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

by Stacey Alabaster

  I started over and began to sort the items into piles, taking the time to check over each one carefully.

  "There has to be something here."

  Time passed without me realizing it as I flicked through Marcello's journals and diaries and passport. Most of the writing was in Italian and anything I couldn't read, I secretively placed in my purse to take with me—either to show to someone who spoke Italian, or to translate it later myself with the help of Professor Google.

  I was just about to pack everything up and send Pippa a text when something came fluttering out of one of Marcello's leather backed journals.

  A bus ticket.

  Innocuous enough at first, I turned it over and read the details.

  I froze. It was a ticket for a concession pass to Hillsville Park. The place that played host to the Baking Warriors audition and the makeshift studio on audition day.

  My heart almost stopped beating. I even reached up and thumped my chest to try and get it working again. With my hands shaking now, I checked the dates.

  Then double-checked them.

  July 22nd. The day of the auditions. The day that Pierre Hamilton had died.

  I was so shocked that I didn't hear the footsteps enter the empty apartment behind me. I probably wouldn't have heard an earthquake in that moment.

  I probably wouldn't have heard Marcello in that moment.

  But it wasn't him that entered the apartment. It was Pippa. And it was too late for me to hide the wreckage.

  I spun around as I saw the shadow behind me.

  "Rachael?" Pippa's voice said. "What the heck are you doing?"

  I scrambled to my feet, trying to hide the evidence of what I was doing by kicking the exposed items underneath an overturned cardboard box. I shoved the ticket into my coat pocket.

  I gulped. "Pippa, it's not what it looks like." Even though it kind of was exactly what it looked like.

  "Why are you snooping through Marcello's stuff?" At first Pippa's face was nothing but confusion, but all color and expression drained from it as the realization dawned upon her.

  "What? Rachael, please tell me there's another reason why you are going through Marcello’s things." Her voice was a breathy whisper now. "Please tell me that, I don't know, that you're secretly obsessed with him or something! Or secretly in love with him. Anything would be better... Anything but...but..." She couldn't even finish her sentence.

  "Pippa, I didn't want to tell you until I was certain..."

  Pippa shook her head and backed away from me, tripping over a box as she went. She barely even noticed as she straightened herself up.

  "Marcello knew Pierre, Pippa."

  "No, he didn't," she whispered furiously. "Don't be stupid."

  "He did. He was at the studio that day, Pippa."

  But she didn't want to listen to me. "Big deal, what does that prove? So what, he was at the studio." But her eyes were wild and her voice shook.

  Pippa crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child. "You're only saying all of this because you don't like Marcello. You think I made a mistake by marrying him."

  "Pippa, I have proof," I said, turning over the box to find the bus ticket. "Here, look at this," I said, waving it in her face. But she turned away and stuck her nose up like I had poked a dish of sour milk underneath her nose.

  Pippa was still backing away from me while my arm was outstretched, the ticket still dangling from it.

  "I can't believe this, Rachael. I thought you liked Marcello!" She stamped her foot on the floor this time, becoming more and more like a four year old by the second. "Did you only volunteer to help move his stuff so that you could come up with this crazy theory?"

  I dropped the arm holding the bus ticket. Time to try a different tactic.

  "When did you meet Marcello, Pippa?" I asked gently.

  "What does that matter?" Pippa asked, but some of the insolence was gone from her voice and she looked up at me plaintively.

  "Pippa, when you met him, did you tell him where you were from? Who you lived with? Anything like that?"

  Pippa shook her head tearfully. "I guess so," she said, as tears dropped to the ground. "I told him I was from Belldale, of course, and he was so excited to get married and move here. Or at least, I thought he wanted to move here." She sucked in a sharp breath. "Maybe he just wanted to come here to..."

  I hugged Pippa tight to me. "It's okay. You'll be safe now. You don't have to worry. I'll call Jackson." I just hoped it wasn't too late.

  "It can't be true, Rach." Pippa's lip started to tremble. She slumped down onto the floor and looked around the empty apartment before bursting into tears, her whole body shaking while a horrible noise that sounded like a dying animal escaped from her lungs.

  "Pippa, it's okay," I said, hurrying toward her, but she pushed me away. It wasn't so much a case of shooting the messenger as it was of shoving the messenger onto the floor.

  "Pippa, please."

  "I thought he loved me," she sobbed, burying her head in her knees as she rocked back and forth. "But all this time he was only using me."

  "Pippa, please." I knelt down beside her and tried to place my arm round her shoulders.

  "I should have known that someone as handsome as him would never be interested in someone like me," she wailed.

  "Pippa, that's not true. Of course they would be. It's just Marcello specifically that wasn't."

  Her wailing only grew louder. Okay, that was a stupid thing to say.

  "I'm calling him right now!" Pippa lifted her head and searched frantically for her phone.

  "Pippa, wait, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

  But she climbed to her feet and pushed me away. She already had Marcello on the other end of the line before I could stop her.

  "I know what you did, Marcello! I know that you killed Pierre!" she shrieked. "How could I ever have been so stupid as to marry you? I never want to see you again!" She shouted, before adding, "And I don't suppose I will, now that you are going to be in prison for the rest of your life!"

  She hung up and threw the phone across the room. "Pippa, I don't think that was a very good idea."

  The phone was already smashed into a hundred pieces. Along with all the other wreckage, it fit right in.

  Pippa looked at the mess and burst into tears. "Oh, it looks like Marcello has been here!" She sobbed in a weird mixture of sorrow and affection. I raced over and gave her a hug.

  "We have to go though, Pippa. And I need to call Jackson right away."

  The police car was already waiting out front of my apartment as I quickly pulled into the driveway, my brakes letting out an ear-piercing screech as I pulled to a stop.

  I raced up the driveway toward Jackson, who was exiting the front door, suspiciously empty handed.

  Jackson just glared at me. "He's gone, Rachael. Marcello is gone."

  Chapter 11

  Two Months Later.

  The stale smell of burnt plastic and cigarette smoke hit me.

  I had something I needed to do that morning. Before my life—possibly? hopefully?—changed that afternoon.

  "Is Detective Whitaker here?"

  He led me into the interview room.

  "You look awfully dressed up," Jackson said when he entered. "Off on a hot date?"

  I'd gotten a brand new haircut and added a burgundy tint to my brunette hair. And I'd splurged on a new outfit.

  "Not exactly." I shifted uncomfortably. "Jackson, I just wanted to make things right with us again."

  He glanced around to make sure the door was securely shut. "You're just lucky you aren't in any more trouble than you already are."

  "So you won't accept my apology then?"

  "You shouldn't have kept that information from us, Rachael. Now Marcello's on the run and we might never have a chance to catch him. An apology hardly cuts it."

  I was frustrated. "You mean someone else might catch him? A cop from a different jurisdiction or different state, making you look bad?" I a
sked. "That's what this is really all about, isn't it? I came to you as soon as I had proof. You're just being stubborn. Refusing to take my calls for two months straight. This is personal, not professional."

  Jackson just shook his head and looked away. But I knew I was right.

  "I have to go," I said quietly. "It's an important day."

  Pippa had barely moved from her spot on the sofa in two months.

  "It's okay, Rach. I won't stay here forever." Her hand draped over one side of the sofa as she reached for a packet of supermarket cookies that were lying on the floor. They'd been left open over night and as she listlessly bit into one, there was no crunch. "I prefer them this way," she said in her usual zombie-like voice before she continued to munch on it with her eyes glossed over.

  I was hoping that Pippa wouldn't stay there forever, but far more for her sake than for mine. This depression had gone on long enough and it was threatening to suck her under and never let go of her.

  "Well, wish me luck," I said lamely as I waved my car keys in the air.

  "Huh?" Pippa turned her glassy eyes toward me, confused.

  "It's the do-over of the auditions today. Remember?"

  "Oh." Pippa brightened just a little and put down her cookie. "Break a leg, Rachael."

  Justin had obviously had a mini-makeover of his own sometime during the past two months. His dark hair was now long and floppy and his new bangs sported a stripe of bright blue.

  "Rachael!" he exclaimed brightly before racing over to give me a hug inside the Hillsville Park studios. It was a bit eerie being back there. Justin seemed genuinely pleased to see me and I had to admit I felt a bit of warmth toward him as well. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

  "Can you believe all this?" he said, breaking the embrace. "I still can't believe it myself. Is that guy still on the run? Have you heard anything?" Justin asked, bringing a hand up to his chest.

  I shook my head. "I'm kind of on the outs with the police department."

  Justin let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "I'm just glad I'M off the hook for the whole thing. And I guess I've got you to thank for that."

  "I guess so. Have you seen Adam since it all happened?"

  Justin rolled his eyes. "Only once. This morning. He's being a total nightmare, as per usual. Don't know what I ever saw in that guy." He flicked his bangs out of his face dramatically in a way that reminded me of Adam.

  "He's here then?" I asked. "And Renee?"

  "Both of them are back for another round of torture," Justin said, looking down at his trusty tablet. "Speaking of, Renee is up first. I've got to go track her down."

  It surprised me that Renee had turned up to audition again. She'd said that the blood money from the gossip sites had been almost as much as the prize money from the show.

  I supposed she could always do with more money. Who couldn't? Still, something about it didn't sit right with me.

  I was still mulling it over when I heard a familiar voice.

  "Rachael!" Dawn said warmly as she practically skipped over to me. I was so happy to see her. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you made it back." She gave me a comforting hug that helped to soothe my nerves as I took in a breath of her lavender perfume. "Do you have five minutes? Come join me in my dressing room for a coffee?"

  "I think I might have to go with herbal tea," I said, worried that the coffee wouldn't be great for my already shot nerves.

  "Herbal tea it is then."

  I started to follow her into her room when I heard heavy footsteps running after me.

  "Rachael, where do you think you're going." Justin started to admonish me, but his tone softened when he saw I was with a guest of honor. "Oh, hello, Dawn," he said with an awkward little curtsy. "I just need to have a quick word with Rachael," he said with a sickly sweet smile. "You don't mind, do you?"

  Dawn shot me a look before giving Justin her blessing. "I'll wait for you in my dressing room," Dawn said.

  "I'll be calling for you in fifteen, Rachael," Justin said sternly. "Make sure you're ready. The new judge Colin Evans is an even harder taskmaster than Pierre was, if you can believe it, and he WON'T wait for you. Got it?" He clucked his tongue. "I've got your gluten-free cheesecake all ready for them to taste." He stopped and scrolled through his tablet. "It was chocolate, right?"

  "Peanut butter," I corrected him.

  "Right. It will be ready. Just make sure you are. Right, Rachael? You got it?"

  I nodded firmly. "Got it."

  "Oh shoot," Dawn said just as she'd poured the hot water into my teacup. "I've got to be ready to start filming in five minutes or Justin is going to skin me alive." She chuckled. "Why don't you wait here and finish your tea?" Dawn patted my knee while I settled into her comfy suede sofa. "You deserve a rest after everything you've been through."

  I gratefully accepted the offer as she tottered off, but it was hard to relax knowing that the clock was counting down and Justin was waiting.

  I decided not to cut it too fine. Ten minutes before my call time, I picked up my coat and walked to the door.

  "Just where do you think you are going?"

  Renee pushed me back into the room and locked the door before I could comprehend what was happening.

  "Renee!" I shouted. "Are you kidding me?" I kicked against the door, figuring it was a joke and expecting that she would be back to let me out in a few seconds.

  But she didn't return. "Renee?" I called again, more frantically this time.

  "Let me out!" I screamed, banging on the wall. "You can't keep me locked in here!"

  I was starting to panic.

  Oh, this cannot be happening.

  Renee really does have it out for me.

  Then, a shock of ice ran down my spine.

  What if I'd been wrong about Marcello?

  I could hear my name being called over the loudspeaker. I looked down at my phone desperately. No reception. I banged on the door again. Geez, those doors were thick.

  "JUSTIN!" I screamed. My phone might not have had any reception, but it was still capable of keeping the time. And letting me know that three minutes of my allowed audition time had already dripped away. If I didn't get out of there, like, immediately, I was going to miss my already tiny window.

  Window.

  I glanced over at the far side of the dressing room. It was tiny. But that wasn't the only problem. The one small window was at least seven feet off the ground.

  The sofa wouldn't budge the first time I yanked at it. I stood up and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to go about it logically. I ran around to the other side and pushed, rather than pull, putting all my weight behind me as I pushed off with my knees, lunging towards the grey monolith.

  I winced, looking down at the expensive suede, which I was sure was not meant to be climbed on. But this was an emergency.

  Right before I was about to pull myself up toward the window, I glanced back at the spot where the sofa had been.

  Sitting there, right in the middle of the floor, was a brown-colored cheesecake. It had been hidden under the lounge chair.

  "What the heck," I said, jumping off the sofa and running over to the cake sitting on the floor. I leaned over and sniffed it. The smell was unmistakable. It was definitely peanut butter.

  I looked at the crumbly crust. It was unmistakably gluten-free.

  It was definitely my cake.

  I just sat there on my knees, staring at it for a minute in complete confusion.

  Why does Dawn have my cheesecake in her room?

  And what cake were the judges going to taste?

  My heart skipped a beat when I remembered what Justin had said. "It's chocolate, isn't it?"

  The realization hit me.

  They're not eating my cake! They're eating a tampered cake.

  I stood up and quickly began to pace. On that day, my first audition, Dawn had never eaten my cake. And Wendy had only pretended to, having eaten the 'real' cake before the auction even took place.

>   Only Pierre had eaten the cake.

  It wasn't Marcello who had killed Pierre. Or Adam. Or Renee. Or even Justin.

  It was Dawn.

  And now she was going to kill someone else.

  The loudspeaker crackled and the next name was called out.

  I'd missed my chance.

  I just hoped I still had time to save a life.

  Chapter 12

  I banged and banged on the door and finally it opened, causing me to stumble forward face first as I almost ended up on the ground.

  "I'm sorry," Renee said politely as she smoothed down her dress. "It was nothing personal, Rachael. I just couldn't have you doing your audition. They are only going to cast one woman from Belldale and it HAS to be me."

  So she was as cutthroat as ever.

  "It doesn't matter," I gasped, pushing past her. "I just need to get to the audition room. Do you know if anyone has eaten my cake?"

  I was sprinting breathlessly towards the audition room while Renee chased over me. "No," she called out. "You never auditioned, so why would they?"

  Good point. I paused just for a second to catch my breath. "You might have inadvertently saved a life by locking me in that room, Renee." I reached out and placed my hands on her shoulders for support, while she shot me a horrified look.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "We have to go! Who knows what other cakes she has poisoned. Come on, let's go!"

  I burst into the room.

  "Put that cake down! It could kill you!"

  "Rachael, what the heck are you doing?"

  I turned to see Adam's stricken face. So, it was his audition. "Erm." I swallowed. "Sorry, Adam. It's nothing personal."

  I turned my attention back to the three-story wedding cake sitting on the judge’s table. "BUT DO NOT EAT THAT CAKE."

  "Oh, Rachael!" Adam said, pushing me out of the way. "Do you always have to ruin everything for me?"

  "I'm sorry, Adam," I said, bringing down the only weapon I had, my purse, to smash the wedding cake.

  Adam shrieked. "How could you?"

  I stood back and looked at the wreckage, and at Dawn's crumpled face behind it. Her ashen expression told me everything I needed to know.