Death by the Dozen

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Melanie, it’s impolite to stare.”

  Mel turned to find her mother standing beside her. There was no sign of her friend Ginny.

  “Where’s Laverne?” she asked.

  “Who?” Joyce frowned at her.

  “Your BFF,” Mel said. “The Laverne to your Shirley?”

  “Oh, Ginny, well, she got a little overheated, and her husband, Monty, came and picked her up.”

  “Overheated or shnockered?” Mel asked.

  “It would be indelicate for me to be more specific,” Joyce said.

  Mel smiled. Even in her vibrant green shirt and matching visor, Joyce Cooper was every inch a lady. It was one of the things Mel most admired about her mother. She never swore, she always looked her best, and her glass was always half full even when it was empty.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too,” Joyce said. “Now why were you staring at the brunette at the judges’ table?”

  “Her name is Jordan Russell, and she is . . . was Vic Mazzotta’s girlfriend,” Mel said.

  “Oh, dear, I didn’t know he and Grace had divorced.”

  “They didn’t.”

  Joyce stared at the brunette and frowned. She took it personally when younger women made off with older women’s husbands. “I bet those are fake.”

  “Well spotted,” Mel said. “I’m pretty sure the whole package is fake.”

  “What’s fake?” Angie asked as she joined them.

  “Jordan Russell.”

  “Hunh,” Angie grunted. “I heard Olivia complimenting her outfit earlier. What do you want to bet she marks Olivia higher than us?”

  “That’s fine,” Mel said. “I don’t want her vote.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Angie said. “I will worship her heinous fashion sense if it keeps us ahead of Olivia.”

  “You’re obsessed,” Mel said.

  “No, I’m competitive,” Angie said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go suck up.”

  Joyce and Mel watched as she approached the judges’ table. They had finished the taste testing and turned in their score cards and were now calling it a day.

  Three of the four judges had grudges against Vic. Maybe Angie wasn’t so far off the mark to get in their good graces.

  “I’m going to join Angie,” Mel said to Joyce. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Good idea. Try to make nice with them. After all, you could use that prize money for the bakery.”

  “Oh, I’ll make nice,” Mel said. “Very nice.”

  If Joyce heard a hint of sarcasm in Mel’s voice, she chose to ignore it.

  Mel found Angie standing with Dutch looking tonguetied and nervous.

  “Nice concoction you pulled out today,” he said to Mel. “Using the stout in a brownie was brilliant, but serving it in a crunchy chocolate shell with a thin layer of chocolate mousse and topped with whipped cream really added texture and complexity. Well done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mel bowed her head in acknowledgment. Dutch might be wrapped up in his desire to be a celebrity, but the man still knew his way around a kitchen and the praise was not to be taken lightly.

  “Your partner here tells me that you’re dating her older brother, an assistant district attorney?”

  “I am,” Mel said.

  “Funny, I always figured you’d go for a foodie type, you know, a restaurant owner or a food critic or a TV celebrity chef.”

  He glanced meaningfully at Johnny Pepper, who was chatting up a few contestants and contest officials, and then back at Mel. She knew he was trying to determine if her visit to Johnny’s dressing room had been personal or professional. Too bad it was none of his biz.

  “Nah, you know the old saying, ‘Too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the stew.’”

  “Only if it’s one like that one,” Dutch said. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to where Olivia had the Food and Wine critic cornered in the judges’ booth like a bug in a Venus flytrap.

  “Someone should really go rescue her,” Mel said.

  She and Angie both looked at Dutch.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “She’ll suck me into her crazy vortex, and I’ll never get out. She got me and Bertie yesterday, and we thought we’d never escape.”

  “What time yesterday?” Mel asked.

  “After the competition,” he said. “Why do you think we bolted out of the booth today?”

  “Like rats off a sinking ship?” Mel asked.

  “Now, is that nice?” he countered.

  “Sorry, I’m a little surly since my mentor was found dead in a freezer.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Dutch said. He met her gaze, and he ran a strong hand over his shaved head. It was a nervous gesture that Mel remembered from their cooking school days. “Listen, Vic and I had our differences, but I didn’t wish him dead.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  She could feel Angie’s eyes boring into the side of her skull, trying to get her to shut up, but she had to know. Did Dutch have something to do with Vic’s murder?

  He blew out a breath. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” He gave her a look full of recrimination, but Mel lifted her chin defiantly.

  “I’m planning on asking everyone who had an issue with Vic the same thing,” she said.

  He stepped close, leaned over her, and said, “Then you’d better watch your back.”

  Mel could feel Angie bristle beside her, but before she could question Dutch further, an arm looped around Mel’s waist and jerked her back. She turned and found Joe standing behind her.

  “So, how’s it going, Cupcake?” he asked.

  She turned back around to see that Dutch had stepped back with a smirk. “I can see you’re in good hands. Later.”

  Without waiting to be introduced to Joe, he disappeared into the crowd, and Mel wondered if it was the fact that Joe was the assistant DA that had him in full retreat.

  “Was it something I said?” Joe asked. He kissed the spot just below Mel’s ear, and she felt her entire body shiver.

  “I do not like that guy,” Angie said. “He’s as charming as all get-out but about as trustworthy as a toothy alligator.”

  “Funny, I had the same impression, especially since he seemed to have my girl in his sights,” Joe said. “So who is he?”

  “One of the judges for the competition,” Mel said. “He’s also an old classmate of mine, who just happened to have a big falling-out with Vic.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think . . .”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Good, then let’s leave it to the police,” he said.

  Mel was about to open her mouth to protest. She wasn’t sure she liked his bossy tone, but Angie interrupted her.

  “Hey, look!” Angie cried. “They’re putting up the winners on the leader board!”

  Sixteen

  Mel wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—okay, maybe she had been expecting them to remain on top, where in her humble opinion they belonged. That where in her humble opinion they belonged. That didn’t prove to be the case, however.

  As Fairy Tale Cupcakes slid down to second, a chortle from behind her announced the presence of the new leader on the board. Instinctively, Mel and Joe both grabbed one of Angie’s arms, pinning her between them before she did anything that would get them disqualified.

  Olivia and her sous-chef pranced by them chanting, “We’re number one, you’re number two, we’re going to beat the whoopee out of you.”

  “Just let me go kick her in the pants,” Angie pleaded. “Please just one swift kick in the derriere and I’m good, I swear.”

  “No!” Mel and Joe said at the same time.

  “She’ll press assault charges,” Joe said. “And then you’ll be out for good.”

  Angie closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose, held it, and then released it slowly. Mel and Joe waited patiently while she did this several times unt
il the crazy light in her brown eyes dimmed.

  “Okay, I’m good,” she said.

  Mel and Joe exchanged a glance before they released her.

  “I need to see what she beat us with,” Angie said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Mel watched to make sure Angie went to the judges’ table to see the tally sheets. Mel wouldn’t put it past her to chase Olivia out of the festival. But true to her word, Angie was up at the table overlooking the critiques.

  A crestfallen Polly walked over to Mel and said, “I really thought I nailed it, but look, I slid into fourth.”

  Molly’s Moonpies had taken the number three spot. They were located in Phoenix, and Mel wondered what they’d done to knock Polly down on the board. Obviously, they were a competitor to watch.

  “I hate her,” Angie said as she stomped back over.

  “I’m sorry,” Polly said with wide eyes.

  “Oh, no, not you,” Angie said. “Olivia Puckett.”

  “Oh, yeah, she is unpleasant,” Polly said.

  “Check this out: She beat us with Guinness pudding with whiskey sauce,” Angie said. “That’s just a bunch of baloney. There is no way that was better than ours. She just liquored those judges up.”

  “You don’t think she’s corrupt enough to buy off the judges, do you?” Joe asked. He had on his district attorney bad face.

  Mel and Angie just looked at him. Olivia had been a rock in their shoe since the day they’d opened Fairy Tale Cupcakes. It was hard to say what lengths she’d go to in order to win.

  “Well, that’s really low,” Polly fumed.

  “That’s nothing for Olivia,” Angie said.

  “Listen, I have to get back to the office,” Joe said. “If you turn up anything that warrants looking into, call me.”

  Mel kissed his cheek. “I love having a crime-fighting attorney for a boyfriend,” she said, and he grinned at her, looking embarrassed but pleased.

  They watched Joe leave, and Polly said, “Well, I’d better get back to my apartment so I can have another night of insomnia while I try to guess what they’ll throw at us next.”

  “Hey, this is supposed to be fun,” Mel reminded her.

  “It was until I slid down the board,” Polly said. With a wave, she took off, striding through the tourists.

  “So, now what?” Angie asked.

  “Now we go back and see how Tony and Oz are doing,” Mel said.

  They left the mall, crossing Brown Avenue into Old Town Scottsdale. They passed Mick at the tattoo parlor and Christine at the salon, both of whom looked busy with customers. When they arrived at the bakery, the patio tables outside were full of people chomping cupcakes, and there was a line going out the door.

  “This can’t be good,” Mel said. “Why are there so many people here when the festival is going on down the street?”

  They picked up their pace and hurried to the entrance. No one would budge from their spot in line, however, even with Angie glowering at them, so they had to circle the building and enter through the kitchen door in the back.

  The kitchen was as immaculate as they’d left it. But Mel could hear the sound of music coming from the bakery. She strode forward and pushed through the swinging doors.

  A large jukebox now sat at the end of the room, and Elvis’s voice was being emitted through its speakers, adding a lively vibe to the place. Oz was manning the counter, and two of Angie’s brothers, Al and Tony, were waiting and bussing tables.

  Mel scanned the crowd. It was a solid mix of tourist families, kids just out of school, and seniors. It was actually hard to hear Elvis over the laughter and chatter that filled the room.

  “Oz,” she called, but he was busy taking an order and didn’t hear her.

  “Oz!” Angie’s bark was louder, and he turned to see who was calling him.

  “Hey!” he called. “How did it go? How did you do?”

  “Not as good as this,” Mel said. She grabbed an apron and tied it on. It was obviously a time for all hands on deck.

  “I know, this is crazy, right?” Oz asked.

  “Where did the jukebox come from?” she asked.

  “Yeah, well, it was dead in here this morning, so me and Tony got to talking and decided you needed some tunes to liven up the joint,” he said. “I mean you’re all fifties decor, but you have no music. That’s just wrong.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Angie said as she tied on an apron as well. “My brothers and you thought a jukebox would draw people in, and you were right?”

  Oz opened his arms wide. “Check the evidence.”

  Mel looked at Angie. “How could we have missed that?”

  “We were sort of busy making cupcakes,” Angie said. “You know, product.”

  “Where did the jukebox come from?” Mel asked. “Or more accurately, who do I owe and how much?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Oz said. “I’m just the idea man. Tony actually hooked us up with one. He knows a guy.”

  “I hate it when ‘they know a guy,’” Angie said. “That’s how I got my first bike, my first computer, you name it. It always has some mysterious point of origin, like it fell off the back of a truck somewhere.”

  “Well, since I’m dating the assistant DA, we’ll have to make sure it’s legit,” Mel said. “Let’s get this crowd served, and then we’ll pry the info out of Tony.”

  They set to work boxing up four-packs and twelve-packs and single servings. Mel and Angie grooved to the jukebox, but the best music was the ring of the cash register every time it opened. Success sounded sweet indeed.

  When Angie flipped the sign on the door and turned the dead bolt for the night, Tony shut off the jukebox, and they all trooped into the kitchen for a restorative cupcake and a glass of cold milk.

  Tony crossed his arms on the steel table top and rested his head. “Is it always this busy?”

  “No,” Mel and Angie said together.

  “It was the King,” Oz said. “He brings them in.”

  Mel couldn’t argue, since the King had crooned the day away and the people had kept coming and coming.

  “How much for the jukebox?” Mel asked.

  “Consider it a gift,” Tony said.

  Mel glanced at Angie, who shrugged.

  “It’ll pay for all of the cupcakes he mooches,” Angie said as she gave Tony a second Caramel Crunch Cupcake. It was one of Mel’s newest experiments, a buttery cupcake frosted with vanilla buttercream drizzled with melted caramel and sprinkled with candied pecans. Tony’s eyes glazed as he took in the treat before him.

  “I can get you anything you need,” he promised before tucking into the luscious little cake.

  “Oh, Angie, a package arrived for you,” Al said. “I signed for it and put it in the office.”

  Angie gave him a quizzical look and disappeared into the office. Mel could hear her grunt as she ripped open the box. There was silence for a moment, and then she heard Angie say, “Aw.”

  Curious, Mel went to the door to find Angie cradling a wooden cuckoo clock in her arms and clutching a note.

  “It says, ‘I’m cuckoo about you,’” Angie said. “Isn’t that sweet?”

  “It’s something,” Mel said. “So I take it you’ve been hearing from Roach more regularly?”

  “Every day,” Angie gushed. “He felt really badly that I was worried, but he was having some band issues.”

  Noting the bliss on her face, Mel couldn’t deny Angie her happiness. Tate obviously wasn’t doing anything to forward his cause, so how could Mel hope that Angie would choose him when he wouldn’t even get himself in the running?

  When the brothers had eaten their fill and trooped out, Angie and Mel set to work replenishing the edible stock. Tinkerbells, Death by Chocolates, and Blonde Bombshells were needed, as well as Kiss Me Cupcakes and Orange Dreamsicles.

  It took several hours, and by the time they had frosted the last batch and put them in the walk-in cooler, Mel was pie-eyed tired and Angie didn’t look much bette
r.

  They said good night with a hug at the foot of the stairs that led up to Mel’s apartment. Angie, carrying her cuckoo clock, turned to cross the alley to the parking lot beyond when a cry ripped through the quiet evening, making the hair on the back of Mel’s neck stand up.

  “What was that?” Angie asked as she spun back around.

  “It sounded like someone being stabbed.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “The Dumpster,” Mel said.

  They both hesitated. The piercing howl sounded again.

  “I am going to be so unhappy if there is somebody in there,” Angie said.

  “No one is in there,” Mel said. “Still, we should check it.”

  They eased their way toward the large metal box. It smelled like most Dumpsters, a rank combination of decaying food and sour milk.

  Angie put her clock down, and they each grabbed a corner of the lid.

  “On three?” Angie asked and Mel nodded.

  “One, two, three.” Together they flung open the heavy metal lid and jumped back.

  A streetlight illuminated the inside of the Dumpster. The trash had been picked up the day before so the bin was empty except for the smell, which was strong enough to take a corporeal form, and a few pink boxes of cupcakes that had been too old to be donated to the local shelter.

  A scuttling sound came from beneath the boxes and they both jumped back.

  “It’s probably a rat,” Angie said. “A rat with rabies.”

  “Let’s just be sure,” Mel said. “I’m going to get my flashlight.”

  “No need.” Angie scrambled for her keys, where she had a penlight on her key ring. She pressed a button and a weak light shone into the Dumpster.

  At first there was no movement. Then a tail appeared. It was a white tail with a black tip.

  “That’s no rat tail.”

  They leaned over the edge, trying to get a closer look. White haunches followed the tail and then a white back. Whatever it was, it was trying to drag something out of one of their tossed-out cupcake boxes. Shoulders appeared, followed by a head sporting the biggest ears Mel had ever seen. With a great, growling grunt, the animal braced its legs and pulled.

  And just like that, a tiny white kitten went rolling back, feet over ears, while the chocolate and vanilla cupcake it had been trying to get sailed over its head and hit the side of the bin with a splat and then sank to the bottom with a thud.