again. "Okay, fine. Just wait, Pippa. I need to tell you something."

  I kept half an eye on the pile of newspaper, just waiting for it to tip over and crush us.

  "Don’t be mad, okay?" I tried to make Pippa promise me. "I only did this for our own good."

  It looked like Pippa would not be able to make that promise. "Hurry up and tell me before we get killed in this joint, Rachael!"

  I nodded. "Okay...okay...I drove us here on purpose. I wanted to find Maureen Tatler."

  Pippa's mouth dropped open. "Why would you want to?" She sucked her breath in. "Right. Antiques dealer. Is this related to Gus? To the case?!" She shook her head and threw her head back. "Oh, I don't believe this, Rachael! I told you I was out! That I wanted nothing more to do with it!"

  "But, Pippa," I tried to tell her as she started to stomp back towards the hallway. "It's about the painting. Maureen wants to buy it, but Gus won't sell. Don't you want to know why?"

  "No, I don't!" she called out, her footsteps heavy as she stomped away. "I can't believe you tricked me like this, Rachael!"

  "Pippa, I'm sorry!"

  I started to chase after her when I saw a ghostly figure out of the corner of my right eye. "What the..."

  I spun towards it, shrieking a little as I saw a dirty looking figure with wild curly hair, grey from either dust or old age, which one I wasn't entirely certain.


  Pippa stopped at the sound of my shriek, but it was too late. The old woman was already lunging towards her, rasping in a voice that sounded like it had been mixed with gravel. "What are you doing trespassing in my home?"

  Pippa screamed as the body flung itself at her. I only saw the long yellowing fingernails clawing at her.

  "Quick! Run!" I tried to call out. But running in that claustrophobic room was not easy and Pippa had stumbled awkwardly in the direction of the wall of newspaper.

  Surprisingly agile, the woman jumped out of the way before the wall came down. It seemed like she was used to dodging this sort of thing, but Pippa was not so nimble and not so lucky.

  At first, only the top few newspapers slipped off, but pretty soon it was an avalanche, and there was no stopping it. I lunged out of way myself, coughing violently as dirt and dust flung up into my nostrils.

  My eyes were enveloped in dust, and I frantically tried to push it away, along with the stench that grew stronger with the figure's presence.

  "Pippa!"

  The dust settled and I raced over to her. The witch-like figure, a woman I could see now, had grey hair and wrinkled, leathery skin that she shielded from the light coming through from the front of the house.

  I could only see her head staring out the top of the newspapers. "Please just answer me, say something, let me know that you are still alive."

  "I'm alive," she muttered, "but I am going to kill you."

  "Maureen, I think we ought to get you to a hospital."

  She swatted at my hand and pulled her tattered shawl tighter around her shoulders as she hobbled away. Her body was all pointy joints and angles, and I wondered how long it had been since she'd last eaten a proper meal.

  "I think it's me that needs to get to a hospital," Pippa said, still brushing bits of dirt and debris off her body. "Or at least a hotel for a long hot bath." She shot me a pleading look.

  "Are you talking to me then?" I asked her, hopeful at her not-entirely-homicidal tone.

  "You mean after you almost got me crashed to death?"

  But my attention was snatched away by Maureen who was sitting, shivering, on her own curb.

  "Maureen," I said gently, sitting towards her. "We can get someone to help you, maybe some help cleaning your house out."

  Pippa shot me a look and shook her head. "That's the worst thing you can say to a hoarder," she whispered to me. "You'll just make her panic."

  "That's my collection," she finally said. Her proper speaking voice shocked me. I was expecting a raspy old drawl, but she had a prim and proper English accent with a clipped and pronounced delivery of every word. "And it is not to be touched."

  I glanced at Pippa before turning my attention back to Maureen. "And was there something you were hoping to add to your collection, Maureen?"

  She looked at me with sharp, bird-like features. I could see now that even though dirt covered her face, underneath it was a rather pretty face with well-defined, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. "To what precisely do you refer to?"

  "A painting," I said softly, "of two young children. Twins, probably." I glanced up at Pippa and she seemed to understand precisely now why we were here. "Gus Sampson told me you were interested in buying it off him."

  She cast me a long steely glare like I should already know the answer to the question, as though I was foolish for even asking.

  "I did not want to buy that painting off him," she said in her short, clipped, posh tone that still didn't match her exterior. "That is my painting!"

  "Your painting?" I whispered. "What do you mean, Maureen?"

  "That is a painting of my two children," she whispered in a chilling tone. "The twins that I lost many years ago."

  I sucked in a short gasp. "Maureen, I'm so sorry."

  Pippa looked aghast. "So why won't Gus give it back to you then?" She glanced back over her shoulder at the house. Suddenly a lot of things about the place were starting to make sense.

  "That old man refuses to part with it," Maureen whispered bitterly. "No matter what I try to do to get it back." She looked away, gazing off into the distance. In that moment, she was no longer sitting there with us, but was far away, lost in some deep, dark crevice of her past. "Why he won't part with it, I have no idea. That painting..." She stopped to close her eyes. "In all my years of collecting items, antiques, objects, storing everything I could get my hands on, that painting is the one thing I truly want, and the one thing I can't add to my collection."

  I glanced up at Pippa. It seemed like Maureen had been collecting and hoarding everything she could find in some desperate attempt to replace what she had lost: her children.

  "Maureen," Pippa said, joining us by the curb. "Do you know why no one has ever purchased that painting before? There are rumors that it is haunted, and that anyone who buys it will be cursed."

  Maureen opened her eyes and bit her lip. "That comes as no surprise to me. Rumors created by me in order to keep others away, and spread amongst others, no doubt. I had no idea that they would grow legs, but at least it means that I know where the painting is."

  Pippa's face was a mixture of distress and disappointment. "I can't believe Gus would be so selfish as to keep the painting from you."

  The faraway look returned to Maureen's eyes. "No matter what price I offer, he claims it is not enough. I have no idea why that man is so intent on keeping the one thing I have as a memory of my children." Her voice began to crack and Pippa reached her hand out to cover the old woman's.

  "We'll get the painting back for you, I promise, Maureen," Pippa whispered.

  But there was something I had to ask Maureen. "Why was Gus here, visiting you over the weekend?"

  Maureen shook her head. "He was warning me to stay away from his shop," she whispered bitterly. "Had some crazy idea in his head that I had been snooping around, that I would try to break into the shop to take the painting away. That's why I was squirreled away today, hiding out the back. I was afraid he might return with more threats."

  Again, there was something I had to ask. "And had you been, Maureen? Had you tried to break in, to find the painting?"

  She shook her head. "I don't drive, dear, not with my eyesight. How could I get to Belldale on my own?" She turned and looked me straight in the eyes, then whispered, "But my great nephew lives there, and he has been trying to secure it for me. But with no luck."

  Pippa and I were just staring at each other.

  I knew we were both thinking the same thing, but it was Pippa who finally said it out loud. "Maureen, is your great nephew's name Romeo?"

  Maureen frowned and shook her head. "No, dear. His name is George."

  We both stared at each other, the disappointment between us palpable.

  Pippa still desperately needed a bath and I needed a warm bed.

  "So I guess that's how the whole curse rumor got started," Pippa murmured as we headed back towards the car. "I'm not sure whether the paranormal club is going to be excited to hear this news or disappointed by it."

  "Disappointed that it wasn't a real curse?" I shrugged. "In a way, it was cursed. Just not caused by an evil spirit."

  Pippa shivered and looked up at the dark clouds that were circling above. "Maureen's story doesn't explain everything, though. We still don't know who killed Jason or Bridget, or what the heck Gus was doing scaring us away that night. Or who Maureen's great nephew is."

  I could feel a smile creeping its way to my lips. "Are you saying, Pippa, that you would like to know those things? Does this mean that you are back on the case?"

  She let out a heavy sigh. "We always work better when we are together."

  "In more ways than one."

  I wrapped my arm around her neck and did a little hop and skip in mid-air. "I knew you would be interested when I finally got you out here. I'm sorry I tricked you, Pippa," I said as I stopped skipping. "Seriously. That was terrible of me. But come on, you have to admit it was more than worth it." I nodded towards the house. "If we h
adn't come along then Maureen could have died in there."

  Pippa looked back at the house and nodded. "She definitely could have been crushed to death. Like I almost was."

  My mouth dropped open and I let out the loudest gasp I had ever heard.

  All of a sudden, I knew.

  I knew who had killed Jason and Bridget.

  Chapter 11

  Our weekend away turned into a single long day of driving. Pippa still hadn't gotten her bath.

  "Do you think Maureen did it?" Pippa asked while she was huddled up beside me in the passenger seat. "Do you think she was trying to get her painting back? Or trying to teach Gus a lesson?"

  The longer I drove, the less confident I was becoming in my theory. I closed my eyes for just a second (I was driving after all) and told myself that I needed to trust my instincts.

  "No, I don't think Maureen did it," I said quietly. "I think she is just a heartbroken old lady, not a cold-blooded killer."

  "Not a cold-blooded killer now, but she seems to hate Gus. What if she tried to break in to steal the painting, accidentally killed Jason and thought, well, if Gus gets blamed for it, that's just too bad?"

  "And what about the second body? What about Bridget? Maureen was in her home in Pottsville when that happened."

  "Oh." Pippa slunk back against her seat. "I forgot about that." She was silent for a moment. "Then what are you thinking, Rachael?"

  "I need to get inside Gus's shop again, while he isn't there, to see if I'm correct."

  When Pippa didn't give me any sort of response, I glanced at her to get a good look at her face. She was staring out the window. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

  "Oh, come on, Pippa. This isn't still about the curse, is it? We know how the rumor of the curse started now, and it was a very sad story indeed. You can't still believe that painting is haunted."

  She had her face pressed so hard against the window that it was entirely smooshed. "Just because Maureen started the rumor," she murmured, "doesn't mean it's not true. In fact, having heard her story, it seems even more likely that the painting could be haunted." She looked down. "I didn't know that the twins in the painting were based on real people. Or that they had died a long time ago."