Rest, Relaxation and Murder: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery

by Stacey Alabaster

  Rest, Relaxation and Murder

  A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery

  Stacey Alabaster

  Fairfield Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Message to Readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

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  Copyright © 2016 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1

  Belldale. End of Summer.

  "Is that..." Pippa lifted her head and scrunched up her nose. "Hail I hear? On the rooftops?"

  She was perched on my sofa, as usual, with her legs draped over her husband Marcello's, who was watching some sort of home renovation reality show and not really paying any attention to our conversation.

  I stared at her in disbelief from the stove where I was boiling water and sugar for a fresh batch of toffee. "It can't be hailing outside, Pippa. It was sunny when I came in just a few minutes ago.” The water started to boil over. "Shoot!" I said, pulling it off the heat and turning off the exhaust fan.

  Without the stove to conceal the noise, it really did sound like there was hail pouring down on the roof.

  "See? I told you."

  "Maybe it's just cats running across the roof."

  "A hundred of them?"

  I shrugged. "It's possible. Okay, it's not likely, but it's definitely possible."

  "Turn down the TV," Pippa said to Marcello, who pouted at the very idea.

  "I'm watching this."

  Pippa unraveled herself from his legs and walked over to the kitchen window while I struggled to clean up the hot, sticky liquid that had pooled on the stovetop. "Ouch!" I said, pulling my hand back and racing to the sink to run my burnt finger under the cold water.

  With the burn cooled, I finally lifted my head to see Pippa standing at the window with her mouth agape. "I told you, Rachael," she murmured. "It's hailing. AND it's pouring rain." She shook her head slowly. "It looks like the yard is flooding..."

  Uh-oh, I immediately thought.

  "Pippa," I said, pushing past her with a tea towel wrapped around my burnt finger. "If you're joking with me, it’s not funny." I pulled the curtain back myself and peered out. It was past sunset but there was still enough light to make out the rain water that was pooling all the way up the driveway and threatening to come in under the door.

  "How is this possible?" I said, staring out at the ice still hailing down.

  "I guess it's just a freak storm," Pippa said, turning to look at me with distress all over her face. I knew we were thinking the same thing. This cannot be happening. Not tonight.

  "Maybe it will clear up by the morning," I said with a gulp.

  "It better clear up by the morning," Pippa said, pulling the curtain closed again with a pout that would have rivaled Marcello's. "Or I'm going to..." She paused, clearly unable to think of a good plan for how she was going to defeat the weather. "I'm going to swim out of Belldale," she said firmly. "There is no way I am missing out on our vacation."

  As though to spite us, the hailstones seemed to double in both size and intensity, and it sounded like the roof was being hit by meteorites.

  "Let's just go to bed," I said softly, throwing the rest of my ruined toffee into the trash as I cast one last furtive glance out the window. "I'm sure it will blow over. There's no way a freak rain storm in summer is going to flood Belldale."

  I tried to not focus on the rain, or the hail stones, as I pulled my suitcase out from underneath my bed and started to pack. I'd already told Pippa I was fully packed and ready to leave for the bus station first thing in the morning, but I didn't feel too much guilt over the slight untruth. I suspected Pippa was giving me the same lie and it seemed to be confirmed by the noise of her pulling her own trunk from her closet and her high-pitched squeal to Marcello that she needed to "hurry up and get this packed!" It was followed by a flurry of sounds that indicated she was violently chucking her shoes and purses into the trunk.

  The bus to the retreat was due to leave at 5:30am. Early for most people, but not for someone who had been running her own bakery for the past four years. Being ready by 5:30am was going to be a snap. I'd even get to sleep in a bit.

  We needed this vacation. Both of us. No men were allowed. Pippa was leaving Marcello behind and I didn't really...well, I didn't have anyone to leave behind. As I folded my t-shirts and shorts, I wondered if I should also pack a few dresses. Just in case I met someone.

  I slammed the suitcase shut. That was wishful thinking. Besides, it would be breaking the promise I'd made to Pippa that this was a "girls only" week of fun and relaxation in the sun before summer was over and we had to return to our normal lives.

  But just what was normal anymore? I sat on my bed and thought about it. There was a lot I needed to escape from. The past year had been full of more murder and intrigue than most people experience in a lifetime. Or several lifetimes, more likely. More dead bodies and mysteries and killers and close calls than anyone would ever want to witness.

  Yeah, I needed a break all right. And as far as Pippa knew, that was the only thing I was taking a break from. A week in a retreat to clear my head.

  I looked over my shoulder, even though my bedroom door was shut. There was no way anyone was standing there watching me. Still. I made sure I was alone before I pulled the brochure out from under my bed.

  "Accelerated training," it promised. "Get your P.I. license in three weeks at Investigation Academy."

  I swallowed as I looked over it again. Could I really do it? Leave behind my bakery, and everything I had worked so hard for, to start an entirely new business? An entirely new career?

  I heard footsteps hurrying to my room and I quickly shoved the brochure into my suitcase. Pippa bounced into the room without even knocking.

  Her eyes were wide as she stared down at my suitcase. "Rach... Were you just...lying to me about being packed?" She stood with her hand on her hip, waggling a finger like she was a schoolteacher and I was a student caught cheating on a test.

  I stuck out my tongue at her. "Oh, like you were completely packed."

  Pippa sighed. "Well, I might be...if Marcello wasn't trying to prevent me from placing a single item into my case. Every time I throw something in there, he pulls it out again!"

  "Why?"

  "He doesn't want me to go."

  I shot her a look. "Don't back out on me, Pippa! We are going on this vacation!"

  "Oh, I know that," Pippa said.

  "And Marcello isn't coming!" I hastened to add. "It's girls only, remember. I hope that isn't what you came in here to ask me."

&
nbsp; Pippa sighed and shook her head. "No. I was just wondering if I could stash my stuff in with your stuff. Marcello is being completely impossible." Pippa paused and frowned as the sudden sound of fierce rain and hail almost drowned out our conversation. "And if we actually manage to get on the bus out of here, I'm not going to let Marcello keep us from leaving."

  I nodded. "Bring your stuff in and I'll pack it with mine," I said, before adding, "Then we need to get some sleep. We don't want to be tired before this vacation even starts!"

  Pippa paused in the doorway with a serious look on her face. Her previously bright purple hair had faded to lavender and it fell in front of her eyes before she brushed it away. "I'm really looking forward to this, you know, Rach." She shot me a sad little smile. "We need to get away from all the weird stuff that’s been going on this past year. And it seems like it's been ages since it's been just the two of us hanging out. I know things have been different since Marcello and I got married..."

  "It's okay," I said, standing up. "I'm looking forward to it as well. And nothing is going to ruin it. Now! Go grab your stuff and get to sleep!"

  Once she was gone, I quickly buried the brochure deep in the suitcase. She didn't need to know about that just yet.

  "Oh no!" I shouted as I felt something wet seeping into my sock, grimacing as I lifted it slowly and fumbled for the light switch.

  Pippa came running into the kitchen after me, holding our combined luggage. "What is..." She stopped when she saw the pool of water at my feet. "Rach..." she said uneasily. "Has it completely flooded outside?"

  "It can't have," I said, annoyed, as I shook off my wet foot. The kitchen being slightly flooded was enough of a problem anyway. "We can't leave until we get this cleaned up," I moaned, taking my socks off before I went to hunt for a mop.

  "But we're going to be late!" Pippa called out after me. "We'll miss the bus!"

  I turned back to her with my mop in hand and sighed. "I can't just leave it like this!"

  Pippa grabbed the mop out of my hand. "I'll text Marcello and tell him to clean it up as soon as he wakes." She looked down at the floor. "It's not that bad. There won't be any water damage."

  I was already nervous about leaving Marcello in charge of my apartment for a full week. He was sort of a... Well, human disaster zone would be putting it mildly. I wouldn't have been surprised to return home to find the apartment burnt to the ground with only the skeleton of the framework remaining.

  But I supposed he could handle mopping up a little water. It hadn't reached the carpet. I glanced at the time. 5:15. We were going to miss the bus.

  "Fine," I said, dropping the mop. "Make sure he knows about it, though!" With that, we grabbed our bags and ran out the door, wading through the water that still sat on the driveway till we reached my car.

  I glanced out the back window at the water that reached right to the road and made a face before I started the engine. "I'm not sure this is entirely safe," I said to Pippa as I started to edge the car down the driveway.

  "Safe or not, you need to floor it," Pippa said. "We've got ten minutes before the bus leaves."

  I took a deep breath and put my foot down on the accelerator, causing water to churn and splash up onto the windows as we exited the drive and entered the street.

  "Oh...Oh no..." Pippa said as we pulled into the middle of town.

  I immediately saw what she was referring to. A big yellow road sign that said, "Road Closed."

  I honked my horn in vain as I pulled up to where traffic was stopped.

  There was a tapping on the window.

  Jackson! What was he doing out on road traffic duty? That was a pretty big demotion for a detective. I rolled down the window.

  "You're going to have to turn back, Rachael. No one's getting over the bridge today."

  "But..." I started to say. "The bus station is on the other side of the bridge!"

  He raised an eyebrow. "You're going to the bus station?"

  "Trying to."

  Pippa shot me a look. Jackson was one of those things I was supposed to be escaping from. Another car honking its horn caught his attention and he left for a few seconds to attend to a screaming civilian.

  "Maybe we weren't supposed to leave. Maybe this was just never meant to be," I said with a sigh as I collapsed forward on the steering wheel.

  Pippa shook her head with vigor. "No," she said firmly. "We are getting out of Belldale." Then she stared ahead with a steely demeanor. "One way or another."

  Jackson returned with a sigh and another demand that we turn around. "We don't want to cause a greater back up of traffic than we currently have..."

  "Come on," I begged. "Can't you just let us pass?"

  Jackson shook his head. "I told you, the road is closed. No one is going through while the roads are flooded. I can't go doing favors for friends."

  Friends. Ha. That was interesting. At least we were back on speaking terms again, though.

  As soon as he'd moved onto the next vehicle, Pippa looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Looks like we're going to have to make alternative plans."

  I looked at the time on the clock. 5:29. "We've already missed the bus, Pippa. Face it. Fate doesn't want us getting away from Belldale."

  "We're just going to have to go the back way out of town," Pippa said, reaching over to thump on the steering wheel. "Come on then!"

  "The back way?" I was confused. "It will take half an hour for us to circle around that way. The bus will be long gone!"

  Pippa shot me an I don't think you are getting it, dummy look. "Well, we've got a car, don't we?"

  I opened my eyes wide. "You mean drive there ourselves? Pippa, it's eight hours."

  "Oh, that's nothing," Pippa said dismissively. "Do you want to go on this vacation or not?"

  "The roads are flooded. It could be dangerous."

  Jackson rapped on the window, fiercely this time. "Rachael, GO HOME."

  I stared up at him. "Oh, I am going all right. But not home."

  Chapter 2

  Eight hours later, we finally pulled up in front of "Paradise Retreat," a gorgeous little chateau situated on a sprawling lake surrounded by a dusting of sand and trees that looked almost tropical. We were far enough away from Belldale that the freak storm seemed like a distant memory. The weather was behaving itself in this place. It was still summer, and it was behaving like it.

  "I feel like I've landed on another planet," Pippa murmured as we pulled our bags out of my poor little car that had barely survived the journey.

  We arrived in the lobby to find that all the other guests had long since arrived and settled in. It looked like we were the only two that had missed the bus. "Should we go over and mingle?" I asked as we leaned against the lobby bar with margaritas in hand. "They all look pretty cozy with each other. I think we're a few hours behind."

  Pippa shrugged. "There's no law saying we have to socialize with the other people, right?"

  "I think there is actually. I mean, not a law." I stopped to take a sip of my lime margarita, which was deliciously sour and bitter. "But the itinerary has a lot of group activities scheduled on it. We don't want people to think we’re unsociable.”

  "Can I help you with those?" a voice asked as I spun around. The voice belonged to a young man. A cute young man. I quickly sized him up and tried to come to a decision. Yes, he was almost definitely younger than me. Not that I'm an old maid at twenty-six, but he was probably twenty-one or twenty-two. I cleared my throat.

  "No, that's fine," I said, awkwardly reaching down to touch my bags. "We can carry them up to our room ourselves." I made a face when I realized he wasn't happy about that. "Oh, I can still tip you," I said, reaching for my purse, spilling change out of the sides as I reached in. I cursed myself for being so awkward and clumsy.

  "Oh," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm not staff."

  I could feel my face burning as I just stared at him, fumbling to zip up my purse. "Sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have assumed..."
/>   He turned and gestured to the rest of the chatting guests in the lobby behind us. "I'm here for the retreat."

  "Right," I said, frowning. "Of course you are. You just... Well, you don't look like someone who would be here for the retreat."

  He grinned at me with a cocky little smile. "And why is that, exactly?"

  "You look very young," I said. "Are you here with your parents?"

  He let out a small burst of laughter. "No, I'm twenty-three. A little too old to be on vacation with my parents."

  Twenty-three? So, a little older than I'd thought. Still three years younger than me, though. "Sorry again," I said, picking up my bag and shooting Pippa a look that said let's get out of here. She plonked her margarita glass on the bar and came to my rescue.

  "We're pretty tired from our unexpected long drive up here," she offered him by way of explanation as she grabbed my arm to drag me up the chateau steps.

  "Well," he said, stepping after us. "I hope to see you back down here later tonight," he said with a wink. "My name's Robert, by the way!"

  "Rachael," I said, before hurrying away.

  "Nice to meet you, Rachael."

  "WHO was that?" Pippa asked once we were safely inside our hotel room. The room was luxurious in an old school way. It wasn't a modern hotel by any means, but it looked like the kind of room a king or a queen could have stayed in a hundred years ago—all plush carpets and chandeliers and velvet.

  I threw my bag down. "Who was that? That was...a total embarrassment," I said, burying my head in my hands. When I finally removed them to see Pippa laughing at me, I scolded her and threw a cushion. "It's not funny, Pippa. I mistook him for a bellhop."

  "Well, he does look awfully young," Pippa said with a twinkle in her eye. "Not that that's a bad thing."

  "You've had too many margaritas," I said. "And not enough sleep."