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

by Stacey Alabaster

  Justin sighed and made a show of looking down both sides of the corridor. "People have been after me all day.” He pulled us both inside the room and double-checked the door was locked before heading over to the mini bar.

  "Vodka," he announced once he'd found what he was looking for. He didn't offer me or Pippa anything as he took a drink from the tiny bottle. I supposed they were expensive. "Believe me, honey, I need to drink after the twenty-four hours I've had."

  "Justin, are you going to tell me what’s going on? You said that you were a suspect, but you're not being held at the police station."

  Justin began pacing back and forth across the carpet. "No, but I am being held prisoner in this hotel room." He stopped and stared at me. "The press are all pointing their fingers at me, Rachael." He walked over and shook me by the shoulders. "You gotta help me. I know that you’re an expert at this kind of thing. You solve murder cases." He flung his arms up in the air. "Well, you gotta solve this one! You gotta help me prove that I didn’t do it, otherwise my career is over."

  I shot Pippa a look and settled into a chair. "And of course you want justice to be served... You want your good friend Pierre's murder to be solved."

  Justin waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah."

  Pippa was staring back at me. I couldn't read her mind, but I could read the look of suspicion on her face. She seemed to be saying to me, But how do we know Justin DIDN'T do it?

  I gave her a slight shrug. I know.

  If anything, Justin would have been at the top of my list of suspects. He was the one who found Pierre's body. Clearly, the media had leapt to the same conclusions.

  And I didn't want to do that. Jump to conclusions, that is.

  "Justin," I said gently. "Calm down for a moment. Take a seat."

  He gulped down the rest of his vodka and took a seat at a table by the window overlooking the lake.

  I stood and joined him. "Take a few deep breaths." Sitting down, I asked him, "Now, do you have any idea who MIGHT have done it."

  Justin began to bite the nail of his left thumb. After a few seconds of deep thought, he nodded. "Really, it could have been anyone who was there that day."

  Of course.

  "But I'm pretty sure..." Justin glanced up at me. "And don't take offense to this, Rachael."

  I leaned back. "I won't."

  "But I'm pretty sure it was an auditionee."

  I gave him a long stare. "Do you think I did it?"

  Justin shook his head. "No, no. Of course not. You were in the green room, after all."

  I sighed. "Who then? Do you have any names?"

  "Wait here a second." He went and fetched his beloved tablet from the top of his bed. I tried not to groan at the sight of that thing.

  It took him a few minutes to find the auditionee list.

  "Here," he said, sliding it in front of me. "Here is a list of all the potential contestants who got up close and personal with Pierre yesterday."

  I leaned over. "Why are some of the names highlighted in pink?"

  Justin raised his eyebrows. "They are the people who acted the most suspicious. Rachael, I had to deal with the whole bunch of you all week, you know. Put up with everyone's tears and tantrums, assure you all you were doing all right, that your hair and makeup looked fine, and that you were definitely going to wow the judges."

  Not exactly how I remembered events. Anyway.

  "So, I saw everyone. Saw their best, and worst." Justin sat down and stared at me. "I know how desperate some of these people were to get on TV." He didn't break the stare. "Desperate enough to kill."

  I felt a little chill go down my spine.

  He pushed the tablet closer to me. "There you go, Rachael. Those names in pink. They are the people you need to be talking to."

  Justin had narrowed the list down to two prime suspects. The first one was a woman named Renee, a struggling single mother with five kids under twelve who would have been an almost certainty to make it onto the show—unless someone else had a better backstory than her.

  I was worried that person might have been me.

  Justin had told me that Renee was desperate for the $100,000 prize money. She'd talked about little else during the pre-audition phase, apparently.

  "Pretty good motivation," I said to Pippa as we stood in the front of Renee’s house. I glanced guiltily at the front of her house. It looked like the money really could come in handy. The house wasn't just a little rundown. It would take more than just a fresh coat of paint to get this place looking nice. Or even livable. There were planks of wood falling off the exterior and the porch groaned as we stepped on it. I was afraid I was going to fall right through it.

  I knocked on the door.

  A woman, looking nothing like I was expecting, pulled the door back. "Sorry," I said. "I was looking for Renee Austin?"

  "I'm Renee," she said.

  "Oh." I stared at the young, perfectly dressed woman in front of me. I tried my best to hide my confusion. I certainly didn't want to be rude, but I desperately wanted to ask how the heck she was so young--or looked so young at least--with so many kids.

  And how did she afford to dress so well if she was apparently so desperate to win the prize money? She wore a crisp floral dress in pink and green and her hair was pulled back with a matching headband. She looked the picture of the perfect homemaker. Not someone struggling to put food on the table.

  "Can we come in?" I asked, still trying to hide my look of surprise.

  "Who are you?"

  That was a good question. I should have led with that. "My name is Rachael Robinson."

  I saw her face change. Not that it had been soft, exactly, but now her mouth formed into a hard line. "Right. The contestant that beat me to get onto the show. I see."

  I didn't know that was official yet. Had I really gotten onto the show?

  Right. Not the right time to focus on that.

  "What are you doing here? Come to rub my nose in it, have you?"

  I shook my head and put my hands up. "No, of course not."

  I've just come to accuse you of killing someone.

  Probably best not to say it quite like that.

  "What then?"

  I cleared my throat. "I'm sure you've heard about Pierre's death," I said, trying to be delicate.

  Renee raised her eyebrows. "I've heard that he was murdered, yes. On set, apparently."

  "Yes. Apparently." I turned to Pippa, begging her silently for help.

  "Erm," she said, turning towards Renee. "You didn't happen to see anything suspicious yesterday, did you?"

  Renee lowered her eyes. "What is it to either of you two? I've already spoken to the police. Why are you at my house?"

  I decided to just be honest with her. "Look. The police in this town don't always do the best job when it comes to things like this. Sometimes they need a little...help. So that's all I'm trying to do. I'm concerned—just like you are, I'm sure—about what happened to Pierre. What does it mean for our town?" I decided to try a slightly different tactic. "What does it mean for the future of the show? I'm sure you're anxious to find out whether you got on."

  "What does it matter whether Pierre is alive or dead? I blew the audition."

  "Hey, I thought I did too," I said, trying to be sympathetic. "But Justin assured me that I didn't. Apparently I did better than I thought I did."

  Renee scoffed. "There was no 'apparently' about it. Everyone knew you were getting through. Everyone knew you were Pierre's little favorite,” she said with a hiss before trying to shut the door on us.

  Pippa shot me a look.

  What is going on here?

  "Renee, please, if you could just let us talk to you for a minute! Pierre didn't even seem to like me! He didn't even like my baking that much."

  She shut the door with my foot caught between it and that doorframe. "Ouch!"

  "I'm sure your baking wasn't the reason he liked you!"

  I yanked my foot out before it got jammed again, before Renee sl
ammed the door for good.

  "What was all that about?" Pippa asked, clearly enthralled by the drama but trying to look sympathetic for my sake.

  "I think my foot is broken." I tried to flex my toes and winced. "And I have no idea what all that was about. That was crazy, right?"

  "Had you met her before?"

  I shook my head. "This was the first time I ever laid eyes on the woman. I never even heard of her until this morning."

  "Well, it seems like she knows an awful lot about you."

  "Pippa," I said, slightly offended. "Whatever she was just suggesting, and I'm not even sure what that was, none of it is true. You know that, right?"

  Pippa shrugged. "Hey, if you had to flirt with a judge to get onto a reality show, then I don't blame you."

  "Pippa! I didn't. I only met Pierre the one time, at my audition. And I was so nervous I could hardly even speak to him. Let alone flirt."

  The curtains to the front porch pulled back to reveal Renee's face scowling at us.

  "Right. We should probably get off her porch."

  "So who's next on the list?" I asked as I pulled out of Renee's driveway. She was still peering at us through the curtains as I rolled my car slowly backwards.

  Pippa frowned and looked down at the names. "Some guy named Adam Ali."

  "Adam Ali," I murmured, glad to finally be out of Renee's crossfire. "Man, that name sounds familiar. I really hope it's not who I think it is."

  It was. Adam Ali was a thirty-five year old man, claiming to be twenty-five, who was convinced that he had been robbed of a life in show business. He had ginger hair that had been highlighted blonde, pale skin, and blue eyes that were far too bright.

  It had been years since our last meeting.

  I knew him because he owned a wedding cake business. When I'd first opened my boutique bakery, he'd tried everything possible to get me shut down, including getting other shop owners and residents to sign a petition that alleged that my bakery sold goods containing illegal substances and that I was a hazard to the family-friendly neighborhood.

  Eventually, when I'd informed him that I didn't even make wedding cakes and never intended to, he backed off.

  Still, I knew just how competitive, and underhanded, Adam could be. No wonder Justin had him pegged as a suspect. I could only imagine the lengths he would go to in order to ensure his place on TV.

  "Pippa, Adam isn't going to just open up and talk to us. He probably isn't even going to let us in his shop." I turned off the ignition and thought. "We're going to have to come up with a good reason for going in there."

  Pippa held up her left hand. "Duh?" she said, pointing to it.

  "Oh, Pippa, you're a genius! Your reception!" I threw my head back. "Oh, I'm almost glad you actually got married now!"

  "What?"

  "Huh? Nothing," I said quickly, taking my seatbelt off. "I mean, of course I'm glad you got married. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

  "Right."

  "Come on, let's go inside!"

  Adam's face bloomed into a large grin as soon as he saw Pippa and the ring on her finger. "Don't worry, there's a wedding band as well, as you can see, but we haven't had the reception yet!"

  I lingered back out of sight and almost got trapped in a large display of taffeta decorations falling from the sky.

  I tripped over a display and almost sent a very expensive four-tier cake flying.

  "You!" Adam said, his mouth dropping open. He raced over and straightened the display, shooing me away. "Have you come here to sabotage my store?"

  "No, I wouldn't stoop to that level," I said, gripping my purse straps as I tried to steady myself on my feet. "I'm here with my friend Pippa."

  "Oh, you two are friends?" His disappointment was palpable.

  Pippa nodded. "Yes, best friends. Rachael would have been my maid of honor as well, if me and Marcello hadn't eloped."

  Adam shot me a skeptical look before placing his hand on his hip. "So are you two actually here to buy a wedding cake?"

  Pippa nodded. "Yes, of course!" A look of shock spread across her face when she flipped over a price tag and saw the price.

  "They aren't cheap, honey, but they are the best." Adam turned to me pointedly and added, "I am the best baker in Belldale, after all."

  I tried not to bite. I really did. "Is that so? Then why did I get cast on Baking Warriors, and you didn't then, Adam?"

  Adam's mouth dropped open. "You auditioned for Baking Warriors?"

  Huh? "Oh, come on, Adam, don't pretend you don't know I was there. Or that I was the judges’ favorite."

  Adam pouted a little and crossed his arms. "I didn't know you were there, actually. The least you could have done was stay away and give me my moment! After you opened up the only other rival boutique cake shop in town and took away all my customers!"

  I rolled my eyes. "I don't even do wedding cakes. My store has nothing to do with weddings at all."

  I could tell immediately from his reaction that I'd said the wrong thing. "Oh really, Rachael Robinson? Is that so?"

  I was less sure now. "Yes?"

  Adam clicked his tongue in his cheek. "What is all this I've been hearing about you holding wedding receptions then? Do you not cater those? With cakes?"

  I looked at Pippa for help, but all she offered was a shrug with a 'you're on your own here' look.

  I swallowed. "Well, yes, but that's only a recent thing. And I just hold the receptions. It's not just wedding receptions we do, it's birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and other celebrations," I said, stumbling over my words as I tried to paint the situation in a more positive light. "I think a lot of the brides and grooms bring your cakes in to my store actually. They must know yours are the best." I had no idea if that was true. Nor did I have any idea if Adam was buying any of this. I doubted he was.

  "Well," Adam said, with a little flick of his bangs. "Mine are the best." Okay, maybe he was. I had to remember, flattery was the way to this man's heart.

  "Adam," I said, pouncing on the fact that his guard was down a little. "I suppose you heard about what happened to Pierre yesterday?"

  "Yes, sweetheart, I was there." He stared at me. "I heard the screams." He turned his attention back to one of his cake displays, fixing a ribbon tied around a thick slab of fondant. "Though I've been avoiding all social media today. I can't bear to read about any of it." He placed his hand up to his heart. "It's such a tragedy, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is." I tried to read Adam's tone while he was talking, but it was impossible to tell if he was sincere or not.

  "Adam, did you see anything yesterday? Hear anything? Besides the screams."

  "Who are you? The police? No. All I heard was the screams of that PA that found him."

  "Producer," I corrected him. "Justin is a producer, not a PA."

  "Well, whatever. I didn't see anything before or after that. I was more focused on myself." Big shock. "And my own audition, than on anything anyone else was doing."

  I thought about this. "Did you think your audition went well?"

  Adam glared at me. "I know I gave the best audition of anyone there. I'm sure I would have gone through to the next round as well, but I'm not sure we'll ever know now, will we?" Adam flicked his bangs again, sadly. "Who knows if the show will even film now? It's a tragedy. I was made for TV, Rachael. I just can't believe all of this is happening."

  Adam looked over at Pippa. "So are you going to purchase one of those or not?"

  Pippa backed away awkwardly. "I'm going to have to think about it, but I'm honesty really very interested."

  She kept backing away until she was right at the door. I bid farewell to Adam and quickly followed her out.

  "YOU'RE going to bake my wedding cake, right?" Pippa whispered to me as we ran past the shop front.

  "Pippa, I've never made a wedding cake before!" I said, opening the car door. "But yes. I will." I shot one last look back at Adam's shop. "I wouldn't trust anything that had been made by Adam."

  It
was midday and the sun was glaring down. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, we were sticking to the seats. But with the windows down and my foot on the accelerator, our trip through Belldale with our hair flowing in the wind was fairly pleasant.

  "You were right, he really doesn't like you," Pippa said. "He DEFINITELY still holds a grudge." Pippa mused over this for a second. "Do you think he could have killed Pierre to get back at you? Because you got through and he didn't?"

  I sighed a little, pulling my sunglasses on. "He said he didn't even know I was there. And he seemed pretty convinced that HE was the one who got through."

  "And do you believe him?"

  I thought about that for a moment. "I'm not sure."

  Chapter 6

  "Pleaasssseee," Pippa begged, stretching out every vowel so that it sounded like the word had five syllables. She clasped her hands together. "I promise that he won't let you down."

  My face was frozen in a look of shock and horror like I had been covered in lava at Pompeii and made to stand that way for all time.

  Pippa waved her hand in front of my face. "Rach? Are you still alive in there?"

  I was finally able to move my face. "Pippa, tell me this is one of your little jokes. You are pranking me, right?"

  "I'm not, Rach! Marcello needs a job. Like, really needs one. I promise you he will be a model employee."

  "Pippa, he breaks everything. He thinks that you can fish the glass out of salsa and still serve it! He drops hair everywhere!"

  "I know he's not perfect..." Understatement. "But he can be trained. He'll be different at work than he is at home. You'll be there to keep an eye on him. And if he does totally mess up, you can fire him, and I promise there will be no hard feelings." Pippa grabbed me by the arms. "Please, just give him a chance, Rachael."

  I couldn't believe I was about to agree to this. "Fine," I said with a heavy sigh. "I'll give him a chance. But this is on a trial basis only, okay?"

  Pippa nodded and jumped up and down. I had to double check she understood what I mean. "Trial. Basis."

  "Yes, Rach! Thank you!" She ran out of the kitchen and came back with Marcello, who was grinning ear to ear. He reached out for my hand and kissed it. "Thank you so much, Miss Rachael. I promise that I will be your humble servant at work. You will not regret this decision."